The Man Who Sold the World (Zarry AU)

Chapter 9

A few hours later, when he wakes up to find Harry gone, he isn’t surprised, but it hurts more than he thought it would as he kicks back the sheet and goes into the bathroom to wash the smell of him off his skin. When walks back into the bedroom, he can still smell him, on the thin curtains and shitty sheets and he hates himself when it brings a tear to his eye. Zayn can’t look at the chair – his phone, wallet and cigarettes still in a neat row on the table next to it – blindly reaching for his cigarettes and walking away in case the chair smells of Harry too.

He’s about to light one when he hears a truck pulling into the car park. It’s a distinct sound, one he shouldn’t know given that this is the first time he’s travelled further than London, but after mainlining Friday Night Lights last summer he knows the sound well. It’s an old truck – a pick up, probably – it’s door creaking as it opens then slams shut. He’s definitely in Texas now, he thinks, shaking his head, but then there’s a knock on the door and he stops.

He keeps his hand on the front of the towel to secure it as he pads over, unsure who it is but it’s gone eleven so it must be the chambermaid with her trolley, but it’s Harry.

‘Come on,’ he says with a grin when Zayn answers the door.

‘Where?’

Harry doesn’t tell him, just tells him to get dressed. And he doesn’t tell him when they’re in the pick up, either, just smiles to himself as it bounces along a road that Zayn’s pretty sure leads nowhere. But that’s the point, Zayn realises when he finally pulls over and clambers out. They’re in the middle of nowhere, nothing but fields and the midday sun high over their heads, warming Zayn’s scalp as he follows Harry towards the back of the pick up.

He’s brought breakfast – eggs and coffee and donuts – which they eat with their fingers between more questions. (‘Red sauce or brown sauce?’ ‘Favourite Led Zepp album?’ ‘When’s the last time you lied to your mum?’) When they’re done they lie on a blanket at the back of the pick up and look up at the sky.

‘Haven’t seen that in a while,’ Harry says with a contented sigh.

‘Big, isn’t it?’

When Harry doesn’t reply, Zayn turns to look at him to find him asleep, his eyelids fluttering and his hand balled into a fist by his cheek. Zayn must fall asleep, too, because the next time he opens his eyes, he’s curled into Harry, his head on his chest. I knew you had a heart, he thinks, as the sound of it lulls him back to sleep.