Wasted Whiskies and Crushed Cigarettes | Zarry Stylik | Completed ✓

CHAPTER 2

"Be careful, yeah?" Doniya asked straightening his shirt collar.

"Didi!! I will don't worry." He spoke with a mouthful of sandwich.

"Call us every week." Waliyha smiled closing Zayn's bag.

"Okay sweetheart." He smiled.

He took a bus from his home to his college which was a freaking two-hour ride. On his walk inside the campus, he only imagined how many fuckin hours he spent while walking back home that night.

He was welcomed by a warm atmosphere and rich students. He looked down at his old boots and looked at one of the boy's costly Chelsea boots. He sighed deeply, knowing he's gonna be a joke in this school.

"Hello, how can I help you?" The lady in the reception asked.

"I'm Zayn, first year, a new student." He smiled trying to be nice with people.

"Zayn Malik?" She asked and he nodded. "Room number 43, Beethoven's block."

It took his everything to not laugh at the naming for blocks. He thanked her and walked to the direction board and noticed that every dormitory block is named after a music legend. He started walking to the left wondering why his block is not named after Michael Jackson.

One floor has 10 rooms and so Zayn's room is on the fourth floor. He turned to his right and stood in front of door number 43. Its a two-member room and all he wants is his roommate to not be an asshole. His life is already messed up he doesn't want any other mess to be dragged in.

He took a deep breath before knocking the door twice and waited for 30 seconds and got no response. He raised his fist again to knock just when the roommate opened the door. His roommate looked at his fist with wide eyes and turned to him.

The moment Zayn's eyes met the opposite boy's green eyes he fuckin' forgot how to breathe. The other boy's eyes are tired but his face still holds an amused smile with raised eyebrows. Neither of them spoke for the next couple of minutes, they just stood there admiring each other's flaws on their beautiful face.

Zayn raised his left hand which is holding the rooms another key and the other one understood and smiled, opening the door wide open. He walked in and heard the door lock. He looked around the room and loved how messy it looks.

"Harry Styles." A deep, raspy yet steady voice said from behind him.

"Zayn Malik." Zayn replied to which Harry smiled nodding slowly.

There are two beds on one side of the wall which is parted by bedside tables. Zayn's bed is near the window of that room and he wondered why his partner didn't take that side.

It took an hour for Zayn to complete arranging his side. He didn't bring much, just his clothes and some books which he befriended all these lonely years. He opened another little bag which has his body and hair products which he decided to keep away for now. Because he deserves to rest.

He plopped down on his bed like a starfish and remembered he has a company. He turned to his right to meet with Harry who is already looking at Zayn instead of his book. His cheek instantly started burning the moment he saw Harry's green eyes which he fell in love with. Only with the eyes.

"Major?" Harry asked after a long staring competition.

"Vocals." Zayn answered.

"Same." Harry smiled showing his dimples.

"I thought you're more of an instrument guy." Zayn smiled balancing his head on his right hand to look at Harry.

"Why? My voice doesn't sound nice?" Harry smiled wiggling his eyebrows.

"Nope, not like that mate." Zayn said sitting up. "It's just kinda popped up in my mind, that's it."

"It's okay. I was just kidding anyway." Harry smiled getting up.

"What instrument by the way?" Zayn asked watching Harry walk to his table which is opposite to his bed.

"Guitar." He replied pointing beside his bed and Zayn saw a guitar bag against the wall.

"Oh. Sorry." He smiled sheepishly.

"That's okay. You?" Harry asked taking a bottle of whisky from his cupboard.

"Erhm... Piano." Zayn answered unsure because he doesn't know what Harry is talking about.

"Wow, that's amazing." Harry beamed pouring whisky in a glass. "Want one?"

"Not an alcohol guy." Zayn smiled.

"Okay." Harry smiled back and kept the bottle inside his cupboard. He turned around to Zayn who is searching for his lighter with a cigarette between his lips. Finally, he found it on his back pocket and noticed Harry who is leaning against the cupboard and watching him with a smirk.

"What? Everyone has their addiction." Zayn spoke walking towards the window.

"I didn't say anything." Harry shrugged leaning against the wall.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Zayn asked noticing Harry's smirk and an unreadable emotion in his eyes.

"You look hot while smoking." He blurted out making Zayn cough vigorously around the smoke.

"Seriously?" He asked smiling with tearful eyes because of the smoke.

"Seriously." Harry assured.

"You're British right?" Zayn asked after his 5th cigarette and Harry's 4th glass of whisky.

"Yeah." Harry smiled dopily falling on his bed.

"London?"

"Holmes Chapel."

"Okay."

"You?"

"Bradford."

"Sexy accent." Harry smiled stretching his legs and crawling under his sheets.

"Age?" Zayn asked dumping his burned-out cigarettes in the dustbin.

"18. You?"

"19."

"Took a year off for world tour?" Harry smirked.

"No." Zayn smiled sadly going under his sheets.

"Okay." Harry smiled dazedly. "Goodnight Zee." He wished at 12 pm.

"Goodnight Haz." Zayn replied before sleep swallowing him.

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