Archive of Our Own ^beta

Harry wakes up with a start, his phone ringing on his bedside table, which is weird because he’s not working today, and he specifically remembers turning his alarm off. People really need to start being more considerate. He groans as he turns to pick up the phone, the sudden brightness of the screen stinging his eyes. Niall's name flashes across the screen, and Harry slides his fingers over it to answer.

"Wha-?" he mumbles, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Did I wake you?" Niall asks from across the line. "For fuck's sake, it's two in the afternoon, Harry."

"Excuse me, Niall, but it's my day off and I was working till 3 AM."

The pair had met at uni, Harry majoring in photography and Niall in graphic design. While Niall got himself a nice little 9 to 5 gig at an advertising company following graduation, Harry works as a photographer's assistant at a studio. It usually means lots of running around putting the sets together, carrying heavy gear and too many hours of editing, with little to no creative freedom. Harry counts that as paying his dues, just until he starts making money off his own work.

"Oh, well. Sorry. I really need to ask you a favor, though," Niall says, and Harry groans again. "I got a mate who needs a place to stay."

"And you're calling me because...?"

"Because you owe me, and you’ve got a free couch. Please? It's only for a few days, a week tops."

"Niall..." Harry sighs, running a hand across his face, "Do I even know this guy?"

"Yes! He went out with us a few times? His name is Zayn, he's got a buzzcut and lots of tattoos?"Niall pauses over his lists, giving Harry some time to process. Harry thinks it over, and he does kind of remember someone fitting that description, though, if he's being honest, the memories of him are all slightly foggy. This Zayn guy always seemed to show up late, which obviously gave Harry plenty of time to have quite a few drinks. "He's kinda neat, likes to sleep as much as you do, and he's a great cook."

" I'm a great cook," Harry says.

"Working at a bakery for a few summers when you didn't actually do much of the baking doesn't make you great cook, Harry," Niall says for what is probably the hundredth time.

"I've improved! I'm self taught," Harry protests.

Niall sighs.

"I guess your muffins are pretty good," Niall admits, "Anyway. Can you help him?"

Harry considers it, thinks about how Niall rarely asks for anything versus how many times he's helped Harry out.

"Fine," Harry gives in. "But after that, we're even," he adds.

"Thanks a lot, Haz, you're a lifesaver!"

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Just tell him to come by whenever," Harry says as he sits up, deciding to give the flat a once over before his new guest arrives.

"Ok, great, thanks again!" Niall says and hangs up.

Harry makes his way to his living room after brushing his teeth and having a wee. He starts organizing things, throwing away empty boxes of Chinese food that are scattered all over the coffee table, and picking up a few pairs of boots that he had left by the door throughout the week. He puts the dishes in the dishwasher and turns the coffee machine on because it's still breakfast time for him, no matter how late in the day it actually is.

Harry's days off are his lazy days. He does absolutely nothing or only the least necessary, and the impromptu cleaning up is more than enough activity for the day. At least that's what he tells himself while he gets dressed and goes across the street to buy some food instead of cooking. He makes small talk with the Mike, the owner, as he waits for his order and promises to go to his daughter's sixth birthday to take some pictures in exchange of free breakfast a few times a month.

When he comes back home, carrying a paper bag of pastries, Harry finds a confused looking person standing in front of his door. He's wearing a hoodie that seems too big for him, jeans with as many holes as Harry's usually have and a very pretty profile.

"Can I help you?" Harry asks as he approaches the stranger carefully because, you know, stranger danger . The man turns to Harry, and he is even prettier from the front, no matter how disgruntled he looks at the moment.

"You're Harry, right?" The pretty stranger asks, to which Harry nods slowly. "M'Zayn," he says, and oh , right. Harry feels like Niall should've mentioned Zayn's face, how aesthetically pleasing it is and how he does not have a buzzcut anymore, but a full head of soft looking hair with green tips. Harry blinks and hopes he hasn't been staring for too long. He laughs, only half awkwardly and shakes his head.

"Sorry, I just woke up and I'm still a little slow. But, uhm, yeah, let me just..." He grabs his key from his back pocket and opens the door for them, waiting for Zayn to come in before closing the door. "So like, I don't know what Niall's told you, but... This is pretty much it," Harry stretches his arms, gesturing towards the open space in front of them.

His flat isn't much of anything; bedroom, living room and kitchen all share the same space-the bathroom being the only room with a door and although his couch is actually really comfortable, it's right next to the window, and the blinds are sort of broken, so the sunlight filters in everyday.

Zayn doesn't even seem to need to look around before dropping his bag by the door, "Nah man, don't worry about me, I just really appreciate the help," he says, scratching the back of his neck; seemingly a little uncomfortable with having to ask for help in the first place.

Harry nods in acknowledgement and goes to the kitchen, getting them both cups of coffee before coming back to the living room. He offers Zayn the second cup which he accepts with a tired, mumbled thank you . Harry settles down on the couch and waits for Zayn to do the same.

"So, what happened?" Harry asks as he opens his paper bag of pastries. It might be a little too straightforward, but if he's going to have to share his place with Zayn, it's probably important to know why he's in need of a place to stay. Harry briefly wonders if he should've brought plates to offer Zayn a proper breakfast like a proper host but, honestly, he decides, Zayn might as well start getting used to how not fancy at all the living with Harry is going to be. Harry grabs the pastries and uses the paper bag as a makeshift tray, placing them on top of it, pushing it until the bag-slash-tray is halfway between the two of them, a silent offer.

"My roommate-well, ex-roommate is a dickhead, is what happened," Zayn grumbles as he sits down next to Harry. "Him and his girlfriend decided they were moving in together and that I had to go, just like that." He snaps his fingers to illustrate, and helps himself to a scone, taking an angry bite out of it. "Like, I get that he's the one who actually owns the apartment but you just can't throw someone out over night, right?"

I mean, you actually can , though you probably shouldn't , Harry thinks, though he doesn't say it out loud. "Shit. That sucks," is what he says instead.

"Right? Like, a little heads up would've been nice," Zayn shakes his head, taking another bite of his scone, less angry now, just looking slightly baffled.

"Well," Harry sighs, "like I said, it's not much, but you can stay until you get yourself sorted."

"I already got some places to check out, I'm not gonna bother you for too long," Zayn promises.

"Seriously, don't worry about it. Just like... Don't bring people over, maybe? Because, you know, the logistics and all," Harry motions towards the space around them again. The bed is visible from the couch and vice-versa, and as hot as Zayn might be, they're not at the friendship stage where having sex with someone while they're in the same room is acceptable. If there is such a stage, anyway. Harry doesn't explicitly say that but Zayn must get it because he chuckles and nods.

"Of course. Any other rules?"

"I don't think so? Uhm, I guess it'd be nice if you kept the noise down when I tell you I gotta wake up early the next day, and that's it. I'm basically on call from... well, anytime, and I don't always have to go into the studio but when I do, I usually end up staying for a lot longer, so I really appreciate my sleep. Weekends aren't off the table either, so my routine is pretty much nonexistent."

"That sounds stressful. What do you do, again?" Zayn asks as he pops the last piece of scone into his mouth. There are crumbs on his beard. Harry doesn't mention it.

"I work at a studio with a photographer. The hours are shit but the money is good and I get to learn a lot, so," Harry shrugs.

"Well. I'm a national manager for a French online game company. They've got no official office down here, so I work from home, and that's why I needed a place to stay so quickly. I'm actually supposed to be working right now, to be honest," Zayn says, checking his phone. He must notice the crumbs through his reflection on the screen because he's quick to scrub them off. Harry tries to bite back a smile.

"I got the day off, so I'm gonna let you get settled while I actively do nothing at all." Harry grabs a pen from the coffee table and writes down a few numbers in the corner of the pastries bag. "This is the WiFi password, and feel free to help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen. There's a coffee shop across the street and... I guess that's it," he says as he gets to his feet.

"Great, thanks again, man," Zayn nods and goes for his bag, pulling his laptop out. Harry makes his way to the bed, grabs his phone and tries his best to ignore the semi-stranger in his living room to give them both a sense of privacy.

And as it turns out, ignoring Zayn is easier than Harry had imagined.

