now i'm running

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"Why would you get us into this?" Harry huffed, putting toothpaste on his toothbrush as Zayn walked into the bathroom.

"You're saying you don't want to have a sleepover with me?" Zayn sneered, mimicking his mother's tone, gaining a scoff from Harry as he began brushing his teeth.

Harry didn't reply, instead, he shot Zayn an eye roll.

Instigating, Zayn pinched Harry's hip gently with a smirk. "Huh?" he said, pressing his body closer with Harry's, purposely reaching over him to grab the toothpaste.

Harry spat out his toothpaste and rinsed his mouth, pushing the side of his body into Zayn's to get him back. "What are you doing?" he asked, stepping back and sitting down on the lid of the toilet seat.

Zayn murmured out a jumbled sentence, the foam from the toothpaste spilling out of the corners of his lips. When he finally rinsed his mouth, he wiped it with a cloth and turned around, leaning against the counter, eyeing Harry.

Harry gave Zayn a moment, returning the intense eye contact until he realized it might be too much for him.

Since Zayn had come out, Harry had noticed that he'd become quite bolder than before. Especially with the things he's been saying, which continue to catch Harry off guard.

Harry knew it wasn't just him who thought Zayn had become more forward, he knew that Zayn knew it too.

And knowing himself, Harry didn't have the confidence to ask Zayn what changed.

Harry didn't have the confidence to ask Zayn if he felt the same way he did. Because maybe it was a stretch. Harry was kind of catching onto the way David felt.

"What are you looking at?" Harry finally said, shaking his head. "You're always doing this,"

Zayn smirked at Harry and trailed out of the bathroom, Harry soon after, following helplessly behind him.

"Am I not allowed to look at you?" Zayn finally responded when his bedroom door was closed behind the two.

Harry stuttered, looking for the words but ended up sighing and plopping down on his side of Zayn's bed.

Sitting down next to Harry who was lying down, Zayn piped up. "Did you hear me?"

Harry turned his body to face Zayn, shooting him a look. "Yeah, I heard you,"

"Then why didn't you answer?"

"What do you want me to say to that?"

Zayn shrugged and poked Harry's shoulder. Then his bicep. Then his forearm.

And then he dragged his fingertip along Harry's arm in the same pattern and shrugged again.

The hair on Harry's arms raised and goosebumps built immediately, but he was too sucked into the moment to move.

"Something," Zayn said softly. "I want you to say something,"

Harry looked at Zayn, who's eyes were lowered and focused on the track he had established on Harry's goosebump covered arm.

"Something," Harry whispered, watching as Zayn's eyes met his.

"Fuck you," Zayn scoffed, lifting his fingertip and pulling his white t-shirt off.

Turning back onto his other side and away from Zayn, Harry let out a quiet huff.

The clock beside Zayn's bed read 12:46 AM.

Harry closed his eyes, listening to the sound of Zayn's quiet sighs and the rustling of the sheets as he got under and accidentally brushed his foot against Harry's calf.

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