Smoke & Mirrors • Zarry

19. Fishnet stockings

Zayn and Harry left Bradford before his parents ever came home that night because Zayn didn't have it in him to wait around, and perhaps Zayn didn't take much with him, but what he did leave with was something far greater; a newfound sense of hope. He could feel himself starting to embrace his weaknesses, addressing the demons who ran around taunting him, torturing his mind and he dared to challenge them, beginning to free the parts of his soul that he had buried deep.

And as he looked over at Harry on the long car ride home, Zayn knew that if it hadn't been for him, he would have only continued to stay locked in that cage. And maybe he was still scared, still subconsciously counting down the days until Harry would inevitably leave, but Harry just held onto his hand during the drive back to London and something inside of Zayn desperately tried to reassure himself that they would be alright.

But letting go of those memories from his old room felt cleansing in a way, as if he was leaving it all behind, putting one foot in front of the other to move forward on this long and winding road that he'd been traveling down, and out of all the things that had been scattered around his old bedroom, the only possessions that Zayn bothered to take back home with him were his record collection, his old, faded Pink Floyd t-shirt, and his copy of the book In Watermelon Sugar, which were the only few items that Harry had latched onto, so Zayn decided that he would give them all to Harry for him to keep.

Halfway through the drive back Harry's hand maneuvered its way onto Zayn's thigh, caressing it gently at first, creating those steady surges that occurred within his veins every single time, and in their usual fashion, it quickly escalated with force as Harry's touch became more urgent, hungrier, until Zayn could hardly contain himself or even focus on the road ahead, so he had quickly veered off the highway toward a ditch by the woods and they climbed into the backseat hurriedly with their hands all over each other, roaming about, clawing, grasping at each other's clothes and skin.

And their tongues intertwined again in that liquescent, mind-numbing way as Zayn ripped Harry's clothes off and Harry climbed on top of him. And they aggressively fucked in the backseat of Zayn's Range Rover without a care, that it almost appeared as though time stood still and they were the only two people to exist in the world. And as they steamed up the windows, the nightly summer fog just rolled through and cascaded around Zayn's car, and it had felt as though they were in the clouds.

But time had soon passed and the following week crept up too quickly, the final week before Harry ventured off to Dorset to film Dunkirk and they were making the most of every moment of time they had left together. That night Zayn and Harry found themselves in the process of getting piss drunk at The Box on the night of Louis' bachelor party along with Louis' other two close friends, Oli and Liam and they all sat around a table in the center of the room, right in front of the stage, watching as the myriad of different girls that worked there came on stage and performed their numbers, many of them paying much of their attention to Zayn, as always, because that's what everyone always did.

All Zayn ever had to do was simply exist and it seemed as though he was constantly being focused on from just about every female that laid eyes on him, even when he did nothing at all.

Zayn was also making business deals throughout the night, mostly speed, cocaine, adderall, poppers, the sort of drugs that people liked to take recreationally so they felt as though they were having a better time, and he had stacks of notes to show for it. The girls who worked at The Box were also avid customers of his, and he watched one of them blowing lines off to the corner of the room, right beside an off duty cop that Zayn had recognized and in that moment he realized that Cara was right; they could get away with anything here.

"Can I get a gram at some point later?" asked a random guy who passed by their table, leaning in with a hushed tone, speaking to Zayn.

And he nodded shortly, not wanting to leave the table quite yet to collect it because Harry was beside him and their thighs were touching, Harry's hand resting on top of his own thigh but Zayn could feel his pinky finger inching towards his, sending that familiar chill down his arms that Zayn got whenever Harry was that close to him, even if they were just casually sitting somewhere like The Box.