Zayn is extremely quiet for the rest of day just furiously typing away with a serious look on his face. Harry doesn't notice him at all if he avoids glancing at the couch except for the slight clicking sound of the laptop keys in the background but even that is easy to ignore. At least it is until Niall texts him asking if Zayn had gotten there and if everything was okay. Harry does look at the couch then, only to find that Zayn has made himself at home. He’s taken his shoes and hoodie off already, and curled up in the couch with his laptop. Harry snaps a picture of him and sent it to Niall.

It’s easy to fall asleep after that. Not that sleeping is a hardship for Harry in any way, all he needs to be able to fall asleep is to be awake in the first place. When he wakes up for the second time that day, the sun is already gone and the entire flat smells of something delicious. Harry sits up slowly, slightly disoriented, and finds Zayn messing about by the stove.

"Are you a ninja or something?" Harry asks around a yawn, running a hand through his hair. Zayn doesn't even startle by Harry suddenly starts speaking just chuckles lightly as he checks one of the pans.

"I just know that a man's sleep is sacred," he shrugs.

"You should've woke me up, though, I could've helped." Harry gets up then, dragging himself off the bed and into the kitchen area to take a peek.

"Consider this a thank you for letting me stay gift," Zayn shrugs again and gives Harry a friendly smile. "Here, taste this," he says as he offers Harry a spoonful of the sauce he's making. It tastes better than anything Harry's ever made, but he's definitely not telling Niall that.

***

The thanks for letting me stay meal turns into their everyday meal pretty quickly. Harry is never at home around lunch, while Zayn is at home all the time and, because he claims that cooking for one is boring, Zayn ends up cooking for the two of them most of the time, though Harry tries to help on the rare days he doesn't get called in to the studio before noon.

A week goes by before they know it and they’ve managed to establish some semblance of a routine between them. Harry wakes up at eight, showers, gets dressed and makes coffee while Zayn sleeps like the dead on the couch. Zayn doesn't eat much in the mornings, so Harry usually just munches on some fruit by himself or some cereal before he goes to wake Zayn from the cocoon he turns the couch into every night. Harry leaves before Zayn fully wakes because, as he quickly discovers, Zayn needs a little more time than everyone else to find proper consciousness. Still, Zayn almost always wishes Harry a good day even if it comes out a bit groggy.

Harry thinks it's sweet.

They go their separate ways during the day but then sometime around 5 Harry will text Zayn to let him know when he'll most likely be home in the evening. Usually Zayn will either wait for him so they can eat dinner together or set a plate aside in the fridge so Harry can eat when he gets home. Regardless of the time Harry comes back, they end up talking a lot, whether it be over dinner, or curled up on the couch, Zayn watching TV as Harry balances a plate on his lap. They talk about anything and everything - nothing seemingly off limits.

Harry notices that Zayn is very family oriented, or at least according to all the stories he tells Harry and how his eyes get an extra spark when he talks about how much he misses them even though he's been away from home for a few years now. They trade being-a-little-brother stories, dumb drunk-at-uni-parties stories, and romantic and tragic breakup stories. Harry vows to switch from regular bacon to turkey bacon when he finds out Zayn doesn't eat pork because of his religion and gets weirdly overprotective when Zayn opens up about some of the prejudice he's faced throughout his life, growing up as a brown Muslim boy.

Somewhere between the stories they tell each other, Harry realizes that Zayn is just a really chill person and he favors a night in with friends than a night of clubbing. Harry realizes it must be why Zayn has almost always been late when he’s gone out with Niall and the guys.- Harry also realizes that Zayn is fun to be around and it doesn't hurt that he’s got a pretty face and looks extremely cute when he's sleepy.

The entire first week feels like somewhat of a friendship crash course, and by the end of it, Harry feels as close to Zayn as he is to Niall, really. They're no longer at a place where they have to think of the things they have in common to talk about, or where they feel the need to fill in the silence with idle conversation to avoid awkwardness. (Though, to be fair, Harry absolutely does fill the silences with idle conversation but Zayn doesn't seem to mind how much of a rambler Harry is, and it's nice to have someone to talk to that will just wait for him to get to the end of his stories without tuning him out first.)

When Saturday comes around at the end of the first week, Harry gets called into work, so he doesn't get the fortune to go apartment shopping with Zayn. He leaves as quietly as he can and early in the morning, leaving behind a note wishing Zayn good luck with the search.

As soon as Harry gets to the studio, he is sent to work on putting the newest set together. They're shooting a menu for a random chain of restaurants, and those are never fun. It's all very mechanic: you wait for the food to get cooked, test the light, shoot, show the test shots to the company's representative, move on the to the next dish if the first shot is approved and on and on. Except this time the company didn't send anyone to approve the shots in person, so they need to email the shots to the company and wait till someone sends an email back before they can move on to the next dish, and it's taking forever. Harry's got nothing to do in between shots, so he keeps texting everyone he knows, but especially Zayn. Zayn doesn't reply until it's almost noon, with a Snap of what's supposed to be a grumpy face for being spammed in his sleep but turns out to be the most adorable face Harry's ever seen. He even tells Zayn so because that's the kind of friend he is and he thinks it'll earn him an even more adorable grumpy photo.

A few minutes later Zayn proves him right.

***

It's midnight and Harry is still at the studio. This might actually be the worst photoshoot he's been a part of. He’s so bored he even volunteered to clean up after the chef, doing the dishes and getting them nice and clean so he won't have to edit any dust the camera might capture later. It’s a win-win situation technically.

Harry sits down with a sigh when he's done, starts scrolling through Instagram for the hundredth time of the day, sighing once again when he sees all the pictures his friends are posting from their night out. Just as Harry is about to give up and never look at his phone again, it starts vibrating and Zayn's face flashes across the screen. It’s a picture of Zayn in the kitchen he sent Harry earlier in the week when he made his favorite pasta dish for dinner.

"I'm sorry, Harry can't pick up the phone right now because he's dead," Harry says as a hello , folding his arms over the table he’s sitting at and resting his cheek on his forearm.

"It's past midnight already, when are you coming home?" Zayn's voice comes across the phone, sounding slightly worried. Hearing Zayn call his flat home does something funny to Harry’s stomach. He ignores it and blames it on the exhaustion. He hears the sound of Zayn's laptop being shut, which means he's getting ready to go to sleep. Harry groans.

"I don't know. I've been here so long I can't remember what home looks like. I don't even know how to get there anymore."

Zayn chuckles, and there's some rustling of sheets; Harry can picture Zayn getting under the covers, pulling them all the way up to his ears, tucking the front under his chin."So dramatic," Zayn teases then yawns, "Well, I'm beat, so I'm going to bed. Which means no more texting Zayn for today."

"Wow, cheers for the empathy, mate," Harry says, putting on his best offended voice.

"I've had a busy day too, remember? And I made dinner. Left it for you in the fridge." Zayn's voice gets softer and softer the sleepier he gets.

"If I never see food again, it'll be too soon. And listen, I don't know when we're gonna be done here, so why don't you take my bed tonight?" Harry offers, because as nice as his couch is, nothing beats a good bed.

"Really?"

"Sure. At least one of us should get a decent night of sleep, I guess," Harry shrugs, feeling tiredness seeping into his very bones.

Zayn huffs out a sleepy laugh, "I'll be sure to get some rest for you. Good luck and demand they give you the day off tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah, alright. Night, Zee."

"Later, Haz," Zayn says softly and hangs up. Harry stares at his phone and groans. He shouldn't have even gotten out of bed this morning.

***

Harry stumbles into his flat at around four in the morning. He tries to be quiet but ends up dropping his bag less gently than he expects on the hardwood floors and his feet drag as he makes his way to the bathroom, muscle memory the only thing preventing him from tripping over anything in the dark. He considers taking a shower but as he slumps over the sink, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, he realizes he doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up for that long. God, he's tired. His eyes are so heavy he's even contemplating resting his head against the mirror for just a second, when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

An equally sleepy Zayn blinks back at him through the mirror, his hair pointing in all kinds of directions. "You're sleeping standing up, come on, spit and let's go," Zayn mumbles, patting Harry on the shoulder a few times to get him going. Harry does as he's told and lets Zayn drag him to bed, Harry stripping down to his boxers as they go, and falling face first on the mattress. He hears Zayn chuckling softly and the rustle of sheets as Zayn pulls them over his shoulder, but when he doesn't feel Zayn settling in beside him, Harry opens his eyes, squinting against the darkness.

"What are you doing?" He asks in Zayn’s general direction.

