Parole | Zarry

16

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"Well, he was obviously a stupid dickhead,"

Harry announced sincerely.

Zayn smiled and slammed the album closed.

After a moment's thought, he pointed at Harry and then at the album, eyebrows raised questioningly.

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"Okay. I'm guessing you're not asking if I have a photo album too."

Harry squirmed a little in his seat.

"You wanna know if I ever had someone serious."

A nod confirmed his guess.

"I, um, haven't. It's not that I didn't want-well, I guess it just never worked out."

God, he'd always dreaded having a Relationship Talk, and it didn't help one bit that he was the only one talking.

He scratched at his chin-he was trying to grow a beard.

-and tried to avoid the gaze that was pinning him in place.

He thought about changing the subject entirely.

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Maybe commenting on the weather, or whether the upcoming game were going to have a good season.

or had Zayn caught that episode of Supernatural last week?

Finally, Harry took a deep breath.

"Look. I'm not very good at this relationship thing. But I'd really like to give it a try, if that works for you."

Zayn's answering smile was the best response he could have wanted.

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It rained pretty much every day after that, and when it wasn't raining, it was cold.

But Harry didn't care, because as he walked home each evening, he didn't have to hope that Zayn would be out on his steps with his guitar.

Instead, Zayn would be waiting for him with a smile at the open door.

Sometimes Zayn made him dinner-he was a pretty decent cook, better by far than Harry.

Sometimes they went out.

Sometimes they went over to Harry's to eat.

But no matter where they ate, they spent the evening together, and often Zayn spent the night too.

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On weekends they hung out at Harry's place or Zayn's, or they spent hours in brewpubs or coffee shops.

Zayn liked to haunt bookstores-luckily, his aphasia didn't affect his ability to read.

With a huge grin, he introduced Harry to the sex shop that was a block away from his favorite book emporium.

Harry hadn't really explored the area since he'd come to live there, so Zayn showed him around, taking him to off-beat little neighborhoods and funky stores and even, one time only, to a basketball game.

They went running together.

Harry was faster, but Zayn had better endurance.

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One Saturday morning-one of the few when Zayn hadn't spent the previous night-someone pounded on Harry's door much earlier than he would have preferred.

His grumpiness evaporated, however, when he saw his lover with a pink bakery box in his hands.

Zayn laid the box on the table, gestured at Harry to get dressed, then took a soup bowl from the cupboard and filled it with cat kibble.

Scooping up the pink box, he dragged Harry out the door and motioned him into the passenger seat of his car.

As Zayn drove them west with a smug smile and a refusal to give even a hint where they were going.

Harry made a dent in the baked goods stash, uttering satisfied noises over the maple bar with bacon.

• ☘ •

- Quick update cuz I was missing u guys.