for your eyes only

F I F T E E N

By the time Zayn is finished, his chest feels lighter and he feels like he could breath after years. Harry had held him through all it, never once speaking a word as Zayn took out every single ounce of misery and anger, and Zayn could not ever be enough grateful for that.

They walk in the art gallery again, red with cold and shivering. They are laughing and talking again, like nothing happened.

"Hey, I wanted to tell you this for sometime now."

Harry hums, prompting Zayn to continue as his eyes wander around the art gallery.

"You have a really nice voice, you know?"

It takes a minute before Harry can reply, and when he does, he blushes and could only stammer out a 'thanks'. "I have never sung in front of anyone. So, that's new." he admits shyly after sometime, scratching the back of his neck.

"You should sing more often." Zayn says, matter-of-factly "You are truly gifted. That song was nice too."

Harry turns even redder, "Oh, um... I wrote it?"

Zayn halts at his step. Harry does too. "Really? Harry! Woah, what... That was really good."

Harry bites his lip shyly, "Thanks. I wrote it for us... You know. I wrote it when you said you will come to visit me. It's called 'Something Great'."

"Harry..." Zayn trails off, and hugs him instead, because he doesn't really know what to say. And even though the art gallery is packed with people, they still feel the world shrink, until it was only them in it. Zayn and Harry. Harry and Zayn.