Deep (Zarry AU)

Talk

"It isn't the band I'm worried about, to be perfectly honest with you."

Louis was stood, on the gleaming marble floor of the hotel reception, espadrilles white against the tan of his feet, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, cut-off jeans with edges as messy as his fringe. He was keeping his voice low, glancing this way and that, to make sure no one would overhear. He and Niall were waiting for the minibus to take them to the venue for rehearsal. The rest of the boys had already left.

"Whatr you worried about then? Zayn? Is he ok?" Niall thought for a minute. "Actually I don't care. I don't' care if 'e's ok or not right now." Niall was kicking back and forth, as if at an imaginary soccer ball.

"No, I'm certainly not worried about our resident Judas."

Louis raised his eyebrows, turned his head to the right and then the left as if what he was about to say had great importance.

"It's Harry. I tell you, he's taking it so badly, Niall. Literally - every time I see him, I can tell he's been crying."

Louis nodded, raising his eyebrows at Niall and rising up and down on his toes as if he were warming up for the same soccer game.

Niall shook his head, looked over to where a white-jacketed waiter was pushing a tray table past the tropical plants that edged the indoor fountain. He turned back to Louis.

"Mmm.... Somethin' weird between those two. Always has been. Love-hate."

He looked at Louis. "Doncha think?"

"Well, I think it's gonna be all-out hate now. Once Harry gets over his tears."

*

2013 - two years previously :

They came running, dripping with sweat, through the splashes of red and orange and sharp white that the spotlights cast over the stage. Clattering down the short metal staircase, into the dark cavern of Backstage below. Harry was pouring the remains of the water in his bottle over his head, his necklace held between his teeth, hair dripping onto his white tee, tanned skin shining through the fabric where the water made it cling. Zayn followed close behind, mouth set in a totally different expression to the smile he had worn only moments before for the fans: flat, resigned.

Niall was crouching down, raking his hand through his hair. He looked up at Zayn.

"Cheer up, Wayno" he said, swiping at his bandmate's leg with the back of his hand. "I thought it was a good one, considering we're a bit out of practice"

"Yeah, bangin audience," Louis said, between gulps.

Zayn was silent, banging a rhythm with his fists into his thighs, looking over at Harry. Harry could feel his gaze. He could feel it all the time now. It followed him around like a puppy. Harry turned away, drank the last of his water. He had to resist it; had to ignore those soft, dark eyes on him. He had promised himself he would be strong. Because if he wasn't....

*

They were walking back through the endless, bleached- out corridors that warrened under the arena. Niall walked with his head thrown back, an empty bottle of Lucozade Sport dangling from his fingers.

"What time's that thing tomorrow?" he said.

The sound of his voice echoed off the flat walls and low ceiling, now so silent in contrast to the last two hours. Harry had his head down, thinking how his ears were still buzzing and wondering how long it would be this time before he could hear properly. Zayn was in front of him, his stride smooth and easy - Harry always thought Zayn was so skinny that he seemed to float above the ground when he walked - even today, after two hours on stage he was betraying none of the deep-but-satisfying fatigue that was dragging Harry's body downwards. Harry kept looking at the floor in front of him so as to stop himself watching the back of Zayn's head: that hair all dark and messy and alluring. Christ, Harry thought. Zayn was even attractive from behind.

He suddenly remembered that Niall's question demanded a response, which no one had yet given.

"Err... dunno....Louis?", Harry said.

"Premiere starts at eight, Si said. So we need to be at Modest by six. Pick-ups five I guess." Thank God Louis always knew what was going on, Harry thought.

"I'll make my own way", Harry said, "M stayin at Nick's right now."

"He still in Soho?" Niall said.

"Mmm-hmm."

Zayn was swinging his arms in synch, clapping every time his hands met in front of him. He started humming a song. Harry didn't recognise it.

"Always at Nick's..." Louis sing-songed the words, closed his mouth around the end of them in a resigned lip-press.

Harry looked at him.

"Nothing to say, Big Boy?" Louis said, raising his eyebrows. Harry recognised this Louis : it was the one that always seemed to be thinking "I know you too well, Harry", just like your mum does. But Louis didn't know everything. Especially about his relationship with Nick.