(no subject)
Title: I'm Not Afraid
Pairing: Harry/Zayn (Friendship)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Aftermath of the boys losing/coming third in the X Factor. Zayn just want to be alone but his plans get derailed. 1000+ words.
Disclaimer: 100% fiction.
Author's Notes: Dedicated to confessionsxoxo because she showed me this gif on twitter and it gave me all the feelings.
And looked over by colazitron
Zayn can feel heat pressing through his back, it’s a hand, firm and reassuring; he doesn’t know who it belongs to. All his effort is concentrated on weakly smiling at cameras and people, until he’s doing it just in case someone is watching, in case someone notices his eyes are glossy. He wants to touch his cheeks to check for damp but decides that would be a give away. Zayn decides he is grateful for whoever’s hand it is, now slipped down to his lower back. He focuses on it guiding him through never ending corridors, until the low yet artificial glow of the bar area comes into view. He suddenly wants to run away, just a little bit.
“Hey, you’ll be okay man,” the owner of the hand speaks. It’s Liam, of course it is.
Zayn turns to look at him and finds he’s back lit as if he were some kind of angel, light making his hair extra shiny, and Zayn wants to laugh because he thinks, ‘man, people go through worse shit than this.’ The smile he gives Liam is simply a twitch of his lips and weak, but this time genuine. He doesn’t know what to say in reply, feels bad for it. Liam’s hand swipes firmly along his back and he allows it, only because it’s Liam, but there is still a niggling thought that makes him want to say: ‘I don’t need looking after y’know?’
It’s then he finds he’s in his mum’s arms, not remembering if he’d been pushed there or pulled. He feels tiny. She hugs too tightly. The space between them is enough for air at some point and Zayn blinks up her, but it feels too open so he looks down again as she touches the soft skin of his cheek.
He mumbles, “I’m okay mum, really,” and “I’m going to go check on the other boys.”
Which is mainly an excuse to get away, not that he isn’t concerned about the boys, but what he’d really like right now is to be alone. There’s too many people, too many apologies. Zayn needs his own space to be still and quiet, and all his life has been these last few weeks is noise. Sometimes he thinks he’s not cut out for this, if he even still has this. He turns on his heels looking for the escape route, head sagging, as if he could hide but moves it slightly from side to side, palm rubbing at the back of his neck, he clocks each boy, although he doesn’t make an effort to approach. First Louis, clutching various small children; Liam, comforting everyone else, despite how his mouth sags; and Niall, looking bewildered and lost as he talks to his parents. Zayn stops in his tracks, apologizing to whomever he nearly bumps into but they just smile sweetly, lingering a hand on his shoulder, he thinks comfort and pity may be one of his least favourite things. Then he regains his previous thought - Harry, he can’t see Harry.
Slipping back the way he came, Zayn finds himself down an abandoned corridor. There are a few fire escapes and storage rooms, but not much else. He rounds another corner and that’s when he sees Harry: thumb bitten raw between swollen pink lips, pacing pack and forth, cheeks red, tears spilling helplessly from his eyes joining the dried tracks where previous had fallen . He must sense Zayn’s presence because bright shiny eyes suddenly flood the older boy’s vision. Harry opens his mouth to say something, if he manages Zayn doesn’t hear what exactly, it just sounds croaky, Harry’s voice broken and wrecked. Before he realises what he’s doing, Zayn is breeching the small gap between them and scooping the younger boy into his arms. Harry clings instantly and whimpers a little. His hand’s skating along Zayn’s back to find purchase, finger’s dragging the soft material of his hoodie up slightly. Zayn’s fingers are perhaps digging into Harry’s shoulders too hard, pressing against muscle and flesh, like he’s angry and sad all at once, because he doesn’t do this it’s as if Harry’s broken him. Then he realises where his face is pressed into the curve of Harry’s neck is damp, which is odd and- oh, he’s crying, he belatedly realises and now he’s acknowledged it, he can’t help but let a harsh sob out.
“Zayn...” Harry wetly gasps then, not doing well to mask his shock and especially not his concern.