"Giving you your bed back," Zayn answers as he gathers up his pillows and duvet to take with him to the couch.

"You can stay," Harry offers, partly because he feels bad for Zayn, and partly because he's had a long day and a cuddle sounds nice. Zayn is so quiet for a moment, Harry even wonders if he's said it out loud or just thought about it, too tired to get the words out properly. Or maybe they aren't in the bed-sharing stage yet of their friendship. Then he feels the weight of an extra layer of blankets covering him and Zayn gingerly getting under the covers with him. Harry closes his eyes and smiles sleepily.

"How did the apartment hunting go?" Harry suddenly remembers to ask, even if he does so around a yawn.

"If I tell you now, you won't remember in the morning," Zayn says softly, almost like a whisper, "Did you get the day off?" he asks. Harry hums in response, almost completely asleep. "Good, now sleep."

"Okay," Harry agrees, and, just because it couldn't hurt to ask, adds, "Cuddle, please."

Zayn huffs, and Harry imagines him rolling his eyes, though a smile might be tugging the corners of his mouth like it always does when he thinks Harry is being ridiculous. Zayn comes closer a few seconds later anyway, throws an arm around Harry's middle, the tips of his fingers reaching up to play with the soft hairs on the back of Harry's neck. It doesn't take too long for Harry to fall asleep to the gentle circles Zayn draws with his fingertips against his skin.

***

After that night, sharing a bed becomes just another thing they do, just how Harry takes out the garbage and Zayn sweeps the floors after dinner. For the first few nights after the first, Zayn waits for Harry to invite him over because he's polite like that but by the time the second week is almost over it's already a part of their nightly routine. They take turns using the bathroom and then settle down together, Zayn on the left side, Harry on the right, and quietly tell each other about their days or their plans for the next day until they fall asleep.

On Sunday Harry meets up with his sister Gemma for brunch, and she points out how domestic it all sounds when Harry tells her about his new temporary roommate. It surprises Harry because he really hadn't thought about it like that. What surprises him the most is that he finds himself not bothered about the accusation at all. He’s had plenty of roommates but they’ve never acted the way he and Zayn act - cooking for each other, checking when the other should be coming home. He's never gotten to this point in a romantic relationship before either, the moving in together part, never felt like he was ready for it, really. Now that he sees how easy it all is, he wonders what the hell he’s been so afraid of in the past.

There's a little voice in the back of his mind that tells him it isn’t so much the domesticity that he's enjoying so much, but domesticity with Zayn . Harry tries to ignore the voice , but sometimes it's hard , like when they're in bed just laying together, giving their phones one last scroll before going to sleep, and Zayn's absently playing with Harry's hair or when they go grocery shopping and Zayn doesn't let Harry forget he's almost out of bananas, even though Zayn doesn't eat any of them.

Harry blames it on the fact that he's missed having someone to care for him like Zayn does- what with his love life being somewhat sacrificed by the long hours at work and reduced to random one night stands. He's enjoying the companionship, having someone to come home to, to talk to. The fact that Harry's always been a very tactile person only adds to it, it's always nice to have someone to curl up against. It's only natural to end up feeling something .Soon Zayn will find a new place anyway; He’ll move out, and it'll all go away. It being whatever feeling of attachment that has tucked itself behind Harry’s ribs. They've just isolated themselves too much to not be as domestic as they are - Harry's working all the time and he’s been far too tired to make himself go out, plus Zayn is always more than happy to just stay in and watch TV.

It’s same nagging voice that makes Harry call Niall to make plans to go out for drinks when Friday comes around. It’s about time he finds a way out of his flat and back to some semblance of a social life. Harry has already told his boss he won't be able to come in on Saturday so Harry is free to drink himself silly and wallow in the hangover that will likely follow. He also texts Zayn to tell him they're going out, and Zayn says he'll think about it, but when it's time to leave, getting him out of the couch is not that easy.

Zayn tries bribing Harry to stay in with promises of muffins, and that they'll watch whatever rom-coms Harry picks for the rest of the night. It almost works until Harry remembers the whole reason he's made plans is to stop them from doing exactly that, and so he resists. Which basically means, Harry pushes Zayn into the shower, then tries not to stare too much while Zayn decides on what to wear. Ever since his little revelation about how he might be enjoying Zayn's company a little bit too much , the staring has gotten a little bit out of control. Harry's working on it.

"Do we really have to go?" Zayn asks from the bathroom while he's fixing his hair. It looks very shiny and very smooth and Harry kind of wants to mess it up a bit.

"Why are you fighting me on this? It's just for a few hours, we'll meet up with Niall and Charlotte, have a few drinks and come home. It'll be fun."

Zayn looks over his shoulder at Harry, raising an eyebrow, "Are you saying we don't have fun here?"

Harry fixes him with a look, "I'm saying we need to get out of the house for a bit. You need to get out of the house."

"I do get out," Zayn debates, back to looking at himself in the mirror.

"Going grocery shopping or apartment hunting doesn't count."

"I met up with my sister just yesterday!" Zayn protests, running a hand through his hair one last time, before starting to look for a jacket.

"Fine, go out for my sake, then. I need some time out in the real world, going to work doesn't count. I promise tomorrow we can stay in and you get to pick the movies, deal?" Harry bargains.

Zayn stares at him, hands on his hips. Harry stares back, giving Zayn puppy eyes and pouting for extra effect. Zayn rolls his eyes, sighs, and finally nods.

***

Niall and Charlotte are already at the bar when Harry and Zayn arrive, which means the next couple of rounds are on them as punishment for being late. Harry tries arguing that it’s all Zayn’s fault but Niall reasons Harry is the one who let himself get delayed by Zayn so he’s just as guilty. Harry doesn’t quite agree but volunteers to get the first round anyway, going straight to the bar and bringing a pitcher of beer back for the table. For all Zayn had been complaining earlier, he doesn't seem to mind being out of the flat all that much, already in deep conversation with Niall's girlfriend by the time Harry finishes filling everyone's cups.

The pub is crowded and noisy but it's just what Harry needs; he's always been one to feed off other people's energies when his is lacking, and places like this always cheer him up, or give him an extra boost to survive another week. He lets the chatter and laughter around him fill him up and even gets involved in a heated discussion with Niall over pineapples, and whether they belong on pizzas, until the first pitcher of beer is gone and Zayn announces he's getting them another round.

Harry watches him as he goes just a little bit distracted by how good Zayn looks in the jeans he's wearing and how his shirt stretches nicely over his back, now that he's taken his jacket off, until Niall clasps a hand on his shoulder.

"So, are you excited about having your flat all to yourself again?" Niall asks, chugging what's left of his beer. He's left with a foam mustache. Harry doesn't warn him mostly because he's still thinking about Niall's question and partly because it looks funny.

"What?"

"Your flat. Zayn found a new place, right?" Niall clarifies, though it seems like Harry's confused face is giving him second thoughts.

"What?" Harry asks again, because, really, what? Zayn would have told him if he found a new place.

Niall must get that Harry has no idea what he's talking about and that maybe he's said something he shouldn't have."Oh. Shit. Well, maybe I got it wrong, and-"

"Did he tell you he was moving out?" Harry interrupts Niall, "What did he tell you?" Niall keeps nervously sneaking glances at Charlotte like he wants an out from the conversation he’s started, but she's too busy checking her phone to come to his rescue.

"Listen, he told me he'd checked out a place yesterday and that he liked it. That he's thinking of keeping it. He's going there again on Sunday. He sounded kind of excited?" Niall pauses, looking in the direction Zayn went then back at Harry, "He really didn't tell you anything?"

"No? What the fuck..." Harry curses under his breath and runs a hand through his hair, trying to remember if Zayn actually did say something. He wasn't so sleepy the night before that he would have missed something like that.

"I'm... sorry?" Niall says, though confusion laces his apology. "I didn't think it was such a big deal. I thought you'd be happy to have your flat back?"

It startles Harry from his thoughts, and he shakes his head, "No, no, I am, I just wasn't expecting it, I guess." He lies through his teeth, trying to shrug it off but Niall doesn't seem to buy it. Harry stares at him, tries saying really, it's all good with his eyes.

"Maybe he changed his mind and that's why he didn't tell you," Niall considers.

