Oh, Won't You Let Me Burn (Won't You Let Us Conquer) [Zarry] [DISCONTINUED]

Chapter Ten | Couldn't Wait Till Tomorrow, Apollo?

He's freaked out.

Zayn is thoroughly freaked out, but only because he is not nearly as freaked out as he thought that he would be as he feels himself slowly drifting off to sleep to the sound of Apollo's stuffy-nosed snores about an hour later in the middle of his flat.

His hair is tickling his chin, and his hand is fisting the material of his pullover at his back, and Zayn would be reluctantly content to stay exactly where he is at the moment if it weren't for the persistent little voice at the back of his mind reminding him that he does still have work in the morning and therefore should probably be heading home now.

He mentally groans, eyes unwillingly peeling open as he carefully begins to shift to smoothly slide out from underneath Harry and all his gangly limbs without waking him.

He is not successful in the slightest.

"Nooo." He hears a whine given out in protest almost instantly, the voice it belongs to rough and riddled with sleep. "No moving this time. Why are you moving?"

Zayn slowly redirects his hand to lightly run down his back, but other than that, completely ceases his movements in surrender. "It's getting late, Sicky. I should get home," he tells him softly, but he senses the hold on him getting tighter despite that.

"No," he's torpidly told once more, "you don't have to do that."

He laughs a bit at the absurdly adorable way at which it's professed. "Well, I can't stay here all night." His eyes unexpectedly meet tired green ones.

"Why not? You've done it before."

And he has to clear his throat then at the reminder, glancing away from Apollo's pulling gaze, focusing instead on the ceramic coaster on the coffee table in front of him. "Yes, well, I didn't know what I was doing at the time, and I didn't have work the next morning, did I?"

He sees Harry purse his lips in his peripheral vision before adjusting himself on his chest to get more comfortable and closing his eyes again. "You work too much," he declares around a yawn, making Zayn scoff.

"Says the one who wanted to leave the comfort of their nice bed today to go do their job, while battling influenza," he mocks his earlier words, shaking his head. "This is just the first video game that I've really helped design, so I need and want to put my all in it, Styles, that's all."

"No, I know, I'm sorry. I get it," Harry mumbles against his clothes, "but either way, I'm sure that it'll be spectacular, Zaynie."

He rolls his eyes at the baseless claim. "You're just saying that to be nice."

"No, I'm saying it because it's true," he stubbornly mutters back. "I believe in you."

It doesn't sound like a lie, but Zayn barely has enough time to think about that and decide if it is before he's thrown for another loop.

"Zayn?" He first hears his name being called.

"Mm?"

"Will you kiss me again?" are the words that follow it and nearly make him teleport out of his own skin.

"What?" is the only thing that he can think to ask in that moment over the sudden deafening ringing in his ears, although he's sure that he just misheard.

Still, his mind is swirling and whirling with memories that he strives to sift through and hopes can prepare him to properly retort.

"Can I have another kiss?" Harry tries phrasing the question differently, but it does nothing at all to soothe him.

"What? No." He feels trepidation begin to rise up within him once more, but on the outside, he attempts to keep his cool. "What are you– When did I even– When did I kiss you, Harry?" He's not doing a very good job at it.