eternity. ♡ zarry ♡

17: cookie

Age 17

"Harry," Zayn warned.

"Cookie." Harry grinned with one hand on his hip as he watched Zayn slowly step closer to him.

Zayn's face scrunched up in disgust at the nickname as he took another step toward Harry. "Don't call me that."

Harry's grin widened as he took a step back and playfully shook his head. "You said I could when we're alone and the other three are outside while we're in here. What's that mean, Zayn?" he spoke.

"Harry—"

"It means I can call you cookie."

Zayn's body visibly shuddered as Harry took another step back without him noticing.

There was something familiar about this moment, maybe because Zayn was chasing Harry, only this time, Harry had a chance at getting away.

"Harry, just give me back my sketchbook," Zayn ordered, his look stern and annoyed.

"But I wanna see if you draw me." Harry pouted and held the small notebook closely to his chest.

Zayn scoffed. "You couldn't just ask? Why would I even— no— why were you even in my room?" he questioned.

That grin appeared on Harry's face again, a glint of playfulness present in his eyes as he slowly began to walk toward the archway of the living room and to the hallway where the stairs were.

"I guess you missed it when you saw me with this, huh?" He held up the notebook teasingly.

"Harry, Jesus Christ, that's private."

"Ooh, so you drawing me naked or something? I wouldn't expect that from you, cookie." He placed his right foot on the first step as Zayn cautiously walked toward him.

Zayn's cheeks burned. Out of embarrassment or rage— he didn't know.

"Ridiculous," he grimaced.

Harry slowly moved up the stairs while Zayn took the time to facepalm then pinch the bridge of his nose before looking back up to him.

"What'll it take to get my shit back?" Zayn questioned as he approached the first step.

"Language." Harry's look turned grim and serious. "Just follow me."

Zayn didn't hesitate— as he hardly ever did when it came to Harry— and followed Harry up to the second floor then down the hall to his bedroom.

"Observe. You're good at that, right? Since you're an artist and all," Harry spoke as he opened Zayn's door to reveal his clean and organized room.

Harry made it seem like whatever he had placed in Zayn's bedroom was something hidden, out of sight, and in the least obvious place, but it was, in fact, sitting in plain sight.

But Zayn didn't know that. He looked through all of his drawers in his dresser, under his bed and in his closet, completely disregarding the bright yellow flower sitting on his tidy desk.

After a few minutes of looking, Zayn turned to look at him with a pout and his arms crossed like an upset toddler.

"Did you lie just so I wouldn't know the real reason for you being— oh," Zayn said as Harry took the flower off the desk and placed it behind his ear. "I-I didn't even see that."

The sight of the flower had completely changed Zayn's mood.

"Clearly." Harry's lips curled into a smile. "You look pretty."

Heat rose to Zayn's cheeks as he tried to keep himself from smiling. He took the flower from behind his ear and stared at it, twisting it between his fingers and gently petting the petals.

"You really got this for me?" he asked softly.

Harry chuckled. "You surprised?"

Zayn shook his head, his lips finally forming into a small smile. "Just happy."

There was a knot forming in Harry's stomach, similar to the flutters of butterflies, but much more intense. It was like the stomachache you got after laughing far too hard, or the ache in your cheeks when you smiled for too long.

He wondered if this was the feeling his mother felt when she looked at his dad, or how Jack felt when he looked at Rose. A feeling of happiness and love so strong that it hurt.

"Yeah? So now you're a happy cookie?" Harry grinned.

"I'm always a happy cookie around you." Zayn looked at Harry then placed the flower behind his ear. "You look pretty too."

Harry's cheeks began to burn too, the blood rushing to his cheeks and reaching up to his ears. "So you like it?" he questioned.

Zayn laughed this time. "Duh. I like everything you give me simply because it's from you."

Then Harry placed Zayn's sketchbook on the desk then cupped Zayn's cheeks. He could see the sudden fear in Zayn's eyes, the kind of fear where you wanted to do something but were scared of doing it wrong.

"Can I give you something else?" He looked down to Zayn's lips then back into his eyes.

Zayn nodded then placed one hand on Harry's hip and balled the other way in Harry's shirt before pulling him closer.

"Eager," Harry teased.

"Shut up." Zayn watched Harry become a blur as he came too close for his eyes to focus on him.

These moments between Zayn's last two words and when their lips locked felt like eternity.

It was as gentle as Harry imagined his kiss with Zayn would, like the gentleness of a mother holding her newborn baby. So gentle that he wondered if he just pressed his lips a little harder against Zayn's, would Zayn break in two then shatter against the floor?

Everything about the kiss was delicate; Zayn too scared of messing up and Harry too scared of being forceful.

"I like you so much," Zayn whispered when their lips separated and were only millimeters apart.

"Show me how much," Harry whispered back.

So Zayn kissed him first this time, much harder. He wasn't filled with confidence, but hunger. He needed to taste Harry, to memorize how his lips felt against his own, to never forget the feeling in his chest.

When they separated, Harry rubbed his thumbs across the curve of Zayn's cheekbones.

Harry kissed the tip of Zayn's nose then said, "I wish I could stay in this moment with you for eternity."

*****

zayn said >:(