S-s-stutter [Zarry]

dust in the wind

"Hello?"

"Babe," I feel him smile through the line. "Don't be mad. I broke my phone."

"You broke your phone?"

I laugh at the simplicity.

"I didn't want to just show up at your place and freak you out. I'm stupid. I should have stopped by the music store but-"

"It's fine Zayn. Ed invited me over. Are you still going?"

"Yeah, shit. I need to give him a ring. I'll pick you up. Actually, do you get a lunch break?"

"No. Probably because there's never a soul around."

"Bollocks if you work ten hours you're legally entitled to a lunch break."

I laugh and he says "Harry, I'm serious."

"Tell Ed to order some decent food then."

"Okay babe. How about Japanese? He really likes sushi and I'm craving some chicken teriyaki."

"Sounds amazing. Why'd you go behind my back? You know I'm shy."

"Because you're really good and I'm not just saying that. Fuck your boss by the way. Change the sign to closed and get some damn food."

"Next time I will. He showed up earlier."

"Hmm, that seems a bit odd. Was he touchy?"

"No. I think he was looking for something. He didn't stay long."

"Hey, call me if you ever need anything."

"Now that you have a new phone," I tease.

"Oi, be quiet. I'll see you later love."

"Bye Zayn."

...

Ed pops open his third beer and strums on his guitar.

Alcohol doesn't phase him and his voice is perfect. No slurred syllables or missed chords.

My head is in Zayn's lap, his fingers brushing through my tangled curls.

He sips on something in a solo cup, his warm breath fanning across my neck.

It smells like vodka and cherries.

There's a knock at the door and the takeout is delivered.

Steaming hot egg fried rice and teriyaki chicken.

I sit up and share a takeout box with Zayn who boasts about using chopsticks.

"What type of music do you like?"

"It varies. Indie and British rock mostly. Basically I just feel a song. It doesn't have to belong to a particular genre."

He hums in agreement and pops a California roll in his mouth.

"I understand that. As a songwriter I respect that. Would you humour me and sing?"

"Don't push him Ed."

"No, it's okay. Guitar please."

I scoot away from Zayn and position the guitar. Just inhale. They're not going to judge.

They're not even in the room. It's just you feeling the music, pouring your heart out. Passion. That's what truly matters.

I close my eyes, only for a moment
And the moment's gone

Ed spits, spewing beer all over the carpet and Zayn chuckles.

"Told ya," he grins proudly.

"Keep singing," Ed prompts. "Bless my ears with your raspy vibrato."

I smile into the next line, the rhythm and the lyrics coursing through me.

All my dreams pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind

But then Zayn tackles me, throwing his arms around me and Ed is laughing his arse off, eyes watery.

"Smash my guitar and you're dead."

"You're bloody amazing. You know that, right?"

He kisses my cheek, my jaw, my neck...definitely vodka. Wet, sloppy kisses that have me reeling.

His eyes are glossy and my heart is pounding in my chest.

"Jesus," Ed says exasperated. "No sex on my floor."

"Fine," Zayn smirks. "We'll take it back to my place."

"How romantic. Did you tell him how you ruined your phone?"

"Shut up," they roar with laughter.

"How Zayn?" He shakes his head so Ed takes it upon himself.

"He bloody dropped it in the toilet."

"Oh fuck you carrot top. Let's go babe."

"Hey wait."

I hug Ed tightly and he sighs, wrapping his arms around me.

"This was fun. Thank you. I'll see you Saturday."

And he sends me a wink on the way out.

A/N: Harry met Ed sjwkdisnd