If I say I'm not in love, then I'm not. If I say I don't remember your name, trust that I don't. If I say I'm not thinking of you, that I'm not attracted to you, that your name is not ringing in my brain after our first time...then, it's not. And that's that. But what if all of these statements are lies that I tell myself whenever I look at you to hide the fact that I am, that I do and that it does? What then? Or The one where Zayn and Harry fall in love after a one-night stand. EDIT: This story is MINE and original. The only other copy of this work is on Ao3 under DeeLa17. Any other copies or translations outside of these users are not mine. Please refrain from stealing or publishing on any other platform WITHOUT my consent. If you wish to translate it into another language, feel free to contact me.

Harry is a rich spoiled Brat and Zayn is his new Bodyguard.

Every single breath he takes around Zayn is a lie. Harry's entire being when he's near Zayn is a fucking lie because Harry never wanted this to turn out like that. Harry never wanted to act like his heart wasn't aching for the love that was taken away from him, for the person that he could share anything and everything with. His other half that had been with him for years and suddenly, there was just void instead. OR: It's been three years since Harry saw Zayn. A chance encounter forces them to bring back memories they were trying so hard to forget. Will they fall down or manage to hold on this time? ORIGINALLY POSTED ON AO3

In a world where everyone is born with a heart tattoo that turns red when they meet their soulmate, Zayn Malik burned his' when he was younger therefore losing his tattoo. He was all right with an incompetent mark that is until he meets Harry Styles.

Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see. That’s what his father always tells him with that smile of his, the one that says, I’ll tell you that much, but the rest will cost you. Harry never knew what he meant, but he gets it now that he’s sitting in the dim bar of another hotel he won’t sleep in, the ice melting in his £18 gin and tonic. He doesn’t even like gin and tonic, but it’s all part of the game. And it is a game. It has to be, because if it isn’t that means he doesn’t enjoy it and he does.

Harry hates his English lit teacher but grows quite fond of poetry