...we could never ever live without...
Two bottles of beer later, Harry was looking at his phone. No point in trying to go to sleep, he'd reasoned. There was a text from Louis that he hadn't even got around to opening. He was looking at his phone now just to distract himself from all the self-pity and that was when he found it. And opened it, three hours late.
Apparently Z has a flight home booked for tomorrow pm. Simon just told me. L x
What???
Harry's mind raced. His vision blurred as tears swum across his eyes. He blinked them back, tried to read the text again. Surely he hadn't read it right.
But he had. Tonight was Zayn's last night. Now. Here. The last time they would be together as a band.
Harry's last chance.
And now, all the thinking about whether he should go to Zayn's villa, whether he dared visit him, what excuse he could make up to do that: all those things were no longer relevant, swept aside by the urgency of seeing him, of telling him now; now that there was no more time.
Harry stood up to grab his keys. He stopped; hesitated; looked down at the robe he'd grabbed from the ensuite. Slung on earlier when he'd meant to have a shower and then forgot. What was he going to wear? He cursed under his breath. Why was it so f-ing important, he thought to himself, always so f-ing important to him that he look good in front of Malik. He pulled on a white t-shirt; board shorts. It would do. No time for anything more.
*
He was walking; hurrying along the paved walkway that linked the low cabana-style buildings; through air still thick with heat and the heavy scent of tropical flowers. Should he break one off and take it with him?, he wondered. No. That would be confessing too much.
Harry kept his steps as quiet as possible as he passed Niall's villa. From behind the trees and bushes that enclosed it he could hear the low whirr of the pool filter. Far away a dog barked.
*
Number 9. Harry hesitated as he stared at the gold number on the dark wooden door.
He knocked. Waited. No sound from inside.
He knocked again.
Soft, irregular footsteps, behind the door. A moment's silence, then the slow metallic clicks of a handle's mechanism.
The door opened.
...I'm not allowed to talk about it...
YOU ARE READING
Deep (Zarry AU)
FanfictionWhat if the real reason Zayn left the band was that he couldn't handle his feelings for Harry? WARNING: I WROTE THIS STORY IN 2015 . IT WAS AND IS TOTALLY FICTIONAL... I HAD NO IDEA THAT IT MIGHT SEEM MORE REAL AS TIME WENT ON AND ZARRY BOTH PUB...
