you let your clothes fall to the floor

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"Harry!" Anne called from downstairs, her voice echoing throughout the house.

Scrambling to his bedroom door, Harry opened it, answering his Mum.

"Yes, Mum!"

"Come down here love," she spoke, with no context at all.

Sighing heavily, Harry pulled on a shirt and ran down the stairs to find his Mum on the couch flipping through channels.

"What's up Mum?"

"We're going to dinner tonight at Trisha's," Anne spoke, her eyes glued to the television.

"Oh," Harry nodded. "What time?"

"Seven," Anne confirmed quickly as she pressed a TV channel. "Be ready, yeah lovey?"

Harry shot his mother a quick thumbs up and trudged back up the stairs, Zayn on his mind.

It had been a couple days since Zayn had come out to him, a couple days since they'd last seen each other.

Zayn's coming out had been a complete surprise to Harry in the moment. When the words dropped out of Zayn's mouth and into the atmosphere, Harry felt as if he was being suffocated and saved.

It was too much for him. Harry was shell shocked. It seemed too perfect.

It all seemed way too perfect.

Days later, Harry looked back at the moment in sheer confusion, over analyzing every interaction he's ever had with Zayn. Maybe the poking and the hand holding and the fingers hooked in shorts were a sign.

Or maybe Zayn was just comfortable with his masculinity.

Arriving back in his bedroom, Harry closed the door behind him before trailing in. He pulled his shirt back off and almost sat down on his bed, until he saw Zayn across the way getting undressed in front of his opened window, eyeing himself in the mirror.

Harry had seen his body so many times, all of his body, but now everything seemed different. Everything was different now that he knew he was in love with Zayn.

Or, now that he cared to admit it.

It was weird to Harry. He's never longed for anyone more. He's never wanted to touch every inch of someone's body, not even just lustfully, but solely for the purpose of memorizing each and every curve, scar and mark, there was.

Harry got down on his knees and crouched below his windowsill, making sure Zayn was in eyesight as he studied his body.

There was so much Harry wanted to know about Zayn. He knew everything and nothing. He wanted to know how smooth Zayn's skin would feel against his, how his lips would kiss his, how his fingertips felt on the most vulnerable spots.

Harry had never loved anyone. Harry had never loved anyone. Harry had never loved anyone.

So how could he begin to think about what love is?

How could Harry think about what love is as his breath hitches in his throat and his hand works underneath his soft shorts? How could Harry think about what love is as he watched Zayn's body, his eyes taking in every part possible? How could Harry think about what love is as he's here alone, tipping himself over the edge to the most important boy in his life?

So he decided he could try to understand what love is. He could understand what love is as he squeezes his eyes shut, imagining Zayn was below him. He could understand what love is as he tells himself Zayn tastes like Ferrero Rocher and melted Carmel. He could understand what love is as his mind screams Zayn's name over and over again.

And as Harry's knees give out and he lays back with his hand gripped underneath his shorts, catching his breath Harry decided he knew what love is. He knows what love is as he rolls onto his side and imagines Zayn beside him. He knows what love is as tears drip down his cheeks because he's waited so long to feel this way. He knows what love is as he realizes that there is no one else in the world for him but Zayn.

Harry knows what love is as he sees the reflection of Zayn's lamp flickering across the way.

On. Off.

On for two seconds.

Then off.

Scrambling to get back up on his knees, Harry wiped his face with his free hand and pops his head over the windowsill to see Zayn stood over his window with a smile upon his Ferrero Rocher lips.

Pins and goddamn needles.

"Hi Harry," Zayn called, his voice bright. He folded his hands as he leaned outside of his window.

Harry cleared his throat and let out a quick "Hello."

Zayn watched him for a moment, the smile on his lips only getting wider. "May I ask why we're on our knees?" he questioned, getting down on his knees too for the joke of it, poking his head over the windowsill as Harry was doing.

"Just not dressed," Harry said quickly, his cheeks burning red as he realized his hand was still in his shorts and Zayn standing just a house down with that damn smile of his wasn't helping much at all.

"Hm," Zayn shrugged. "Nothing I haven't seen before," he said, hesitating before he spoke softly once again. "Probably grew into your features,"

Harry's eyes widened as his cheeks tinted even more. Choosing to ignore the second part in his response, Harry frowned. "Hey!"

"Just saying!" Zayn raised his hands in defence. "Plus, you had the smallest dick I've ever seen,"

Harry's jaw dropped. "Zayn! What the hell!"

Zayn let out a hearty laugh. "Well," he started. "Is it still tiny?" With his hands, Zayn parted his thumb and index finger, leaving a space between them.

"Shut up!" Harry interjected. "It is not!" he whisper-shouted the next part only causing Zayn to raise his eyebrows.

"Huh?" Zayn smirked. "I don't believe you,"

"A-Are you serious Zayn?" Harry questioned. "Is this conversation really happening right now?"

"What?" Zayn stood up, still shirtless. "I just said I don't believe you,"

"Oh my god Zayn," Harry lowered his head, putting his forehead against his windowsill. "Oh my god,"

"What?" Zayn chuckled as if he hadn't done anything at all. "It's just a simple inquiry. If you're this defensive about it, you might have to prove it to me,"

Harry froze. Pins and needles.

And they were getting stronger and stronger.

"What'd you say?" Harry spoke slowly, lifting his head to see Zayn smirking once again.

Zayn's gaze was bold, his stance was proud and confident. "I said you might have to prove it," he stated clearly before nodding at Harry and walking away from the window, leaving his bedroom.

Harry was knelt by the window in shock. His mind wasn't processing the conversation that had just taken place.

Maybe Harry did know what love was.

But Harry decided he would figure that out after going in for a second round.

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