Room 301 [Zarry]

two hundred percent down

"Ugh," I release an agitated sigh, tug at my curls. "Why is this so hard?"

"Harry," his hand is on my shoulder and I chuckle, give my head a little shake.

"I'm not upset or anything, I'm just being dramatic."

The mattress sinks under his weight and his arm curls around my waist. "Yeah but what's up? You seem...nervous."

"I'm going out with Kit," I reply truthfully, cheeks flushing. "I don't know what to wear."

It's silent for a moment but then he laughs, hops off the bed. The closet door slides open. He puts a few hangers in front of me, is in deep contemplation as he switches between two silky button-down shirts.

"The baby pink with black jeans." He shoves the shirt in my hands and I can't stop laughing, amused as he tosses shoes out from under the bed, muttering under his breath.

There's a strange knocking noise followed by an "ow," and I kneel down beside him.

"Zayn," I ask softly. "What just happened?"

"I hit my head on the corner of the bed frame," he groans. "It hurts like hell."

"Wait," I whisper, fingers connecting with fluffy hair. "Tell me where it hurts." My hand moves, thumb stroking the crown of his head.

"Right there," he exhales softly. "Harry-"

There's a tiny knot, I rub the tender area a bit before rushing off to the bathroom and getting a cool, damp washcloth.

"How can I feel you? I thought spirits were like...transparent. Shouldn't my hand go straight through you? Why can you still feel pain?" I can't keep a frown off my face.

"You're accepting me, you're inviting me into your life. No one else has ever welcomed my presence. You feel me Harry."

"Yeah," I whisper, chills running down my spine. He reaches for the towel, fingers finding mine, setting off a million sparks. His fingers don't move, just stay on top of mine for what seems like forever.

"You should wear the loafers," he finally says, breaking the silence. "Thanks for helping me out and be safe, okay?"

He just vanishes and I release a shaky breath, heart still trembling in my chest. A knock on the door startles me and I hurriedly slip into my shoes, run my fingers through my hair.

"Hi Harry," she smiles sweetly, bright yellow sundress pretty aginst her tan skin. "You look so handsome," she giggles, cheeks turning rosebud red. "I was just going to invite you over but we can go grab lunch somewhere too."

"That sounds great," I assure, smiling. "Let me grab my guitar."

She steals my sunglasses, laughing softly as she perches them on top of her head. I ride shotgun and she rolls down the windows of her red convertible. I mess around, put them back up before messing with the sunroof. We reach a large iron gate and she punches something in the keypad and they open up for us. There are mansions all around, perfectly trimmed yards and luxury cars.

"Here we are," she exclaims, pulling into the drive at the end of the subdivision. "Please don't be intimidated," she reaches over the console, puts her hand on my knee. "And I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me or anything-"

I'm partially shocked when we step in the foyer, crystal chandelier glinting above us. The grand spiral staircase looks like something out of a movie, the rug beneath my feet probably worth more than mum's house.

"No shoes please," she requests.

Her feet are so tiny and cute, toenails painted a pastel pink. Everything about her seems so soft and delicate, she catches me staring, looks away, cheeks tinted.

I hear a booming voice upstairs and she looks rattled, quickly grabs my hand and tugs me down the hallway.

"Sorry," she squeaks. "I didn't know my father would be here. I'm so sorry," she frowns. "I hope you're not nervous or upset."

"Why would I be nervous?"

She chews at her bottom lip and my eyes widen. I watch her turn around slowly, face draining of color.

"This is Harry," she introduces me quietly and I greet him enthusiastically, extend my hand to shake but he stands firmly in place, completely motionless. I can't read the expression on his face, he's too stoic.

"I didn't raise my daughter to be a whore," he scowls.

"But I'm not-"

I give her hand a little squeeze, clear my throat as I try not to explode. Anger is boiling inside of me as his eyes scan me up and down.

"We actually just met, she's giving me her opinions on my music."

"You sing," he asks, arching a brow. "Are you considering Capitol instead?"

"Dad," she whines. "Please don't interrogate my friend."

"I didn't address you Katherine," he warns, tone stern.

She pushes past us, eyes brimming with tears and I ignore his question as I go chasing after her. "Kit," I yell. The door slams and I follow her out onto the street, sit down beside her on the sidewalk. "Kit, it's okay. We don't have to go back in there."

"I'm sorry," she sniffles, wiping at her eyes. "He treats everyone like that..I'll go back and g-get your guitar, I-"

"No, it's alright. Please don't worry about that. Hang tight."

He's nowhere in sight, I collect my guitar case from the foyer and find her sitting in the car, hands gripping the steering wheel.

"I'm starving," I laugh. "Let's just go get some food and clear our heads. I can play for you anywhere."

"That's so thoughtful of you, thanks Harry."

"You shouldn't let him treat you that way," I say, handing her tissues.

She doesn't respond, just turns the key in the ignition and adjusts her rearview.

A caprese panini and red wine solves all our problems. I play her new tunes in a park, brush my fingers through her hair. The alcohol is a good temporary crutch, she lays her head in my lap and hums along.

"Do you want to go to a disco later," she asks, sitting up and brushing off her dress.

"A disco," I ask in disbelief. "That sounds like so much fun!"

Maybe it's the partial drunkenness talking but I'm two hundred percent down.