"Yeah, maybe," Harry nods as his eyes find Zayn again. Why didn't he say anything? Harry considers the possibilities for barely a few seconds before Niall brings him back to reality by poking his arm. He gives Charlotte a quick look to make sure she's still on her phone then looks back at Harry, lowering his voice.

"Is there something going on between the two of you?" Niall nods towards the bar, leaning closer to Harry.

"What? No, of course not," Harry shakes his head vehemently. It's hardly a lie. Nothing's happened even if Harry's been thinking about it more and more lately. Niall squints at him, clearly doesn't buy it yet again.

"I'm just saying, I've barely seen any of you for the last couple of weeks, and now this-"

"Nothing's going on, I swear," Harry repeats himself, annoyed now.

"Getting a little bit too defensive there, mate," Niall teases, though he raises his hands up in surrender. Harry rumples a paper napkin and throws it at him.

"God, this place is crowded," Zayn announces as he suddenly returns. He takes note of Harry’s disgruntled face and Niall batting away the napkin that has hit his cheek. "What are we fighting for?" He asks as he sets down a tray with a new pitcher and shots for everyone.

"Niall wouldn't let go of the pizza thing," Harry lies before Niall has a chance to say anything, giving him a light kick in the shin and a look he hopes says, Don't say anything.

"Well, considering Niall will eat anything, I don't think he's an impartial voter," Zayn reasons as he distributes the shots. "You got something on your face, by the way," he tells Niall, motioning toward the foam mustache. Niall makes an affronted noise and cleans it up quickly, making Charlotte laugh.

"I thought it was endearing" she says, leaning in and giving Niall a peck on the lips.

"See? She thinks it's endearing," Niall beams.

Zayn snorts, "If anybody's gonna think so, it would be your girlfriend."

"So I'm not sure it really counts," Harry adds, reaching for his shot.

"Well, I'm not sure I like this teaming up thing you got going on, so quit it," Niall warns them with a stern look. It lasts for about two seconds before Harry and Zayn laugh at him.

***

Try as he might, Harry can't stop thinking about his conversation with Niall throughout the rest of the night. He only half participates in the group's conversations, too lost in his own head to really pay attention. All of the noise that was hyping him up earlier now only seems to annoy him, he already feels the beginnings of a headache coming. He should be happy, right? It's what he'd been thinking about just a few days ago, that Zayn would leave and things would go back to the way they were.

So why is he so bothered by the idea of Zayn actually leaving? It's not like Harry's going to need a new roommate to pay the bills, he never needed one in the first place. And yeah, Harry's going to miss the daily homemade food but he got by without that luxury just fine before Zayn came around.

Even if his thoughts are a bit more jumbled than usual after a couple more shots, it doesn't take a genius to realize he's going to miss Zayn . He likes having Zayn around and would very much like keeping him around. More than that, though, Harry knows he needs to acknowledge once and for all that he fancies Zayn; the infatuation might have come too fast but the feelings are there nonetheless and now he doesn't know what to do about them.

Zayn notices the change in Harry's behavior and repeatedly asks him if he's okay as the hours go by but Harry only shakes his head and tells him he's getting a bit tired. After asking Harry for the sixth time, Zayn decides it's time for them to go home, though Harry tries to resist because he's not sure if he's ready to be alone with Zayn just yet. He doesn’t yet know if he'll be able to keep his mouth shut about the whole You're Leaving Me And I Am Upset thing.

Zayn calls them an Uber which settles it so they say their goodbyes to Niall and Charlotte - Niall giving Harry a look that says they'll have to talk about it later - and go to wait for the car. Outside, Zayn lights up a cigarette and studies Harry silently. Harry pretends not to notice and Zayn seems to let him. He drops his cigarette as the car arrives, killing it with the toe of his boot while Harry crawls across the backseat. They ride in silence all the way back to the flat, though Harry can feel the weight of Zayn's gaze on him.

When they get inside the flat, Harry goes straight to the bathroom and closes the door behind himself. He takes his sweet time brushing his teeth and getting into his sleeping clothes, avoiding Zayn easily. Harry can feel himself growing more and more frustrated at Zayn for not telling him about the new flat and it only makes him want to hide even more - he's nothing if not incredibly passive-aggressive. Zayn is already in his pjs when Harry finally comes out of the bathroom. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed checking his phone but he looks up when Harry emerges.

"All yours," Harry says with a nod towards the bathroom as he goes to plug his phone in the charger, doing anything to keep himself busy. Zayn gets up and goes to brush his teeth but it doesn't stop him from studying Harry through the mirror. Harry can see Zayn’s gaze in the glass reflection and he knows what Zayn's doing. He knows Zayn's waiting for him to break and start talking on his own but two can play that game - it’s a game Harry knows well. Harry settles against the headboard on his side of the bed, picks up his phone and starts checking his emails like nothing's happening.

Zayn seems to be stalling too, as he goes into the kitchen and drinks an entire glass of water, slowly. The tension is there, Harry knows Zayn can feel it too, it grows and grows the longer they go without saying anything, and Harry knows Zayn's had enough of it when he drops the glass back in the sink in a way that's harsher than necessary.

"Okay, are you going to tell me what's going on or what?" Zayn finally snaps.

"Nothing's going on," Harry shrugs without looking up from his phone. He's being a little shit, he knows, but he's annoyed and a bit drunk so he can't exactly help it. At least that’s what he tells himself.

"Seriously, Harry?" Zayn actually sounds frustrated and Harry feels bad for him so he looks up. Zayn is staring at him, arms crossed over his chest.

Harry sighs, "Why didn't you tell me you were moving out?"

As soon as he asks, Harry sees the fight leaving Zayn, it being replaced by surprise. Zayn's shoulders drop, his eyebrows raise, then drop as well as understanding sinks in."Niall," Zayn says to himself as he shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair. "Listen, I was going to," Zayn starts, making his way towards the bed. "I was going to, tonight, that's why I didn't want to go out, I wanted to stay in and talk for a bit."

Harry blinks and remembers Niall saying he found the place the day before. "But why didn't you tell me yesterday ? Why did you tell Niall first?"

"Because!" Zayn starts, then pauses like he's censoring himself. "Because I wanted to tell you tonight. I was going to tell you, and invite you to go with me on Sunday to check it out. Since I couldn't do it tonight, I figured I’d do it tomorrow. That’s it."

"But why ?" Harry presses on, though he's not quite sure why he can't just let it go. It's like he was gearing up for a fight that Zayn didn't end up buying into, so now Harry is picking a fight just for the hell of it.

"I don't know what to tell you, Harry. I didn't think it'd be such a big deal, I guess," Zayn says with a light shrug, though he looks slightly apologetic. The fact that he's being so calm and rational about all of this is kind of pissing Harry off because he wants Zayn to be just as upset as he is.

"Not a big deal? We've been living together for weeks and now you're leaving and you don't think me knowing that would be important?" Harry snaps, slowly raising his voice.

Zayn seems taken aback by it but he quickly recovers,"Why are you being like this? I told you, I still don't know if I'm even going!"

"But you might!"

"Yes!" Zayn finally bites back, talking louder now too, "But I wasn't sure, I wanted to talk to you about it, I was going to ask for your help! Look, I'm sorry you had to hear it from Niall, but there's no need to turn into a fucking crazy person over this!" Zayn barks, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Crazy person?" Harry growls, getting to his feet as well, too restless to continue sitting down and eager to be on the same eye level as Zayn.

"You're blowing this way out of proportion!"

"I think you 're the one who's undermining the situation!" Harry crosses his arms over his chest. Even in the moment Harry realizes he must look like a kid throwing a tantrum. Still, right now, he feels very much justified.

"Well, I think you're drunk and just trying to pick a fight, for no reason," Zayn says matter-of-factly, as he walks to the bed and starts collecting his pillows.

"What are you doing?" Harry asks, though it's very clear what Zayn is doing.

"I'm sleeping on the couch tonight, I'm done with this conversation," Zayn announces, grabbing his duvet from the bed as well.

"Fine!" Harry shouts, just to get the last word in (another thing that he's not so proud of when he replays the fight in his head later but that seems very important in the moment).

Zayn truly is done with it all and doesn't even say anything back just makes his bed on the couch and settles down for the night, back turned to Harry. Harry does the same,turning the lights off before crawling into bed. He doesn't know how long it takes for Zayn to fall asleep but Harry only manages to pass out when the sun is rising. His bed feels too cold and empty without Zayn's warm body next to him, or Zayn's steady heartbeat under the palm of his hand.

