Perspective [Zarry]

054

"You know what I hate?" Zayn asked, laying on Harry's couch Friday afternoon.

He had one arm above his head, bent with his hand behind his head while the other arm was rested across his stomach.

"What?" Harry asked while he looked through the movies he had.

"People who feel the need to sing about everything. Like shut the fuck up this isn't a Disney movie." Zayn complained, staring at the ceiling.

Harry looked back at him. "Need some head, babe?"

"What?" Zayn asked, looking at him.

"I asked if you needed some head. You seem a little upset." Harry observed.

"What I need is a will to live. But I lost that a long time ago." Zayn muttered, both of his arms folded across his chest now.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, getting up and going over to him.

"Nothing."

"Obviously it's something." Harry said carefully.

"Just not in the best mood."

"I see that. Anything I can do?" He asked, sitting on the coffee table.

"No."

"Wanna look at me naked?" Harry offered.

Zayn sat up, looking into his eyes. "I'd much rather see your soul naked."

"Harry I'm not those people from school, or the internet. I'm right here. I have depth. Treat me that way." Zayn said.

"Fuck, you're right. I'm sorry. It's a really bad habit." Harry said.

"If you just acted like the real Harry all the time that habit would go away." Zayn told him.

"I know." Harry said, hanging his head as if he'd been scolded.

"Just be yourself, babe. Please. Like that night you met my mom." Zayn said.

"I'll try."

"I mean it. You said you'd try last time." Zayn said.

"Well this time I really will." Harry said, looking at him.

"Good." Zayn said softly.

Harry bit his lip. "I'll show you my naked soul."

"Yeah?"

Harry nodded, getting up.

Zayn followed him down the hall, watching him open the door to the hall closet.

Harry dug around for a bit, retrieving a box.

"I used to write. I kept journals growing up to kind of...help express what I was feeling. I started after he raped me and I stopped about a month ago." Harry said, kneeling on the floor and opening the box.

Zayn sat with him. "Why'd you stop?"

"You." Harry replied, looking at him.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good, I think. There's even some about you in the last one." Harry smiled.

"Here." He said, handing Zayn a compisition book.

"That's the first one."

Zayn opened it, smiling at Harry's child handwriting.

"Harry this is really private. Are you sure you want me to read it?" Zayn asked quietly, looking at him.