Dreary|| zarry

Three||

On a dreary Thursday morning, Zayn walks into the cafe. And the only reason it's so dreary is because the skies are dark, indicating it's going to begin pouring rain in just a few minutes. However, itching to smoke, but determined to feel better, Zayn decides to get coffee and around seven in the morning. He's not sure if the coffee is working...but it's been about two days now where he hasn't done anything.

That doesn't mean he hasn't been getting a little agitated because he sort of pledged to himself to not smoke and Zayn doesn't like breaking those. Smoking has always just been a stress reliever. The only one besides art and playing or writing music. However, on days he has to work he can't exactly do those alternatives...smoking is quick and easy but deadly. And thats the precise reason he has to stop.

The man walks in, eyes traveling to the counter to see the same woman he saw early in the morning a few days ago. He smiles pleasantly and orders the bitter black coffee which is whipped up quickly before he is turning to walk to the back of the cafe, sitting down on a lone chair. He takes out his phone, noticing he really has no messages.

Zayn figures he should invite Louis or anyone, considering he is simply alone and not doing anything. He sends Louis a few texts, hoping he is awake. His friend usually shows up to work at around nine or thirty minutes after.

The man looks up, noticing someone different behind the counter, back turned as he looks at all the equipment around him. Zayn smiles and stands, leaving his cup in it's spot to walk over to the man. "Harry, hey." Zayn says loudly enough for him to hear, making the man whip around to look in Zayn's direction. He looks at him with a frown, furrowing his brows. "You remember me, right?" Zayn jokes with a small smile, attempting to get Harry to smile back and feel at ease with untense shoulders. "We sort of live next to each other now." he shrugs, but of course he never saw Harry this morning. The guy probably leaves earlier than him.

He seems mute as he nods his head, hands curling into fists before he hides them behind his back. "You're talking to me." Harry says quietly that Zayn sort of has to lean forward to hear him.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Zayn chuckles.

Harry looks confused before walking up to the counter. "Would you like to order anything, sir?" he questions.

"No, I ordered already."

"Then why are you here?"

"To speak to you." Zayn answers lucidly, not taking his off putting attitude into consideration. Zayn doesn't assume he means it and just doesn't trust him, which is understandable. Harry nods, looking unphased by the revelation now. He simply clears his throat, not looking away.

"I can't talk to you." He whispers.

Zayn is the one frowning now, furrowing his brows. Strange guy for sure. "And why is that?"

Harry purses his lips, bringing up a hand to lock them with an imaginary key. Zayn snorts in amusement, smiling again. He nods his head before looking around, spotting a stack of napkins on the counter. He takes one and pulls a blue inked pen from his pocket at the same time. Zayn proceeds to write his number down before folding the napkin up and he looks back up at Harry.

"Can I see your hand?" Zayn asks as Harry watches him cautiously. Harry looks down at the napkin.

"Why?" he mumbles. "Will it hurt me?" he asks. Zayn laughs, hearing it as a joke but notices the seriousness in the man's face, making his laughter die out and another frown to takeover his lips.

"Oh uh,no." He snorts. "It definitely won't hurt you." He smiles reassuringly. Harry shakes his head.

"I hardly know you." He says.