***

As soon as Harry comes to in the morning, he cringes.

Last night's fight comes flooding in, and he's too ashamed to even open his eyes. God, he's such a jerk. He sits up, more than ready to apologize, but his stomach drops when he sees the couch is empty. The duvet is neatly folded and the pillows Zayn's been using are stacked neatly on top of it.

Harry gets up quickly, much too quickly for the amount of drinks he had the night before, his body reminds him unkindly as pain explodes behind his eyelids. As soon as it subsides, Harry searches the apartment for clues as to where Zayn might have gone to and  finds a post it stuck to the coffee maker. Needed some time, gone to Niall's is all it says.

Harry takes another look around, and notices Zayn has taken most of his stuff. His laptop, boots and bag aren't there anymore. Shit.. He's somewhat comforted by the fact that there's still a hoodie by the side of the couch that belongs to Zayn, and his cologne and toothbrush are still in the bathroom. Harry goes back to bed, ridiculously clutching Zayn's hoodie to his chest and tries to figure out what his next step should be since he knows he’s the one at fault - the one who started a fight over nothing. He picks up his phone intending to call Zayn or at least text him. He stops himself, though, decides he should just respect Zayn's wish and give him some space, considering how much of a brat he had been the night before.

Harry drops his phone on the bed again, curls into a ball and starts replaying everything that happened the night before. Even through the fog of his hangover Harry knows he should have been honest about the real reason why he was upset with Zayn, instead of just lashing out. Of course that would have meant confronting the things and feelings he’s just started to acknowledge himself - something he doesn't think he is ready for yet. And now, he might have fucked up things with Zayn for good. Harry's head keeps on pounding, so he goes back to sleep if only to avoid dealing with the emotional and physical distress.

When Harry wakes again, at least one of his problems is solved. His head is no longer pounding as he turns on his back and blinks at the ceiling. He gives himself some time to reorient himself to wakefulness and try to come up with a plan-slash-to-do-list for the rest of his day. Shower, eat... After ten minutes trying to get past that, Harry gives up. One step at a time it is, then.

He decides taking a bath would be the most comforting in his time of need, so he goes all out; Bath bombs, candles, the works. He sits in the tub until the water turns cold and his fingers are pruney, trying to clear his head. Sometimes taking a break from a task that's going nowhere is the best way to move forward.

Once he gets out of the bath, he keeps a clear and open mind as he cooks and then later as he eats. It's weird and too quiet without Zayn in the flat, but Harry powers through and tries enjoying being alone again. He flips through the channels on the TV, and, because Zayn isn't around, he stops on the first rom-com he finds (maybe it'll even be inspirational, or something).

Except it's not. Suddenly it's 3AM and Harry is back in his bed, staring at his phone. Like he had imagined, there's no message from Zayn just one from Niall saying " we need to talk ", and one from his mom, asking when he's going to come over for dinner. Harry groans as he reads Niall's, and responds to his mom saying " Soon, promise ".

Harry opens his last conversation with Zayn and stares at it, trying to think of something to say, something better than "I was a drunk idiot, please forgive me?" - however true that might be. Harry starts typing then deletes a bunch of different texts until he decides to just go for it and send something.

" Are you still checking that place out tomorrow? " He fights the urge to throw his phone across the apartment as soon as it sends, too scared to see what Zayn's reply is going to be, or if there's going to be a reply at all. Considering what time it is, there's a chance Zayn is only going to see the text the next morning. Harry drops his phone on the bed and tries going to sleep only to be surprised by it vibrating with a message shortly after.

Please don't tell me to fuck off, please don't tell me to fuck off, please don't tell me to fuck off, Harry chants in his head as he picks up his phone. Zayn's answer is short, yet not offensive, so Harry will count it as a win. A simple yeah stares at him from the screen. Harry chews on his lip as he types can I still come? and hits send. The "read" notification shows up quickly, so Harry gets more and more anxious the longer it takes for Zayn to reply, even more so when the little typing dots show up, stop, then show up again. When Zayn finally replies, it's a short message yet again: Ok???

Should I just meet you there? Do you need me to pick you up?

You can meet me there , Zayn texts back, followed by a time and an address. It makes Harry smile, despite the circumstance.

Ok, see you tomorrow, then.

Yea ok

Harry debates on whether or not to send Zayn an x or two but decides not to push his luck. He sets an alarm for 9AM, locks his phone screen and settles further into the bed, feeling quite excited and hopeful.

When Harry's alarm starts ringing the next morning, he gets up without so much as a groan and hops in the shower with newfound determination. He's going to fix things between him and Zayn, get them to where they were and, then, hopefully, that will eventually turn into something more. The building they're meeting at is relatively close, so Harry spends some extra time picking an outfit and fixing his hair then he goes across the street and buys coffee for the two of them to offer as a white flag of sorts.

The drive out there is quick so Harry, not surprisingly, is the first to arrive. It's a nice day so he waits outside by his car, taking the coffee cups with him and placing them on the hood. Zayn arrives a few minutes later in an Uber, and he spots Harry quite quickly, judging by how his shoulders jump for a second before he schools his face into an even expression. Zayn is wearing his comfortable clothes, baggy pants and a hoodie, his hair kinda messy like he's just rolled out of bed. At least that's what it looks like to Harry because he knows what Zayn looks like as soon as he wakes up. To everyone else, Zayn probably just looks relaxed and effortlessly cool, as usual.

Harry pushes away from the car and puts a smile on his face, going for friendly and apologetic, though he probably looks more awkward than anything."Hey," Harry breaks the silence, shoving his hands in his pockets so he won't have to think about what to do with them.

"Hey," Zayn says back, one hand in his pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck. He's as nervous as Harry is, then.

"I brought coffee," Harry suddenly remembers, turning and grabbing the cups, offering one to Zayn. He accepts it with a soft thank you , much like when it all started. Harry takes it as somewhat of a sign. They take a few sips in silence as Harry gives Zayn more time to properly wake up and tries to summon up the courage and the right words to apologize.

Harry is no good with words; usually he rambles a lot and gets lost in his own stories, though normally it's not a big deal because he knows he'll eventually get to the point. But this time it's important to start off on the right foot and what he says will matter, so he struggles. Harry also forgets that Zayn knows this, knows him , so he's surprised when Zayn speaks up first.

"I wasn't expecting your text last night," Zayn says as he tips the cup to his lips, like it's just a throwaway comment, like he's not nudging or guiding Harry in the right direction, letting Harry get away with his awkwardness.

"Uhm, yeah," Harry nods, fiddles with the cup in his hands, "I'm just-I'm--" Harry stutters, then sighs and shakes his head, "I'm sorry, like, I was just... Drunk and upset and everything was just really fucking dumb. I'm sorry," Harry says again, because it's important that Zayn knows.

Zayn studies Harry for a few seconds, face even enough that Harry almost starts sweating nervously, until Zayn just smiles and nods, a little playful glint in his eyes like he knew exactly what he was doing to Harry.

"Yeah, okay," Zayn says simply.

Harry blinks. "Okay?" He repeats.

That was... surprisingly easy, wasn't it?

"Okay," Zayn nods again. "I told you you were drunk, I knew you didn't really mean it." He shrugs. "Though I still don't know why you were so mad."

"But you left! I woke up and you were gone, I thought you were mad at me," Harry points out, baffled.

"Well, yeah, I was annoyed. And it seems like you needed some time to think, too, so I left, and see? It worked," Zayn adds, a bit too smugly for Harry's liking. He'd be mad if Zayn wasn't right. And if Harry wasn't happy to know he hadn't screwed things up completely.

"Alright, well. Thank you for forgiving me, I guess. We're okay, then?" Harry checks just in case.

Zayn chuckles, then nods, "Yeah, Haz, we're okay."

Harry smiles, relieved, "Okay," he repeats, nodding to himself, "So, are we checking this out or what?"

"Yeah, let's go," Zayn says and walks up to the building. He presses a few buttons on the intercom, "The landlord lives a couple of floors up," he explains. The landlord lets them in and they start making their way up the stairs slowly. "This is going to be a bitch when bringing up the furniture,” Zayn notes, “But it's only a couple of floors so hopefully, it'll be quick."

"But you're gonna have to buy a lot of the heavy stuff, right?"

"Yeah, I’ve only got bedroom furniture now, basically."

