Echo Of Us • Zarry

TV 1

Harry feels like he's being fried alive but he doesn't move. The sun is ruthless, hitting his skin with no mercy with only his SPF 6 oil to protect him. The boat doesn't really move but he can hear the waves and the ocean all around him. Just silence and the water. Harry realizes that he's kind of been on a non-stop holiday ever since he met Charles. Not that he's complaining, he needs the rest. It's a few years overdue.

"Love, are you frying yourself to a crisp?"

Harry chortles at Charles' remark from the shade. "Yes, that's exactly it. Just forgot the batter."

"And the chips if you're going for a cannibal's fish and chips," Charles says. Harry peels an eye open and sees him at the long table in the shade, tapping away on his iPad. He watches him for a while, up until Charles sighs, locks the iPad and starts walking towards Harry.

"Hi, darling," Charles says before he pecks Harry's lips and drops down on the bed-sized sun lounger next to him.

"You seem irritated," Harry mumbles. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Charles replies, his eyes already closed. "Lucas is trying to convince me it's a good idea to produce the record for this one Internet sensation. I'm not going along with it. Having one song as a hit on social media doesn't guarantee success."

"Maybe," Harry says. "But it works for some. Doja Cat, Cardi B, there's plenty."

"It wouldn't with this one, trust me," Charles scoffs. "His song was used for this meme or whatever they call it, that basically makes fun of the exact type of a man that the singer is. It's a bloody joke, he's getting a deal with us over my dead body."

"Be careful near the railing then," Harry teases. "The water's deep."

Charles laughs and opens his eyes. He turns to his side and starts tracing the lines of Harry's chest with his fingers, his pecs, his abs. "So you wouldn't try and save me?"

Harry hums. "Depends. I would at least throw you a pool floaty."

Instead of a retort, Charles kisses Harry's neck. And Harry lets him, even if they're both burning up from the sun and slick from the sun oil. As Charles leaves kisses and lovebites on Harry's neck, Harry hums contently and moves his hand to Charles' hair, tugging at the strands.

"You know I have to leave on Monday to rehearse," Harry mumbles. "I really wouldn't want to see photos of us on the front page of tabloids in compromising positions again before that."

"It wasn't that bad," Charles gets out between kisses.

"No, you only had your hand down my swimming trunks," Harry snorts. "I'm not Princess Diana, I can't do yacht scandals gracefully in a PG manner. Now go get us some food before I get hard again."

Charles pulls away. "Are you hungry, love?"

"Yes," Harry replies, his hand still in Charles' hair. "Feed me, Chuck. Before I feel like I'm a prisoner on this yacht."

"I should've started dating a model again, those don't eat," Charles smiles.

"You're talking to the face of Gucci Tailoring and some other things so, technically I am a model on the side and yes, I do eat."

"Fine," Charles relents and kisses Harry again before standing up. "I'll pamper you like a newborn."

"Ew," Harry laughs. "That's a step too much."

Charles only winks at him over his shoulder as he disappears inside.

Just moments after Charles leaves, Harry's phone rings. Harry gets up from the lounger with a sigh in search of his phone. He eventually finds it underneath his t-shirt on a chair. What startles Harry is that it's Nick calling him.