Archive of Our Own

The wool has been pulled right over Harry's eyes several times in his life. Mostly by Zayn, but that's never stopped Harry before. At the bungalow when Harry couldn't sleep, Zayn was wide awake, too, listening to his breathing and his quiet admission to himself: "We aren’t going to make it." Zayn told Harry about it much later when they were sharing the same pillow and waiting for one of their phones to ring and start the day. Harry believed Zayn that one time when he said he didn't cheat on Rebecca and when he swore that he didn't eat the last slice of pizza. Harry, with Zayn's come on his hand and hope in his eyes, believed Zayn when he said that he wanted it--wanted to be with Harry despite all the restraints and complications. A month later Zayn was telling all of them that he and Perrie were getting engaged and Niall and Liam looked just as surprised as Harry felt, but they couldn't have been as shocked as Harry was when Louis just smiled knowingly. Zayn told Harry that he didn't need to worry, that nothing would change except everything did. It's always been Zayn saying things for his own well-being, his own sanity and not Harry's. Because Harry is always okay; at the end of the day he has to be.

Still, Harry can't stop caring about Zayn. He stands too close to the edge of the stage sometimes just so Zayn can tell him to be careful, just pulls out all the tricks, really, but most of the time Harry never catches Zayn looking for more than a second. It’s agonizing because they can have a long break and Zayn won't even text him back. When they're together again in another country or at another event it's like Harry hadn't been trying to contact a brick wall. It's been like this for months and Harry can't for the life of him figure out where he went wrong. It’s not like he’s the one that got engaged.

Harry expects Zayn to be at Jay's wedding above all else. He knows Perrie will come, too, and be so sweet and funny that Harry might spend more time chatting with her than Zayn. It's the fact of the matter, though, that Zayn will show up and look amazing and hopefully smile at Harry from across the room when a sappy love song comes on like the last time they were at wedding together.

Harry hangs out with Ben most of the time, and maybe he doesn't confine himself to the tent where everyone else is just in case a black car rolls into the parking lot. There's still time; Zayn missed the ceremony, but no one will fuss too much if he at least shows up at some point.

"What're you looking off every five minutes for?" Ben grabs Harry's arm to get his attention.

Harry shrugs. "I'm just taking in the scenery. I love outside weddings."

Ben snorts. "Do you? They're awful, honestly. Pretty, but the bugs and heat aren't. Let's go find the boys."

Harry hesitates, scanning the parking lot before deflating. No one has said much of anything about Zayn not showing up, so Harry wonders if he's been left out of the loop like he was with the engagement. Harry wants to ask someone, maybe Niall, but he's afraid that Niall might take one look at his shifting feet and frown and know that Harry is helplessly in love with Zayn Malik of all people.

Harry excuses himself to go to the bathroom and takes out his phone before he's even five feet away from Niall and Liam playing croquet. He goes through his messages with Zayn as a preliminary deterrent. There are no replies from Zayn for about twenty texts, only time stamps separating them. Harry gets to a short conversation they had a month ago, Harry having sent a selfie of himself pouting when he couldn't sleep one night. Zayn was in his hotel room down the hall and they texted back and forth before Harry had the guts to ask if he could come see him. When Zayn didn't reply, Harry called like a lovesick schoolgirl afraid that her new boyfriend was cheating. Laughing filtered into Harry's ears after the second ring, Louis' voice shouting for Harry to come join them for a smoke.

That's another thing. Zayn has all but shoved himself up Louis' ass, and Harry gets it; he's been there. It still hurts nonetheless because he feels like Zayn avoids him that way. He talks about Perrie or gets high or disappears off the map whenever possible. He's unreachable until they're on stage and even then Harry can hardly reach out for Zayn because it's like he's a part of the crowd, far away yet all-encompassing at the same time.

Harry pockets his phone and looks in the mirror as he adjusts his hat. He may or may not have only done up a couple buttons of his black shirt, hoping Zayn would be around to shake his head with a small smile or surprise Harry with an inconspicuous nipple pinch. Instead, Niall has poked fun at him all day and he's gotten uncomfortable winks from Louis' sister, Lottie. Harry is trying not to let it all get the best of him because he loves weddings and hell, he even very accidentally caught the bouquet before re-tossing it.

