All the Leaves are Brown (Zarry AU)

Chapter 6

By five, the sun is up and Zayn is flattened by a wave of tiredness. It’s not just Doniya and the kid, he always gets like this at the end of a party. He’s never quite sure when it’s going to happen, all it takes is one more puff or gulp of beer and he’ll go from Who wants to hear some Donna Summer? to GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FLAT.

Mercifully, most people have gone and those that didn’t make it have passed out somewhere in the flat, which is fine, but God help them if there’s anyone in his bed. When Doniya returns to the living room alone, Zayn knows the kid has left as well, and irritation turns to flat out fury. He hears himself barking at Jas for losing his lighter, but can’t stop himself so stomps off to find another. It’s probably for the best that he sulks in his bedroom until his mood passes, but as he approaches the door to find that someone has tried – and failed – to peel the OBEY sticker off it, there’s no chance of that.

Zayn’s about to lose his shit completely when he throws the door open to find the kid in there and stops in the doorway.

‘Hey.’ The kid doesn’t flinch. ‘I was looking for the loo.’

Zayn makes a point of putting his hands on his hips and looking around the room. It doesn’t look that bad, most of his records are on the shelves his dad built him and he went to the laundrette yesterday so the carpet is clear, apart from whatever Doniya and her mates decided they weren’t going to wear. But then his mother didn’t put up with shit when he was living at home so he’s learned to tidy up after himself. Unlike Ant who seems to be conducting some sort of mould experiment with the mugs in his room and has scratched and/or burnt holes into every item of furniture they own. But still, Zayn hasn’t made the bed and when he sees the kid standing next to it, he suddenly has to fight the urge to walk over and straighten the sheets.

‘Do you see a toilet, mate?’ he says instead, tilting his head at him like he’s mad.

The kid ignores him and when he walks over to clothes rail in the corner Zayn watches him carefully, looking for some trace of what he’s been up to with Doniya, some pinkness in his cheeks, perhaps a smear of lipstick on his neck.

But there’s nothing.

‘Can I borrow this?’

Zayn blinks at him as he takes a Pink Floyd t-shirt off the rail, but before he can ask why, the kid peels off his Joy Division one and puts it on.