Zouis One Shots

The Door Is Always Open Part 2

Snorting, Zayn bites his lip. “Or spend it, yeah.”

“Want to catch a movie?”

“Tonight?”

He nods. “It’s Saturday, after all.”

Zayn kisses him again—this time long and sweet. “That’d be nice. You going like that, though?”

“Fuck no. I gotta change.”

“Cool. I’ll come with.” He tosses his mask in his art bin and lines his spray cans along the wall, light to dark. Giving Harry’s thigh a solid pat, he growls in his ear, loud and playful, biting him gently. “You don’t taste as good as you smell.”

“Take it back, or you’ll be walking.”

With his chest pressed to Harry’s back, and his arms wrapped around his middle, Zayn walks on the heels of Harry’s shoes, pushing him towards his car. “Love when you talk dirty,” he mumbles, getting a sharp elbow to the ribs.

The movie they settle on—or really, the movie Zayn’s been wanting to see for weeks and is not above begging Harry to see it with him—is a horror film about creatures that live in the walls of some unlucky family’s new home. It’s not exactly scary, but it has its thrills that make Harry’s fingers twitch and his hand grip Zayn’s arm until his knuckles are white. Zayn loves how easily Harry’s spooked, it’s the best part about him. Even the drop of a pen in the middle of a deserted hall at school gets Harry jumping a good three feet in the air, and he reminds Zayn of a cat: skittish, and always on edge.

There’s a scene where one of the main characters is parading about in the dark, trying to find the cause of some scratching on the inside of the walls—rats, they think—and all the while, as Zayn shovels popcorn into his mouth, Harry’s there tucked into his side, his face hidden behind splayed fingers.

“She’s going to die,” Zayn whispers, mouth pressed to Harry’s ear. “You can go ahead and look.”

“What for?”

“Well, you already know what’s going to happen, so why not? You’re going to miss the best part.”

“Watching people die isn’t exactly fun for me,” he whispers back, louder than he intended. They get a stern shh from the guy beside them. “Sorry.”

Zayn doesn’t care, though. He pulls Harry closer, muttering, “Just watch.”

“How do you know she’s gonna die? Anything could happen.”

“It’s the ones you least expect to die that usually do.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Yes, it does.”

“If you don’t think she’s going to die, then you wouldn’t be telling me that she’s going to die.”

“I expect it now.”

“So, then your theory is crushed, isn’t it? Now that you expect it, it won’t happen.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, laughing to himself. “Alright. Whatever. Watch the damn scene,” and just as Harry brings his hand away from his face, the woman dies with a scalpel through her left eye, the thin blade poking through the back of her head. Zayn sucks air  in through his teeth, eyes wide, trying not to laugh when Harry groans next to him.

They leave before the end credits really start rolling, Harry leading Zayn by his hand through the crowd.

“That was terrible,” he whines as he clicks off his car alarm. “What even was that? Little monsters living in their walls?”