But Harry's weak and fed up, so he wiggles his phone back out of his pocket and calls Zayn before he can think twice about it.

"Wassup," Zayn mumbles, having almost let it go to voicemail.

"Hey." Harry feels stupid, but that's all he can really manage. With technology these days it's a lot easier to hear exactly what a person is doing while they're on the phone. Harry can't hear anything--no voices or wind or bustle--so maybe that's a good thing.

"You alright, H?"

"Yeah, yeah, 'course. I, um, I was just wondering if you were planning on showing up to Jay's wedding."

"I can't make it."

"Why not? Is everything okay?"

Zayn huffs and it rustles clearly in Harry's ear like crisp, autumn leaves. "Everything's fine. I just couldn't make it."

"And Louis isn't mad?"

"Why would he be mad? It's not his and Eleanor's wedding."

"Well, you were supposed to come and now you haven't. What's you're excuse?"

Harry knows somewhere in the back of his mind that he's being petulant and rude, but he can't help it. Harry knows as well as Zayn does that his conversation has already blown up into something much more than it needs to be.

"Christ, Harry, I wasn't ever coming! I already had plans," Zayn snaps.

"How was I supposed to know? You didn't tell me."

"Well, it isn't your wedding, now is it? Why would I have to report to you?"

Zayn is pissed now; he's rushing his words and semi-shouting. Harry can practically see the vein bulging out of his neck and his free hand clenched into a fist. It's the most Harry has gotten out of him in a long time, so he can't necessarily be blamed for pushing it, now can he?

"I guess you don't have to. You certainly didn't before you asked Perrie to marry you."

"I'm not doing this with you, Harry."

"You're making it sound like we've had this conversation before when we haven't. Did you forget that I have gone along with your bullshit for almost a whole year now?"

There's a knock on the door that makes Harry jump. He realizes he's been pacing in the small bathroom and left scuff marks on the floor from his shoes.

"You owe me answers," Harry hisses into the phone as quietly as possible.

"My house tomorrow. We can have dinner. Is that what you want?"

Harry hangs up. It's not what Harry wants at all and fuck Zayn for trying to half-heartedly appease him. He doesn't want a fucking dinner date.

But Harry does want a dinner date apparently. He got through the rest of the reception and went back to Ben's instead of going out for a drink with Lou and Tom. He ended up babbling to Meredith about the Zayn predicament, basically kicking Ben out of his own bedroom the first half of the night. Harry didn't even mean to fall asleep there, but he woke up the next morning on their couch with a crick in his neck.

The new day provides Harry with a better outlook as per usual. A shot of hope courses through his veins, for what he doesn't really know. It's not like he wants Zayn to break up with Perrie except that he does. He would settle for an explanation, though, a good, long chat about how much of an asshole Zayn is. And then Harry could go home and cry about it and spend the rest of the break shoveling himself out of the hole he dug himself long ago. That way when they continue their tour in North America, both Harry and Zayn won't be carrying this enormous weight on their shoulders.

It seems like a solid plan, but it all goes to shit when Harry is actually outside of Zayn's house. He's walking up and down the driveway and wondering if Zayn really meant it about having dinner. It's not until Perrie's coming out the front door that Harry snaps out of his trance.

"Harry! I didn't know you were popping over." Perrie pulls him into a tight hug, smelling like fruity shampoo and Zayn's cologne. Over her shoulder Harry can see Zayn at the door.

Zayn looks nice, clad in just a plain white henley and some jeans. If Harry didn't know him so well he'd probably think he was dressed up. He always looks so amazing, so effortlessly cool and collected, but Harry knows it only took Zayn five minutes or so to fix his hair and throw on some clothes. It took Harry thirty minutes just to decide on what to wear before he threw on a flannel and rushed out the door.

Harry waves to Perrie as she goes before ambling towards the door where Zayn waits with a stoic expression.

"I didn't think you'd come," Zayn says.

"I didn't think you meant it."

"But you're still here."