Harry’s voice sounds too loud in the quiet corridor and something spikes up in Zayn, a resentment of some sort, he hasn’t cried in months and then Harry fucking Styles comes along and ruins everything. Zayn belatedly realises he’s even let the tension go in his fingers, palms spread flat across Harry’s back instead, he can feel the folds of his shirt caught beneath them. He jerks his head back too quickly that it’s a surprise he doesn’t get whiplash, Harry frowns, looking vaguely hurt, then settling on rolling his eyes instead. Zayn stares at Harry as if he can’t quite place him, dropping his arms away until Harry mirrors the movement, sighing as he does.
Zayn’s bottom lip is still wobbling slightly and he blinks a few times, having not actually moved that far away from Harry, even though he’s aware two feet down the corridor means fresh air and nicotine. Harry’s eyes are soft but tired, the green of his eyes slightly dulled and Zayn remembers how at one point he’d thought of Harry as brattish and too pretty for his own good, heck had thought it till quite recently on bad days. And now. Now he doesn’t know. Harry looks like he himself might move away but then Zayn is speaking without even realizing he’s doing it.
“One day I’ll stop being such a jerk, you know? Like I think I’ll get over it .“
He averts his gaze just to the left of Harry’s cheek, jabbing furiously at his own to get rid of his tears. Harry smiles in the corner of his eye,
“Come here...” Harry says. It’s warm but cautious.
Zayn falls into him. He even lets Harry make soothing noises that make his stomach twist and Harry eventually ceases anyway and for once, is silent and still at the same time as Zayn, as they hold each other. After a long stretch of minutes, Harry breaks the silence.
“You don’t have to stop completely, I mean who would I have to argue with?”
It startles a laugh out of Zayn that thrums against Harry’s skin ‘till they’re both pulling away to laugh. It’s then it settles in for Zayn, every time they‘ve talked about the future tonight, despite being unsure of their careers, it involves one another, and Zayn may not need looking after but he’s so incredibly happy he doesn’t have to do this alone.
Pairing: Harry/Zayn (Friendship)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Aftermath of the boys losing/coming third in the X Factor. Zayn just want to be alone but his plans get derailed. 1000+ words.
Disclaimer: 100% fiction.
Author's Notes: Dedicated to confessionsxoxo because she showed me this gif on twitter and it gave me all the feelings.
And looked over by colazitron
Zayn can feel heat pressing through his back, it’s a hand, firm and reassuring; he doesn’t know who it belongs to. All his effort is concentrated on weakly smiling at cameras and people, until he’s doing it just in case someone is watching, in case someone notices his eyes are glossy. He wants to touch his cheeks to check for damp but decides that would be a give away. Zayn decides he is grateful for whoever’s hand it is, now slipped down to his lower back. He focuses on it guiding him through never ending corridors, until the low yet artificial glow of the bar area comes into view. He suddenly wants to run away, just a little bit.
“Hey, you’ll be okay man,” the owner of the hand speaks. It’s Liam, of course it is.
Zayn turns to look at him and finds he’s back lit as if he were some kind of angel, light making his hair extra shiny, and Zayn wants to laugh because he thinks, ‘man, people go through worse shit than this.’ The smile he gives Liam is simply a twitch of his lips and weak, but this time genuine. He doesn’t know what to say in reply, feels bad for it. Liam’s hand swipes firmly along his back and he allows it, only because it’s Liam, but there is still a niggling thought that makes him want to say: ‘I don’t need looking after y’know?’
It’s then he finds he’s in his mum’s arms, not remembering if he’d been pushed there or pulled. He feels tiny. She hugs too tightly. The space between them is enough for air at some point and Zayn blinks up her, but it feels too open so he looks down again as she touches the soft skin of his cheek.
He mumbles, “I’m okay mum, really,” and “I’m going to go check on the other boys.”
