The weekend was a long, drawn out affair for Harry Styles. No amount of time wasted on games consoles, watching TV with his family, or even writing out plans for essays was enough to distract his mind from the brown-eyed boy that seemed to haunt it so often. Zayn wasn’t like any other of Harry’s friends, it’s not like he could send a quick text to him to see how he was. Any sort of online social media was out of question too, Harry truly doubted that Zayn would ever have a Facebook account, and if he did, then it would have been found by now, since Harry had spent the other night checking just in case.
When his Mother woke him up on the Monday morning, Harry had gotten to the point when he was starting to fear not seeing Zayn again. Everytime Harry rolled over in his bed, there was some sign that Zayn had been there. The pillow Zayn slept on smelt like him, and every so often if Harry pulled the covers over his head then a waft of Zayn’s beautiful smell would drift into his nostrils, like it was some sort of air freshener. Harry had to admit it was intoxicating, especially when the thoughts of waking up next to the raven-haired angel snuggled into his side flashed in his mind.
Zayn’s hair was flat and ruffled, going past his forehead and almost into his eyes. His nose had scrunched up a little like a kitten’s, and his lips had parted so that he could deliver a husky and rough whisper of a ‘good morning’ to Harry, before the boy’s eyes had even opened. Harry had responded with a kiss to the nose, acting out before he could control himself.
Harry often felt like that around the other boy. It was obvious that Liam had feelings for Harry. He’d started to gather that theory over the last week or two, and it even felt like Louis and Andy knew that as well. Harry just wished that it wasn’t Liam that liked him, or that Liam liked someone else atleast.
The boy was his best friend, but he was extremely temperamental. After years of experience with dealing with Liam’s mood swings, Harry had gotten quite used to randomly being slapped around the back of the head by Liam, or being blanked after saying some stupid joke at Liam’s expense that Harry would never mean, but now it felt ten times worse. Harry knew that Liam could be jealous when it came to relationships. Liam was one of those people that didn’t know when to relax properly, which just made things ten times harder now that Liam knew about Zayn. Harry didn’t know how, or why, he just knew that Liam had seen them together, which messed up everything well and truly, as well as caused Liam to grow into the raging, envious hurricane that he was slowly turning into.
Harry had quickly gotten dressed into his school uniform, the weather being too hot for a jumper today, and even his blazer felt too heavy to put on. He ruffled up his hair before heading to the bathroom to carry out his hygienic routine. The morning rushed by as all Monday mornings do, and Harry was quickly pushed out of the house by his Mother, who quickly thrusted a slice of toast into his mouth before telling him to run for the school bus. Harry did just that, and after running through the shortcuts in his housing estate, he managed to reach the bus stop before the bus rolled up, even though his hair was in a bit of a state, and he felt like he hadn’t showered in days from the already gathering humidity.
Louis Tomlinson had been sat at the bus stop, occasionally throwing pebbles or whatever else he could find at the group of year nine’s that were all stood round in a circle, talking about the sex that they never really had over the weekend. When Harry had arrived, Louis looked up at him with a nonchalant smile, before leaning up and biting onto the toast that had been in Harry’s mouth and pulling it into his own, nibbling away on it like a happy child.
“You look flustered.” Louis simply commented, as his grey-blue eyes watched Harry dig some deodorant from his bag, before the curly haired boy sprayed his armpits without a care.
“Had to run all the way here, thought I was going to be late.” Harry commented, his voice slightly ragged from the run he had broken into through his housing estate. Both Harry and Louis lived in the same housing estates, but they lived on opposite sides of the estate, yet still caught the same bus from the same stop. Louis nodded as a response, before Harry leaned down and bit onto the toast, taking it back from Louis so that he could finish it off.
“I never run.” Louis commented with a smug smile and a slight shrug of his shoulders as Harry sat down by him. Harry frowned a little and looked at Louis in confusion.
“Except the time we had the secret sixth form sports day and you did a lap of the psychology room with two textbooks on your head…?” Harry smirked, remembering the day like yesterday. All lessons had been called off on the last day of term for the students before they broke up for the two week Christmas half term, and so the boys in year twelve decided to have some fun by setting up games and assault courses across the sixth form building. It was hilarious for everyone, and the videos and photos from it still drove Harry to burst out laughing when he looked over them.
