A.M. ↠ zarry AU

naïve

na·ive

/nīˈēv/

adjective

(of a person or action) showing a lack of experience, wisdom, or judgment.

×××

Harry doesn't sleep, no matter how much his body asks for it, he refuses. He wants to see what time Zayn leaves. His eyes are dry and feel heavy, as if they're sinking to the back of his skull.

Light. Light keeps him awake. He feels around on the bedside table for his phone.

Zayn's hand squeezes around his hip and he stirs. "Why are you still awake?"

"Why're you?" Harry whispers, not sure if Zayn was asleep this whole time or not.

03:30

"Go to sleep." Zayn mumbles and snuggles into his back.

"...You're staying the night?" He locks his phone and turns in Zayn's arms to face him and stare at him in the dark. It takes a while for his eyes to adjust back to the dark again but when it does he sees Zayn's eyes are comfortably shut and his mouth is pressed in a calm, even line.

Zayn chuckles tiredly, "Mm, my flight is at six so I thought I'd actually get some sleep... can't really sleep on planes." He slurs and Harry knows he's going to be knocked out pretty soon, so he stops with the questions and let's Zayn get his two hours of sleep before he's sneaking out again. He forces an arm under Zayn's so that he's able to hold him back and drifts off into a peaceful sleep.

An hour later Zayn's alarm goes off and upon hearing the first beep of the shrill sound, he grabs his phone to silence it so that it doesn't wake a serene Harry next to him. He gently removes himself from Harry's grip and makes his way to the shower. After showering, getting dressed into a fresh black suit and, making himself some breakfast, Zayn quietly heads back into the room to grab the rest of his things. But silence isn't enough to keep Harry at bay because as soon as the strong, fresh smell of Zayn's cologne hits Harry's nose, he's stirring and forcing his eyes open.

"W-why do we do that?" He slurs with half open eyes. He's still incredibly sleep ridden and his body and brain are struggling to wake up or make sense of anything.

Zayn smiles at Harry's gibberish and smooths a hand over his hair. "Go back to sleep, I'm leaving now. I might see you next week."

"Mm, wh..." Harry's head fell back onto the pillow and he moved around a bit. Zayn kissed him quickly on the lips and said a soft goodbye to him, and before he was even out the door, Harry was out like a light.

Hours later around 12:00 Harry slowly stuck out his tongue to wet his lips and tasted sugar..or was that syrup? Whatever it was it forced his eyes to open and he only then realised how hungry he was.

Seeing the door open to the ensuit he took a shower and, only caring to wear his towel, went to the kitchen to find a stack of pancakes in the oven and a bottle of syrup on the counter. He inspected the bottle seeing that this was what he tasted on Zayn.

*

That day Harry decided to leave the hotel late in the afternoon and when he returned to his own flat took it upon himself to clean it up a bit. He tried opening the window by the fire escape but, only succeeded in having it be less than half opened. He cursed at his dingy apartment for what must have been the fiftieth time since he moved in.

Going to his closet, he wanted to rid himself of last night's clothes and opted for an Arctic Monkeys band - tee and, some grey jogging shorts. While rifting through his drawer he picked up a black t-shirt that had David Bowie's face on it. He smiled at the print and raised it to his nose, smelling his sister's familiar perfume. He must have accidentally packed this with his stuff before he had left. He remembers that these were the two shirts that he and Gemma had worn when she took him to go and see his first concert, the Arctic Monkeys, at age thirteen. Smiling softly at the memory he set the Bowie shirt aside and made a mental note to soon send it back to his sister.

After cleaning up everywhere Harry went back into his lounge and basked in the rays of LA sun that shone on a patch of his garish crimson carpet. Turning on his little boom box that sat in the corner of the room, next to where he sat, he let the room be filled with the soft and beautiful voice of Norah Jones. As the song, Don't Know Why, played, he folded his legs and grabbed at his brand new and, growing record collection. It wasn't much really, only three. David Bowie's 1977 Heroes, Pink Floyd's 1973 Dark Side of the Moon and lastly, Arctic Monkeys' 2013 AM.

His only wish was that he had a record player to listen to all of these.

Harry laid down, letting his curled hair fan around him and frame his face. He stared at the ceiling, frowning at the brown water marks caused by the tenant above them having a pipe burst earlier on this year. A soft mewl pulled him out of his thoughts and Harry looked up to see a fat, grey tabby cat squeeze its' large body through the window to come and sit on his window sill. Harry stared at his visitor, and it stared back at him. Their matching green eyes sparkling with wonder. He laid back down, opting to let the cat stay and, breathed in deeply. Turning his head he looked under his couch and found a big brown cockroach scurrying along. "FUCKING SHIT!" He shouted and jumped up, alerting the cat who spotted the roach and chased after it. Harry watched the cat catch and eat the insect and pulled a disgusted face. "Okay, you can stay. But keep that mouth away from me."

He abandoned his spot on the floor and was about to sit down to watch TV when his phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hello bun, bun!"

He fondly rolled his eyes at the childhood nickname his mum had given him because of his two front teeth which she said reminded her of her pet rabbit she had as a child.

"Hello mum,"

"How are you, my love?"

"I'm alright. Why are you calling now?"

"Oh relax, Harry, I had some spare change so thought I'd use it to call my baby."

"Mm," He leaned and, let his bum rest on his window sill. "I'm alright mum, how are you?"

"I'm good... we miss you, when are you coming for a visit?"

"... I don't know, maybe at the end of the year."

"I hope so... Are you looking after yourself, Harry? Is everything going okay?" Anne worried. Harry was and always will be her baby - all of her kids would always be.

"I'm fine mum, there's nothing to worry about. I'm looking after myself, settled down into a nice little apartment."

"That's lovely, Harry." Anne said and he could hear the sadness in his mother's voice. Deciding that that was more than enough talk for one day he decides to say his goodbyes.

"Alright mum, I've got to go now.. Give my love to Gemma and Dan."

"I will, Haz... They miss you dearly..."

Harry nods and sticks a hand in his pocket. "I miss them too."

"Oh, Dan just walked in, do you wanna -"

"No. No, it's fine. I've got to go, love you."

"- Oh, alright, I love you, Harry."

Harry didn't want to admit it but he had wished that instead of his mum calling it was Zayn saying that something happened with his trip and he no longer had to go, but alas, that wasn't the case.