In the Most Unexpected Places | Part Two

[cantgetnoworse]

continued from here

Zayn wakes up tangled in Harry. He's hard as a rock in his boxers and his entire body is sore. He distantly remembers taking ecstasy the night before, jumping and dancing harder than any human should ever be allowed. He curses himself quietly for the fact he's going to feel it all day.

Zayn's chest is pressed against Harry's back with an arm draped securely around his middle, his thigh pressed up between both of Harry's. He remembers last night and remembers the kiss and his heart beat becomes so palpable that he fears Harry will feel it against his spine. He decides he needs a cigarette -- it will either calm the nausea or make it worse, but he's willing to roll the dice.

He tries to free himself carefully from Harry's limbs without waking him, but Harry's phone vibrates on the bedside table and his ringtone is disruptive enough to shake him into consciousness.

Harry shifts back against Zayn and fits himself right against his cock. Zayn swallows the dryness in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut, praying to every deity that somehow Harry wouldn't notice him leaking through the front of his boxers.

If Harry does notice, he doesn't say anything, just answers the phone blearily, not even pausing to check the display.

It doesn't take long for Zayn to realize it's Nick on the other end. He props himself up on his elbow behind Harry and watches his face unfold from the confusion of slumber, listening to the sleepy rawness of his voice.

"I'm fine, Grimmy," Harry says quietly, turning onto his back, untangling the two of them in the process. His elbow digs into Zayn's torso at this angle and Zayn is hyperaware of their proximity as Harry's eyes fall shut. "You were wrecked last night. When did you get in?"

Zayn shifts, moves to get out of bed and give Harry some space, but Harry's hand comes up to stop him, curling into the collar of his shirt. Zayn meets his eyes and Harry nods for him to stay.

"I never told you to come out with us, Nick," Harry says with resignation, moving his gaze to Zayn's necklace instead of his eyes, tracing it with his fingers and playing with the pendant intently. "You were messaging me all day about seeing me and I said alright. That's all. There doesn't have to be any drama about it."

Zayn wishes he could do something to change things for Harry, to make it so he didn't have to wake up to this. His chest aches at how childlike he looks, playing with Zayn's necklace to avoid having to face him, yet not wanting him to leave his side. He keeps close and watches Harry's fingers on the silver chain around his neck, sharing his body heat with him.

He doesn't know what possesses him to lean in, but he does. He leans in and presses a kiss to the bone jutting upwards in Harry's shoulder, and Harry leans forward, moving his hand from Zayn's necklace to just beneath Zayn's shirt, splaying his fingers against the warmth of his skin.

Zayn tilts closer into the touch and moves his lips to Harry's neck, kissing him there. He moves his lips to Harry's free ear, breathing against it warmly. "Hang up, Haz," he murmurs into it, barely audible. He drags his lips lower and presses a kiss just beneath his ear. "C'mon, babe."

He can feel Harry shiver as he turns his body closer towards Zayn's, and for the first time, Zayn feels Harry's cock, just as hard as his as it presses up against his thigh.

He distantly hears Harry telling Nick he has to go moments before his phone drops onto the mattress. As soon as the call is finished, Zayn curls his fingers in Harry's neck and kisses him firmly, nothing like the night before. It's harsh enough that he tastes a hint of blood and Harry arches into him more deliberately this time, moaning deeply into the kiss.

Harry's hand curls loosely in the back of Zayn's head for leverage and Zayn recognizes with a sharp twitch of his cock that Harry is the most pliant person he's ever kissed. The harsher Zayn's kiss is, the harder Harry feels against his thigh. His body is loose in the aftermath of sleep and his mouth is welcoming, obscenely warm and eager for Zayn's advances.

Zayn breaks away for breath but Harry chases his lips with a small sound of disapproval. When Harry kisses him, it's sloppy and hot and Zayn has to curl his hands against the sides of Harry's neck to steady him, to take control, to lick the roof of Harry's mouth and to bite into his bottom lip and drag it between his teeth until he tastes blood again.

Harry winces and curls his fingers in Zayn's shoulders, pressing flush against him; he doesn't move his lips away from the pain -- doesn't even flinch. He stays completely still for Zayn and Zayn bites deeper into his lip until Harry lets out a small, deep whimper, and Zayn finally lets go of the tortured swell of red, licking the metallic taste off the curves of his mouth.

Harry moves wherever Zayn's hands urge him to until he's on his back, hands above his head, Zayn's fingers holding his wrists down as they kiss. His fingers are featherlight as they curl in around Zayn's, only barely attempting to hold on.

