𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚 » 𝐳.𝐬.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

His face was the wonder of harry's afternoon. a gift from jehovah himself, perfectly angled and deliciously tanned from the italy sun. his lips a warm summer snack, salmon pink and sweet like peach tree nectar.

"i believe this is yours," were the first words he spoke, his voice a deep and cool refreshment that brought goosebumps to the surface.

the stubble that clouded his chin was like a garden of freshly packed mulch, dark and beautiful and thriving.

eyes wide and lips wet, harry took the ceramic mug from his palms and gasped at the gentle brush of skin on skin, a daintiful white heart drawn in the caramel drink that connected them.

he never believed in fate until that day, when those glowing umber eyes looked at him as if he were something precious. he knew he wasn't the only one to feel the jolt of excitement that rattled through his bones and settled in the form of a blissful ache.

"t-thank you, sir," he stuttered, struggling to speak because the stranger had quite literally snatched the air from his lungs.

but then, with a nod of his head and a painfully gentle smile, the stranger stalked away from him and harry watched as his olive skin glistened beneath the white cotton of his button-down.

i love you, he thought.

and he meant it.

—

WARNINGS:

there is a twenty one year age gap

(no underage sex)

mentions of death/disease

infidelity

manpiluation

sexual scenes

dubious consent

professor!zayn

student!harry

toxic relationship

(their relationship is not student/teacher)

—