Losing Liam. - [A Ziam/Zarry Fanfiction.]

Chapter Eleven

Zayn Malik had been sat on his couch, slowly praying for it to swallow him up so that he would not have to endure the evening ahead of him when the doorbell rang through the house, followed by the sound of the door opening, and Harry Styles made his presence known in the small home.

“Hey Zayn, you ready to go, bud?” Harry called, and Zayn had to suppress a groan as the deep, happy voice of his best friend echo around his house, causing the pit of his stomach to boil and simmer like a bubbling pan of water, as a product of the dream that he had dreamt last night.

“Er, almost.” Zayn replied, even though his words sounded strained. He bit on his bottom lip and pushed himself from the sofa, as Harry walked into the room. He was in black, tight jeans, the knees of them looking like they had been slashed open with a knife, and then a navy T-shirt that was somehow tight enough to define the features of Harry’s stomach, yet loose enough to hang off his body perfectly. His biceps, which were covered in pointless tattoos, yet made Zayn want to pop his lips in appreciation.

Harry’s green eyes went straight to Zayn’s body as he entered the room, his pink lips forming a small pout that was a replica of some model’s pout, before retreating into their normal form. The car keys that had been spinning around the curly haired boy’s middle finger stopped, and he brought his hand around them.

“You do know that you’re only wearing jogging bottoms…right?” Harry asked with a lop sided smile on his face, as he looked over his best friend in a confused wonder. Zayn looked down at himself, realising he was stood in front of Harry in what he had just said, a pair of jogging bottoms and nothing else. He looked up with an awkward smile, and saw how two emerald eyes were trailing across his body, taking in his body shape and tattoos. Zayn had never felt more exposed in front of his best friend then he did just then.

“Yeah…gimme a few minutes, Hazz.” Zayn mumbled, before rushing past his best friend and bombing up the stairs. It appeared that he had forgotten to check the time, as he sat on the sofa replaying the various dreams that he had had about Harry Styles in his mind.

Zayn pulled himself up the stairs of his house and rushed into his bedroom, rushing into his bedroom and slamming the door behind him, leaning against it, his fingertips pressed against his wooden door.

“Stop it, he’s just your best friend. This is just a friendly trip to a small gig, few friendly beers, friendly jokes, friendly touching…wait, no, shut up!” Zayn whispered to himself, before visions of Harry’s body pressed against his swam inside of his mind, and he pushed himself away from the door and over to his wardrobe. It felt like his boxer shorts started to tighten around him, and Zayn took action. He grabbed his tightest pair of black jeans, determined that he would not let the inner teenage boy take over his needs tonight. He quickly threw off the jogging bottoms and yanked the jeans up, wriggling around in them for a moment, before looking down at himself with a smug smile.

“Yeah, try getting the best out of me in these babies!” Zayn hissed, before he became aware that he was talking to his manhood as if it were a person, and shook his head. There was a loose white vest top hanging off the bed post, so Zayn reached over and pulled it on, before wondering what shoes and jacket to wear. It was a warmish night, so he figured he might get away with a loose hoodie or something along those lines. He looked around the room, trying to think of where he had last seen his burgundy hoodie, when he saw a dark red and navy plaid shirt hung over the radiator under the window.

“That’ll do…” He mumbled to himself, before getting up off the bed and wandering over to the radiator. He looked out of the window and saw Harry’s small black car outside, waiting patiently, and it only reminded him more of his nightmares. He was really not wanting to go in that car tonight…