Sweet Pea •Zarry•

2.

The tears were still running down Harry's face and his chubby cheeks blushed as the other boy stared down at him.

The unnamed boy sighed, looking disgruntled, and held his hand out for Harry to take.

Harry was hesitant to grab it. But he took a chance and delicately placed his fingers on the other boy's palm.

He was pulled off the floor and onto his feet, wincing at the pain of stretching his stomach. The other boy led Harry around the corner to his locker, grabbed something that Harry couldn't see, and then pulled him around the corner into the bathroom.

Harry only cried more when he looked in the mirror to see that his shirt was completely stained. Of course this was the day he decided wear a white shirt to school.

The other boy looked away and handed Harry whatever he was holding, which turned out to be a black t-shirt, and grumbled out, "Here."

Harry checked in the mirror just to be absolute certain that the other boy wasn't looking, and swiftly changed shirts.

"I'm done." Harry said in his soft voice.

The other boy turned around and Harry thought he could see a small smirk on his face, which upset him. He thought maybe the other boy was amused by how big the shirt was on Harry's slim body, which only made him more embarrassed.

Without saying anything, the dark-haired boy strode out of the bathroom as if nothing had happened.

Harry, of course, ran after him, feeling the need to be polite no matter how scary this boy was. He caught up to the boy and squeaked out a small thank you.

The other boy didn't say anything in response, he simply kept walking. So Harry bit his lip and turned around to go to his locker and move on with his day.

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When he got home, Harry made sure to wash both his shirt and the borrowed one. He planned on returning it at school the next day.

As he waited for the laundry machine to finish, he went into the kitchen to make some hot chocolate.

He sat perched by window in his living room, sipping his warm drink. He could feel a comfortable warmth spreading through his body while he thought about his day- and he was sure it wasn't the hot chocolate.

No one at school had done something so kind for him in a very long time. And as he pondered the situation more, he became irritated at the fact that he didn't know the mysterious boy's name. Harry was certain he had never seen him before. Maybe this was the new kid he heard Louis and Liam talking about.

He knew that he shouldn't feel so giddy about what happened, seeing as the other boy wasn't exactly friendly. But Harry couldn't push away the excitement at the prospect of making a new friend, something he hadn't done in years. He even had an excuse to speak to the boy.

Harry had never felt so ecstatic to talk to another person before.

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As he trudged into the school that morning, Harry didn't look at the floor like he usually did. He nervously peered around the hallway in search of a dark head of hair and pretty eyes.

He walked for a moment, careful not to bump into anyone, when he spotted him.

With the borrowed shirt clutched in his hands, Harry made his way over to the boy, who was leaning coolly against the wall looking down at his phone.

Harry stopped in front of him. He tried to speak but he felt himself growing more and more nervous. He could hear his heart pounding. He stood there for a moment with his mouth opening and closing before the boy noticed him.

He furrowed his brows. "Can I help you?" He grumbled out.

Harry meekly held out the black shirt, eyes pointed away from the boy.

He took the shirt and started to walk away, presumably to his locker. But Harry felt some sort of desperation in his chest and he called out.

"Wait!"

The other boy turned with a scowl painted on his face to see shy little Harry, standing there with wide eyes and pink cheeks, fingers knotting together.

"W- what's your name?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "Zayn."

He walked away, leaving Harry standing there.

A smile started to creep up on Harry's face, that is, until another student walked right into him, knocking him to the ground and then stepping around him without saying sorry.

He sighed, coming to his senses and going to his first class instead of daydreaming about Zayn.

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Harry had to walk home that day.

He had gotten shoved against the wall by a classmate and they wouldn't let him go. He could still feel their hands digging into his shoulders.

By the time he had gotten out of the school, the bus had already left, leaving him to take the hour-long walk back to his house.

To top it all off, he was startled by a car honking its horn on the road next to him and fell, scraping his knees and ripping his jeans in the process.

He was hopeful that morning that it would be a good day, that maybe he could start a friendship. But the more he went over his encounters with Zayn, the less confident he was in the idea that Zayn didn't hate him.

There were fat tears rolling down his cheeks, but he was so used to crying that he paid no mind to them.

He supposed this would just be another typical bad day.

When he stepped inside his house, it held the familiar, ever-present air of emptiness. Harry longed then more than ever that his mother would come home and hold him in a tight hug like she used to do when he was little.
But alas, she wouldn't be home for hours.

So Harry got out his homework as a distraction and tried to forget his day.

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