"So just get it to be delivered, and the people from the store will carry it up for you," Harry suggests.

"That can be kind of expensive, though."

"Don't pull a Ross, Zayn, that's the worst Friend you could be," Harry points out. Zayn laughs but before he can properly answer, they reach the second floor and the landlord is waiting for them. He seems like he could be someone's grandfather (probably even is), or maybe Santa (probably isn't), and he greets them with a friendly smile.

"Brought a friend with me this time, for a second opinion," Zayn tells him as they shake hands. "This is Mr. Abner, Mr. Abner, Harry Styles," Zayn introduces them with a smile of his own.

"Oh, welcome!," Mr. Abner says, offering his hand for Harry to shake next, "Let's see if it passes your test as well, shall we?" he says, and turns to open the door for them. "Like I told Zayn before, a lot of young kids like yourselves moved into the neighborhood lately, so it's pretty much just me and my Marnie as the old folks," he mentions with a chuckle.

"And you guys don't mind the noise?"  Harry asks as he steps inside.

"Ah, our hearing ain't what it used to be, anyway," Mr. Abner shrugs with another chuckle. "I'm gonna let you take a look around, I'll be right outside if you need anything."

"Okay, thanks, Mr. Abner," Zayn smiles, then looks to Harry, "Ready for the tour?"

"Let's do it."

The apartment is a little bigger than Harry's, and it's got a lot more walls, so that's already a plus. One bathroom, two small-ish bedrooms, good sized kitchen with built in cabinets. It's nice, there's lots of windows and a good amount of light coming in.

"So, what do you think?" Zayn asks when they're done looking around. "The walls are a bit too white for me, but Mr. Abner said I could paint over them if I wanted," he says, looking at the walls like he's already thinking about what to do with them. Zayn seems excited, and all the annoyance Harry felt about about their separation dissipates.

"I like it. Seems like a good place to start, you know, living all by yourself and stuff. I think you should take it," Harry says, giving Zayn an encouraging smile.

Zayn looks at Harry, a smile of his own already forming on his lips, "Yeah? You really think so?"

"I really do," Harry nods with a smile that matches Zayn’s.

"Okay, I'm gonna do it," he nods again, psyching himself up. "I'm finally getting my own place! I feel all grown up and shit," Zayn laughs.

Harry laughs as well, "Soon enough you'll be complaining about paying taxes and all that," he teases."Let's call Mr. Abner back and tell him the good news, then?"

"Yeah, let's do it," Zayn says as his smile grows impossibly wider.

***

A couple of days later, Zayn officially moves out, and into his new place. Harry is, like usual, stuck at work when he does - Niall says he thinks Harry lied just to get out of carrying boxes- but honestly, Harry thinks it's better for him this way. Having to see Zayn leave would probably make him a little moody maybe even a little teary, who knows. So he takes it as a blessing.

Pretty quickly after that, Harry is sent away for a week to cover a couple of shoots out in Brighton. It's great to be able to get away from the studio and shoot something different from what he's used to, to not have the time to notice how Zayn just isn't there when he gets home from work. But it also kinda sucks that he doesn't get to help out Zayn turn his new apartment into a home.

The work trip goes by in a hurry of early mornings and sunsets and editing photos till Harry's eyes cross, and he gets so caught up in it that he only manages to actually talk to any of his friends when he gets back.

It's a Saturday afternoon when he arrives home, and after working for a week straight, Harry's been given a few days to relax and work from the comfort of his flat. Harry goes straight for his bed once he walks in, falling on it face first, and he's out for the count in seconds, exhausted and a bit homesick.

When Harry wakes up again, the sun is already setting. He rolls over and stretches, from the tips of his fingers to the tips of his toes, letting out a relaxed sigh. Hmm, home sweet home. A long bubble bath is definitely in order.

Harry sits on the edge of the tub as it fills with delicious warm water and checks his texts. He replies to some, and decides calling Zayn on Facetime instead of just answering the one where he asks if Harry is still alive. It doesn't take too long for Zayn's face to show up on Harry's screen and it brings a smile to his face without his permission.

"Hey there, Ansel Adams," Zayn teases as soon as they connect.

"I wish!" Harry scoffs, thought he's still smiling. Zayn chuckles in response and shifts in his seat; it looks like he's in bed, from what Harry can see, the background looking more like a headboard than a couch. Considering what day it is, Harry is willing to bet Zayn has barely left his bed at all. His hair is messy as hell and his beard is thick like he hasn't shaved in a few days; he looks at ease, relaxed, and oh god, has Harry missed his face.

"So, how was it?" Zayn asks, then adds, though not unkindly, "You look tired as fuck."

"I am tired as fuck," Harry half laughs, rubbing a hand over his face, "But it was really good. I got to do a lot of stuff on my own, and the sets were great. It's just the waking up at the crack of dawn and going around carrying 300 pounds of gear everywhere that was exhausting."

"Well, if you hadn't gone you'd have had to carry all of my furniture anyway, so," Zayn shrugs, teasing. "At least you're getting paid for what you did there."

"Yeah, I guess," Harry laughs. "And how about you, are you all settled in yet?" 

"Pretty much," Zayn nods, scratching his beard. "All the important shit is here and put together, I just gotta find more things to like, decorate and stuff. Do you want a virtual tour?"

Harry considers it for a second, then shakes his head, "Wanna see it all in person. When can I drop by?"

Zayn shrugs with a smile, "Whenever you'd like, ain't got no plans for tonight.”

"Why am I not surprised?" Harry teases. "Now that you're on your own, I bet we'll never see you again unless we come to you."

"I'm not that bad," Zayn protests, "I used to go out, you were just always just too drunk, or... otherwise engaged , if you know what I mean, to notice."

"I was not!" Harry argues, though he knows it's true, "I noticed!"

Zayn laughs at that, shaking his head, "No, you didn't. You didn't even remember me when I showed up at your place," he points out, and well. Harry has no way of denying that.

" Anyway ," Harry pointedly changes the subject, "That's in the past, now." He waves a hand in the air, as if to swat the subject away.

"Yeah, yeah, alright," Zayn nods, a little fond smile on his face, letting Harry get away with his shenanigans, as always. "Come over tonight, though. I can show you around, maybe feed you a little bit, bet you haven't been eating well at all."

"Actually, I took full advantage of the hotel's restaurant but I must admit I've really missed your food," Harry smiles, trying to contain his giddiness over Zayn worrying about him and wanting to take care of him.

"Just my food?" Zayn asks with a playful smile.

Harry fights back a laugh, pressing his lips together, nodding, "Pretty much."

Zayn pulls a face at him, faux-shocked, "You know what, you're not invited anymore. Gonna ask Niall to come over instead."

"Aww, don't be like that," Harry coos at him. "I've missed you, too," he admits, ignoring how his cheeks feel warmer at saying it out loud. "Gonna give you lots of cuddles when I get there, promise," Harry jokes to try and distract Zayn from the earnest honesty in his words.

"We'll see, you're on probation for now," Zayn says, though the fond smile is back. "Come by at like, 8."

"Yes, sir!" Harry nods sternly. Zayn rolls his eyes at him but also sort of laughs.

"You're an idiot. M'gonna go, gotta clean up a bit and get to cooking."

"Alright, see you later."

"Later, Haz," Zayn smiles and hangs up. Harry sets the phone aside, turns the faucet off before water starts spilling over, smile still stuck on his face.

***

Harry gets himself ready slowly. He picks out a nice outfit, one that he probably would wear to a date, though it's not a fully conscious choice. It's just nice to dress nice for a friend you haven't seen a while. A friend that he fancies quite a lot and that he would like to take out on actual dates, eventually, but those are merely details.

Harry leaves the house at around 7:30, makes a quick stop to pick up a bottle of wine, and by 8:05 he’s at the front of Zayn's building. Zayn let's him in and Harry takes the stairs two steps at a time, all previous exhaustion gone in the rush to get to see Zayn. The door is slightly open when Harry gets there but he knocks on it anyway to announce himself.

"Hello?" Harry half sings as he lets himself in. Zayn is nowhere to be seen for a few seconds, until his head pops up from where the kitchen should be, if Harry's memory serves him right.

"Hey!" Zayn beams, "I'll be right there, make yourself at home.” He disappears again before Harry has the chance to say anything.

