Fifteen Minutes (Zarry AU)

Chapter 8

The next morning, Zayn is in a very different mood. It takes Harry a few moments to gather the courage to knock on his front door, but when he does and Zayn slides it open to look at him from under his black eyelashes, the muscles in Harry’s shoulders relax.

‘I’m sorry,’ Zayn says, shaking his head. He looks like he hasn’t slept, either, and as worried as Harry is, he’s so relieved that he’s not mad any more that he just wants to explode all over him, to hug him and apologise and ask if he’s okay, all at once.

But he stops himself.

‘I brought donuts.’ He holds up the paper bag in his hand. ‘I only ate one.’

Zayn dips his head and smiles – loose and a bit unsure, as if he doesn’t know if he still can until he does – and when he does, Harry can’t stop himself and launches himself at him, hugging him so hard that Zayn staggers back and laughs.

‘I ate two,’ Harry admits, burying his face in Zayn’s neck and inhaling.

There are tears in his eyes as he drinks in the smell of him and he tells himself to memorise it – tobacco and Palmer’s cocoa butter and something else, something he’s never been able to find in his loft – because there was a moment last night when Harry was checking his phone for the one hundredth and fourteenth time that he was sure he’d never see Zayn again. He’s never felt that before and it scares him because he isn't the one who holds on. He’s the one who tries to wriggle away.

Zayn laughs and hugs him tighter. ‘You ate three, didn’t you?’

‘I eat when I’m nervous.’

‘Sorry I made you nervous,’ Zayn breathes, stepping back and shaking his head.

Harry frowns. ‘I thought I did something.’

‘No.’ Zayn looks mortified. ‘It’s me. I’m an asshole.’

Harry reaches for his elbow and squeezes. ‘No you’re not.’

‘I am. I should never have spoken to you like that yesterday. I’m so sorry.’

‘You were upset.’

‘Yeah, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.’

‘You wouldn’t have if I’d taken the hint and left you alone,’ Harry tells him with a sigh as he follows him into the loft, sliding the door shut behind him. ‘It’s my fault, I push and push and I never listen. But lesson learned,’ he holds his hand up, ‘when you say that you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t want to talk about it.’

‘I don’t listen, either. I’m a moody asshole,’ Zayn shakes his head again. ‘I know you were just trying to help, but there’s nothing you can do when I get like that.’

‘I’ll leave you alone next time.’ Harry smiles and he waits for Zayn to as well, but his frown deepens and when it does, it takes Harry a moment to realise why. ‘But I’ll always come back,’ he adds and even though it’s just the two of them in the loft, he still says it under his breath.

Zayn finally looks him in the eye and when he raises his hand, Harry’s sure that he’s going to touch him and the promise of it make his heart jumps up in his chest like a scared cat, but Zayn just points at the kitchen. ‘Brew?’

Harry feels something in him wilt and it takes another moment to realise why: he’s disappointed. It’s been a while since he felt that, since watching someone walk away made him breathless, and it makes him think of the first time he saw Zayn when everything in his head jumped up and landed in a different place. He didn’t think about it at the time, but that’s something he hasn’t felt for a while, either.