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Zayn Malik left London five years ago with a suitcase full of sketchbooks and the quiet certainty that he was meant for something bigger. New York was supposed to be the place where it all happened, the galleries, the recognition, the life he had imagined for himself. But dreams don't always unfold the way you plan them, and when things fall apart, Zayn finds himself back in London with nothing but a few unfinished paintings, a bruised ego, and no real idea of what comes next.
He tells himself it's only temporary, just long enough to figure things out.
What he doesn't expect is to run into Harry Styles.
Harry was the boy Zayn grew up watching from a distance: all sunshine smiles, messy curls, and an easy kindness that made everyone around him feel lighter. The boy Zayn never quite had the courage to talk to, even though his heart had been quietly stuttering around him for years.
Five years later, Harry hasn't changed in the ways that matter. He still laughs too easily, still remembers everyone's name, and still has that warm, impossible brightness about him. Only now he owns a little café-bookshop tucked onto a quiet London street, the kind of place that smells like coffee, old pages, and something that feels a little bit like home.
And it just so happens to be right around the corner from Zayn's new flat.
Zayn tells himself he's just stopping by for coffee.
But maybe, this time, he'll finally find the courage to say something.