So Harry does as he’s been told, wandering into the living room and placing the wine bottle on the coffee table so he can take his coat off. He takes a look around the living room; everything seems fairly new but there are homey touches here and there. A blanket thrown over the couch, pictures of Zayn's family by the TV, books spread over the coffee table--there's even a couple of candles by the window, a habit Harry thinks Zayn's picked up from him. Upon closer inspection, Harry sees that the candles are exactly the same kind he's got at home.

"Okay, I'm here," Zayn announces before Harry gets to over analyze what the candle thing might mean, so he puts it back in its place and turns towards Zayn. "You look nice," Zayn says as he pulls Harry into a hug. Harry's heart most definitely does not skip a bit at that, or at how good Zayn smells.

"Thanks," Harry says, squeezing Zayn tightly for a second. "So do you, by the way," he points out as they pull away, "Trimmed your beard and everything." Harry gives Zayn's jaw a playful scratch.

Zayn bats Harry's hand away with a short laugh, "Yeah, it was due, I guess."

"Well, I didn't mind how it was. Looked very rugged, very manly," Harry nods knowledgeably. "Oh, I brought wine!" he remembers, fetching the bottle from the table.

"Nice," Zayn nods, then pauses, "Don't think I have proper wine glasses, though."

"Guess I know what my house warming gift will be, then," Harry jokes. "Come on, we'll drink out of regular glasses, you’ve got a tour to give," Harry urges.

"Alright, then, right this way," Zayn smiles and leads them to the kitchen. The smell of food is stronger in here and it's heavenly, making Harry's mouth water in anticipation. It doesn't look much different than from what it'd been like when Harry first came around, though it does look more lived in with utensils everywhere and even a spice rack. Zayn hands Harry a bottle opener then grabs two glasses. Once those are filled, Zayn leads them into the hallway, going towards the bedrooms.

"Ok, so, the first bedroom was kind of smaller, so I thought I'd turn it into a little office, you know? So I wouldn't work from the couch, and like, I could notice if I was working over time and all," he says as he opens the bedroom-now-office-door. It looks very plain, just a table with Zayn's laptop on it, a few pens and papers spread around, a comfortable looking chair behind it, and a bean bag in the corner. "I'm still gonna paint the walls a bit, maybe throw some graffiti on it and stuff. Like I said, the whole place still needs some decorating," Zayn shrugs shyly, like he needs to explain himself.

"Looks nice," Harry smiles, "Got all the essentials, and you've only been here a bit over a week so don't worry about it too much." Harry tries to comfort Zayn, rubbing his back gently.

It does the trick, and Zayn smiles, nods a bit more relaxed. "I didn't do anything to the bathroom, the bedroom is where I put in most of the work," he says, leading them out into the hallway again, and into the next room. Zayn opens the door, and lets Harry step inside first. The walls are painted in a soft mint tone, contrasting with the all black furniture, including the bed and its headboard. There are more pictures on the both sides of the bed, of Zayn's family and friends, including one of Harry, which makes him smile. The bedspread is all white, but the pillow covers match the walls and everything looks and feels very cosy.

"I like it a lot," Harry smiles, and sits down on the bed, bouncing a bit, "Ooh, very nice," he nods approvingly, all the while mindful of the wine glass in his hand. "I'm definitely gonna enjoy sleeping over," Harry states, like it's already a given that they'll continue with their bed-sharing habit. He's mostly just fishing, but it feels nice when Zayn doesn't contradict him just laughing instead and joining him on the bed.

"Good to know it's got your approval," Zayn takes a sip from his glass, a soft smile on his face.

"And what's it been like? Living on your own for the first time?" Harry asks, looking over at Zayn.

"It's... Very quiet," Zayn chuckles, "But it's been good," he nods. "Mum and dad came over a few days ago, which was fun. Mum brought me a ton of food, like I haven't been away from home in years," he laughs, shaking his head fondly, "Dad gave me lots of tips on like, maintaining the place, and stuff."

"Can't believe I missed them," Harry pouts, making Zayn laugh.

"They'll come by again in a month or two, don't worry," Zayn gives Harry's knee a couple of pats. "The worst part's been waking up on my own, and having to make my own coffee," Zayn sighs dramatically.

Harry chuckles, "How will you ever go on without me?"

Zayn presses his lips together, "Guess I'll just have to get a coffee machine with a timer," he shrugs, like that could replace Harry easily.

"Wanker," Harry side-bumps Zayn, making him laugh again and pull Harry in for a side hug.

"Idiot," Zayn says, in a way that sounds a lot more like a fond pet name than the word would imply. A second later Zayn jumps to his feet, "Shit, the food!" He runs out of the room without any further explanation.

Harry stays behind for a moment taking another look around Zayn's bedroom, the little space Zayn made for himself. It's not what Harry was expecting, though he does remember rambling about the importance of a peaceful bedroom ambiance one night, so maybe Zayn decided to give that a try.

When Harry finally makes his way back to the kitchen, the crisis seems to have been averted, and Zayn's got something in a sizzling pan.

"Is that potato pie I see?" Harry asks, sneaking a peek at what's cooling on the kitchen counter. " And steak? Very nice, Mr. Malik," he says approvingly.

Zayn smiles a bit shyly, like Harry has noticed he does whenever he gets a compliment, "We still gotta see how it tastes, though."

"Bet it's good. It smells amazing."

"Let's hope it tastes as good as it smells, then," Zayn smiles, then points to one of the cabinets. "Can you grab us some plates? They're over there," Zayn asks as he turns off the stove. "Should we eat on the couch, for old times' sake?" He sounds half joking but Harry nods regardless.

"Sounds good to me."

***

Dinner is incredible, as Harry had already imagined. The food is so good Harry goes back for seconds, and when he's done it feels like he may need to pop the button on his jeans. They eat, and drink, and talk, as Harry tells Zayn more about his trip, and in return, Zayn goes into detail about the process of moving in, and what a pain in the ass it had been to put all the furniture together.

Before they know it, they've gone through more than half a bottle of wine, and Harry is feeling a little tipsy. Zayn too, if his relaxed smile and posture is any indication. Harry stretches, feeling a mixture of pleasantly buzzed and sleepy, then sags against the couch. He turns his head, pressing his cheek against the couch, and smiles up at Zayn.

"I've missed this," Harry confesses, turning his hand over, palm up in offering, one that Zayn accepts with a smile of his own. Zayn interlocks their fingers, gently rubbing his thumb across the skin of Harry's hand. It makes Harry's heart beat faster, and when Zayn says I've missed this too , his blood thrums erratically. Maybe it's the wine giving him a false sense of security but right now, it really feels like he might not be alone in this. Like Zayn might feel the same way too.

"Do you want to stay over tonight?" Zayn offers after a few seconds of comfortable silence, "It's kinda late, and I don't think you're in any shape to drive."

"That might be a good idea," Harry nods. He really did have a lot to drink and his eyes are starting to droop but also he's not quite ready to say goodbye to Zayn just yet.

"Let's go, then. I’ve got some stuff you can borrow," Zayn says, getting up and pulling Harry to his feet. Harry sways for a bit, wine mixed with the prospect of a bed and cuddles hitting him all at once, making Zayn laugh.

"M'alright, m'alright," Harry assures Zayn, laughing as well.

Zayn gives Harry the baggiest pair of sweatpants he owns, a worn out shit, and after they change, the two of them brush their teeth together, side by side at the sink, drunkenly making faces at each other through the mirror until Harry snorts, almost chokes, and gets toothpaste all over. They call it quits after that.

Settling into bed is a familiar affair, and soon enough the lights are off and they're facing each other in the dark. Harry feels so, so warm and comfortable. He feels Zayn moving a little closer, so Harry moves closer too, until he's close enough to hide his face in Zayn's neck, and Zayn can reach around him to play with Harry's hair. Harry starts thinking if this would be a good moment to say something.

His sleepy mind tells him it could be very sweet and romantic, him whispering secrets against Zayn's skin and everything. The part of him that's still awake, though, tells him that there's a possibility of him getting shot down and thus making the entire moment extremely awkward. It's a tough choice to make, and Harry can't say he trusts his instincts at the moment, so he might as well wait until morning.

"What's bothering you?" Zayn asks quietly.

"What makes you think something's bothering me?"

"You've gone all stiff all of the sudden," Zayn pauses, then adds, "and I assumed you'd be snoring by now, but you're not, so."

