Delayed Epiphany ♕ Zarry AU

Five | Lexi

"Are you okay?"

Harry's father's voice startled him, and he dropped his phone. Blushing awkwardly, he bent and picked it up, stuffing it in his back pocket.

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. Completely, totally fine," Harry lied, always the bad liar.

His father just rose an eyebrow. "Okay, well, the queen told me to have you enter alone, so I'll leave now." He took in Harry's frightened appearance; his fingers clutching the end of his shirt, his teeth digging into his lower lip, and his pale cheeks. "Oh, H," he sighed, brushing his son's hair back.

Harry hugged him. "Please," is all he said, unsure of how he could say what he wanted without ruining everything.

"I'm sorry," Desmond said back. He let Harry go, and with a deep breath, Harry pushed open the door to the castle.

- - -

Zayn decided to hate Harry before he even walked into the dining room.

He made the conscious choice to hate him. It was only a year of marriage, after all. That's not even long enough to really know someone. Zayn definitely didn't believe in loving someone within a year (he wasn't even sure he believed in love at all).

But then he walked into the dining room.

Harry was there already, staring up at the paintings on the wall. He was holding a cup of something in his hand, staring up at a painting from when Zayn was eight or nine. Even then, his face was solemn and stoic, void of emotion. It made Harry a little sad; when he thought about his own childhood, he thought of laughter, strawberry ice cream, the sensation of hot sand at the beach. Zayn looked at age eight as if he was already carrying the weight of the world on his tiny, thin shoulders.

"I remember when they painted that portrait," Zayn said. He tried to keep his voice low so he wouldn't frighten Harry, not that it worked. Harry jumped, a bit of his drink sloshing over the edge of the cup and onto the floor.

"Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry...I'll clean it up, I --" Harry leaned to put his cup on the table, but wasn't watching and missed, and the rest of the contents of the cup filtered out onto the floor. "Oh no! I -- I'll clean it up, I promise, please don't be mad --"

Zayn had to fight back the oddest urge to laugh. Harry was such a soft, clumsy, little thing. Strangely enough, Zayn found himself wanting to hold him, to reassure him that everything would be okay, that he'd done nothing wrong.

Zayn shook his head as if trying to clear it of those thoughts. "Don't worry about it," he said. He knelt next to Harry, who was trying desperately to mop up the spill with his napkin. "Seriously." He went to take the napkin from Harry, and when he did, their hands touched. Harry blinked up at him with eyes so green, Zayn really thought he might die if he didn't kiss him right then.

Then he shook his head, and pulled back. He pulled back so sharply that Harry almost fell backwards, but caught himself on the table.

"So," Harry said once they were seated. They'd spent a solid ten minutes in a mutual silence, Harry playing with the food on his plate and managing shy looks over at Zayn, and Zayn brooding down into his glass. Harry felt so far from him, too -- they were both sitting at the heads of the table, but the table was meant to seat at least ten people. 

"So," Zayn said back. He moved his brooding glare from his cup to Harry's face.

"Um...do...do you like cupcakes?" Harry questioned randomly.

Zayn tightened his grip on his fork. Why did Harry have to be so fucking cute? "Cupcakes?" he repeated.

"Uh huh. Do you, um...like them?" Harry's hands were sweating. It was so stupid that asking such a simple question was terrifying, but Zayn was intimidating. He hadn't even smiled the whole time they'd been having dinner.

"I don't know. They're all right," Zayn replied. He was still clenching his fork tightly, and when Harry nodded back with a smile, Zayn gripped it even tighter. God damn it, he was cute. 

"Maybe...maybe we could have them at the wedding. Instead of cake," Harry grinned.

At the word 'wedding,' Zayn's brain shut off, washed out in a wave of rage. Wedding. They were being forced to be married, and all of a sudden Zan was so angry he couldn't even think. 

"Leave," he snapped, voice furious. Harry's mouth fell open at the sound.

"Wh-What?" he stammered. He hadn't exactly thought the night had been going well, but he hadn't thought it'd been going poorly enough that Zayn could kick him out.

"Leave. I don't want to look at you," Zayn snarled. He knew he wasn't being fair, and that the wedding wasn't Harry's fault...but he didn't want to hurt him. And when Zayn got really angry, his tongue became a sword, and his words became knives. Throwing Harry out would hurt less than whatever Zayn could say to him.

It was still hell, though, to see Harry's face crumple and his eyes fill with tears. Hurt, he tossed his napkin on the table.

"You --" he paused to sniffle, "You are a horrible man, and I dread the day I have to marry you!" He sat there for a second, staring at Zayn with tear-filled, hurt eyes, and then pushed back from the table and left the room.

And for the first time (that he could recall, anyway), Zayn Malik regretted his actions.