Drawn Out Dreams. [A Zarry Fanfiction.]

Chapter Thirty Six

Harry Styles threw his bedroom windows wide open that Friday afternoon, so that he could let some of the warm air from outside fill his bedroom, which felt like a stuffy sauna. It was times like these, he wishes his had some sort of air conditioning or a fan in his room. The summer was approaching thick and fast, and it was rather exciting for all Brits, since they hadn’t really seen much of the sun since last summer. Zayn’s big brown eyes watched as Harry was stood up on his bed, which was pressed next to the wall and the window, and opened the large windows. His body was immediately hit with cool air, and Zayn smiled at the feeling of it against his hot face.

Harry jumped back down from the bed and laughed a little.

“I hope your folks don’t mind that I’ve just made your plans for the night.” Harry laughed, as he then pulled off the white school shirt that he’d been working and sweating in all day, and threw it into a laundry basket. Zayn’s cheeks flushed as his brown eyes looked over Harry’s chest and he shuffled on the spot, still holding onto his sketchbooks.

“Mum will think I’m at Dad’s and Dad will think I’m at Mum’s.” Zayn explained quietly, trying to take his eyes away from Harry’s bare back and failing incredibly. He knew it was rude to stare, especially at people when they weren’t dressed, but his brown eyes just could be dragged away from Harry’s body. He took in every little crook and crevice of the boy’s back, which was pale from the lack of sun seen to it.

Harry chuckled and turned around, pulling a couple of pairs of shorts from his chest of drawers as he did so. His green eyes noticed the pink tint to Zayn’s cheeks and he couldn’t help but smirk a little, knowing that the brown-eyed boy must have been staring. Harry didn’t mind, in fact, if the roles were reversed, his eyes would have been all over the body of his boyfriend, but Harry could tell there would be some work before they ever got to that stage.

“You’re quite cheeky under that little look of innocence, aren’t you, fluffball?” Harry laughed, before passing Zayn a pair of denim shorts, which were rolled at the knee, and had slight rips on them, in the name of style. They were fairly new, but Harry wanted to see what the raven haired boy would look like in new, up to date clothes, rather than the hand me downs he normally wore outside of school. Zayn placed his sketchbooks onto Harry’s bed carefully, before he took the pair of shorts with another bashful smile.

Harry then passed Zayn a plain white T-shirt to go with the shorts, before Harry shut his bedroom door so that they could both get changed in privacy. Harry was used to walking around the house in next to nothing, much to his family’s embarrassment. Harry unbuckled his belt, and as Zayn held onto the clothes Harry had given him, he now found it hard to take his eyes away from Harry’s movements once again. He blushed as Harry unbuckled the belt completely and unzipped his school trousers, unaware of the big brown eyes watching him, and pushed them down his legs. Zayn squeaked a little and quickly shot around to face the other way, the last glimpse of Harry’s white boxer shorts imprinted in his mind. How naughty of him to see!

Zayn placed the clothes carefully on Harry’s bed ready for him to change into, before he slowly took off the hot school uniform he had been wearing all day. With each piece of clothing, he took it off, folded it up onto Harry’s bed neatly, and then put the replacement piece onto his body. When Zayn’s school uniform was neatly placed on the bed next to his sketchbooks, he looked down at himself. His skinny torso seemed to stick out for once, as the white shirt clung to him, and the denim shorts seemed to do the same. Most of his clothes were always too big for him, but these fitted him perfectly, even though they felt strange too him. He never really wore nice things like these, and they were Harry’s so he had to take care of them.

He finally turned around to meet two green eyes, which were looking over him with a sparkle of appreciation. Harry’s lips were set in a lazy, lopsided smile; his dimples each side, as if trying to glance over Zayn’s body as well. Zayn wondered what the boy was staring at as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. Harry’s body was now in some darker denim shorts, and he had a summery plaid shirt hung over his shoulders, only buttoned up halfway, to reveal two perfect collar bones and a fair amount of creamy skin. Of course Harry would look lovely, in Zayn’s eyes, he always did.