Zayn breaks away from his mouth, murmuring into it. "Stay, alright?"

Harry nods, his breathing heavy, heart racing. Zayn kisses his way down Harry's body, his own heart jumping to his throat. He stops himself from thinking, just moves the elastic of Harry's boxers out of the way and lets his eyes fall shut, pressing a kiss to the thick, musky hair he finds before he takes him into his mouth.

Harry is large and heavy and tastes salty on his tongue, but it doesn't deter Zayn. He uses his hand to stroke his spit over Harry's base and tries not to gag on him as he runs his tongue around the head inside his mouth. He tries to do well for Harry, tries to imagine how Perrie would do it to him.

Harry curls his fingers in Zayn's hair and lets out a tortured sound of desperation as he arches his hips upwards, barely pushing himself into Zayn's throat, but it's enough that Zayn gags and has to take a deep breath through his nose, stilling his hand for a moment as he recovers. Zayn swallows around Harry and he makes a quiet sound around his cock that makes Harry shudder, his fingers tightening in Zayn's hair.

Within seconds, Harry's coming into Zayn's mouth without any warning except a drawn out, lewd sound that nearly brings Zayn to the brink.

Zayn coughs and pulls off at the first spurt hitting his throat, swallowing it without a thought as he attempts to catch his breath. The last of Harry's release lands on his own heaving stomach. Zayn breathes harshly as he rests his forehead against Harry's hipbone, conscious of the taste of come on his mouth.

Harry waits a few moments before curling a trembling hand in Zayn's shirt and pulling him back up his body, kissing his lips. He searches his eyes, still catching his breath, and his words are barely audible when he speaks. "Thank you."

Zayn wants to respond, but Harry's long, infinite fingers snake their way into his boxers to curl around him, and everything beyond that is either too sharp or too blurry for Zayn to fully grasp. He lets Harry tug him to his release, lets it soil his shirt and mix with Harry's come on his bare stomach, then lies atop him in silence until Niall rings to remind them of bus call.

--

They're on route to Philadelphia a few days later when Zayn pulls his headphones over his ears and listens to The Weeknd's first record on repeat. He's lying down on the couch in the front lounge of the bus playing Tetris on his phone, but his limbs are heavy with exhaustion and his eyelids droop every time the bus swerves gently on the road.

The fifth track ends on his iPod but he replays it once, twice, three times, until it's the only thing keeping him awake.

...bring your love, baby, I can bring my shame. Bring the drugs, baby, I can bring my pain. I got my heart right here, I got my scars right here. Bring the cups, baby, I can bring the drink. Bring your body, baby, I can bring you fame...

Zayn thinks of Harry and how they haven't yet spoken about the drugs and the sex and the rock 'n roll of New York City, partially because they're never alone for more than a moment and partially because Zayn isn't sure what he could say.

They'd showered separately that day, washing a combination of each other's come off their stomachs, and Harry helped Zayn pack his bag in silence before bus call. They barely said two words to each other, but before they could leave Zayn's room, Harry leaned into him and rested his forehead against Zayn's temple and shut his eyes and they breathed the same recycled air and it was enough to get Zayn through the day.

He's felt Harry's gaze on him since, watching him intently, meaningfully, in a way that would be almost unsettling if Zayn didn't know Harry well -- didn't know his tendency to focus wholeheartedly on one single thing and lose sight of the rest of the room. He's been avoiding Harry's touch even though his fingers tremble when they're near his, aching to to curl into Harry's and steady themselves in his grip, but he can't trust himself with the thought.

Zayn's nearly asleep now, lulled by the vibrations of the bus, thinking of the heat of his mouth on Harry's and Harry's hand curled around him and the stains they both left on Zayn's shirt.

That's my motherfucking word, too; just let me motherfucking love you, sings his iPod and Zayn gives into the lullaby of tortured croons, slipping into a shallow sleep.

When they're halfway to their next stop, Perrie calls and jolts him awake.

Harry is splayed out on the couch opposite Zayn's with his legs in Liam's lap, both of them surfing idly on their laptops. Niall and Louis are nowhere to be seen and Zayn thinks they must be in their bunks, sleeping off their hangovers from the night before.

Zayn doesn't expect to see Perrie's name flashing on his phone and he all but panics. Does he answer in plain sight of Harry? Does he go into the back for privacy? Both will be obvious choices and he's running out of time; he doesn't want her to hang up or think he's ignoring her.

