Maniac [on hold]

Chapter 1

"Here you are, sir."

Harry cleared his throat and sat back in his booth as he watched the plate of food slide down in front of him. With a slight nod to the waitress, she walked away, and Harry couldn't help but turn around and watch her; mostly to avoid the harsh glare he was receiving, and slowly crumpling under, from across the table. He grabbed his place setting and unwrapped the napkin, picking up the fork and examining it.

"The stains on this fork make me want to find another diner." He muttered, glancing up at Zayn, who just stared at him with a blank expression. Harry nearly pouted, exhaling sharply out of his nose then quickly scanning over the messy table for another fork, perhaps a clean one.

No luck.

His tongue was in his cheek as he looked at Zayn again, who hadn't moved from his previous position. "Ask for another fork!" Harry snapped, slamming his fists down on the table and receiving glares from the families in the booths around them.

Zayn quickly pushed his own plate aside, leaning forward over the table and folding his hands on top of it, "Did you get your eight?" Harry ignored him, giving up and stabbing his stained silverware into his scrambled eggs, "Harry-"

"What." Harry nearly whined, putting his fork down and catching the waitress as she walked by, "Check." He ordered and she nodded with a pot of hot coffee in her petite hands, disappearing behind the counter.

Zayn let out an impatient sigh, "Did you get your-"

"No." Harry picked apart his toast, stuffing some of the pieces in his mouth and chewing them slowly, concentrating on the buttered bread to avoid eye contact. He didn't have to look at Zayn to see his reaction, pissed. "I got distracted!" Harry defended himself, though he was just as disappointed in himself as Zayn was.

Zayn folded his arms over his chest and leaned back, licking his lips slightly before speaking up, "How many then?" Harry just shook his head, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I'm fucking sorry, alright? You have to put yourself in my shoes." Harry eyed Zayn as the check was set down in front of him, taking a loose twenty from his pocket and slamming it down on the table before getting up and walking out from the diner.

He paced through the heavy snow on the ground, slipping over it quite a bit in an attempt to move faster once he heard Zayn catching up to him. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his black coat, pulling out his last one and throwing the empty package in the snow.

"Harry, Harry," Zayn panted from behind him and he whipped his body around in an instant with the unlit cigarette between his dry lips, "here." Zayn pulled a lighter out from his back pocket, bringing it to the cig on Harry's lips and successfully lighting it. Harry took a quick drag, exhaling slowly as the two began to walk forward again, side by side this time.

"I just couldn't find anyone." Harry spoke up between clouds of smoke, subtly kicking up snow while staring at his boots.

"Couldn't find anyone? Harry, we're in fucking Boston. You were out till 4 A.M. every fucking night, the hell were you doing?"

The worry line on Harry's face really stood out in moments like these; where he didn't want to lie to Zayn but he didn't want to tell him the truth either. Zayn was his best mate, ever since high school. They even had a place together downtown, a small apartment, but neither of them minded the size. Harry was the younger of the two, but his height could say otherwise. Though, if you really took a good look at the pair, you would be able to tell Zayn was older, maybe from the grumpy look he always wore.

Zayn was something else. He was intimidating, and gave you more than one reason to be frightened by him. He tended to use force to get what he wanted and rarely ever smiled, but he'd always been like that and Harry didn't mind very much anymore, or at all. He had anger issues, and the scar on Harry's right arm from when Zayn threw a glass at the wall next to him, aiming at him, proved it. Again, Harry didn't mind because Zayn was his best bud and nothing could come in between the friendship those two had. Their relationship wasn't the usual though, far from it actually, it was- quite different.

"You going to answer my question?" Zayn spoke up, and Harry cleared his throat.

"I met a girl." He blurted out, taking one last drag before passing it over to Zayn.

"You what?" Zayn accepted the cig, though didn't do anything with it and kept his eyes on the pale boy, "You're telling me you've been screwing some slut till the light of day when you could've been slitting her neck? Unbelievable."

"Okay, maybe it was a guy."

"Even worse!" Zayn complained, his voice may have cracked once but he would never admit it. Harry just rolled his eyes, shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat before walking ahead of Zayn again, "Okay, okay. Harry, listen, let's make a deal. What day is it?"

"Sunday." Harry responded, stopping in front of the dark-haired boy.

"Perfect. Eight by Friday." Zayn informed and just as Harry opened his mouth to speak, he cut him off, "And you must participate."

"Relax, I'll do it." Harry answered, continuing down the path in front of Zayn, "I could even do nine."

"Then I'll do ten."

"...Let's just stick to eight." Harry laughed at Zayn's urge to be competitive, "Deal?" He turned around again, offering Zayn his hand, who took it with a firm shake.

Zayn almost cracked a smile, his lips pulled back just slightly at the corners as he squeezed Harry's hand,

"Deal."