A.M. ↠ zarry AU

tantalize

tan·ta·lize

/ˈtan(t)lˌīz/

verb

torment or tease (someone) with the sight or promise of something that is unobtainable.

×××

It was now a new year with Harry's twenty - second birthday fast approaching. During the holiday season he didn't see much of Zayn and spent most of his days with Liam and other friends before he got back to his job again. On one particular afternoon in January, Harry was heading past a restaurant and got caught up in the typical LA traffic.

It was absolutely insane today, more so than usual, but sitting bumper to bumper had come to make Harry more patient. Now he sat in a long line waiting to go home. As he slowly started passing a building he saw a couple come out from, he spotted someone vaguely familiar and upon closer look, it was Zayn. His foot almost slipped off the clutch and he very nearly stalled his car when he sees that Zayn's not alone. By his side is a woman that's almost the same height as he is, in her black high heels. She's wearing a black well fitted knee length dress, showing off her trim figure. She's got shoulder length black, bouncy hair that had a brown tint to it once she's in the sun.

Harry's staring now and he knows it but can't look away. Her oversized sunglasses hide her eyes and whatever emotion she's feeling but he doesn't fail to notice the way her full mauve lips looking slightly down turned. She's got warm brown skin, maybe a shade or two darker than Zayn's and Harry guesses that she's Indian.

Zayn was dressed in a navy blue blazer and black pants. On his face, he wore the same solemn expression as she - his wife, did.

As they walked to their car Zayn's hand made its way into her back and Harry felt a slight pang in his chest as his hand travelled lower to keep a protective hand on her.

She looks up and Harry thinks that she's staring right at him, knowing everything that's been going on between him and Zayn. A hooting car pulls his thoughts, and eyes, away from them.

"Hey man, can I cut in?" A guy in a blue Beetle shouts to him.

"Yeah," Harry answers breathlessly and waves him over and goes back to looking at Zayn who's busy opening the door for his wife, climbing in after her and join the traffic.

Harry doesn't want to admit it but he already doesn't like Zayn's wife even though he doesn't know her at all. It also annoys him that he can admit that she's really pretty. Her and Zayn look really good together.

*

"Did you have a good birthday, my love?" She asks and gently strokes Zayn's cheek.

He smiles at her and drapes his arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him and rubbing his thumb soothingly against her skin. "I did. Thank you, it was a nice treat."

She's trying. They both are, but it's extremely forced.

'New year, new us.' They said, but it's been hard to put into practice.

"You're just so frustrating, Zayn. It's like living with a damn stranger instead of my husband, I don't know what your agenda is anymore, what you're on about - do you even care about us anymore, Zayn?"

"Don't ask me such a question, you know that I do."

She sighs and covers her mouth with her hand, shaking her head with an apathetic look in her eyes. She's scared about where her future lies with Zayn, she doesn't want to lose him but she just can't see herself going on like this.

Sometimes they go for days not speaking to each other until one of then caves and asks for something unimportant such as, 'have you seen my blue shirt?'

Her lips start quivering and she tilts her head back to stop the tears from spilling over. Zayn's heart hurts at the sight. He moves towards her and wraps his slim yet strong arms around her.

"Please don't cry." He says quietly into her hair.

"I can't do this anymore, Zayn. I can't - I don't want to keep fighting." She's covering up her face with one of her hands and resting the other against her hip.

Zayn runs his hand down her hair, holding her shaking body close to his.

"We'll try, okay, we'll try harder to make things work." He whispered.

Now, sitting in this car heading back home, both their bodies were stiff and the ride was silent except for the radio.

Zayn stared out of the window wondering if this really was the end of his four year marriage. His wife had her hands folded in her lap looking straight ahead and Zayn couldn't help but remember how when he'd hold Harry close to him, Harry would melt into his touch, put all of his weight on him and hold him back, lace their fingers together, stroke his skin - touch him back in anyway no matter how big or small.

Pulling those thoughts away from him almost as soon as they entered his mind, his wife pressed a 'thank you' kiss to his cheek, letting her lips linger there for a while before she pulled away and rested her hand on his thigh. The small act of kindness giving Zayn a slight glimmer of hope for their future.