S.A.D || zarry au

nine

~

        My mom always told me to do a few exercises to calm down my anxiety. They hardly ever worked, but trying never hurt. Zayn was turning into his driveway and my palms shook ever-so-slightly.

        "Breath, Harry," she'd always say. "Now, relax and remember that nothing here wants to hurt you. There's nothing to fear. Take deeps breathes. At some point it has to be tomorrow and the troubles of today will be over."

        I repeated her words over and over again in my head.

        "You okay, Harry Styles?" Zayn then asked.

        I looked over and smiled, "Yeah, I'm fine."

        I could tell he had a deep worry burried in him. Can't blame him though, I mean I had an anxiety attack in his car like yesterday? The day before? Time seems a bit irrelevant anymore.

        I stepped out of his car. He grabbed my wrist and led me to his front door. "Ma!" he yelled softly, "I'm home!"

        "In here!" I heard a more feminine voice say back.

        "C'mon," he let go of my wrist and motioned for me to follow him. I looked around his home as we walked to..well, I have no clue. His home was small, homey, I mean. The walls were painted a light blue and we passed a soft looking, cream couch. There wasn't a thing out of place. From the small magazines to the pillows on the couch and chairs. 

        We walked in what I'm guessing was the kitchen. "Hey Sunshine," that same voice said. There was a small, dark headed woman mixing something in a bowl. "Oh, who's your friend?" She sent me a friendly smile. I blushed lightly as she walked over and stuck out her hand.

        "Ma, this is Harry Styles," Zayn beamed.

        I shook her hand politely. "Hello, Harry," she grinned.

        "Hi," I squeaked.

        "He's adorable," she laughed.

        I heard Zayn chuckle, "Yeah, he is. We're going upstairs."

        "It was nice meeting you," I look down at my converse.

        "You too, honey."

        I followed Zayn up a small set of stairs and was greeted with a hallway painted that same light blue. We went to the last door at the end of the hallway and he opened the door. "This is my room."

        The first thing I saw was posters. Of what? Everything. From book covers to Ne-Yo covered his walls. "Posters," I say stupidly.

        "Uh, yeah, I feel like if I like something I should show it," he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

        "C-can't," I clear my throat, "blame you. I have Marilyn Monroe and The Backstreet Boys on my wall." My eyes widened and I immediately blushed after I realized what I had said.

        Zayn bursted out laughing, "God, you are winsome."

        "Winsome?" I ask.

        "Same thing as cute. Just felt like your beauty deserved a much more sophisticated vocabulary word," he shrugs.

        I look at my hands and bit my lip.

        "Anyway," Zayn chortled sitting on his bed, "the project. You said eating disorders?"

        "Uh, no, we don't have to. It was a random thought," I rub my arm. He patted the seat next to him and I sat down beside him. Our arms slightly brushing.