blue jeans || z.m. au

1%

you're so fresh to death and sick as ca-cancer

1632 words ✖

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Zayn feels someone shaking him from his unconscious state, and peels his eyes open to see Harry standing before him.

"What the fuck Harry? It's like, two in the mornin'." He cuddles himself further into the duvet, desperately wanting to just get back to sleep. Especially since he's been suffering from a little case of insomnia.

"And, I like, need you to come with me right now." Harry answers. His eyebrows pinch together, and his jade eyes are full of desperation. At least he's not the only one desperate to do something.

"No." Zayn replies, not feeling the slightest bit bad. He closes his tired, caramel like eyes, and thinks of happy things. Light comes in through his closed eyelids, and he squints.

"Get up." Harry says firmly. Zayn leans up in the king size bed trying to get a better view of Harry. His face is scrunched up in frustration and he's dressed in skinny jeans. A red, plaid shirt is on his body over a white tee shirt. Another thing that was red on him, was a bandana pushing his chocolate curls back.

"No mate. Why are you dressed? What the hell is going on?" He asks Harry. If he had the strength, if his hands weren't so weak from just waking up, he would've punched him. Zayn swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands up. He feels a little dizzy, black dots the only thing he can see in his vision. But he shrugs it off.

"Yes mate. You're coming with me. You're staying in my house for bloody sake!" Harry tries to keep his voice calm and low, but it comes out strained. Zayn is fully awake now, even if his eyes feel tired.

"Okay! Calm the fuck down." Zayn growls. Harry puts his hand up if saying 'I surrender.' and says,

"Be ready in 5." He turns around and walks out of the brightly lit bedroom. Zayn flicks him off behind his back and slams the door shut, since Harry didn't close it just to bother him. Harry was back to himself. Zayn sits back down due to his dizziness, and takes a couple of deep breaths. It was what his mum always told him to do, to calm himself down. She also used to say that whenever he was feeling like that, something bad always happened. Psychic, maybe.

He lifts himself up with a groan and gets dressed.

"What have I gotten myself into," He mutters to himself, wanting no one to hear him.

"Shut up, Zayn." He hears Harry, but it comes out muffled since there is a door in-between them. He ignores him, and pulls his pants up, swinging his legs back and forth, up and down, until they're successfully planted lowly on his hips. He leaves his gray shirt on and combs his olive skin colored hand through his midnight black, hair. He slips on some black boots and tucks in the shoe laces, since he's too lazy to even tie them.

Zayn hears the door creak open and he glares.

"You really did get dressed in 5 minutes!" Harry says impressed. Was Harry really timing him? Zayn walks past him through the white, creamy, bedroom door, and makes sure that he hits him on the way out. He hears an 'ouch', and knows that his plan worked.

"C'mon, ya old grump." Harry claps his back, hard. Zayn arches his back in displeasure, and Harry laughs also, hard. He tilts his head back making his curls push back further, his eyes closed tightly. His dimples are on full display and Zayn rolls his eyes. He opens the front door and glares once again at Harry.

"Thank you." Harry smirks and strides out the door. Zayn follows him out, locking the door behind him, and checking twice, making sure the door was locked, just like at his mum's house.