Chapter Two

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"The heart has its reasons which reason knows not."- Blaise Pascal.

Harry doesn't really think of himself as one of those guys who would check out a girl(or for him, a boy) and fall in love with them the next second. That kind of thing didn't happen when he met Louis at the bar that one night. He shook his head disappointingly at his thoughts as he was still stood near the door like an idiot, still thinking about Zayn. He doesn't even know why this rich bastard was being so nice to him. He really wants to ask Zayn how he knew Louis, did they talk every day in spite of his fame? Did he know how Louis was back off in Birmingham?

Harry checks his phone for the last time. It was late. 1:30 am by now. He takes off his shoes as he walks towards the door. Zayn had said his room was right there.

He doesn't even know why he's going to Zayn's room. He could hear music playing slowly inside. Zayn must be awake then. Harry thinks as he was stood in front of his door, wondering if he should knock or just enter.

I, I see you're going,
So I play my music, watch you leave
I like you a lot.

Harry didn't think Zayn would even listen to this kind of music. He opened the door slowly, gladly it was unlocked as he peeped his head in slowly to see the singer sat on a big chair, looking outside the window as he smoked a cigar. He was shirtless, the music was playing slowly as he didn't even notice Harry was already inside.

"You listen to baroque pop?" Zayn directly looks at him, and by judging the look on his face Harry could clearly see that he was surprised to see him here. "It's not baroque pop," Zayn said. "It's like dream pop."

"Oh, whatever. It's pop. I thought you were more of a, rap or EDM guy." Harry said as he looked around his room. It was simple and beautiful. Everything in this room was black and white. There were a few paintings on the walls of different sceneries. "Well, just because I look like that kind of guy doesn't mean I'm into all that music, I do like hip-hop, some rap is good. But this kind of music is favorite, slow yet goes on the beat." Zayn says, bursting him out of his bubble of thoughts.

Zayn was still smoking. Harry glanced at his poison stick. He didn't really like smoking, but Louis smoked often. He found it hot on Louis. Maybe smoking makes everybody hot. Harry bit his lip as he chuckled. "Did I disturb you?" Harry asked as Zayn shook his head with a smile as he looked at the window and blew smoke out of his lips.

Harry still has no idea what he's doing. He walks over to Zayn, there's this weird thing about him. He's sat there, so calm as he was looking out with no expression on his face. "Why are you here, Harry? How can I help?" Zayn finally asks, breaking the awkward silence between them since Harry was stood right beside his chair. "I don't know, I couldn't sleep and my phone is almost dead." Harry muttered as Zayn sighed and got up from his chair as he motioned Harry to take a seat.

Harry sat down on the bed as he looked at Zayn. He had been looking at Zayn all along but this time he was literally looking. He was staring at his figure as Zayn walked over to the shelf, placed his unfinished cigar on top of it, in an empty bowl as he walked over to Harry. This time the now 20-year-old looked at the tattoos that covered his torso. He gulped as he noticed Zayn was pretty much invading his personal space as the singer placed his hand lightly on Harry's chest and pushed him back on the bed as he hovered on top of him.

Zayn's legs on either side of Harry's waist, his hands placed beside Harry's head on each side as he was staring at Harry almost as if he was confused. "You're really difficult to read, you know?" Zayn said as Harry smirked.

"I've been told." He said truthfully as Zayn hummed in response. He was leaning down, Harry didn't know what he was doing. He just laid there, waiting for his next move as Zayn was close enough to his face, only a centimeter apart as he could inhale the toxic scent of him. Harry closed his eyes, he didn't wanted to look at all. The next thing he felt was Zayn pulling away from his face, his ghostly tracing on his lips lost as Harry opens his eyes completely confused as he felt a hand palm his clothed crotch as his breath hitched.

"Why the fuck do you look at me like that," Zayn whispered down in his ear as he continued to palm him faster. "Like you need me right now?" He finishes while nibbling on his ear lobe as Harry let out a moan and held Zayn's shoulders tightly.

"Fuck," Harry muttered as Zayn slowed down his movements but Harry started thrusting into his hand as Zayn removed his hand from his crotch the very instant, making the younger boy groan. "Do you look at everyone like that?" Zayn asked, now looking at him with clouded eyes in the darkness, the only light was the moonlight from the window.

"No," Harry admitted. He didn't eve realize he had been giving Zayn that look. "Never."

Zayn bit into his collarbone, sucking on it lightly as he found his weak spot, leaving Harry as a moaning mess beneath him. Gosh. Harry's mind was completely clouded. The music was still playing slowly in the background and it was fucking perfect for the moment they were sharing. After sucking a big mark on his collarbone, Zayn got up and looked down at Harry who was covering his face with his hands, groaning loudly. The bulge on his pants clearly visible as he removed his hands and looked at Zayn.

He didn't even know what he was supposed to say after that. Zayn just looked at his feet and chuckled as he took off his slippers which he had been wearing all the time along and laid down beside Harry. "No," Zayn said sharply as he saw Harry's hands moving towards his crotch. "It fucking hurts." Harry muttered as Zayn grabbed at the sheets and pulled it over himself and Harry.

What are you doing? Harry wanted to ask but he didn't. He waited for Zayn to do something. "Face that side." Zayn said as Harry nodded. He turned over and felt Zayn snake his arm around his wind, and pull him closer so that he could feel his 'excited' member pressed against his lower back as his breath hitched. He wanted to move so bad, but Zayn had held him so tightly, he could barely breathe.

"Don't move." Zayn warned him as his hands went lower, towards his throbbing crotch waiting for attention as he started palming again. Harry groaned and leaned onto his touch as he felt Zayn nibble on his neck from behind; he bit his bottom lip lightly, his eyes closed tight.

"You lied," Zayn said as he began moving his hand faster. "You slept around."

"Fuck you," Harry muttered as he kept on moaning. "Why are you doing this?"

"How many," Zayn whispered as he slowed down on his hand. "How many people, Harry? How much did you sleep around?"

"Please," Harry was so close, his cock was aching by now as he started grinding onto Zayn's hand. Zayn groaned at the friction created by Harry, his ass pressed against Zayn's member. "Just, only,"

"Just how many?" Zayn whispered. "How many, Harry? How many people touched you like this?"

"Fucking five you motherfucker," Harry swore as he came in his pants like a horny teenager wanking off in the bathrooms or during class when his new hot teacher walks in.

"Sleep well." Zayn muttered as he moved his hands away and rolled off to another side of the bed.

Harry laid there frozen as he turned around to hear Zayn snoring softly. "Fucking bastard," Harry whispered as he turned around and glanced at one of the paintings on the wall. It was probably a forest scenery, he couldn't guess properly from the darkness that had surrounded the room.

He didn't expect things to turn out like this with Zayn. He didn't expect he would turn out like this last year.

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