When the concert came to a close and they gave their final bow with Big Time Rush, the boys were high on euphoria. Several exclamations of “That was insane!” and “Did you see that fit girl in front? Her boobs just kept juggling!” were made and all of their shirts stuck to their backs, hair matted with sweat. Harry’s was undeniably the worst, the damp locks hanging over his eyes.
“It’s a good look, Harry, really,” Louis joked as they piled into the car; all five of them ready to return to their hotel rooms and sleep.
Mimicking Louis’ words under his breath, Harry opted to move to the backseat with Zayn as the others all squished together in the front. Zayn could see how tired Harry was just by a side glance and slung his arm around the younger teenager’s shoulders, giving him a quick squeeze and muttering, “If you fall asleep, I’ll carry ya to your room.” Though the words had been as a joke, it did not stop Harry from falling asleep against Zayn’s shoulder halfway through the ride.
The boys in front were just as tired and weren’t speaking, leaving the car utterly silent. An unusual but not an unwelcome change. Whereas the four other boys spent the trip falling in and out of sleep, Zayn continuously peered down at the sleeping Harry and his face, wondering if he should wake him and remind him that they would be arriving at the hotel soon. His gut instinct told him otherwise.
When they did reach the hotel, Zayn stuck by his words and carried Harry’s sleeping form to their hotel room even though the Cheshire teenager woke up inside the lobby and was perfectly capable of walking himself.
As Zayn relied entirely on gut instinct, he had allowed it to depict whether or not to let Harry walk for himself. Almost instantly, his gut told him to keep carrying—and, as Zayn kept to his motto of always relying on your instinct, he did.
+ + + + + + +
It was close to 3am when Zayn felt an alien weight join him in bed, awakened by the pulling back of the covers and the dip in the mattress. Groaning as he woke up, he squinted through bleary eyes to see who the culprit was that woke him.
Even through tired eyes, the mass of curly hair unmistakable. “Harry?” muttered Zayn, rubbing at his eyes.
“Louis’ snoring and I couldn’t sleep, thought I’d join ya,” came the response and Zayn could practically hear the smirk in his voice. But the older teenager understood where Harry was coming from. He had to bunk with Louis one night and the snoring he heard that night could penetrate through bulletproof glass.
“S’alright, get comfortable.” And get comfortable Harry did.
It took a lot for anyone who had roomed with Harry Styles for more than a day to forget his nude tendencies and considering Zayn had been living with him for almost a year and a half, he thought he wouldn’t have forgot. That was until he felt a bare ass cheek rub against his thigh and he almost leapt a mile into the air. “Harry, are you naked?”
The reply was muffled as Harry’s face was buried into the pillow, though Zayn was able to decipher a yes in there somewhere.
“Harry, why are you naked?”
Another unintelligible response muffled by the pillow, and Zayn had to grunt in frustration.
“It’s not helpful when I can’t hear you, twat,” he spat with venom, the interruption of his sleep beginning to take the toll on him.
The mop of curly hair lifted from the pillow and Zayn was faced with a glowering Harry. “Does it matter why I’m naked? I just prefer it this way.”
“Don’t you think it might be awkward for people such as, say, me? I can feel your ass hairs!”
“Don’t even pretend that you don’t like it, Zayn.”
