Teeth [Harry Styles Fanfiction]

Chapter Twenty Six

Harry’s Point of View:

“See that there? Yeah, pass it over.” Zayn’s husky voice echoed. I couldn’t really focus on him though, because my vision was slurred and I felt impaired. Instead, I let out a loud laughter and Zayn stared blankly at me before also bursting out into ugly laughter. My head fell back into his oh so soft cushion, and I closed my eyes for a second. I was being taken in the ray of smoke crowding the room. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t see – I couldn’t even talk. This was bliss… 

“Do you remember in grade six, when we took all the biscuits from the machine and Dixon went off on Johnny?” Zayn inquired, carelessly, as he coughed out his final puffs of smoke. I hummed softly though, my teeth vibrating together in memory. I remembered everything – especially in the state of this. Oh yes, poor Johnny ‘talks-too-much’, always taking the blame for our stupidity. Yes, it was easier then – it was easier to pass the blame to a helpless person –a victim. Did that mean that I was a predator? 

“Yeah, I remember, poor bloke,” a screeching croak escape from my lips as my hands dangled on the side of his couch.

Even though my eyes were shut, I could only imagine Zayn’s face. The mystery, the darkness in his eyes… he was quite predictable; maybe it because he was my best mate. “You never come over anymore,” Zayn wasn’t one for showing much emotion, but I could hear it in the way he said this. Maybe it was just his high that we were both enjoying. “You don’t invite me anymore.” Uttering, I fell deeper into the couch and allowed my head to fall into the arm of the furniture. 

“You know you don’t need an invite. When did you ever…erm…. I need another drag.” The man let out a careless laugh and I joined along, completely unaware of what we had just been talking about for the last couple of seconds… or minutes… or hours; I didn’t know anymore. Time was irrelevant – it always has been. 

That night we smoked and we smoked and we smoked; much so, to the point where we both developed multiple personalities. Zayn and I were always a fun sight when we were in cloud nine. Any little thing appeared funny to us – even surreal. 

It wasn’t long before we both crashed and I could even remember the early morning “Tom and Jerry” specials playing in the background as I faded out of consciousness.

In the morning, I woke up, half of my body dangling off of his couch. Zayn was who knew where, but I didn’t even care. I looked around for a second and a slight groan escaped my lips. My whole body ached and maybe it was because of how I slept. I was hoping it was because of that. To be honest, I didn’t remember what Zayn and I got into last night. It’s been too long since I’ve partied like that. 

This was a special kind of party. We were celebrating Zayn – he made the announcement of going to University to make something of himself. Sure, it’s a bit ironic that we celebrated the same way he destroyed his life, but hell, we were happy. Weed LSD, alcohol, and lots and lots of chocolate chips and Jalapeno biscuits. Chocolate chips and Jalapeno biscuits were what we always had the munchies for. 

Stumbling off of the couch, I noticed the opened bags of our mess from last night scattered all over the floor and I couldn’t help but to let out a raspy chuckle. I could hear Zayn’s indie music play from the kitchen and I knew he was awake – which was unusual. Zayn usually doesn’t wake up until the sun goes down. 

“What are you…?”

“Makin’ breakfast. Want some pancakes?” 

Huh? To say I was confused would be the biggest understatement ever. Zayn hardly ate and when he did, it wasn’t something he made himself. I didn’t even know he knew how to cook. With a slight shake of my head, I smiled a bit and walked over to the counter. “How are ya feeling?” A inquire escaped from my lips. I haven’t talked to Zayn in a month so yes, I cared about his wellbeing. “Better.” The busy man muttered. I knew he wasn’t a morning person so our words were to be exchanged on the down low. “Good.”