Harry nods, brushing the tips of his boots together. In a split second Zayn's indifferent facade falls away, so when Harry looks up Zayn's eyes are more hooded and he's frowning as he scrubs his hand over his face. With Zayn looking annoyed at Harry's presence, the rest of the evening unmapped and Zayn’s fiancée gone, Harry feels even more nervous, like this is a first date with a stranger and not someone he's known for almost four years.

"Well, I'm here," Harry replies, quiet and with finality.

Zayn steps aside and holds the door open. Nothing is like Harry remembers it to be as he follows Zayn to the kitchen, fighting his instinct to reach out and touch everything unfamiliar. Zayn would know the second his finger brushed against anything and snap at him for it. Harry definitely doesn't want this— this thing they're doing to begin on a bad note, though Harry feels it already has simply because he showed up.

"I made dinner." Zayn goes over to the stove and opens one of the pots. Harry thought he smelled spaghetti. "It's nothing fancy, but I just thought I should make something in case you did show up..."

Harry goes to sit at the table and pretends that he doesn't see Perrie's makeup bag leaning up against the fruit bowl that he jokingly bought Zayn last year. Zayn had made an offhand comment about hating fruit bowls; ("They're dumb and remind me of grandmas") so of course Harry got him one. It was just for a laugh, but he's been using it; that must count for something.

"This is romantic," Harry comments, batting his eyelashes when Zayn looks over at him.

"Fuck off. I said I'd make you a dinner, so I did, alright?"

Zayn comes around with two plates full of spaghetti before going to retrieve the wine. Its red wine and probably expensive. Harry really wants to know if it was something him and Perrie were stowing away or if he went out and got it just for the occasion. Harry can't help but laugh at the thought of this dinner being a wine occasion. He's here to disturb the peace and it may turn out okay or terribly bad, but Zayn has brought out wine.

"You gonna eat or what?" Zayn's staring at Harry, somehow offended that he hasn't started shoveling food into his mouth.

"Yeah, sorry I just- did you get this wine just for tonight?."

"No.Perrie had a party a while ago and tons of people brought drinks, so I'm just putting them to use when I can."

"Right." Of course Zayn wouldn't go out and specifically buy wine for tonight. It's not like he's buttering Harry up for an intense fuck. No, he's getting him ready for the truth, the whole spiel about how they're band mates and friends before anything else and that he loves Perrie. Suddenly Harry wishes he never came because he knew all this time what Zayn would say.

"How was the wedding?"

"Very nice. There were a lot of people there that I knew, but didn't, you know? And Liam and Niall kept trying to get me to play croquet, but I'm just not good at that sort of thing."

"You had fun, then?"

Harry shrugs and twirls some spaghetti on his fork just so Zayn will stop looking from his mouth to his plate and maybe look only at his mouth instead. Zayn is going to let him down, but Harry might as well make it hard for him to do so. If he keeps licking his lips it's purely because he keeps getting sauce on them.

"Look, Harry-"

"No," Harry interrupts, nearly choking on his food to get the word out. "I know. I know this is ridiculous and that you love Perrie and I'm, well, me, so I'm not looking to...I don't know, but I just want you to say it."

"Say what?"

"Say that you would never choose me and that you never loved me. That's all I need, Zayn, I swear."

Zayn shakes his head and very pointedly sets down his fork. "Do I even owe you that much?"

Harry fumbles over the words he had planned in his head. Zayn's right, he doesn't owe Harry anything. They were just friends and now Harry is at the table that Zayn and Perrie eat breakfast at in the rare event that they're both home. Harry is here demanding answers like he deserves them. He's the one that caught feelings and Zayn might have, but he was smart when Harry wasn’t. He got out.

"I feel like you owe me something," Harry admits, running his hands up and down his thigh to keep himself from scraping his fork across Zayn's nice plates in a veiled attempt to gather up what's left on his plate.

"You wanna fuck, don't you? I know that's why you allowed yourself to actually show up."

Harry shakes his head too fast. Okay, so maybe that's why he's here, but he's never going to admit that out loud.

"Then leave. Go home and I'll see you in a couple weeks, yeah?"

