Saltwater ~Zarry~

Chapter 14.

Inevitable pain. That's what Harry felt right now. His leg was killing him. About an hour ago, right before he would lay down and close his eyes to sleep, Harry felt pain.

He did his normal routine. Showered, brushed his teeth, put on night clothes, and took off his prosthetic. But the last part got to him, physically.

What he felt was like knives inside his skin, trying their very hardest to push their way out of Harry's leg, over and over again. It was a constant pain, almost unbearable.

Harry looked down at his thigh, only to widen his eyes in horror at the sight.

Bruised so dark purple and blue, it was almost black. Indented so deep, they could be mistaken for scars. And scraped so hard, they drew small dots of blood.

And he couldn't miss the soreness he felt, to apparently compliment, the stabbing pains.

Harry reached his hand slowly down to brush his fingers along the bruises and cuts. But quickly pulled back because even that, small encounter, hurt.

A heavy and hot tear, rushed it's way down Harry's soft and sunburnt cheek. He sniffed before wiping the tear. He lifted and shuffled himself to lay down and try sleep. But to no avail.

Every position hurt. Left side, right side, back, belly. He even tried laying sideways on the bed and letting his leg and thigh dangle off the bed, but that still hurt.

He ended up on his side, facing away from the door. And after an hour of trying, he cried. Harry stopped trying and cried. Soft and tried-to-be hushed sobs left his lips as the hot tears streamed down his red face.

He was frustrated, and he just wanted to sleep.

But, Harry's cries weren't quiet enough to go unheard. He heard the door open then close, felt the bed dip behind him, felt a pillow be laid under his thigh, and felt arms wrap around his waist.

He just cried harder. Cried because he was in pain. Cried because he wouldn't be in pain if this didn't happen to him. Cried because he knew exactly who was holding him. And cried because he missed this person, so much.

Harry tried to say something. To speak anything he could but all he did was choke up and end in sobbing, leaving his face red and pillow wet.

He felt himself being turned and his head lay down on the warm, solid, muscular chest that is of, Zayn Malik. He felt safe and fuzzy inside, but still he cried.

And Zayn let him. Because Harry needs this. He needs someone there for him and regardless of their awkward time frame, he would always comfort Harry.

So that's exactly what he did. Comforted Harry by softly stroking his back and running his hand through Harry's hair, while he whispered calming soft words into his ear. "You're alright. You're ok, I'm right here."

And Harry calmed. Because he believed those sweet words that were whispered in a soft tone, from the most bright and beautiful person Harry knows.

His crying stopped because Zayn is right there. And he would be ok so long as he remembered that Zayn would alway be there, even if he didn't want to believe he deserved it.

Zayn stopped talking when Harry stopped sobbing. Now as Harry just sniffs he hums a soft and quiet tune, and Harry calms completely.

Zayn and Harry fall asleep I'm that position. Zayn with his arms wrapped around Harry tightly, as Harry's head lay on his chest and their legs tangle together.

When they wake up the next morning, it's quiet. A good quiet, a peaceful quiet they could both lay in and not feel awkward or obligated. A pure quiet.