Deep (Zarry AU)

Crossing

... when no one's watching....

Approaching him he saw the dark silhouette and unmistakable high outline of hair, twisted into its rocker quiff. His walk was slow and deliberate. Harry felt a frisson of fear which solidified into a hot, restless feeling in his abdomen.

"Harreh" The voice was low and hushed but Harry heard a sharp edge of threat running underneath it. Harry frowned. He stumbled against the wall. Setting himself straight again, all he could think of doing was to turn and keep walking. But he had only managed two steps when he felt the wall come up and hit him on the shoulder again. Then a hand on his arm, twisting it back so Harry had no choice but to turn. Through the dim light Harry saw Zayn's face, the dark lines and perfect angles, the skin of his neck tan against the white collar of his shirt, now pulled open, exposing a triangle of inked caramel and a hint of collarbone. Harry's heart leapt.

"What'r you doin'?"

Zayn's lips were pressed together in a thin line. His eyes were narrowed - but the dark, delicate fringe of eyelashes around them softened his expression. It was no use, Harry thought, briefly. Zayn could never really look angry. He was just too fucking beautiful.

Then Harry remembered how Zayn's face had looked that night, falling apart and fixing his gaze on Harry in the last moments. And Nick's face when Harry had told him about it.

Just. Don't. Go. There.

"Leave m'alone," Harry mumbled.

"Let me think - No."

Zayn grabbed Harry's other arm above the elbow and backed him against the wall. Harry vaguely hoped he might read desire in Zayn's actions but all he was getting was anger. Zayn came right up close to him. Harry could almost feel him clenching his teeth: in the tightness in his hands around Harry's arms, the tension in his neck as he spoke.

"Why'd you ignore my texts, asshole?"

Because I don't know what to say to you since I can't stop thinking about you.

Harry shrugged. He was looking everywhere else but at Zayn.

"Don't freeze me out," Zayn said, into Harry's ear. His voice was still low and tight, but Harry noticed something else, a different tone to it. And then Harry had to suppress a smile because he was thinking, now, that there was something else on Zayn's mind, eating him up just like it was eating Harry up. And he knew, then, that maybe - just maybe - he could take Zayn's anger if he wanted and make it into something much, much sweeter.

He basked in the feeling for a moment. It felt like being under the sun on a warm beach.

The warmth didn't last for long. Harry gasped. Zayn had bundled Harry's shirt up in his fist and was pinning him against the wall. Zayn's weight pressing on him was uncomfortable and incredible all at the same time. He could feel Zayn's breath, hot on his cheek. He could smell the aftershave fanning up from his neck - all warm metal and caramelised flowers and something citrus. Harry had the sudden urge to see if Zayn tasted like that too and he thought about licking his cheek just to see.

"Ah can't deal with it right now."

Zayn's words were whispered; but something about the way Zayn swallowed the last one, the way his voice almost wavered, got Harry right in his own throat, like something was swelling inside it, like he couldn't breathe. But in truth Harry felt like he didn't need air in his lungs anymore because he was getting very still inside and tiny ribbons of breath seemed to be curling down into the depths of his body, like upside-down cigarette smoke, all the way to his groin.