S-s-stutter [Zarry]

flickering flames

+Zayn

"Marshmallows?"

He nods and I add some whipped cream before dropping in mini marshmallows.

There's the roar of the fireplace, the crackle of logs and Harry sitting in front of it, a knitted afghan over his lap.

"Babe," I tap his shoulder, a mug of steaming hot chocolate in my other hand.

"Thanks," he smiles softly and blows on it before taking a sip, a dab of cream sticking to his upper lip.

His tongue pokes out to clean it off and I sit down beside him, my hand tracing circles on his lower back.

"You okay?"

"I don't understand. I thought this was over a long time ago, things were actually getting better. I was making progress. It's so frustrating."

He sets down his mug and rubs at his temples, his eyes flickering like the licking orange flames.

I find myself at a loss for words. What am I supposed to say? I can't comfort him. It was my job to protect him and I failed.

"There's no way you would have known," he mutters.

Always reading my thoughts.

"What if his friend is still out there somewhere?"

We both shudder at the thought, the air in the room suddenly frigid. He scoots closer to me and I put our mugs on the coffee table, huddle under the blanket with him.

His body is a radiator. My fingers massage his scalp and he rests his head on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry Harry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he grits. "Let's not talk about it."

"Okay," I reply timidly. "Babe, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

"That sounds ominous."

I chuckle and he gives a dimpled smile.

"It's not that bad. I just want you to know I love you for who you are. I'm not with you because I pity you. Harry, you're so special to me. You always find the silver linings in bad situations and you know exactly whst to say to make me smile. You're beautiful and brilliant and talented-"

"Beautiful?"

I cup his face in my hands, my eyes meeting his.

"Beautiful," I echo.

He blushes deeply, cheeks tinted scarlet.

"Do you want to watch a movie?"

He shakes his head, eyes fixed on the floor, fingers playing with the hem of his jumper.

It makes my heart twinge in pain. I feel so helpless.

"Tell me what you want to do love."

"Nothing," he mumbles.

There's no light in his eyes, just the reflection of the fire. His lashes cast shadows when he blinks.

The fire creates more shadows, the flames dancing on the walls.

It's eerily quiet. Another snap and he reaches for his mug, shoulders hunched.

He looks dejected.

Why don't I say something? Anything?

"Please don't be scared. I'm here now."

"I'm not scared."

His voice cracks and he bites his bottom lip, eyes watery.

"It's okay if you are but you don't have to be."

"Stop," he jerks his hand hot chocolate sloshing onto his jeans. There's a pained hiss and I nab his mug.

"Sorry," I choke on a sob. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"No," he squeezes his eyes shut. "You'd never hurt me. That's the thing Zayn."

He exhales, eyes snapping open. "You try so hard to make sure I'm okay. I feel like...I can't explain it. I'm not worth the trouble okay? They used me and-"

"Harry," I set my jaw tight and pull him onto my lap, my thumbs wiping at his cheeks. "Don't talk like that."

And my mouth is on his, my moist tongue slipping into his mouth. His fingers get lost in my quiff.

When I pull away my heart is thudding and he bites back a smile.

"Why are you holding it in?"

A full grin, my hand ruffling his curls.

"Are you still interested in doing a gig? Ed completely understands you not wanting to perform for awhile but he thinks you're incredible and so do I."

"Actually, that might help me get my mind off things. Tell him I'm up for it, just need to do a mic check."

My heart flutters a bit and he smiles warmly, hands wrapping around the handle of his mug.

"I won't spill it this time."

Sounds fill the room; sloppy kisses and little gasps. His moans hitting the back of my throat and me showering him with compliments.

"Okay I lied," he pants. "I'm down for a movie."

I roll my eyes playfully and set up Netflix.

"What genre babe?"

"Romance," his cheeks flush and he covers his face with his hands.

"Hey, don't be shy. You know how much I love 500 Days of Summer."

He groans and nuzzles his face in the quilt, voice muffled.

"What babe?"

"It's depressing."

"Pretty Woman?"

There's a timid nod and we move to the couch, my arms looping around him, nose pressing to the crook of his neck.

His curls smell like warm brown vanilla sugar. He giggles as the tip of my nose tickles his skin.

"Are we going to snog or watch the movie?"

"We can do both," I reply cheekily. "Do you want some soup?"

"You sound like my mum," he chuckles.

"Let's bake cookies when this ends."

"I'm on board with that. Snickernoodle?"

It's perfectly fine with me, my lips pressing to his jawline.

"I can't focus babe. We can do that later."

"Does me touching you make you uncomfortable?"

"N-no."

That doesn't change the fact that he flinched. It stings a lot and I have to bite my tongue to hold back tears.

I scoot away from him a bit and he remains put, eyes glued to the screen.

Maybe he just needs space.

That's understandable, right?

"I'm not feeling this. I think I'll just get started on the cookies."

He nods silently, fingers fumbling in his lap.

We just kissed, why is he acting so strange? Maybe it was too soon but he's my boyfriend. I love him. I have the right touch him.

"Harry," I say softly. "I love you."

He gazes up at me and pauses the movie.

"I love you too, please never doubt that."

A/N: give me those fucking feels