Which is mainly an excuse to get away, not that he isn’t concerned about the boys, but what he’d really like right now is to be alone. There’s too many people, too many apologies. Zayn needs his own space to be still and quiet, and all his life has been these last few weeks is noise. Sometimes he thinks he’s not cut out for this, if he even still has this. He turns on his heels looking for the escape route, head sagging, as if he could hide but moves it slightly from side to side, palm rubbing at the back of his neck, he clocks each boy, although he doesn’t make an effort to approach. First Louis, clutching various small children; Liam, comforting everyone else, despite how his mouth sags; and Niall, looking bewildered and lost as he talks to his parents. Zayn stops in his tracks, apologizing to whomever he nearly bumps into but they just smile sweetly, lingering a hand on his shoulder, he thinks comfort and pity may be one of his least favourite things. Then he regains his previous thought - Harry, he can’t see Harry.
Slipping back the way he came, Zayn finds himself down an abandoned corridor. There are a few fire escapes and storage rooms, but not much else. He rounds another corner and that’s when he sees Harry: thumb bitten raw between swollen pink lips, pacing pack and forth, cheeks red, tears spilling helplessly from his eyes joining the dried tracks where previous had fallen . He must sense Zayn’s presence because bright shiny eyes suddenly flood the older boy’s vision. Harry opens his mouth to say something, if he manages Zayn doesn’t hear what exactly, it just sounds croaky, Harry’s voice broken and wrecked. Before he realises what he’s doing, Zayn is breeching the small gap between them and scooping the younger boy into his arms. Harry clings instantly and whimpers a little. His hand’s skating along Zayn’s back to find purchase, finger’s dragging the soft material of his hoodie up slightly. Zayn’s fingers are perhaps digging into Harry’s shoulders too hard, pressing against muscle and flesh, like he’s angry and sad all at once, because he doesn’t do this it’s as if Harry’s broken him. Then he realises where his face is pressed into the curve of Harry’s neck is damp, which is odd and- oh, he’s crying, he belatedly realises and now he’s acknowledged it, he can’t help but let a harsh sob out.
“Zayn...” Harry wetly gasps then, not doing well to mask his shock and especially not his concern.
Harry’s voice sounds too loud in the quiet corridor and something spikes up in Zayn, a resentment of some sort, he hasn’t cried in months and then Harry fucking Styles comes along and ruins everything. Zayn belatedly realises he’s even let the tension go in his fingers, palms spread flat across Harry’s back instead, he can feel the folds of his shirt caught beneath them. He jerks his head back too quickly that it’s a surprise he doesn’t get whiplash, Harry frowns, looking vaguely hurt, then settling on rolling his eyes instead. Zayn stares at Harry as if he can’t quite place him, dropping his arms away until Harry mirrors the movement, sighing as he does.
Zayn’s bottom lip is still wobbling slightly and he blinks a few times, having not actually moved that far away from Harry, even though he’s aware two feet down the corridor means fresh air and nicotine. Harry’s eyes are soft but tired, the green of his eyes slightly dulled and Zayn remembers how at one point he’d thought of Harry as brattish and too pretty for his own good, heck had thought it till quite recently on bad days. And now. Now he doesn’t know. Harry looks like he himself might move away but then Zayn is speaking without even realizing he’s doing it.
“One day I’ll stop being such a jerk, you know? Like I think I’ll get over it .“
He averts his gaze just to the left of Harry’s cheek, jabbing furiously at his own to get rid of his tears. Harry smiles in the corner of his eye,
“Come here...” Harry says. It’s warm but cautious.
Zayn falls into him. He even lets Harry make soothing noises that make his stomach twist and Harry eventually ceases anyway and for once, is silent and still at the same time as Zayn, as they hold each other. After a long stretch of minutes, Harry breaks the silence.
“You don’t have to stop completely, I mean who would I have to argue with?”
It startles a laugh out of Zayn that thrums against Harry’s skin ‘till they’re both pulling away to laugh. It’s then it settles in for Zayn, every time they‘ve talked about the future tonight, despite being unsure of their careers, it involves one another, and Zayn may not need looking after but he’s so incredibly happy he doesn’t have to do this alone.