Forget Me Not (Zayn/Harry; Mpreg AU)

5 - Feels an awful lot like Cinderella

Harry pulls the rope to close the door to his attic room, tying it around a metal knob to secure it. Once done, he joins his unexpected guest, who is sitting by the bed, and plops on the floor slowly, his nerves on high alert.

"Your room is sick, mate," Zayn compliments sincerely, looking around the small area with eager brown eyes.

Harry's eyes sweep around the room, taking in his dusty bookshelf full of his favorite books and little trinkets that he has collected over the years. He catches sight of the newest addition to his meaningful collection, which is a thumb-sized troll doll keychain with crazy orange hair and big eyes. The troll doll is from Niall and according to the irish blond, it is his lucky keychain.

"When I was younger, I used to lose our house keys all the bloody time." Harry remembers Niall recounting the story, gaze distant and fond. "My mum bought this keychain. She thought if I had a keychain as big as this troll doll, I'd have a hard time losing the keys. Personally, I didn't believe her at first, but here I am now, years later, holding the same set of house keys with the same troll doll keychain. Mad, innit?"

Harry remembers protesting when Niall has given him the tiny doll, but accepted it, anyway. It is his most prized possession now.

"Harry?"

Zayn's voice snaps Harry out of his thoughts. He locks eyes with Zayn for a second too long and becomes flustered. He ducks his head and says, "Umm, yeah?"

"You left me for a moment there," Zayn murmurs softly. "No surprise, though. I know how boring I can get."

"What?" Harry squeaks, shaking his head fervently. "No, no, no, no! I was just, uh, remembering some...things."

"Alright." Zayn nods. "Well, umm, can I ask you a question? Like, something personal?"

Harry shrugs, trying his best not to freak out and panic because Zayn looks very serious for some reason.

"You don't look a thing like Mrs. Tilley or her husband. You certainly don't have Katerina and Jakob's blue eyes. I was wondering if, umm, are you adopted?"

Harry releases the breath that he is holding, relieved. He can definitely talk about this, him being adopted has never been a touchy issue to him. "I am."

"How long?"

"All my life," Harry replies. "Ma'am Lilian told me they found me in front of their gates when I was a week old. I've lived here all my life."

"I see." Zayn looks like he wanted to pull Harry into a hug but doesn't know if he's allowed to. "I'm sorry for asking."

"It's alright."

Unbeknownst to Harry, who has his head tilted up, watching the starry night sky through the circular window on his ceiling, Zayn's curious eyes trace his face, fascinated. "I feel like I've seen you somewhere," he confesses quietly.

Harry tenses. "R-really?"

"Yes," Zayn says without hesitation. "Your eyes...they look at me like I'm familiar."

"Erm." Mentally, Harry is debating if he should tell Zayn that they have had a short staring contest on Manchester a few weeks back.

Zayn exhales loudly and lays down on the bed, the back of his head cushioned on top of his arms. "Never mind."

Harry, relieved beyond words, nods. He takes his toga off and folds it neatly, stacking the graduate cap on top of it.

A comfortable silence settles over them but Zayn breaks it a couple of minutes later, asks, "Katerina sure is persistent, yeah?"

"She is."

"I excused myself to go to the loo and when I finished, she was right there, standing infront of the bathroom door. Scared the shit out of me, man. Bloody hell."

Harry laughs.

"Girls," Zayn mutters.

The amused expression on Harry's face fades and he stiffens in surprise, recalling Zayn's exact word when he first saw him and following it is the knowledge of Zayn being in a relationship. Harry mentally shrugs; it doesn't really matter because it's not like Harry's tiny crush on Zayn will be returned. So, he gathers a bit of courage instead and initiates a conversation.

"How did you meet, uh, Ma'am Lilian?"

Zayn sits up and holds Harry's gaze. For some reason, the two of them are asking and answering questions which they will normally would not divulge to someone they've just met. It is almost like they've been friends for years and the level of comfortability they feel for each other is enough to warrant details of their personal lives. It's insane if they think about it.

"For years, my mum and dad have been trying to convince her to sell one of her properties to us. She never agreed, until now. They've been discussing the details of the transaction for weeks and, apparently, they've signed the contract. The deal's closed and to celebrate it, Mrs. Tilley invited us over."

"Do you know the specific details of the deal?" Whoa, Harry thinks. Where is he getting all of these courage to ask such questions?

The response is a shake of Zayn's head. "No idea at all. Funny, though, because I should know these things considering the fact that I'm next in line to run the business, but meh."

"You aren't interested in business?"

"Not really," Zayn admits, ashamed. He fiddles with a bracelet on his wrist. "I've always wanted to be a singer. Or a songwriter. But, we can't, like, have everything, right?"

Harry timidly reaches out to pat Zayn's knee in comfort. "Maybe you'll be the first CEO singer-songwriter."

The curly-haired lad counts it as a win when Zayn chuckles. "I like the sound of that."

Their moment is broken when Zayn's phone starts ringing. He fishes it out of his pocket, looks at the caller ID and sighs before answering. "Hey, Gigi."

Harry scoots to the side when Zayn stands up, watching the handsome man's expression get pinched throughout the hushed conversation.

"Babe, mum and I are invited to the Tilley's, remember? What? The fuck, Gigi...Why can't you trust me? Whatever...I'm going home. It's late. Bye."

Harry wants to reach out and chase the tension away from Zayn's shoulders, but stays rooted on his spot by the floor. He looks at his wall clock and sees the hour hand stretching close to midnight.

"Thanks again for earlier, Harry," Zayn says, his stiff back to Harry. He unties the rope to open the door to Harry's room, gently letting the attached stairs slide down. Carefully, Zayn lowers himself on the hole, scaling down the stairs, one foot at a time. Just before he disappears completely, only his head visible to Harry, he smiles slightly and waves. "It was nice meeting you, Harry." Then, he is gone. His soft footsteps fading away quickly.

Like earlier, Harry pulls the rope up to close his door and ties it on the metal knob, securing it. He gets changed to more comfortable clothing and lays on his bed. He snuggles against the bedsheets with a deep breath, chasing Zayn's faint scent on the linen, his heart aching for more.