About the River and Cliché | Zarry

Chapter Thirteen

The town had been enveloped in heat for a few weeks. So when it started to drizzle the morning of the wedding day, everyone is thrown into a mess. Gemma and Doniya run into the garden and scramble to move the flower buckets before all the petals are hit onto the ground by the raindrop. Waliyha and Safaa are trying to help Lorie arrange her hair that always goes frizzy under a humid day. Khaleel and Zayn skip breakfast to clean the pathway that becomes muddy due to the sudden rain.

Harry is the last one bothered by the weather. The only thing he changes is his outfit for the wedding. Lorie frowns at him when he finally gets down the stairs at ten in a silk shirt with floral print. His skin can obviously be seen under those rose mallow patterns.

"Harry, sweetie," asks Lorie warily since she doesn't really want to get into another fight, "Why don't you put on your suit? You will look polished in yours. Our new family members will be impressed, too."

But Harry doesn't get her intention. He yawns and leans forward to give his mother a kiss. "Thanks Mom. I feel comfy in this one, don't worry."

He walks into the kitchen to get some water. Zayn has just finished his cleaning chore and steps into the house from the back door with his father.

"Nice shirt, Harry." Khaleel smiles at him while closing the door.

"Thank you, Mr. Malik." Harry grins back, and then takes a sneaky glimpse at Zayn, who is staring at Harry's nipples under the half-transparent shirt. Zayn nods at him and then looks out of the window while Harry nips the edge of his glass in case Khaleel hears him giggling out loud.

Everyone is relieved when the rain stops around noon, which means the banquet can still be held successfully. Harry bumps into Zayn again when he is going to bring his cookies into the garden. Zayn has just got himself well-dressed in the one that Lorie expected Harry to show up with. Harry pouts as he notices how perfectly Zayn's figure is presented in the well-cut black tuxedo. Zayn walks toward Harry, and then points at the tray in Harry's hands. "Did you make them?"

"Yeah," Harry answers blankly, "Gemma and I were making-HEY!"

He groans loudly as he spots Zayn stealing one of the cookies and putting it into his mouth. Zayn licks his finger with a satisfied smile and gives a thumbs upat Harry's sullen face, "Terrific!" He whispers into Harry's ear. "You should let me eat them up from your stomach next time."

Zayn flees away as Lorie heads toward their direction. She looks gorgeous in her classic violet dress. Harry grins at her when she rubs her fingers nervously. She brushes her hair absently, which is exactly the same habit Harry has.

"Hey, honey." She smiles and looks at the cookies, "They look fantastic. I'm so happy that Gemma finally found her cooking skill back. It's probably because you're here, love..."

Before Harry can stop himself, he interrupts Lorie's muse abruptly. "She didn't make these."

Lorie turns her head with confusion, "Sorry Harry, what did you say?"

"It wasn't Gemma who made these cookies." Harry shrugs, with the best smile he can give, "She never made our dinner either, nor the lunchboxes for school. At least not when I was still here."

His mother opens her mouth and pops out her eyes at him.

"Sorry Mom. I was just thinking...maybe we all have secrets. So that's quite fair." Harry widens his innocent eyes at her, raising up the tray a little, "Cookies?"

Harry sneaks back to his room again right after the lunch. He opens his wardrobe and the drawers of his desk, making sure there's nothing left. His traveling bag is resting against the wall, with all the stuffs he had packed last night inside. He opens the envelope of the airline he booked, checking his departure time once again. And then he turns around to reach his jacket hung on the doorknob, but soon is shocked by the person standing next to his door.

"Holy-can't you just make a sound or something?"

"Are you leaving already?" Zayn ignores Harry's grumble, looking around his clean room and then stares at the bag in the corner. "They haven't even finished their wine."

"I booked my tickets a few weeks ago. And my manager is actually generous enough to give me three day-off to join the wedding." Harry fans himself with the air ticket, distracting his eyes from locking on Zayn, who is leaning on the doorframe and blocking Harry from leaving his room.

"Not even a goodbye?"

Harry puts the ticket back into the envelope, letting out a slight sigh. "Don't try to guilt me, Zayn. I don't like doing this. It's like I'd never come back or something."

"Then when are you coming back?"

Harry pauses, lifting his head up slowly and catches on Zayn's gaze. His hazel eyes dim when Harry looks at him without a word. Harry licks his dry lips, trying to beam a smile at him, "What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving here next week, too, and then going back to L.A." Zayn replies, with his eyes fixing on Harry's, "Is there any chance we can meet up?"

"You've got my number." Harry mumbles.

"Will you pick it up if I call you though?"

"Zayn-"

"What if you never come back like you said before?"

"I didn't mean it-"

"Will we go to that river again?"

"How many questions do you have-"

"Can I kiss you right now?"

Harry opens his mouth, but can't make a word. He stares at Zayn's face, hoping to find a clue that he might be joking. But all Zayn does is stand right there with his arms crossing, without moving his eyebrows or a little smirk. And at this very moment, the only thought elevating in his empty mind is that he would be the stupidest person in the world if he rejects this kiss from Zayn Malik in whole black tuxedo, with his hair pulled back and trapping him in the room by blocking the only exit with his entire body. How pathetic does he need to be to decline this invitation?

"Ok." Harry moves his lips, submissively.

He used to think a kiss with Zayn would taste like riptide, being overwhelmed by the emotion, the touch and the taste while he tries to breathe through the waves hitting on his face. But it didn't happen. It didn't happen the last time and not even this time either. What he tasted was the breeze in his hair, water streaming through his fingertips, mudon his knees and cobbles underneath his feet. So maybe Zayn has always been right about him. He's exaggerating everything in he life. But that's his cliché. That's their cliché.

"I really need to go." Harry mutters to Zayn's lips while slowly drawing himself away. Zayn loosens his fingers around Harry's jaw reluctantly.

"So what are we going to do with them then?" Zayn asks when Harry picks up his bag.

"Do what?"

"Um, you know." Zayn points downstairs with an awkward smile on his face, "If this is how we're gonna work."

"Hmm..." Harry puffs, looking down the stairs in silence. He recalls Lorie's face when she realized it was actually Harry who had always been contributing to their dinner. If knowing her son can bake had already put her into shock, Harry can't even imagine what her reaction would be if she finds out the affair between Zayn and him.

"Well, we will figure it out one day." He walks through the door, pecking Zayn's lip teasingly.