S-s-stutter [Zarry]

2:00 AM plans

+Zayn

A sudden coldness and my hands are grappling for something, fumbling in the dark.

Or someone.

"Harry?"

My fingers find my phone on the nightstand. I press the button and it glows eerily, illuminating the dark.

I can see how he's scared. A shiver runs down my spine. Everything looks different in the dark. Desolate. Dancing shadows and the scent of lonliness.

His side of the bed empty beside me, the sheets a crumpled mess.

Panic sets in.

I check to make sure the window is closed tight. It is. My feet pad across the floor.

Searching every room. I don't like the way this feels.

"Zayn."

I turn around. It's his shadow, moving towards me. A halo of curls.

"I was so worried Harry. I-"

On switch the lights, flooding my eyes. Searing light. Stark white. Too bright. Squeezing my eyes shut tight.

He has on one of my oversized sweatshirts, it covers part of his thighs and his bum.

That's when I notice the blood trickling down his skin, the brusises forming on his neck.

"W-who did this to you? Harry. This isn't okay."

What he says next scares me the most, my phone shattering as it hits the floor.

I'm trembling. Legs quaking, hand cupping over my mouth.

"You Zayn."

Waking up in a cold sweat, gasping for air.

I'm alone. In my flat. In my bed.

No sign of Harry.

He told me he loved me.

Told me again in a thrift shop. Kissed me on the throat for emphasis.

And now I'm calling him at 1:00 in the morning because I'm fucking crazy.

"Zayn," he says groggily. "Is everything okay?"

"I just...I had a bad dream, wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Oh. That's thoughtful," he chuckles. "It isn't like I was trying to sleep or anything."

"Sorry love," I laugh.

I can picture him smiling through the phone. Dimpled and bright. Rare but beautiful.

"Do you...can I take you out tomorrow? Maybe dinner and a movie. How does that sound?"

"That sounds nice babe. Why don't you get some rest though?"

"Are you going to be okay? Did you get a new nightlight?"

He laughs softly. "Maybe. Night Zayn."

"G'night Harry."

It takes a few deep breaths and me convincing myself that I'll never hurt Harry before my eyes finally close again.

Why can't I have good dreams about Harry? Frolicking in fields of flowers or something sappy like that.

I'm trying to hold off on wet dreams. It's extremely hard for me because Harry is just pretty. The shape of his bum in his skin tight jeans and the way his curls bounce freely when he throws his head back in laughter. The dip of his pastel pink lips and his cherry tinted cheeks.

Parted just for me, tongues lapping softly. Just the sound of snacking lips and shallow breaths and my fingers skimming his pale skin.

God, what I would give to touch him. I haven't been touched like that in ages. Slowly and sensually.

He hasn't either. All he's ever known is pain, mistaking it for pleasure. Cursing himself for liking the way it felt.

It isn't his fault that his body hummed. That he felt it surge through his body; a wave pulsing through him.

Because even though there wasn't consent, even though he came when he tried not to and cried because their hands were rough, movements quick and brutal his body had never felt something quite like it.

I can make him feel that way again. Hands gentle and kind. Slow, careful movements and soft caresses.

Shake the thought away Zayn. He's scared. He isn't ready to experience that again, being controlled by someone else. I'll probably never be given the chance.

It isn't about sex anyway. It's about the way he makes me feel. The way his smile makes my heart flutter in my chest.

The way his voice shakes my ribcage. How his jokes make me laugh and his eyes make me melt.

I tell him everything and he listens. Knows just what to say to make things better.

Harry is a ball of sunshine on good days. Bursts of light, laugher and sparkling eyes.

Everyone loves Harry but he won't admit it. He prefers being alone. I'm reserved in a different way. In that I need creative space.

Sometimes I struggle to breathe.

I'm not scared of trusting people or putting my feelings out there.

But I'm deathly afraid of hurting Harry.

Maybe I need to let loose. It's been forever since I kicked back with Ed. He's one for throwing sick parties and I always turn down his friendly invite.

Not this time.

I need alcohol in my veins and weed clouding my mind. I need blasting bass and getting lost in the rhythm.

Scratch that, I need my blood to swim in alcohol. I want to drown in it right now.

Because I desperately want something I can't have.

It's dizzying.

Maybe I don't need that release. I just need his warm hand in mine and a shared bowl of popcorn.

I guess it doesn't have to be popcorn.

1:47 AM. I've wasted nearly an entire hour thinking of him.

So much for sleep. I didn't need it anyway.

Harry likes cuddles and sour skittles. I'm rethinking the movie theatre thing. Too dark, too cramped...maybe he'll agree to do it at my place.

He has fairy lights in his room. That's cute as hell. Where can I get fairy lights before tomorrow evening?

I'm up out of bed, a pen in my mouth, rummaging for a notebook.

A pillow fort. Candy. Lots of candy. I have a bit of a sweet tooth. Sparkling water...the nasty strawberry kiwi one he always has in his appointments.

What movie? Dear god.

Definitely not horror. Action? Count that out.

Romantic? Eh...maybe.

Comedy? A real winner in my book. Safe option. Not really date material.

A sad movie! Fucking genius. He cries, I kiss him. He swoons. Storybook stuff.

Fuzzy blankets. I know I have those. Should I attempt to make him dinner?

Maybe I'll just order pizza. Geez, that's lame. Pizza and candy. What are we, twelve?

My mind is a disaster. Honestly.

I'm starting to question if an indoor date is a good idea. Dinner and a movie? Kinda cliche.

I'm overthinking this.

It isn't like Harry is picky.

Sweet and simple and extremely silly.

What's something that can perfectly capture that?

It hits me around 2:00.

A/N: Zarry date? I'M IN *brings camera*