“That’s not the point.” Louis pouted, before the school bus rolled up.
The pointless conversation between the boys was dropped as the old and dirty bus stopped with a jolt by the side of the road. The younger students all started to fuss around as they began pulling out bus passes or coins ready to buy bus tickets. Harry’s bus pass sat tucked in inbetween his index and forefingers, as he watched the gaggle of younger students stand by the bus doors, waiting for them to open. Emerald eyes watched as the doors to the bus finally opened, the small groups of students rushing to get onto the bus almost as if the air inside the bus flew out the minute the doors had opened and was pulling the school boys in one by one, before closing the doors behind them all once they were on board. With a flash of his bus pass, Harry was on, and he and Louis were sat at the back of the bus, with a few other sixth formers, including Andy Samuels.
The bus set off in motion, and Harry’s mind started to run away with thoughts of Zayn Malik once again as his green eyes watched Bradford go past him through the big, dirty bus windows. The noises of the other students on the bus started to dissolve from shouts and laughter into a gentle buzz, like one you’d hear at the end of a video when it runs out of tape. It was almost calming to the curly haired boy as he thought about Zayn. A more logical voice in Harry’s mind told him that Zayn had probably signed out for a dentist appointment, or something else along those lines, and yet Harry knew he couldn’t simply sit back and relax with that in mind until he knew for sure. He knew that he needed to see him. He just needed to make sure that the brown-eyed boy was okay.
Harry didn’t look away from the city that seemed to pass around him until the bus stopped, his ears quickly converted the noise around him from the gentle buzz back to the wild commotion that it was as he came out of his deep thoughts. The loud boys made him wince a little at first, until he saw Liam Payne walk onto the bus, Niall Horan behind him, holding his bus pass tightly. Liam flashed his bus pass and headed up to his friends at the back, before sitting next to Harry with a tired sigh.
“I’m knackered.” Liam spoke, but before he could go on the boy’s younger brother came running over.
“Harry! Hi Harry!” Niall yelled excitedly, and Harry smiled and waved a little before the excitable young boy forced his way into the small space between Harry and Liam. It was a tight squeeze as the boy nestled himself in, and Liam let out a groan and rolled his eyes, but surprisingly said nothing to the young kid.
“Good weekend, Nialler?” Harry asked as he looked down at the bright-eyed boy, who was smiling widely at Harry, and nodding eagerly.
“Yes! On Friday I got my scout badge for tent building because everyone at scouts says I’m the best and then we got a McDonalds and came home and me and Li watched Cars because it’s my favourite and we wrestled and I won because I am strongest!” Niall babbled on excitedly, like always, and eventually Liam’s hand came from nowhere and wrapped around his younger brother’s mouth, to stop it from talking.
“Shush, Niall. Ask him how he is.” Liam told his brother, before he quickly grimaced and flew his hand away from his younger brother, obviously a victim of a sloppy lick or bite from Niall. Harry only shook his head a little and chuckled.
“How was your weekend, Harry? Did you have fun? Did you watch any films?” Niall asked quickly, as his small hand quickly wrapped itself in Harry’s, and then Liam’s.
“It’s like when we went into town together! But that was more fun then school, even though I like school! It’s fun! Especially music and science! My science teacher showed us a real pair of lungs the other day!” Niall babbled on excitedly, and Harry patted his hand a little and tried his best to listen and talk to the small blonde boy, but found it hard. The closer they got to the school, the more his heart would beat faster, begging him to see Zayn.
Soon enough, the curly haired lad’s wish was granted as the bus pulled up to the bus stop by their school. Harry had never wanted to get off the school bus more in his life than he did then.
~
Harry had no lessons until second period, and he had sat in the common room feeling like time was dragging on around him. There had been no sign of Zayn so far, and the curly haired boy was tempted to just go looking for him again. He’d already had one search when he’d gotten to school first thing anyway, and the brown-eyed boy’s location was nowhere to be found. The mid day fifteen minute break was coming up, so Harry decided that he may as well go to his locker to grab his books in readiness. He pulled himself from the small sofas and started to plod lazily through the sixth form and towards the small room where a few rows of lockers were.
