eternity. ♡ zarry ♡

12: beauty

Age 15

The first time Harry thought of something beautiful, he thought about his mother and the lines next to her eyes when she smiled and the unconditional love she showed him everyday.

He thought of her eyes, her nose, and her ears. He knew his mother was beautiful. She was beauty to him.

Then he thought about flowers, they were beautiful too. Their petals were delicate and soft, like fluffy clouds, and their colors were vibrant and saturated. Flowers were beauty, too.

Gemma was beautiful also. Her eyes shined like stars and suns and galaxies whenever she smiled, she was the sun and he was the small human that wanted to be just like her. To shine like her, laugh like her, be beautiful like her. Gemma was beauty, too.

Harry's father was someone he could barely remember, but he didn't forget the kisses to his nose or the tight hugs. He knew beauty wasn't just what was on the outside, he knew beauty stemmed from whatever was within. His father held love in his veins, it flowed through him like fish in an ocean. His father was beauty, too.

Then he met Zayn, he's never met anyone like him. He's never heard anyone laugh as beautifully or seen anyone smile as brightly as Zayn did. He had eyes as brown as Gemma's but they seemed to shine brighter than hers ever could and he had a heart as soft and as delicate as the petal of a flower.

Zayn was a beauty he'd never seen before, the kind that left him staring for hours until Zayn would finally look at him then smile and say, "What?"

Then Harry would finally look away and say, "Nothing."

He doesn't know how he didn't notice it before, how beautiful Zayn was.

Harry wondered if Zayn thought he was beautiful, too.

Too bad he was oblivious to Zayn's eyes that stared at him whenever his eyes were on someone else.

One day after their freshman year ended and summer vacation started, him and Zayn were sitting on the grass in Zayn's backyard since he wouldn't let Harry smoke inside.

"You're gonna become addicted if you keep on smoking that stuff," Zayn muttered.

"Who cares?" Harry was laid back on the grass and his eyes staring up at Zayn who sat next to him.

He watched Zayn lick his lips and pull at the grass. "I care," he paused and sighed, "So you should stop before you get caught or something."

Harry sat up and stared at the side of Zayn's face. He could see the way Zayn's eyelashes nearly brushed against his skin as he stared down at the grass he pulled at.

"You did it with me just two months ago, what's so bad about it now?" Harry asked.

Zayn looked at him and said, "I wasn't gonna leave you alone to smoke it by yourself. Who knows what dumb shit you'd do when you're high?"

"If I stop smoking, will you stop cussing?" Harry poked his bottom lip out.

"Fuck no," Zayn answered.

Harry took one long drag before blowing it purposefully in Zayn's direction.

"I'll send you home if you do that again." Harry laughed loudly.

"Come on, Zaynie," he whispered.

"No." Then Zayn looked back down at the grass. "That guy, Louis, is a bad influence. You should stop hanging out with him."

"You sound like a dad." Harry giggled at his own joke.

"Oh my God, that wasn't even funny!" Zayn said loudly, causing Harry to laugh harder. "Can't you be serious just for, like, five minutes?"

Zayn was looking at him again and Harry was looking back. "No, it's no fun being serious. That's why you should smoke with me or at least let me do a blowback."

"Fuck, and I can't stress this enough, no," Zayn replied.

Harry laughed again. "You're so cute, Zaynie. I wish I could have you to myself like this forever," Harry said with a wide smile.

There was a pause, a moment where Harry would stare at Zayn like he always did and Zayn would bite down on his bottom lip to keep himself from smiling like he always did.

"You're so high." Zayn shook his head and laughed softly.

"And you're so—" Harry stopped himself and took a drag and kept on smiling at Zayn as he exhaled.

No matter how many drags Harry took of his joint, he couldn't seem to calm the thumping heart in his chest or the shakiness of his hand. He could feel the space between his nails and skin filling with dirt as he sunk his fingers into the soil.

"So what?" Zayn asked.

"Nothing," Harry answered. He grinned and took the last drag of his joint before putting it out and placing the roach into his tin box.

"Tell me, Har." He poked his bottom lip out and stared at Harry.

"It's nothing, really." Zayn just shook his head and looked down at the grass again.

Then he watched Zayn, he watched his eyes, his eyelashes, the tip of his nose and the curve of his lips. He watched Zayn until Zayn looked at him again, smiled and asked, "What?"

And Harry wanted to say what he'd always say: "Nothing."

But he couldn't bring himself to say it, he couldn't watch Zayn's eyes stare at him with all that curiosity and his mind fill with so much insecurity.

"You're so beautiful," Harry whispered.

Harry meant it, he meant every kind word he could ever say to Zayn because Zayn was every good thing that could exist. He's never wanted to hold someone's heart in his hands so badly, to caress it and tell it "it'll be alright."

And Zayn just smiled wider, the widest Harry's ever seen, and said, "I think you're beautiful too."

Those words did something to Harry, he didn't know what, but he felt those words kissing his heart over and over again until it softened. He knew then that his heart wanted whatever Zayn made him feel. It wanted the smiles that made his cheeks ache and those pretty eyes to only ever look at him. He wanted to hear Zayn's laugh and to feel Zayn's hand press against his chest just over his heart.

For as long as he lived, he wanted Zayn's home to be in his heart. He wanted Zayn to stay in his heart forever.

He wondered: was he allowed to want that? Was he allowed to want Zayn, and only Zayn, in his heart forever?

He exhaled, slow and shaky.

"Do you really?" he asked quietly. His heart thumped and thumped until he could feel it in his ears and his throat. "Do you really think I'm beautiful?"

He watched Zayn look away from him for the millionth time that afternoon, the corner of his lips twitching and his brown eyes shining with something Harry's never seen before.

"There's many forms of beauty, Haz, but I think yours is the most beautiful."

******

Thank you for 1k reads!! I really hope you all are enjoying this as much as I am.

I'm sorry it's so cheesy & corny but like.. it's kinda cute, right? I think so at least. P.s. the attached image has nothing to do with the story other than the fact that it's cute.