Mates [Zarry]

Nine

-Louis-
"You didn't have to walk me up here." Luke said as we walked up to Harry's flat.

"I've been trusted to make sure that you make it safely to all of your destinations throughout the day." I said, glancing at him.

"Plus I'd like to see Harry. Hopefully he's feeling a bit better." I said, following Luke into the flat.

Luke didn't seem too concerned about Harry, walking off down the hall and typing away on his phone.

I pushed the door closed, walking into the lounge and pausing at the sight of Harry and Zayn sleeping together on the couch.

Zayn held Harry protectively, and I could barely see Harry's face because it was buried into Zayn's shoulder.

I folded my arms, glancing around the room before I looked back at them. The sight may have been peacful and sweet looking, but I knew there was far more to it than that.

The way Zayn reacted to me telling him about Harry being sick should've been my first clue. He'd gotten quiet, and didn't spit any insults at me like usual.

Zayn was hardly ever this caring toward Harry.

I sighed, going down the hallway to Luke's bedroom.

"I'll be leaving now." I informed him.

He was sat on his bed, still typing with a blank expression on his face.

"Hey." I said louder, snapping my fingers at him from where I stood in the doorway.

"Okay, whatever." He spoke up, never once looking at me.

I fought back my urge to go over and smack that phone out of his hands, turning and walking back up the hallway.

I glanced at Zayn and Harry once more before I left, hoping that whatever was happening between them now didn't end up hurting Harry. Again.

~Later~
-Zayn-
As I drifted into consciousness, I could feel that Harry was gone.

I opened my eyes, blinking until I could see clearly. After I looked around the lounge and saw that I was completely alone, I looked at the clock.

It was almost seven, and I could smell something cooking in the kitchen. I got to my feet, pausing to stretch before I walked into the kitchen.

Harry stood at the stove, stirring something in a pot.

"What're you doing?" I asked, noticing that he didn't seem so weak and shaky anymore.

"Heating up the rest of that soup you made." He replied with a small smile.

"I suppose you're feeling better, then?" I asked, sitting at the kitchen table and facing him.

"I'm feeling hungry." He said, pushing his messy curls away from his eyes.

"How'd you learn to make chicken soup so well?" Harry asked, turning to look at me.

"All my mum ever made was chicken. She taught me loads of different ways to make it." I said.

"Thanks for...everything today, Zayn." He said, keeping eye contact.

He still looked sleepy.

"You haven't got to thank me." I said to him.

He smiled, looking at the floor.

"Are you sure you're feeling better now?" I asked him.

"Yeah, good enough to make a bit to eat." He nodded.