Harry looked down at the joint in his hand, rolling the stick between his fingers anxiously. He looked up at the dark haired boy sitting next to him, chewing his lip. They all knew about Zayn’s love of the green and brushed it off because well it’s Zayn. But Harry had taken a special interest in the habit. He always noticed Zayn on those lazy afternoons where all the boys would crowd in one flat and watch movies. Zayn arrived with smiling eyes, bright and alert. But halfway through he would leave for a “cigarette” returning with puffy, bloodshot eyes. Harry also noticed how hands-y and cuddly Zayn became after these “cigarette” breaks, cuddling up to Liam or pressing kissing into Niall’s head. Harry tried to hide his jealousy, folding himself into Lou, but he couldn’t ignore the lack of musky cigarette smoke mixed with an earthier, very Zayn scent.
So that’s why Harry was here, in Zayn’s hotel room after a concert in another godforsaken city he never heard of, rolling the blunt between his fingers while Zayn watched on expectantly. He had to know what it felt like being high, the hunger and cuddliness and sue him but maybe he wanted to be the center of Zayn’s affections for once. He wanted to share this with Zayn and maybe he would think Harry was good enough and cool enough or something. Harry really wanted to do it, but he never smoked anything before, let alone a blunt and he wasn’t sure how to do it exactly.
“Uh, h-how do I…?” He trailed off.
“Just relax. Smoke it like you would a fag. Breathe in, don’t swallow the smoke it’ll kill your hit,” Zayn explained shrugging his shoulders. He took the blunt from Harry’s hand and began to light it, smiling lightly at Harry’s innocence.
“I’ve never smoked a fag, either.” He mumbled, blushing. Regardless, he took the blunt from Zayn’s outstretched hands and bought it up to his lips, eyes shut, breathing in the smoke. He sucked in too hard, panicking as he felt the smoke crawl down his thought. He coughed it back out, rubbing his throat and sputtering. Zayn rushed over to Harry’s side rubbing circles into his back, patting occasionally.
He looked up at Zayn, “Don’t you dare, laugh,” He half glared.Zayn bit his lip, stifling a chuckle, continuing to rub circles in Harry’s back.
“Here let me show you.” He took the blunt out of Harry’s fingers bringing it to his lips. He breathed in slowly, pulled the blunt out of his mouth and breathed in sharply for a second time. He let the smoke collect in his lungs for a while until he felt slightly lightheaded, breathing out the remaining smoke. Harry watched on in awe, how natural and beautiful Zayn looked while smoking. It was raw and real and Harry was mesmerized.
“Here, you try one more time. If it doesn’t work there’s, uh, one more thing we can try,” Zayn handed the blunt back to Harry avoiding his eyes.
Harry looked at Zayn skeptically, his eyes cast downward, looking at his hands in his lap. He took a deep breathe before lifting it to his lips and sucking in, slower this time. He managed to get it down, but coughed it back up quickly, panicking when he felt it reach his throat again.
“How can you do it so good?” He wheezed and Zayn just chuckled.
“Years of practice, young Hazza,” He said smiling then quickly looking down again taking the blunt back from Harry. “Well, uh, I’m gonna try something. Don’t freak out, yeah?”
Harry gnawed on his lips nervously. Zayn took the blunt and inhaled once more. Instead of breathing it in sharply, he locked eyes with Harry, slowly inching closer to the younger boy. Harry’s heart was beating a mile a minute, lips open, breath coming heavy. Zayn’s face was steadily nearing his and internally Harry was freaking out.
“Harry. Pull yourself together. It’s just Zayn. Zayn. Fuck, it’s Zayn. What is he gonna do holy shit. Calm down, It’s not like he’s going to ki-“ His internal monologue was cut short by Zayn’s lips gently pushing into his own.
