Need • Zarry

4. Denial

Harry went on to have yet another restless night's sleep. He was plagued with confusion, shame and guilt. Quite the emotional cocktail.

I shouldn't be thinking about him like that.

And when he awoke the following Saturday morning he almost considered telling Zayn that he needed to leave and find another place to stay, if only so that Harry could be spared from these incessant sexual thoughts that he was now having all because of Zayn's need to openly tend to himself late at night.

And for a second Harry wondered if Zayn was doing it on purpose. Taunting him, inviting to see it, to hear it. Trying to peak his interest.

It's working.

No, it needs to stop.

But on the flip side of the situation Harry was enjoying Zayn's company far too much to send him away and just thinking about Zayn leaving, being gone, not being there in Harry's space anymore made him feel uneasy, terrible, already lonely.

It's only been two days for fuck's sake.

Harry was annoying himself with the back and forth. And after contemplating what it was he should do, he finally settled on deciding that he would approach Zayn directly. He would just politely ask him to keep his dick to himself.

Well, he wouldn't say it quite like that. He just wasn't sure how he was going bring it up yet.

Harry sat in the kitchen that morning sipping on his black coffee from a white mug while reading the paper in his plaid pajamas, waiting for Zayn to wake up. He did, after awhile, and finally dragged himself in a bit sleepily still, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands complete with bedhead in his hunter green boxer shorts and that same black t-shirt of Harry's he wore the previous day.

And when Harry saw him walk into the kitchen Zayn reminded him of some harmless, fuzzy little kitten, innocent, impossible to be annoyed with. And suddenly Harry went soft and felt nervous, too afraid to bring up the situation.

But Zayn wasn't.

"So about last night..." Zayn began in his groggy morning voice as he opened up Harry's fridge right away and began pouring himself a glass of orange juice while everything inside of Harry began tensing up in complete and utter apprehension.

"Let's just forget about it," Harry quickly said without bothering to look up from his paper.

I don't think I can talk about this.

"Well, you watched me," he pointed out flatly.

Harry swallowed hard once more, flipping the page of his newspaper, still refraining from making eye contact with Zayn, but he could feel his cheeks turning red from embarrassment.

"I didn't mean to," Harry said quietly.

"It's okay."

"And it was dark anyway, so there was nothing to see."

"Right."

"But perhaps next time you can keep your door closed and be a little bit quieter," Harry added, finally glancing up to meet Zayn's eyes as he stood there in his kitchen, taking a long sip from the glass he was holding.

"So you've heard me."

Harry didn't say anything.

"Sorry bout that."

"I just don't know why you feel the need to be so obvious about something like that. Don't you think that's more of a private thing? Can't you keep it to yourself?"