Say Something (Im giving up on you) || Zarry

Chapter 19

When Harry moved to Paris to get a proper education on baking, he only had enough money to feed himself three times a day and to rent a one bedroom apartment for the first few months. He knew it was tough for her mum, ‘cause even though Gemma has a scholarship in the Uni she attends, it’s not like she’s getting anything for free.

And well, while his mum and his excuse of a father haven’t separated yet at that time, his dad wasn’t bringing any bread on their table either. The firm his dad worked for got bankrupted and absorbed by a larger firm. They had an evaluation of the employees who will get absorbed, too, and his dad didn’t make it.

That’s when everything about his father started.

Harry thought it was unfair, how Gemma gets to leave their house-but-never-a-home – maybe it once was, but he’s sure that’s it’s not anymore – and he doesn’t.

So there were days in Paris where he only settled for bread, although different ones, for the whole day, but he never missed drinking a cup of tea before he goes to bed. He would be sitting on his single bed, the mug –his only mug, with a bag of chamomile tea – would be on the floor, and he would duck once in a while to pick it up and took a sip. He would just stare at his window, looking forward to the day he gets his diploma.   

It became a habit up until now, that Harry drinks a cup of tea before he goes to bed. And although he had milk last night, a lot of it, it didn’t really feel like he was betraying his routine. Cause it was only then that he realized that he only longs for it, the comfort that the cup of tea brings to him, when he knows he’ll be sleeping alone. And for the past few weeks, Harry wasn’t.

So while it shouldn’t matter now, Harry can’t help but think about what tea Zayn would bring. It had been on his mind since this morning, while he gave Fifi her coffee. Although he’s one of the owner, harry finds it boring to do all the paper stuff, so he either bakes or dwells in the café in a plaid apron.

It was a bit challenging, guessing what Zayn would bring. But now that he’s home, making tacos for himself since Louis said he’d be having dinner outside – he barely eats dinner at their flat now, Harry hoped it would be chamomile.

 When he was just finished stuffing the taco shell with beef, Harry heard the sound of the buzzer – which surprised him as he wasn’t expecting anyone, and sure that Louis wasn’t either, since he didn’t mention anything. With curious face, furrowed brows and narrow eyes, he wiped his hands on a paper towel and walked to get it. He used his right hand to twist the knob, since his left was used to brush his hair upwards so it wont fall on his lashes.

and there zayn was, outside the door. Looking on point, as always. He just came home from work, harry can tell, by the way his red shirt is neatly tucked in his slacks.

He wasn't alone, though.

Maybe thats why zayn's avoiding the what-the-fuck-is-this look Harry's giving him. He just keeps his head low and stares at the left side of the wooden porch, giving harry a view of his ever sharp jawline.

Perrie must've sensed the awkwardness -- which really wasn't the case. It was more than that. Its tension between the betrayed and the traitor -- so she spoke first, her hair in a high ponytail, her smile so pretty it crushed harry's confidence into pieces.

"Hey harry! We brought tea!"

"You did? What kind?"

"Chamomile, zayn told me its your favorite?"

That made harry smile at her, too.

At how fucked up this all is.