When he reached his locker, his pulled out the small silver key to open it and unlocked the locker door, to be met with a pile of textbooks and folders. His locker door was rather plain. Whereas other boys pinned photos of half naked models on the inside of their lockers, or random stickers of football clubs they supported. Harry didn’t really have anything. There was a smile face sticker, which was from Louis, and a post it note from months ago telling him to remember something for a lesson, but that was all. He didn’t seen the point in dressing it up, he’d take it all down next year anyway.
A folded piece of cream coloured card fell from Harry’s locker, and his green eyes followed as it fell to the floor by his feet. He frowned at it for a moment, not recognising it as one of his many notepapers, so he bent down and picked it up. When he saw his name scribbled across it, his curiousity got the better of him and he unfolded it carefully, before being met with a letter. Since the small locker room was empty, he leant against the lockers and read over the beautifully written letter.
To Harry,
You’re my very bestest friend, and you always will be. I’m sorry if I’m not your best friend, but I tried really hard to be your best friend. You were a really good friend though, you’re the best, Harry, honestly. I think that other people may need you more than me, though. It seems that way. Maybe you don’t really need me.
I know you aren’t a card collector. I’m still not quite sure what they are, but I don’t think you are one. You’re sweet, and beautiful, and lovely. Your smile makes my heart feel light, and I like when you walk into our art closet because you’re there for me. You listen to me. Thank you, Harry. You will always be my bestest friend and I’m sorry if I ever do anything wrong.
I’m sorry I’m not very good at writing letters. I’m not really very good at anything. I’m a retard. Liam was right about that one, but he said all you wanted was my virginity. I don’t know what that is, but I would have given it to you if had only asked. I’d give you anything, Harry, but Liam would too. He’d give you anything you wanted better than I would.
Even if you don’t want to be me to be your friend, you’ll still be mine, and you can always come back to me whenever you need me. I’ll be in our art closet.
~Zayn x
To say that Harry read through the letter twice was an understatement. His green eyes scanned through the words four times to try and get them to process. What did Zayn mean? And why was he going on about Liam? Then Harry’s heart broke; Zayn thought of himself as a retard? Harry sadly folded the letter back up and put it into his blazer, his mind making him determined to find Zayn, when a small flicker of movement from the corner of his eye made the boy look up, and his emeralds met two pools of chocolate.
Zayn was stood at the bottom of the staircase, his sketchbooks in his hands, a worried look in his big brown eyes as he had seen Harry stood reading the letter. Harry quickly pushed himself up, trying not to make it obvious that he was staring at the rather large bruise that was on the bridge of the boy’s nose. Most of the bruise was hidden by Zayn’s black glasses, but it wasn’t hidden perfectly.
“Zayn!” Harry exclaimed, his voice coming out more like a crackled sigh, due to how happy he was to see the boy. Zayn smiled a little, but still stood at the bottom of the stairs like a statue, not moving, almost as if the boy was expecting something.
“Zayn, what’s this about? Why did you write this, and why an earth do you think I don’t want to be your friend?” Harry asked quickly, walking towards the boy, the letter in his hand as if it were a piece of evidence. The boy on the stairs gave a slight shrug; his books clung to his chest. His brown eyes trailed down Harry’s body until they fell to the floor.
“Zayn is a retard, Harry deserves more than a retard.” Zayn spoke slowly, his feet shuffling a little, before those big brown eyes of his met back to Harry’s. Any sort of words fell from Harry’s mind, the only logical thing to do going off in the back of his mind like a siren.
Harry stepped forward, dropping the letter as his hands found Zayn’s elbows, bringing the boy close to him. As the letter slowly fluttered and landed by their feet, Harry leant forward and closed his lips against Zayn’s, both boys’ eyes immediately closing. One of Zayn’s hands released itself from it’s possessive hold on the sketchbooks clutched to his chest and snaked itself so that his hand onto Harry’s torso, his fingers holding onto the button on Harry’s blazer. Harry’s lips moved softly against the boy’s. It may have not have been their first kiss, but this one felt like it. It felt so much different to the other ones. The other kisses Harry stole from Zayn were like little experiments.
This was no experiment, this was a first reaction.