Crave- Niam BDSM

Chapter 35

"What are you doing here?"

There's a small laugh, short and direct as Harry walks into the room, Zayn frowning at him.

"I came to check on you," is the reply he gets, that voice almost as kind as those damn eyes Zayn keeps studying.

"Because?"

Another laugh and Zayn's trying damn hard not to smile but there's an ease falling over him when Harry shyly sits next to him on the bed. Zayn's frown gets deeper.

"I don't know. I was concerned, I guess."

"I just have the flu I'm not dying. You can go" Zayn says. He tries not to show that his heart is melting at the fact Harry cares enough to visit him.

"Don't tell me what to do" Harry snaps but it's only a defence mechanism to protect himself from Zayn and the hurt he brings him. Zayn doesn't say anything only glares at him before rolling over on the bed, facing the other way.

It's silent between the two of them, Harry debating whether it was a good idea to come by but his thoughts are interrupted when Zayn makes a low, keening sound in the back of his throat before whimpering.

"Are you jerking off?" Harry asks

"I'm fucking sick Harry don't be stupid"

Harry takes a good look at him. Red cheeks, puffy eyes, sweating profusely.

"Shit," Harry says. "You really are sick"

Zayn whimpers again, but he has the energy to snap, "No, fucking shit"

Harry bites his lip. He looks pretty pitiful, Zayn. So much so that Harry feels sort of bad for him. Only Zayn's an asshole. Zayn's not someone he even remotely cares about; Zayn is so, so not his problem. "That really sucks, Zayn," he says apathetically.

"Fuck I hate you," Zayn moans. "I hate you more than I think I've ever hated someone in my entire life."

Harry would glare at him, but that would take effort, so instead he hums his agreement and begins to walk out the room.

He leaves the room, only to get away from Zayn because the boy does something to Harry every time they are around each other and Harry has yet to figure out if it is a good thing or not.

When he is out the house he goes straight to a coffee shop and orders himself a drink, and then he asks for a bowl of whatever soup they have before he realises he's doing it.

"For here or to go?" the woman behind the counter asks.

"To go."

Harry juggles the scalding hot container of soup and coffee as he makes his way upstairs back to Zayn's room. Zayn is asleep when he walks in the room, so Harry puts both the items down and shakes him awake.

"Zayn" he coaxes. "Zayn, wake up."

Slowly Zayn's eyes blink open. They're bloodshot and exhausted, and concern bubbles up inside Harry before he can stop it. He puts a hand to Zayn's forehead and winces at how hot it is, and Zayn's fingers circle his wrist, holding him there for a beat before letting it drop.

"Kill me," he whines. "Know you've thought about it. Just do it. I'm begging you."

Harry rolls his eyes at the dramatics. "I got you soup," he says. "If you want it, it's on the bedside."

Zayn doesn't move, and Harry goes back to sitting next to him in silence not caring whether Zayn eats it or not. Zayn is once again not his problem, deathly sick or not.