Heal [a Zarry story]

Chapter 3

[Edited]

-Harry-

Thirty minutes. It had been thirty minutes of nothing but silence. I had to say something this was getting ridiculous.

"So, d'you like to...paint people?" I finally asked.

"Paint people?" He echoed.

"Yeah, like portraits?" I asked.

He shrugged, going back to painting a flying blackbird against the green sky.

"I guess." He said quietly.

"Okay...do you think you could maybe paint me?" I suggested.

He then looked up at me.

"Now?" He asked.

"Whenever you want." I shrugged offering a smile.

"I've got no reason to. So, no." He said simply. I frowned slightly, trying to convince myself that this wasn't about my feelings. "Okay, I...understand." I said slowly.

He kept painting, thankfully still calm.

"What people have you painted?" I asked.

"Just people." He muttered, now sounding irritated.

"Did you paint...him?" I asked, careful not to say his name.

Zayn stared at me for a little too long with an unreadable expression,which worried me.

"I think it's time for you to leave." He said quietly. I should've obeyed while he was in this mood, but my stubborn self wouldn't let me.

"Is it? We haven't been painting for too long." I said.

"Well, time flies when you're...." He trailed off.

"Having fun?" I smiled.

"No." He said coldly. "It's time for you to leave. Please exit my flat, and I'd prefer it that you never come back." He spoke, saying such hateful things in such a polite tone.

"That's not nice, Zayn." I said.

"Oh look, now we're back to the play date status!" He snapped. "Not nice?" He scoffed. "What're you going to do Mister big bad social worker? Put me in time out?" He teased, standing up.

"Maybe I will!" I said, playing along. "You haven't been very nice." I reminded him while getting to my feet as well.

"You lay one hand on me and I'll slit you." He practically growled, glaring at me.

"Slit me?" I repeated, making sure I'd heard him right.

"Yeah. As in cut your skin and make you bleed. Don't ever touch me." He warned.

"I'm not going to touch you." I said carefully. I wouldn't dream of it.

"I wasn't being serious. Just like you when you threaten me." I said folding my arms.

He sighed, looking at the floor.

I heard his stomach make a loud, awful growling noise, causing him to quickly look at me. "I'm not hungry my stomach just does that." He told me, seeming one hundred percent serious.

"Yeah mine too, but mine usually stops when I eat something. Do you want some lunch?" I asked.

"You've got some?" He asked.

I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not, so I answered him honestly.

"Not with me, but back at my flat I've got fresh ingredients for some nice, hot, tasty chicken fajitas." I smiled.