Perhaps, Maybe, I Dunno (boyxboy)

Chapter 13

I'm sorry I couldn't update on Wednesday, but finals are killing me. I can't believe I'm going to have to survive them for another week. Anyway, I love each and every one of you for reading my story and for voting for it and for commenting on it. Especially commenting because your comments make me so happy! This chapter is dedicated to itsZaynandhaRRY for being a sweetheart and commenting like crazy on my story. 

Warning: The chapter ahead will make you feel certain emotions. 

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Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He was almost-raped by a random blond boy, and now Zayn has beaten the crap out of said blond boy. And Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself. Do I say thank you? Do I hug him? Am I still supposed to act like I don’t know him? Harry’s sure that he wouldn’t know what to do even if he wasn’t drunk, and the thought makes him really tired. There’s a crowd that’s formed around the blond guy, and some people that Harry assumes are his friends are helping the boy off the ground. One of them is talking to Zayn and standing next to him in a threatening way. Harry can tell that the boy is ready to fight Zayn, he can tell by the wild, unfocused look in his eyes, and Harry can also tell that Zayn will have no problem fighting the boy back. Before anything can happen, Harry steps in between the two of them and puts his hands on Zayn’s shoulders.

“Zayn, I think we need to go.” Harry is careful to focus on his words, so that Zayn will know how important what he’s saying is. Zayn stares at him, and for a second, Harry’s afraid that Zayn will hit him. But then, Zayn nods and unclenches his fists, turning away from the commotion behind him. He lets Harry steer him away from the scene, and even though he’s leaning almost all of his weight onto Harry’s arms, Harry doesn’t mind. He can feel Zayn’s defined back muscles underneath his shirt, and it takes every last ounce of his willpower not to put his hand up the back of Zayn’s shirt and feel the muscles skin-to-skin. The urge to be close to Zayn is so strong, Harry’s afraid that Zayn will feel it, too. That, somehow, Zayn will know.

“Harry, do you know where you’re going?” Zayn asks. Harry can feel Zayn’s voice vibrating with his hands, and he’s almost too distracted to answer the question.

“Not really, no.” Harry’s trying to stay calm, but he can’t help but remember that this is the first time that he’s really talked to Zayn since the incident in the car. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing again, but he’s drunk this time, so he knows that he has even less self-control.

“You can let go of my back,” Zayn says, turning to face Harry with a grin on his face. Now they’re standing in close proximity of one another, and Harry can smell the alcohol on Zayn’s breath. He realizes that Zayn is drunk, almost swaying-ly drunk, and the thought makes Harry laugh for some reason. Zayn frowns at first, but soon he’s laughing, too. And they’re just standing in the middle of the hallway laughing at nothing.

“Let’s go to my car,” Harry says in between laughs, “I’ll drop you home.” Zayn nods lazily, and they stumble out of the door, into the night. Harry guesses that it’s probably one in the morning, and that his nan has probably looked the door to their house by now.

“I’m really sorry, but I might have to crash at your place,” Harry says, “I can’t get into my nan’s house.” Zayn nods.

“Do you want to call your nan first? Make sure she knows you’re okay?” Zayn questions, quirking an eyebrow at Harry. This makes Harry smile. Even when he’s drunk, Zayn is always considerate. It reminds Harry of how different they are from one another.

“She thinks I’m staying at yours already, actually.” Harry says, and Zayn laughs.

“You’re quite the rebel aren’t you, Hazza?” he says, nudging Harry’s shoulder with his. Harry blushes.

“I’d like to think so.” They finally make their way to Harry’s car and climb in tiredly. When Harry’s seated, he realizes that he has a problem.

“Um, Zayn,” he says, “I can’t buckle my seatbelt.” Harry can see Zayn trying to fight a smile as he gets down and walks to the other side of the car to help Harry. He reaches for the seat belt and pulls it across Harry’s body. Harry struggles to breathe as Zayn puts on his seat belt painstakingly slow. When Zayn lets go, Harry exhales his breath.

“Thanks,” Harry says, looking down at his lap. He looks back up to find that Zayn’s still standing there, looking at him with unreadable eyes. Harry’s about to ask him if everything’s okay, but then all of a sudden Zayn closes the gap between their faces. And Harry has to pinch himself to make sure he isn’t dreaming when Zayn leans down and kisses him.

Harry responds to Zayn’s kiss immediately, fluttering his eyes shut and leaning in. Zayn cups his hand around Harry’s face, and Harry can feel Zayn’s eyelashes fluttering across his own eyelids. He smiles because it tickles, and Harry can feel a smile stretch across Zayn’s face against his own lips. When Harry kisses Zayn, he feels even more intoxicated than he is. He forgets everything about his life: all of his feelings, his thoughts, even his own name. All he can feel is warmth and glow spreading through his entire body. He hopes it isn’t just the alcohol.

They separate for air, and Harry feels like he’s going to faint. I kissed Zayn, he thinks, I kissed Zayn. He leans back in to kiss Zayn again, but what happened so quickly suddenly comes to a halt.

 “I can’t,” Zayn whispers, pulling back farther from Harry. Harry thinks that he just might cry, and he can see that Zayn probably feels the same way. Zayn lets his hand linger on Harry’s cheek for a second more before he goes back to other side of the car and sits back down. Harry turns the key in the ignition and lets the rumbling of the engine fill the silence between them.

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Don't hate me! It gets better, I swear!