"I do not snore," Harry counters. He knows it's a lie. Zayn knows it too, obviously.

"You know you do."

"Alright, I do. But it's impolite to point that out," Harry says matter-of-factly.

"Are you going to tell me or what?" Zayn asks again, despite Harry's attempt to deflect. Harry considers it for a moment, then shakes his head.

"Maybe in the morning."

"Should I be worried?"

"I hope not," Harry jokes, but it falls on deaf years since Zayn has no idea what he's talking about.

"Fine," Zayn acquiesces, "I kinda wanna talk to you too, in the morning."

"Should I be worried?"

"No," Zayn half laughs, pauses, "At least I hope not."

Harry pulls back to stare at Zayn but he can't see much and he knows can't really be mad at Zayn for doing the same thing he's doing, so Harry just huffs and hums and stuffs his face back in Zayn's neck.

"The mystery is going to keep me up all night, I hope you're-" Harry yawns, "happy."

"Yeah, that was really convincing," Zayn chuckles, he body shaking lightly with it as he resumes playing with Harry's hair.

"You're really mean," Harry mumbles. His eyes are getting heavier and heavier. Zayn shushes him and presses a kiss to the top of Harry's head, so Harry let's it go, for now. He's easily bribed like that.

"Night, Zayn," Harry half whispers, half yawns, barely conscious, but awake enough to hear Zayn saying Night, babe back.

***

Harry comes to rather slowly the next morning, having no idea what the time may be, but he honestly couldn't care less. He's got Zayn glued to his back, one of his arms thrown around his middle to keep him close. Harry can feel Zayn breathing in and out against the back of his neck softly, steadily. After a whole week of being deprived of this, Harry's more certain now than ever that he wants to wake up like this pretty much everyday.

Harry lets himself enjoy it for a moment, before an idea pops into his head. He slides out from underneath Zayn's arm as gingerly as possible, pausing for a moment when he's free to make sure Zayn didn't wake (he feels like he shouldn't be surprised when Zayn simply sniffs and pulls a pillow close to his chest to take Harry's place).

Harry makes his way to the kitchen, and starts making breakfast as quietly as he can for them. By 'them', Harry means coffee for them, food just for himself, unless Zayn has started eating in the mornings after moving out. He makes toast, eggs and turkey bacon after wasting a few minutes trying to figure out what's where in Zayn's kitchen.

"What're you doing?" Zayn asks just as Harry is pouring coffee into a mug, startling him enough to drop it on the sink with a yelp.

"Shit, you scared me!" Harry turns towards the sound of Zayn's voice, only to find him trying very hard not to laugh.

"Sorry," Zayn raises his hands up in surrender, "What're you doing?" he asks again, whispering, as if the damage isn't already done.

"Breakfast." Harry fishes the mug from the sink, "I was going to surprise you, so if you could, please, go back to bed, I would appreciate it."

"Oh, sorry," Zayn laughs from where he's still standing by the door, "should I pretend to be asleep, too?"

Harry laughs, "Just go!" he waves an arm around, shooing Zayn away.

Harry goes back to the bedroom a few minutes later, plate in one hand, mugs in the other, to find Zayn laying in bed, checking his phone. He looks up at Harry, puts a surprised look on his face.

"Darling, you cooked!" Zayn gasps, dropping the phone on the bed.

"Bet you didn't see that one coming, did you?" Harry quips, handing Zayn the mugs before an accident happens and sitting down next to him. "Do you want some, or just the coffee?" He offers Zayn the extra fork he brought just in case.

"Might as well, after all the trouble you went through," Zayn shrugs as he accepts it.

"Slaved in the kitchen for hours..." Harry sighs dramatically.

"You poor thing," Zayn coos, smiling playfully at Harry. He looks so soft and so sleepy, still, it makes Harry want to do something stupid, like build a fort out of blankets around them and stay in there forever. "Did you sleep okay?" Zayn asks as he eats a forkful of eggs.

"Yeah, best I slept in ages. Guess I was more tired than I thought."

"You got a few days off though, right?"

"A whole week, thank god."

"That's good," Zayn nods, takes a sip from his mug, "So, about last night," Zayn starts, but doesn't say anything else. Harry tries not to cringe. For a moment there Harry had forgotten about that conversation.

"Yeah?" Harry tries stalling, except he's not being as slick as he would like, considering the look Zayn gives him. Harry sighs. Of all the times Zayn could have let Harry get away with his shit, this would be the one time the truly needed it. "Okay, this is... Uh," Harry lets out a nervous laugh, drinks his coffee because his throat is suddenly very dry, then takes a deep breath. "Ok, I'm just gonna go ahead and say it."

"Alright," Zayn nods encouragingly, but let's Harry take his time otherwise. Harry takes one last look at Zayn, then averts his eyes, too scared to see what might show on Zayn's face as he talks.

Here goes nothing.

"So, the thing is- I fancy you. Like, quite a lot. I don't know how this happened, or, well, I do, because how the fuck could I not? You're funny, and smart, an amazing cook, and you're so fit I wanna scratch my eyes out sometimes. You make me want to stay at home watching dumb movies instead of partying, and maybe even get a dog, or two, and I know I should have said something before, but I was afraid of fucking things up, so I didn't, but if I didn't say anything now I probably never would, so. There."

There. Now it's all out.

Harry holds his breath and waits for Zayn to say something, anything, even it it is to cuss at him but Zayn never does. So Harry gathers all his courage to finally look up at him and when he does, he finds Zayn is looking back at him with a very neutral expression that only makes it all worse. Harry can feel his heart beating wildly in he chest, and how warm his face is becoming.

"Can I tell you my thing now?" Zayn asks, after simply studying Harry for a moment.

Harry can only nod in response. This is the part where Zayn says he knew about Harry's feelings all along and just didn't know how to let him down easily, Harry thinks.

"Do you remember our fight the other week?" Zayn asks -as if Harry could forget it. Harry nods again. "Do you remember how I told you I wanted to talk to you, and you asked me why I couldn't have just told you like I did Niall?" Zayn asks and Harry nods once more. Where the hell is this going? "I didn't tell you that day because I wanted to do something nice. I had a plan, you know? I was going to cook a nice dinner, like I did last night, we were going to sit down and talk, and I was going to explain that I'd found a place that I liked, but that I also wanted you to like it, because, you see, the thing is-" Zayn pauses, a little mischievous smile slowly blooming on his face, "I fancy you quite a lot as well. And I wanted you to like wherever I was going to live in because I wanted you to feel comfortable enough to want to come over all the time. So. There." Zayn parrots, his smile now in full bloom.

Harry can only stare, and blink. Like most Zayn-related things, Harry feels like he should have known.

He knows Zayn likes to make him sweat and shake in his boots, like when Harry struggled to apologize and Zayn just watched before promptly accepting Harry's apologies. He knows Zayn is into romantic gestures, from when they talked about past relationships and Zayn told him about the time he drove all night to be with his ex for a few hours. And he knows Zayn would never rush him into anything, whether it be finishing a story on his own, or giving Harry time to cool off and rationalize things after a fight.

So of course Zayn would've tried to do something nice, of course he would sit back and watch as Harry almost had a heart attack spilling his guts but would also give Harry time to get there eventually. In the end, Harry can only laugh, stupidly giddy, but mostly just stupidly.

"First of all, I can't believe you made me go through all of this, my heart is about to explode. Second, just so we're clear: I fancy you, you fancy me, and we fancy each other?" Harry lists, just in case. He can't stop smiling.

"Yes," Zayn nods, still smiling as well.

"And that means I get to take you out on dates, be a sap and romantic, and all that gross stuff?"

Zayn laughs as he nods again, "Yes."

"And that I get to lean over right now and kiss you?"

"Most definitely," Zayn grins as he sets his mug aside. Harry does the same, and as he leans closer, Zayn reaches for him, a hand on the back of Harry's neck pulling him closer still. They meet in the middle, the first press of lips so sweet, the two of them mostly just smiling against each other's mouths, and it's even better than anything Harry could have imagined.

They kiss and kiss, each kiss longer than the last, deeper than the last, until they're breathless, with messy hair, and Harry's more than a little bit turned on. He looks at Zayn with what he feels it's got to be the silliest smile on his face.

"Last question: that also means that I totally get to call you my boyfriend, right?"

Zayn looks back at him with a matching smile, "Sounds good to me."