Need • Zarry

3. Don't be sorry

Harry tossed and turned all night long following that specific event, just wondering why he felt the need to touch himself and why he thought of Zayn the whole time.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Harry was overcome with a mixture of feelings he had never experienced before and it weighed on both his mind and in his chest as he woke up feeling it all hit him, tenfold. He wasn't sure what to do about it, if it would happen again, if he could look at Zayn the same way afterward and he had to do everything in his power to just push his racing thoughts into the way back of his mind.

Harry slipped his feet into the pair of slippers beside his queen bed and quietly emerged into the hall around quarter to seven, peaking into Zayn's new room briefly to see that he wasn't there. Harry paused momentarily, surprised to see that he was up before him since it was so early in the morning. He then glanced around at the emptiness, realizing Zayn wasn't in the living room either and suddenly Harry began to fret slightly.

Did he leave?

Harry felt this sudden heaviness in his chest increase and he backtracked toward Zayn's room in an instant, frantic, almost expecting to see that he had grabbed his things and booked it out of there, changing his mind about Harry's hospitality and offerings.

No, no, no. I hope he didn't leave.

But then Harry spotted Zayn's black backpack on the floor with his clothes littered around and a sense of relief washed over Harry knowing he was still there. Somewhere.

But if Zayn isn't inside the house, then where could he have gone?

Harry decided to make his way out the front door, checking outside for any sign of him and it was then that Harry spotted Zayn just sitting in the grass right by bank of the canal.

"Hey," Harry called over to him as he walked up to Zayn and Zayn turned around, smiling softly as the morning light reflected in his deep, soothing brown eyes.

"I like it here," he replied, gazing out into the water.

"It's so peaceful."

"Well I'm glad you think so," Harry responded as he moved beside him, shivering from the chill of the windy air as he stood there in just his white t-shirt.

"You can stay as long as you'd like," he added and Zayn looked up at him again with a gracious smile.

Hopefully I don't fantasize about him again.

"I've got to head off to work shortly but do you want some breakfast first? I was just about to make eggs and toast," Harry said, pushing away the thought and he watched as Zayn pulled himself up off the ground in his oversized grey sweatshirt with the hood pulled up.

"Yeah, that would be great."

Harry stood in the kitchen making four eggs over easy in the large frying pan while Zayn sat the kitchen table flipping through the pages of Rolling Stone magazine, sipping on a glass of grapefruit juice and Harry was still trying desperately not to think about the previous night. Harry had never fantasized about a man before; had never even entertained the idea of it.

He liked women, although he didn't have overtly sexual thoughts about them either. In fact, his sex drive was pretty low and sometimes he wondered if he was broken because he just wasn't like typical men in that kind of way. But now nothing was making sense.

"So what music are you into?" Zayn questioned to break the lull of silence that had fallen between them as Harry filled the plates with the eggs and freshly buttered toast.