He answers the call and presses it to his ear, eyes falling shut as he says, "Hello? You okay?"

And there they are again -- Harry's eyes on him, absorbed but stealthy, barely looking past the laptop to sneak a contemplative glance at Zayn.

"Yeah, I'm alright," Zayn says. "Just on the bus right now. On our way to Philly. Gonna be a massive show tonight, sold out as well."

He thinks he can finish the entire call coolly in front of Liam and Harry, but his senses are sharpened and he can barely hear himself think, so he slips to the back lounge and closes the door behind him, locks it just for comfort.

He sits on the table and lets his eyes fall shut as Perrie speaks, talks to her for nearly an hour; he desperately misses the friend in her that got him through the long nights of fighting with his management and with himself and with the demons.

He comes back out into the front lounge after to find Liam on his own. He swallows hard and chances a glance at Harry's bunk to find the curtains draped shut.

"Just you and I, Malik," Liam says as he YouTubes another beat-boxing video, playing it on low volume.

"I guess so," Zayn agrees quietly, flopping down beside him to watch.

--

Philadelphia is louder than they've heard in a while.

They sweat on stage until their shirts stick to their torsos, Niall jumps so high it almost seems like he was lifted by wires and Harry hits an unprecedented high note that has the crowd screaming and chanting for more.

By the time the show is over, Zayn is so flushed he can barely breathe or think to stop smiling. They share hugs backstage, bodies thrumming with adrenaline. The hugs are the aggressive kind, the kind that happen when the boys are buzzing so violently they can barely estimate their own strength beyond thinking they're unbreakable.

When Zayn hugs Harry, Harry digs his fingers in Zayn's back and clutches onto him. Zayn lets his eyes fall shut when he feels Harry's shaky exhale against his neck.

"Good show, man," Harry says, and his voice is a lot steadier than Zayn would expect; Zayn doesn't think, just tilts his head and presses a kiss to the side of Harry's.

"Thanks, love," he tells him, and when he breaks away, Harry's dimple is out and his grin is bright enough to make Zayn's chest burst with contentment.

--

That night, Louis wants to celebrate.

Liam wants to stay in to do a Twitcam, citing his goal of reaching a hundred and fifty thousand viewers without the help of the other lads. Niall all but cleans out the mini-bar and eats all the complementary peanuts that had been left for them in their individual rooms. (He doesn't touch the complimentary fruit, declares it disgusting and says that unless the figs are stuffed with chicken, he's not interested.) Zayn smokes a few puffs in the bathroom, just enough so that he's riding a steady buzz.

But Louis wants to celebrate and he's picked Harry for the occasion, throwing an arm around his shoulders to drag him around wherever he goes. He has him wrapped around his finger for the night, which isn't an unusual sight to take in, but for some reason, it agitates Zayn more than ever before. He brushes off his annoyance, attributes it to the pot and tries not to notice all the ways that Louis controls Harry.

Harry is easygoing, after all; he likes to be liked and he seems content to see Louis this excited, so he follows his lead without much question. Louis means well, shows his affection in strange and maladjusted ways, but shows it nonetheless. Zayn trusts Harry's judgement enough to let it be.

Louis and Harry do a few rounds of shots in the hotel room before Louis decides he wants to hit a club with him, Zayn and Niall in tow. Liam is at sixty thousand viewers by the time they're all picture-perfect, doused in cologne and ready to go. Zayn tousles Liam's hair on the way out, and just like that, the views spike by five thousand.

At the club, Niall and Zayn stay near the bar, having a pint and laughing over embarrassing photos on their phones, sharing stories from before they knew how to dress themselves. Zayn recalls wearing two polos with a double popped collar (pink and white) and Niall nearly pisses himself at the thought.

Louis has Harry do a few more rounds of shots then feeds him a couple of glasses of vodka cranberry, telling him he'll barely taste the alcohol. He drags him to the floor for a dance, and by the time they come back to join Niall and Zayn, Harry's stumbling drunk.

He nearly trips on himself and grabs onto Zayn's shirt for balance, laughing drunkenly, eyes falling shut.

"M'sorry," he says, leaning into Zayn for leverage, and Zayn curls his hands over his elbows and holds him close. "I'm seeing ten of you at the moment. You're all very... Zayn-y."

"Are we, then?" Zayn asks, smelling the strong stench of vodka with every breath Harry takes.

"Hazza!" Louis calls out impatiently from the counter, head turned to look at him. "What'll you have?"

"I think he's had enough," Zayn chimes in, feeling Harry nuzzle his neck, breathing slowly against the skin there.