Zayn's tired gaze doesn't waver as Harry looks from him to Perrie's makeup bag and back. Harry thinks he's a good person, admirable and just when he can be, but Zayn's still looking at him and suddenly he's nodding his head. That must be enough for Zayn because he comes around quickly enough and pulls Harry's chair from the table so he can lean over him. "What's it like always getting what you want?"

"I don't always get what I want." Harry tries to say it defiantly like how Louis says things when he feels cornered, but it comes out odd.

"You have until now. This is it, Harry. I'm serious. We’re over after this."

"I know."

Zayn licks his lips, eyes flitting over Harry's face in those final moments when they still have a chance to walk away. He's looking down at Harry like this might be the last time he'll truly see him, as if they'll go separate ways after this and not see each other again in a couple weeks time.

"Be quiet. Don't say anything,” Zayn says when Harry opens his mouth. It's like Zayn is afraid Harry might say something he shouldn't, but Zayn already knows everything that Harry might say. He knows that if Harry speaks then every mile Zayn has purposefully put between them will crumble away. Knowing that makes Harry confident about this, like maybe if he says the right words at the right time then Zayn will soften and tell Harry that he's all he wants.

Harry reaches out for Zayn, curls his fingers around his hip and digs his thumb into his pelvis bone. He brushes his nose against Zayn's stomach, breathes in laundry detergent as he lets his lips feel the fabric, too. He tries to say what he wants through his touches, but Zayn gets a hold of his hair and pulls his head back until their eyes meet.

"On your knees."

Harry slides to the floor without question, only slightly upset that he's not good enough for at least the couch. Harry reasons that this will be better if it goes Zayn's way for now, watching as Zayn's deft fingers pop the button of his jeans and pull them down by the belt loops while Harry's knees already feel uncomfortable against the tile. Zayn wastes no time getting his cock out, stroking it in front of Harry's face until he's fully hard.

Harry knows that Zayn wants him to wait, wants to play around before he fucks into his mouth. It kills Harry that he still remembers what Zayn likes because he's afraid he won't ever forget. He won't forget that Zayn likes to be fucked hard sometimes and that he likes to brush his fingers through Harry's sweaty hair and kiss his nose. Harry can't fucking forget anything about Zayn that extends past friendship, but he really wants to because it hurts to think he kisses Perrie on the nose, too. So it's in spite that Harry abruptly sucks on the head of Zayn's cock, going against what he knows to do since he'll never be in this position again. Harry expects to get his hair pulled or for Zayn to just plow ahead, but Zayn hisses and pulls his cock away from Harry's mouth instead. "Stay still," Zayn murmurs and lets his cock slap against Harry's face. Harry groans at the wetness that it leaves, but doesn't move.

Zayn guides his dick towards Harry's open mouth, but only presses the tip against his bottom lip. Harry squeezes at Zayn's hip while he lets Zayn smack his cock against his lips and along his chin and jaw. His skin is tingling and his heart is pounding as he looks up at Zayn, begging him silently to get on with it. Zayn's intent on taking his time, though.

"Perrie doesn't let me do this," he says conversationally, pulling his cock away from Harry's face just to let it spring back and smack against his mouth.

Harry takes a shaky breath before quickly taking Zayn's cock into his mouth, anything to get him to shut up about Perrie. Zayn grunts, but lets Harry take him in, sloppy and eager from having to wait so long. Zayn likes it like that, anyway. Harry knows he likes it when the sounds are filthy and Harry filthier. It turns Zayn on to know he's making a mess of things. Maybe he gets off on lying to Harry, too.

Zayn pushes Harry's hands off of him, so he can set his own pace with his hands holding Harry's jaw to keep him still. His hips snap forward in a staccato one, two, three before he pulls out slow and pushes in deep. It makes Harry gag a couple times, but Zayn keeps at it, wiping away tears welling in his eyes. Harry hasn't done this in so long, hasn't felt his jaw ache like this and it feels too good to give up.

It would have been best to have never come. That way Harry wouldn't be on his knees like this, forced to remember just how sated Zayn makes him. He wouldn't have to wake up tomorrow and the next day and wish Zayn were beside him so he could suck him off again. Harry thought this might be enough, but it isn't and it won't be. He's always going to want more.

