I don't want just anyone to hold (Ziall)

Niall didn't question it when Zayn rested his head on his knee, nuzzling the side of his face against his thigh. Long eyelashes caught on denim, but Zayn didn't blink until the boy put his guitar away, calloused fingers sliding back into the dark strands of hair. The tanner of the two let out a sound of contentment, a low rumble at the back of his throat. "I miss them sometimes," Niall admitted, the pads of his fingers rubbing hypnotic circles onto Zayn's scalp.