Need • Zarry

8. Unsuspecting

"When you were you masturbating with the door open that night...were...were you doing it on purpose?" Harry asked Zayn as he stood in the living room, eying him as he put on his black, fleece coat.

"Maybe," Zayn returned, smirking a little.

"And you can say jerkin off, Harry. Masturbatin is just so technical."

Harry felt himself blush slightly, feeling a little bit embarrassed by himself again and he grabbed the keys off the end table beside the sofa. Harry still hadn't been comfortable enough to say certain words and phrases out loud with Zayn, to Zayn.

Obscenities, sexual words. Dirty talk.

And Harry really wanted to, he did, but he just couldn't bring himself to utter any of it.

At least not yet.

"But how did you even know I would want to see you doing that?"

"I didn't. But I just had a feelin."

It was almost unnerving the way that Zayn saw right through Harry, how he knew things about him that even Harry didn't know. There was this silent knowing, this quiet understanding between them that kept happening when Harry didn't say enough, yet Zayn still seemed to hear him anyway.

And it provided Harry with this strange sense of assurance that he never knew existed, like he didn't have to describe every thought, every emotion that he was feeling in the moment that he felt them but somehow Zayn was still listening, still making all the right moves and saying all the right things and it made this newfound experience between them that much more comforting.

It was several days later since that night, on a Friday evening, and Harry had suggested earlier in the day that he take Zayn out to do some clothes shopping at the mall in Philadelphia so that he had some more choices of things to wear. Not that Harry minded when Zayn wore his clothes. He still didn't mind. In fact, he still liked it.

But Zayn was his own person with his own unique sense of self, with his own style that consisted of band t-shirts, ripped jeans, sweatshirts. Comfortable, stylish, trendy. It was a casual grunge sort of aesthetic that was becoming more popular as it drew nearer to the start of a new decade, the 90's. And Harry wanted Zayn to look like himself, to wear what he liked to wear and Harry planned on buying him anything that he wanted.

Zayn also hadn't been to Seth's house once all week long. He had still worked at his father's video store two of those afternoons that week, but he came right home to Harry's house for their routine dinners and film watching, breezing through both Dirty Dancing and The Lost Boys, and Zayn had preferred the vampires over Harry's favorite dance film that nobody knew he liked so much, and Zayn had said that he thought it was sweet that Harry was a bit of a sap deep down.

Sweet.

Harry had also noticed that Zayn hadn't shown any interest in going out, going to Seth's, or going anywhere else at all, really. Instead he wanted to be there with Harry, just curled up on the sofa under the white blanket that was starting to belong to Zayn, and this time he cuddled into Harry right away. And Harry never adjusted himself or moved away when Zayn laid on his arm, nuzzling into him. Harry had even put his arm around Zayn's shoulder, even rubbed it a little, settling back into the sofa cushions and they were always so cozy and warm.