"Stop thinking," Zayn pants, shoving Harry back before grabbing him by the arm and hoisting him up. Harry tumbles forward, eager to kiss Zayn, but he gets pushed back. "No kissing."

Those words floor Harry, and he doesn't want to appear hurt, but he can't help the way his lips automatically pout. Zayn, completely unfazed, turns Harry around and goes immediately for his belt. Harry lets him do all the work, hangs his head and licks the taste of Zayn off his lips as Zayn pushes Harry's jeans and underwear down to his knees.

Usually Zayn can't keep from kissing Harry everywhere; Zayn's lips are Harry's favorite thing right after his cut cock. But Zayn doesn't even kiss him on the neck tonight, just goes straight to spreading Harry's legs.

"I'll be right back."

"Don't," Harry rushes out, getting his hands on the edge of the table to steady himself. "I already got myself ready."

Harry looks back to see the smallest semblance of a smirk on Zayn's face. "Good, but a little more lube won't hurt."

Harry listens as Zayn disappears momentarily, his heart racing and nearly drowning out any other sound. His legs are cold and the food they left on the table is making him nauseous. This feels so wrong and Harry can't tear his eyes away from Perrie's makeup bag.

"Come on," Zayn says abruptly. He's got a small bottle of lube, a condom in his hand and an impatient expression when Harry looks over his shoulder. "I'm not fucking you like that."

Harry lets out a breath of relief and follows after Zayn, his movement limited and awkward as he tries to pull up his pants a little. They walk right past Zayn's bedroom and to the guest bedroom. Harry knows that makes sense because it'd be awful to fuck in the bed that Perrie's going to return to in a few hours, but he still wishes they could just do it anyway.

Zayn closes the door once Harry collapses onto the bed and starts taking off his clothes. Harry watches until Zayn raises an eyebrow at him, shucking off his shirt and wriggling out of his jeans as well.

"How do you want me?" Harry is surprised by the croak in his voice, but tries to be lascivious anyways.

"I said no talking," Zayn reminds him, crawling up the bed and spreading Harry's legs again.

Zayn drizzles some lube over his fingers and doesn't even give Harry a warning before he's pushing in two fingers. "You really did get ready for me."

Harry nods, trying hard to be good and quiet. There's still a part of him that just wants to go against Zayn. He wants to moan and writhe and then maybe get Zayn down against the bed and finger fuck him into oblivion. Harry knows that somehow having Zayn take whatever he gives him would be overstepping a boundary. It would be giving Zayn something that Perrie can't because the few times that Zayn went pliant and needy were the best nights that they spent together.

Zayn concentrates hard on opening Harry up even more. He refuses to lean down and kiss along the trial of hair underneath Harry's bellybutton or suck at Harry's thighs until they're speckled red. He just watches as his fingers open Harry up; he doesn't even try to get Harry to make a sound.

"Fuck me," Harry says when his legs start to shake. He already just wants to get this over with because he feels like this is putting even more distance between them, and he doesn't know how to make it stop. He doesn't know if it's his fault or if Zayn is trying so hard to make this meaningless. He doesn't know if perfectly planned words will even fix anything anymore.

Zayn doesn't reprimand him for speaking, just grabs the condom from the edge of the bed. Harry can see his hands shaking as he opens the packet and rolls the condom onto his cock. This is like their first time all over again except there's no giggling and kissing, only silence.

Zayn folds up Harry's legs before lining himself up and pushing in slow. Both of them groan, Zayn falling forward as he finally bottoms out. This close Harry can see the desire in his eyes, can feel his breath against his face. He can't resist bringing his hand up to press against Zayn's unshaven cheek just to see what would happen.

"Please," Harry whispers, pulling Zayn closer so that they're noses brush. He knows Zayn is only a centimeter from breaking, so he says the only thing that comes to his mind, "please, Zayn, I love you, I-"

Zayn catches Harry's words with his mouth, an insistent plea to shut up. Harry indulges him, opens his mouth for him and gets lost in the way Zayn's lips move against his own. Harry wraps his arms around Zayn's neck and loses himself--pretends that Zayn said those three words back and would kiss him awake the next morning. He loves feeling Zayn fuck into him and rob him of breath at the same time. He doesn't even care that it's not as rough as he usually likes. It's desperate and real and that's all he can really ask for.

