Harry didn't know how long he would last without his Zaynie. He was so lonely in Louis and Niall's big old house, knowing Zayn was only a little ways away, probably crying and missing him, which is just what Zayn was doing, curled into his sheets, sobbing into Harry's pillow.
While Harry himself cried quietly into Zayn's shirt, not letting anyone hear. The others couldn't know he missed Zayn, Charlie didn't want to see is Dadda, so, intern, Harry wasn't allowed to think about him. Well, to Harry's logic on the situation.
In a few rooms over, Charlie sniffled into Richards's chest. He missed Dadda as much as he hated him at the moment. He knows Dadda didn't mean what he said, but he still said it. And Richard ensured that he indeed, did want him. Maybe if Richard could prove that to Dadda they could go home?
"Shh, Charlie it's okay." Richard kissed the mess of blonde hair and pressed his lips over Charlie's. "No it not! D-Dadda's sad. He misses daddy and it's all my fault. I missed you when Dadda wouldn't let m-me be with you...Doesn't that mean Daddy misses him too?" Charlie questioned. He didn't understand the physics of love; he was really just getting his first taste of it. "
"Yes, but it isn't your fault Charles...They can't do anything about it love, your Daddies just need to make up on their own time, Okay? I'm sure you'll be a family soon," Richard had laughed, kissing the top of Charlie's head.
But, Truth was, almost three weeks later they in fact, weren't a family again. Charlie still staid at Richards, Harry still cried himself to sleep and no one had seen or heard from Zayn in those past weeks and it made them all nervous.
Harry needed Zayn, but Zayn was MIA. Richard had finally healed up, the headaches gone and the open wounds fading. And, it was now time for a small get together at the Tomlinsons home, to celebrate Richards survival, and, of course, A trap for Zayn, in hopes that he would turn up and sweep Harry out from under his feet and carry him away on a trusted steed.
But, when Harry had arrived, Zayn wasn't there...Jay looked more run down than ever, despite the fact that the rest of the family was doing just fine.
It wasn't that big of a celebration but everyone seemed to gather in a mass and drink, eat and gossip amongst them, Charlie, Richard and Zayn being the main target.
But when Zayn didn't show up, Harry am-scraed from the group and crept into his old Art room, still scattered with supplies and works by the younger kids of the family. It had never stopped being the art room, even over the almost twenty years it had been.
Harry traced a hand over a familiar painting plastered to the wall, the one of him and Zayn, where Zayn held him so close and their lips touched and Harry could still feel said sensation.
He missed Zayn, god he missed him. If he knew where he was, he would have gone to him by now but he didn't, and he couldn't...So he was left, alone, with no strong arms to wrap around him at night, no broad chest to bury himself in, now warmth to hide him from the cold air because Zayn was gone, taking Harry's still beating heart with him.
~*~
Zayn sat in a chair, his hands strapped down to keep from clawing himself, while his birth mother stared at him, A doctor at his side. "Zayn, Sweetie?" Patricia asked, pushing some hair from his drenched face. "I-I want him back." Zayn cried, still staring at the ground.
Patricia checked the lad into a mental institution about two weeks before after she found him curled into his bed, his eyes drained, his mouth dry and almost dyeing of dehydration. Zayn really was lost.
He was lost within himself.
Lately he had been hurting himself and the man had to be secluded from the others. The doctors debated on whether letting Zayn see Harry was the best thing.
Zayn was unstable and Harry was handicapped, he wouldn't be able to defend himself against the stronger lad, even in his malnutrition-ed state.
But Zayn didn't want to hear it; he only slept and stared at the ground. He offend woke screaming and had to be sedated but even in his sedated state, he dreamt only of Harry.
He had Harry on the brain and only Harry. He couldn't seem to care about anything else. He didn't mind that his son was a sexually active horn dog with his own fucking cousin, he didn't mind that the house was probably about to get foreclosed, he cared only for the fact that Harry didn't have big strong arms to keep him warm from the brisk London air, or wondering lips to wake him up.
Harry was alone and it made Zayn insane.
~*~