All the Leaves are Brown (Zarry AU)

Chapter 19

Zayn does the float while Harry stacks the dishwasher. He’s exorcising the taste of evil from his mouth with a Jack and Coke and when Zayn catches himself thinking that he’s glad because he’s not kissing him if he tastes of Advocaat, Ant texts him like he knows. Just use a fucking condom. And get me a kebab on your way home. Extra chilli sauce.

‘Did you miss me?’ Harry asks as he’s texting Ant back, telling him to fuck off.

Zayn doesn’t look up when he leans across the bar, but he can picture his face, all drowsy eyelashes and big pupils, his bottom lip wet as he waits for him to say, Of course.

So he doesn’t give him the satisfaction.

‘You mean did I miss having two pillows again?’

Ant texts back to say, Thought you were fucking Harry? and Zayn guffaws. An utterly unattractive sound, somewhere between a laugh and a snort.

‘I think I’m gonna go,’ Harry says when he does.

‘Okay.’ Zayn looks up from his phone to find him walking around the bar. ‘I’ve still got some stuff to do here so I’ll see you back at the flat. Won’t be long.’

‘No. I mean go go,’ Harry says sharply, bending down to pick up his backpack.

‘Go where?’

‘Home.’

‘Home? It’s nearly midnight. The trains have stopped running.’

‘I don’t care. I’d rather sleep at Manchester Piccadilly than go back to your flat.’

There’s a moment of silence as they look at each other across the pub. Zayn’s still sitting at the bar, the takings divided neatly into money bags in front of him, but Harry’s on the other side now, his hand on the door and his backpack on his shoulder.

Zayn blinks at him. ‘Did I miss something?’

‘No. It’s me who’s missed something.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know what I mean, Zayn.’

‘I don’t.’

He really doesn’t. A minute ago Harry was singing Jumpin’ Jack Flash to himself as he stacked the dishwasher and now he’s leaving.

‘Look.’ Harry lets go of the door handle. ‘I’m trying to be all cool and whatever,’ he waves his hands around, ‘and not seventeen about this but I’m fucking dying here.’

Zayn’s breath catches in his throat, the way it did earlier when Yaf suggested they get something to eat, and his brain starts whirring again. But instead of trying to think of a reason to get rid of Harry, he’s trying to think of one to make him stay.

‘Why?’ he says instead and it’s fucking lame – lame and not nearly enough.

And Harry knows it.

‘Forget it,’ he says under his breath. When he turns to reach for the door handle, Zayn takes a step forward, but before he can tell him not to go, Harry changes his mind and turns to face him again. ‘The last fortnight has been miserable,’ he says, hand still on the door. ‘I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I was so desperate to see you that as soon we landed, I left my family at the airport and came straight here.’ He shakes his head. ‘There’s still sand between my toes and you’re having a drink with another bloke.’

Zayn does that thing again, where he opens his mouth and nothing comes out, and Harry smiles, a slow, blunt smile that lets Zayn know that he isn’t surprised.

‘I thought I could do this,’ Harry says and it’s so sad that it turns Zayn’s heart inside out. ‘I thought I’d rather have you as a friend than nothing at all but I can’t go back to your flat and sleep in your bed while you’re texting and laughing with someone else.’

Harry nods at Zayn’s phone, which is still in his hand. ‘That was Ant.’ He laughs. ‘He wants me to get him a kebab on the way home.’

Harry blushes and Zayn feels awful. He shouldn’t have laughed. His instinct is to hug him, but when he takes another step towards him, Harry shakes his head again.

‘This is what I mean, Zayn. I can’t do this.’

‘Do what?’

‘You have to give me something here ‘cos I’m fucking losing it!’

The shock of it makes Zayn step back. ‘Give you what, Harry?’ he asks, voice wavering because he’s never seen him like that. Never. Harry’s soft, sweet face suddenly nothing but hard lines as he glares across the pub at him and it’s horrible.

Did he do that?

I did that, Zayn thinks as he frowns at him. ‘What do you want, Harry?’

‘You!’ He balls his hands into fists, his cheeks even redder. ‘You know that, Zayn! Why do you keep acting like you don’t know that?’

‘I’m sorry. I just-’

He doesn’t let him finish. ‘I know. I’m seventeen.’

‘Harry-’

He puts his hands on his hips. ‘Zayn, you look at me and all you see is a kid. You think I don’t know anything. But I look at you and I think you know too much.’ Zayn can feel him looking at him and tries to lift his chin to meet his gaze but can’t. ‘I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Sometimes you smile at me and I think my heart’s going to come out of my chest like in a cartoon. But you.’ Zayn looks up as Harry looks away, putting his hands in his hair and pulling. ‘This is nothing, is it? You’ve done this all before.’

Harry doesn’t wait for him to respond. ‘I don’t know who broke your heart, but it doesn’t matter what I say or do, ‘cos you’ll never let me be anything other than the annoying kid who takes your pillow and nicks your chips ‘cos it’s safer that way. So fuck it.’ He lets go of his hair and lets his chin drop to look at Zayn. ‘If I can’t have all of you I don’t want any of you. I know that’s selfish and immature and melodramatic but guess what? I’m seventeen. I am selfish and immature and melodramatic because, unlike you, I haven’t seen it all and I want to. So.’ He runs out of steam and sucks in a breath. ‘Bye.’

‘Harry.’

He doesn’t stop so Zayn has to run. Somehow, he manages to get to the door before Harry can open it and puts his arm out to stop him.

He still tries, though.

‘Forget it. There’s nothing you can say, Zayn. Nothing.’

He looks so determined as he tugs vainly on the door handle that Zayn wants to kiss the creased skin between his eyebrows, but he kisses his mouth instead. Harry obviously wasn’t expecting him to do that because he gasps, pressing his fingers to his bottom lip when Zayn pulls away.

When he recovers, he lifts his eyelashes. ‘Keep saying stuff like that.’

Zayn kisses him again.