Zayn pulls away panting, lips puffy and wet as he works into Harry faster. He grabs Harry's cock and pulls him off, watching as Harry arches his back and cries out. It only takes a couple more thrusts before Zayn is shuddering and moaning, still jerking Harry of as best he can.

Zayn lets go of Harry long enough to pull out and tie off the condom, throwing it in the direction of the trash bin under the bedside table and missing. He laughs before ducking down to kiss Harry, wrapping his hand around his dick again and pulling the foreskin back to work his hand over the head for a moment. Zayn does that just to feel Harry shake beneath him, and he even smiles about it.

"Do you want to fuck me?" The words come out fast, and Zayn looks almost surprised that he even said them. "Can you, please?"

Now that Zayn isn't pushing Harry away, it's like he has to have everything. Maybe he feels just as trapped and in love as Harry does. But Harry can't fuck him and kiss him and not have him after. He can't leave and have Perrie sleep next to him, wondering why Zayn's too quiet.

"Zayn-"

"Fuck, nevermind. I'm sorry."

Zayn puts his hand over Harry's mouth before he can speak, scooting forward until Harry's cock is against the back his thigh. "Just shut up and get yourself off."

Harry doesn't think twice before getting his hand on himself and pushing the head of his cock against Zayn's hole, getting him wet and even thrusting up like he might try to get the tip in. Zayn makes a quiet sort of sound every time does, and kisses and bites at Harry's neck. Harry feels his orgasm thrumming through his body, making his toes curl and his stomach clench.

At the last second he closes his eyes and imagines fucking Zayn without a condom, filling him up and pulling out to see his come drip down his balls. If he could, he'd even push his fingers in, feel his come hot and wet in Zayn. Harry comes so hard at the thought, squeezing Zayn's arm with his free hand as he presses his cock against Zayn's hole, feels him open up momentarily.

"Fuck," Harry gasps, letting go of his sensitive cock to run his sticky fingers up Zayn's back.

"I can't tell you anything you want to hear," Zayn says suddenly, "because I'd be lying if I said I'd never choose you. In some other universe I would."

"Do you love me? What about that?"

"You already know."

Harry sighs and lets Zayn kiss him. Harry realizes the moment that Zayn brushes his fingers through his hair that it's a goodbye kiss. Harry can't be picky, so he lets Zayn kiss him longer then he should, his skin beginning to feel tacky and cold despite Zayn being so close.

"I'll call you," Zayn says against Harry's lips before rolling off of him. "I will."

"Okay." Harry forces himself to get up and redress, eyes looking anywhere but at Zayn. The room looks like one of the many hotel rooms that they've slept in over the years, bland and meaningless. Harry imagines a baby crib going by the window in a couple years and the white walls being painted yellow or maybe baby blue.

"Be careful on your way home." Zayn is still on the bed, saying his version of "I love you" and "goodbye". Harry knows then that he'll have to walk himself out.

Harry slips his shoes back on and doesn't look back at Zayn before heading back down the hallway, past the bedroom that he actually sleeps in. Despite it all, he still feels like he's taking the walk of shame out of a stranger's home. Zayn has a way of doing that--of pulling the wool over Harry's eyes--making Harry think he's actually gotten his way when he hasn't.

On his way out he sees a Brides magazine on the coffee table. He walked right passed it when he followed Zayn to the guest bedroom earlier. There's a tube of lipstick next to it and two coffee mugs. That's all Harry needs to see, really.

Harry knows Zayn won't call. He knows that Zayn lied. The magazine is all that he had to say without saying anything at all which is so typically Zayn. He could have cleaned up even if he was doubtful that Harry would show, but he didn't care to. Instead, he let Harry stare at Perrie's makeup bag, he used wine Perrie got as one of many party gifts, he left the magazine on the table and said that he would call. Zayn says things for his own well-being, his own sanity and not Harry's. Because Harry is always okay; at the end of the day he has to be.