"Oh, come on," Louis whines. "Don't be embarrassing, Harry. You've only had a few."

"I feel ill," Harry murmurs into Zayn's neck and Zayn has to bite his tongue, forcing down his irritation with Louis.

Instead, he just cradles Harry's head, rubbing the curls there soothingly. "C'mon, off we go. How's about a little lie down at the hotel?"

"Are you serious?" Louis' tone is incredulous, bordering on murderous. "You've got to be joking, man. We've only just got here."

"Enough, Lou," Zayn snaps sharply, turning his eyes to meet Louis' gaze. "Look at the state you've got him in. He can barely stand on his own two feet."

"I can stand," Harry protests with drunken certainty. He pushes away from Zayn to prove a point, but he nearly topples backwards to the ground before Zayn saves him, grabbing him swiftly by the arms and pulling him upright.

"Let's get you out of here, c'mon," Zayn urges gently, and Louis only rolls his eyes this time, ordering another round as Harry and Zayn head to the back exit.

Zayn is grateful for the outside area they find at the back, quiet and dim and away from any prying eyes that would know them.

"Why're you taking care of me?" Harry asks after Zayn calls for a taxi, and his words are barely comprehensible now, running into each other and getting lost in his intoxication. He rubs his eye like a child resisting sleep.

"And why wouldn't I take care of you?"

"Touché," Harry says with a small, amused smile, and Zayn can't help but laugh, wrapping an arm around Harry's waist, smiling to himself when Harry responds by nuzzling his neck again.

"You smell nice," Harry comments. "Like apples but...spicy."

"That's exactly what I was going for," Zayn says, smirking.

"I feel so ill. I might be sick on your runners."

"Please don't be. I quite like them."

"I've got a secret, you know," Harry says, breaking away from Zayn's neck, meeting his eyes. He waits a long moment, and Zayn watches his lips closely, aching to kiss them. "Grimmy's engaged to someone."

Zayn furrows his eyebrows, surprise evident in his tone as he meets Harry's gaze. "Engaged? Since when?"

Harry shrugs, pressing his forehead against Zayn's, eyes falling shut. "I've known for a few months now."

"That he's engaged? And that he's been messing you about?"

Harry shakes his head. "I don't know..." He wraps both his arms around Zayn's neck, kissing his jawline gently. He waits a beat before asking. "Are you? Mucking me about?"

Zayn is caught off-guard, doesn't know what to say; he holds Harry closer. "What do you mean by that?"

Harry shrugs, eyes on Zayn's, half-lidded and glazed over in the aftermath of too many shots. "New York," he drawls, as if it were obvious, and the words that follow are slow and long-winded. "Was that just to make me feel better? 'Cause it's alright if it was. I really don't mind."

Zayn huffs out a laugh, murmuring close to Harry's lips. "You really think I would have come that hard just to make you feel better?"

Harry smirks and Zayn can't help but smile. Harry tilts in a half-inch to close the distance between their mouths and kisses the grin from Zayn's lips, and even in his drunken state, he catches the plumpness of Zayn's mouth perfectly in his.

***

When their plane hits the runway in London, Harry is still fast asleep on Zayn's shoulder, knocked out cold by way of sleeping pills.

(He was up the previous night tossing and turning by Zayn's side in a nondescript hotel room, and even though Zayn was asleep, he could sometimes hear the tap-tap-tapping of Harry's fingers on his phone's keypad. Harry would always get antsy the night before they had to head back home, part excitement and part irrational fear that nothing will look or feel or taste the same.

Zayn eventually gave in and woke up to Harry's disturbances in the middle of the night, dragged himself to the hotel desk to roll him a joint, tight and small, strong enough to knock him out. He climbed up Harry's body and shared it with him in between lazy, smoke-filled kisses, then slipped a warm hand beneath the fabric of Harry's briefs and stroked him to a release so strong it pulled the restlessness out of him.)

Zayn turns his phone on after the seatbelt sign is switched off and it buzzes in his hand with four new messages, three of them from family and one of them from Perrie. She reminds him of his promise not to be a stranger and he asks her when she wants to meet and they set a time and a date and he feels insects buzzing in his stomach at the thought of seeing her so soon.

Harry stirs awake when Louis shakes his shoulder and tells him, "C'mon, love." Zayn watches Harry lift his head and rub the sleep from his face and he thinks for a brief moment that being on home soil should feel more familiar than this.

