A.M. ↠ zarry AU

ineffable

in·ef·fa·ble

/inˈefəb(ə)l/

adjective

too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words.

×××

The next day Harry woke at 11:30. Being one of the few, very lucky, people to wake up without a hangover, he laid in bed replaying last night. It all felt like a dream. The drinking, dancing...that guy, what was his name? Ryan? - No, Zayn. That's it.

Zayn. Some fancy pants CEO for the biggest company known to man. Who would have thought a guy like that would be gay? Harry frowned and placed his hands under his head. He never thought this far. He'd have to sleep with this guy now. He'd have to do whatever it is that he wanted because it was his job to please.

Harry had never done anything with a guy before and the inexperience and unfamiliarity made him nervous.

*

14:45

"Why does he want to meet you so late?"

"I donno, probably work - maybe he's married." Harry shrugged, not caring.

"At least he's not seventeen." Liam sassed, causing Harry to give him a friendly glare.

"I didn't know."

"I'm just teasing," Liam laughed. "... So..."

"So?" Harry looked up from the magazine he was absent-mindedly flipping through.

"Uuuh..."

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "I told you last night, I'm not gay."

"It's totally fine if you are though." Liam said hastily, not wanting to come off as judgemental. "Like, we have loads of gay workers and clients."

"And that's great, Liam." Harry said unbothered, and started to read an article about a victim of a kidnapping who developed stockholm syndrome for her abductor.

He was comfortable with who he was and knew who he was. This was all just a job, it was all basically just sex with a stranger, something so many people do all the time.

This is what Harry kept repeating to himself as the time neared one.

00:30

Harry looked at himself in the half broken mirror in his small, dull light green bathroom. He admired his sharp features and clear skin. He had opted for wearing a pink button up shirt with white polka dots and white skinny jeans with silver boots. Spraying on some of his cologne and combing his hair to the right side he took one last look at himself before leaving.

Harry started his old car which took a few tries before spluttering to life. "Please, stay with me baby." He spoke to his car, rubbing the dash as if it was a brand new puppy he had just gotten.

He had arrived at the club to see it was at its liveliest and wondered how he and Zayn would spot each other.

I should have given him my number or asked for his? Damn your sloppy drunk self, Styles.

Harry had parked a few meters away from the club because of all the parking spots being taken and waited to see if he could spot Zayn walking along the path. Everytime a car stopped near him he'd stare to see if it was his mystery man who'd found him by luck.

Fifteen minutes had passed and Harry grew bored. He turned on the radio and tried to find a station to listen to.

"CAN WE GET A RIDE MISTER?" A group of clearly drunk teens asked, leaning on the hood of his car.