Forget Me Not (Zayn/Harry; Mpreg AU)

47 - Bleeding hearts

TW: Blood

Zayn's scent overwhelms Harry as the man crowds him, pushing against his personal space as he shoves his clean handkerchief underneath Harry's bleeding nose with wide eyes, worry clear in their, otherwise, guarded depths. Harry tries to hold his breath despite the nauseating potency of iron in the vicinity of his mouth, trying in vain to block out the familiar, overwhelming smell of the older man's perfume.

"I'm fine, Mr. Malik," Harry protests weakly, stepping back against the onslaught of everything Zayn, his mind and heart in shambles. He covers his mouth and nose with both of his hands, words slightly muffled by the blockage. "I get nosebleeds quite frequently during these past few weeks and I'm, well, umm, used to them."

Zayn frowns harder at that information, clearly bothered, though he doesn't try to breach Harry's personal bubble anymore now, but his hand is stretched out with the bloody handkerchief, an offering of sorts.

"I mean," Harry flounders, softly blushing. Internally, he curses his body for sparing blood to color his cheeks in this precise moment, wondering if he might suddenly keel over from too much blood in his head. "I take good care of myself, really, but in my current state, I get these random bouts of nosebleed and I learned a few tricks to quickly stop the blood flow and yeah, umm."

Watching as the pink faced young man tilt his head slightly and push a dark maroon spare shirt underneath his bloody nose, Zayn feels his chest tighten with unexplained concern. "Did you see a doctor for that?" he implores, stuffing his shaking hands into his coat pocket to hide them.

"Hmm," Harry hums. He shivers against the cold and doesn't offer any further response to Zayn so that he may be able to care for his bleeding nose. Now that the shock of seeing Zayn so close has gone, Harry is made fully aware of the tang of iron on his tongue and grimaces. He supposes that while he is quite well-versed when it comes to dealing with a nosebleed now, it doesn't necessarily mean that he is immune to the taste of his own blood in his mouth. It is deeply disgusting, but Harry endures it without any complain, whatsoever, because he will go against anything and everything for the child nestled in his womb.

Thoroughly distracted, Harry fails to notice Zayn coming to his side with hesitant steps. The older man gently touches Harry's elbow in an attempt to steer him towards any flat surface for them to sit on. "Harry, maybe you should take a seat."

There's a violent spark of electricity from the point of contact between Harry and Zayn, which does not go unnoticed. There's also two very different reactions from them; Harry gasps and sways in his stance, while Zayn freezes with big eyes.

"I'm sorry," Zayn apologizes. His face is suspiciously reddened and he doesn't dare look into his companion's eyes. "I've been violating your personal space since earlier, sorry. I'm not usually like this. Uh. I..."

Swallowing, Harry composes himself, smiling lightly. Zayn is so flustered and it is such a sweet sight. "No, erm, it's alright. Let's go to the convenience store by the end of the street? I may be bleeding buckets from my nose, but I don't think that warrants anything serious enough for me to want to redo the lock on the shop and use the toilet upstairs. That'll be such a hassle."

Harry makes his purchase of wet tissues and water real quick, pointedly ignoring the dubious stare of the only other patron of the store and drops his precious cargo onto the counter for checkout. The cashier person brightens upon seeing Harry, but his smile falters, eyebrows furrowing in concern at the stains around Harry's mouth.

"That's the third time this week, Hazza. Are you sure that's normal?"

Zayn winces at that little information. He bites his lower lip in thought, feet planted by the entrance door.