--

A few weeks into their return, Zayn calls Ant to ask if he wants to go on a road trip and help him move some things into Zayn's apartment. Ant's busy with his mum and Danny's out of town all week and it's not really a big thing, he just needs to get some pieces from his home in Bradford (four hours away) and drive them back up to his apartment in London.

He calls Harry because he's become accustomed to dialling his name and he's the only other person who has a car that Zayn can think of, but he regrets it as soon as Harry agrees. The idea of Harry being around his family makes his senses go into overdrive and he smokes four cigarettes just waiting for Harry to pick him up.

When he gets there, Harry kisses the corner of Zayn's mouth in greeting and helps him load his bags into the boot of his SUV and then pulls out onto the road.

They listen to the R&B mix that Zayn had made him for his car after he'd accused Harry of having terrible taste in music. Zayn insisted that every Coldplay track that Harry liked was a variation on the same song and that all these modern day indie rock bands were the downfall of good music. Mostly he just liked to tease Harry and get him riled up about something, anything, because it didn't happen often enough.

The disc Zayn made him has everything from Usher to Joe to Jagged Edge to Aaliyah to TLC to Ginuwine to Brian McKnight and Zayn smirks to himself when he catches Harry tapping his fingers to the beat on the steering wheel, knowing well that Harry hasn't changed out the CD since he first put it in.

"You're kind of hot when you listen to my music," Zayn tells him with a self-satisfied smirk and Harry rolls his eyes.

"Don't flatter yourself," Harry responds. "Just a bad day for radio."

"Ohhh, that's what it is." Zayn nods smugly, the smirk reaching his eyes. "Just a bad couple of weeks for radio, I reckon."

"You're so attractive when you're pompous."

"Swallowed a dictionary, then?"

"Says the wannabe English teacher who can't spell out everyone on Twitter without using a number somewhere."

"Careful," Zayn warns. "I'll have you sleeping in the basement with Ralph and Johnny."

Harry looks over at Zayn, raising an oblivious eyebrow.

"Ralph and Johnny are the rats," Zayn explains matter-of-factly.

"Perfect," Harry says with a nod, moving his gaze to the road. "I've always said I like to be repaid for driving a loved one 4 hours by getting rabies."

Zayn bites his lip when Harry calls him a loved one, his chest tightening unexpectedly at the thought. He tilts his head back against the seat and reaches between the seats almost instinctively, finding Harry's hand in his and squeezing it, holding it between them as he drives.

In the background his CD spins and he hears 112 sing, Cupid doesn't lie, but you won't know unless you give it a try, oh baby, true love won't lie, but we won't know unless we give it a try. Zayn lets his eyes fall shut and feels the smooth bumps in the road pacify his bones.

--

As soon as they get to Bradford, Zayn's younger sisters fawn over Harry like he's the good-looking Jonas Brother or Justin Bieber after he hit puberty, and Zayn has to stop himself from rolling his eyes on more than one occasion, but the fond smile doesn't leave his lips.

His mother is cooking dinner and the customary smell of cinnamon and cardamom and coriander wafts through the entire house until he smells it everywhere he goes, even the bathroom, even outdoors when he goes for a surreptitious smoke.

When he comes back in the house, he finds his youngest sister and Harry sitting on the floor with her jewelry-making kit scattered between them. Harry is barefoot but his beanie is still pulled over his head -- "I've got road hair!" he protested when Zayn had tried to pull it off earlier -- and he's completely entranced in a bracelet he's making, sliding beads down a string with immense caution and precision. Zayn's sister stands on her knees and hovers over Harry's creation, watching him carefully, directing him when he doesn't meet her standards of perfection.

"What're you making?" Zayn asks as he walks over, crouching down next to them and eying the bracelet.

Harry pulls it away instantly and hides it against his side, widening his eyes at Zayn. "Excuse me."

"You're not supposed to see!" squeaks his sister, pushing at Zayn's arm with both her small hands. "Go, go!"

"Alright, alright, calm down. I didn't realize it was top secret," Zayn says, raising his palms in surrender.

He pushes up to his feet and meets Harry's gaze when his sister isn't looking and he shakes his head with a you're mental smile. Harry grins at him as he backs away from them and Zayn can feel Harry's eyes follow him as he makes his way into the kitchen.

Zayn kisses his mother's head and helps her set up the dinner table and add finishing touches to several dishes. Within a half hour they're all eating, Harry sat beside Zayn, spidery fingers curled over Zayn's kneecap underneath the table.

