Nine Lives (Zarry Fan Fiction)

Chapter 5

Zayn walks and keeps walking until he runs out of corridor then turns and walks down another then another and another until he finds himself outside the hospital chapel. An hour ago, he would have said it was fate, but then Louis swept into his room and pulled the Earth from under his feet so he doesn’t know what he believes in any more.

He used to believe in fate. It was something he thought about a lot, something he tried to talk to Harry about last year, on a flight to Connecticut. They were somewhere over the Atlantic and it was so quiet, the lights in the cabin dimmed while everyone slept soundly, that Zayn kept telling himself to stop worrying and enjoy it because, as Paul reminded them before they took off, it was the last moment of quiet they’d have for a while. As soon as they landed, they’d be back on the tour bus and they wouldn’t catch their breath again for weeks, so Zayn told Harry to go to sleep. He obviously needed to, his eyes half-closed and his story about Lux more rambly than usual, but he wouldn’t because Zayn can’t sleep on planes. He does sometimes, when he’s so exhausted that his body literally shuts down, but most of the time he’s so scared that the plane’s going to snap in two and fall out of the sky (cheers Lost) that there’s no chance of sleep. But Harry was trying to stay awake with him and even though Zayn told him that he didn’t have to, he kind of liked it, having Harry to himself while everyone snored around them. So when Harry finished his story about Lux and started tracing the lines on Zayn’s palm with the tip of his finger, Zayn looked at him and said, ‘What if I hadn’t bottled it?’

‘Bottled what?’ Harry asked without looking up as he compared their love lines.

‘My first X Factor audition. What if I hadn’t bottled it and went through with it?’

Harry looked up at him with a frown. ‘What do you mean?’

Zayn leaned in so their foreheads were touching. ‘What if we’d never met?’

He felt Harry blink a few times before he pressed his palm to Zayn’s and when their fingers threaded together, Zayn kissed him gently on the mouth. He waited a moment, his gaze flicking across the cabin to check that everyone was still asleep then kissed him again and when he did, Harry’s other hand slid over Zayn’s hip and under his hoodie. Zayn hesitated, opening his eyes to check that no one was watching as Harry tucked his fingers under the waistband of his underwear, seeking out the small patch of warm skin, but before Zayn kissed him again, Harry pulled his hand away and sat back.

‘Please,’ he breathed, his eyelashes fluttering as he swept the pad of his thumb along Zayn’s bottom lip. ‘Can you just be with me for a minute?’

Zayn frowned at him. ‘I am here.’

‘You’re kissing me with one eye open.’

‘But what if someone sees?’

Harry rolled his eyes, pulling up Zayn’s hoodie. ‘There,’ he said, doing the same with his own. ‘Now we’re invisible.’

Zayn chuckled softly, closing his eyes and kissing him again. He didn’t know why he was so nervous; he and Harry hadn’t stopped kissing since that day in Stockholm. As soon as they were alone for more than minute, Harry would reach for him or Zayn would gesture at him to come to him then they’d be kissing deeply. The trouble was: they were rarely left alone for more than minute so Harry was right, he did always kiss him with one eye open, scared that one of the lads would barrel into the kitchen to ask if they were making tea or that Paul would come looking for them. So Zayn took advantage of the few minutes of privacy and kissed him back. Then all he could hear was the sound of the plane and Harry’s breathing shift as Zayn slipped his tongue into his mouth.

As he sits on one of the pale wooden pews he could be back on that plane. The hospital chapel isn’t much bigger and it’s just as quiet, Zayn the only one in there as he puts his hands in his lap and looks up at the round stained glass window. He can hear the rain, which is still hysterical, but the sunlight is trying to push through the coloured glass giving everything a bluish tinge, and it’s kind of nice, as though he’s under water.