These Violent Delights (Zirry Love Triangle)

Twenty-Two

Harry quickly learned that Liam brought the same care and work ethic that he exhibited in everyday life into the bedroom. He seemed to know a million different ways to please Harry, and enjoyed learning new tricks too, exploring Harry's body like it was a game that he needed to win. The same dichotomy that had always fascinated Harry was present during these times too, Liam able to switch between sweet and tentative to rough and sinful and back again, fast enough to make Harry's head spin. Every time with Liam felt new, and made Harry fall a little bit more in love with him.

Which wasn't to say that he was falling out of love with Zayn. He didn't understand why he still thought of Zayn so often, or how he could miss what he'd never truly had. But he did. He missed Zayn just as much as he had while he'd been living with his dad. Even more so, really, since now he had to see Zayn at school and around town, and put up with the looks that Zayn sent him, all pouty lips and batting eyelashes. It drove Harry crazy, how much of a hold Zayn still had over him, even from afar.

Liam hadn't let up on his anti-Zayn stance, not even a little bit. Not that they ever spoke about him. Harry knew instinctively that Zayn's name was off limits, just as he knew that distance was doing nothing to lessen his feelings for the other man. He felt guilty all the time, knowing that Liam deserved his whole heart but unable to give it to him no matter how hard he tried. Because he did try. He averted his gaze from Zayn whenever they passed by one another, and he forced himself to flinch away from Zayn's furtive touches, when all he really wanted to do was to lean into them, and to beg for more. He wanted to feel Zayn's hands - and his mouth - everywhere, all the time. But that wouldn't have been fair to Liam, so he locked up that part of himself - the part that had always loved Zayn and always would - and did his best to pretend that he and Zayn were nothing more than strangers.

His plan wasn't perfect, but it was working well enough until one cold January night, when Zayn showed up on his doorstep. One look at him leaning on Harry's door frame, his eyes soft and full of want, and Harry knew that he'd just been crazy. Crazy to think that he would ever have the strength to stay away from Zayn if Zayn pressed the issue even a little bit. Crazy to have pretended that he hadn't missed the way that he felt being around Zayn - like his blood had been electrocuted, excitement buzzing through him, his whole body tingling from Zayn's proximity.

So Harry moved aside without saying a word, knowing that he didn't have it in him to turn Zayn away without at least hearing what he'd come for.

"Did you know it's my birthday?" Zayn asked once they were in Harry's living room, Zayn sat on the sofa while Harry hovered awkwardly (always awkward around Zayn, without fail) nearby. Harry remembered, of course he did, the date seared into his brain, but he still shook his head no, not wanting to admit as much. "Course you didn't. Guess you've got more important things on your mind now," he grumbled, his face falling in a way that made Harry's heart hurt.

"Happy birthday, then," Harry said quickly, hoping to wipe that pathetic look off of Zayn's face.

It worked, one side of Zayn's mouth quirking up in a crooked smile. "It's been a pretty terrible birthday so far," he said before reaching up to pull Harry down onto the sofa with him. "I'm hoping there might still be a chance to turn it around though."

Harry's stomach twisted a bit at that, both out of a desire to find out where Zayn was going with this and in warning to walk away before he did something he couldn't take back. Not that there was any hope of him walking away from Zayn in that moment, or ever. It'd been so long since they'd been alone like this, with no fear of anyone walking by them or listening in on their conversation, and Harry was already hating the foot of space between them on the sofa. So he couldn't really be blamed for scooting a bit closer to Zayn, because when it came to Zayn he'd never been able to control his baser instincts. It was probably what had always drawn him to Zayn; he made Harry forget about the rest of the world, or what was expected of him, allowing him to focus completely on his emotions, be it lust or anger or love or hate. Around Zayn what he wanted always seemed more important that was was right, and there was a kind of freedom in giving into that.