Harry is charming as ever, has both Zayn's parents laughing throughout the entire meal, and Zayn is content to take it all in. He forgets about the secrets they checked at the door and beneath the table and indulges himself in a moment where the people he cares for the most are surrounding him, within arms reach, perfectly in harmony.

His sisters help clean up the table afterwards and it's only him and Harry left in the dining room. The quiet that surrounds them is a rare and welcome change.

"You okay?" Harry asks, stroking Zayn's thigh soothingly. "I know it's a bit weird. I feel it, too."

Zayn shakes his head. "I feel fine. I feel good."

"Genuine?"

"Honest."

Harry nods, lifts his hand to the back of Zayn's head, scratching his scalp with gentle fingertips. "Thanks for letting me come here."

Zayn reaches up and takes Harry's hand from his head and moves it to his chest instead, holding it there as they both admire the dinner they'd just devoured, discussing their favourite dishes of the night, Zayn dubiously impressed by Harry's handle on spice.

He turns to meet Harry's eyes with a smirk. "Are you gonna tell me what that bracelet was all about?"

Harry laughs and pulls his hand back from Zayn's, reaching it into his pocket to dig out his proud creation. He presses it into Zayn's hand with a smile. The beads at the front spell 'Zayn' and at the back spell 'Harry' and there's an assortment of flower and heart beads pressed in between.

"Your sister wanted to make it because we're her favourite members," says Harry with a hint of adoration, his dimple deeper than usual. "We decided to give it to you. I think you're a little bit her hero."

Zayn rolls his eyes slightly but he examines the bracelet nonetheless, a little bit awed that they'd made it for him. "Quite the masterpiece."

He closes his palm around it for a moment and he revels in the feeling of the carved letters pressing against his skin, 'Zayn' on one side and 'Harry' on the other.

***

It's a few days later that Zayn meets Perrie in her family home at the date and time they'd set. He sits with her side-by-side out in the backyard, the two of them drinking homemade raspberry lemonade in the scorching sun, staring out into the distance.

They fall into talking to each other with a practiced ease; it's not long before they're sharing a laugh, teasing and mocking each other affectionately, and it's all familiar enough to calm Zayn's nerves about being here with her without telling a soul. Without telling Harry.

"I missed you, you know," Zayn says, glancing over to meet her gaze. "Just like... as a friend."

Perrie nods, her eyes on his. "I know. I didn't know how to talk to you and I'm sorry I just left things."

Zayn shakes his head as if to say don't worry about it. He looks out into the distance and there's a long stretch of silence before he huffs out a quiet laugh. "To be honest, I think I've gone and done it now."

"Done what?" Perrie asks, furrowing her brows in confusion.

Zayn feels his chest tighten, hesitant to say anything, but he needs the words to move past the confines of his throat and she's the only person he can think to be on the receiving end.

"I may have kissed a bloke," he finally decides to say, omitting any details that move past his lips on Harry's, any details that pertain to the way Harry makes his heart race or the way he makes him come or the way he makes him laugh from his stomach.

"You've done what?" Perrie squawks, but it's not unkind, just surprised -- understandably surprised.

Zayn looks over at her, meeting her eyes, saying nothing further. He raises his eyebrows and nods small, confirming his own words.

"Wow," Perrie says, her face in awe as she looks ahead. "Well, that's fairly new."

"Quite new, yeah," Zayn concedes, scanning her features carefully. "Are you angry?"

Perrie seems disgusted by the accusation. "Why on earth would I be angry? 'Cause you like blokes?"

"Well, I don't just like blokes. I'm not even sure I do like blokes. I've just...found this one."

"Is it Liam?"

"What?! No. No, it's not Liam. Are you mad?"

"Do I know him?"

Zayn shrugs his shoulders dismissively at that, looking ahead again, and Perrie knows better than to press him further.

She reaches out and curls her fingers in his, interlocking their hands. "Are you alright?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just -- in general. Are you feeling okay?"

Zayn nods his head, taking the question in. He hadn't stopped to think of it in a while. He considers the the irony of it all; thinks that if it wasn't for Perrie breaking him off, Harry would never have thought to comfort him by telling him about his heartbreak from Nick, and Zayn might never have known the taste of Harry in the middle of the night.

"I guess I am, yeah," he finally says. "Some days are longer than others."

"They always are," she says with a timid smile. "I hope you know I love you, you tosser. No matter what."

"I know," Zayn says. "Nothing's changed."

Perrie rolls her eyes and looks back ahead, staring into the sun. "Some things have."

Zayn laughs and nods, squeezing her hand. "Yeah, well. Some things have."