Reaper [Zarry]

Harry

"We came all the way out here to frolick in the flowers?"

He smirks, golden eyes glimmering.

"Not exactly. I have something planned. Everything is in the trunk."

"Are you sure you aren't hiding a dead body in there?"

His face grows pale, skin ashen and I wonder if he thought I was serious, my blood running cold.

"I was joking babe."

I'm pulling him into my arms, ruffling his jet black hair.

"You okay?"

"Figured that's a sensitive topic for you right now," he says softly. "What are you going to do about the funeral arrangements?"

Suddenly, I feel so bitter. There's all this built up anger and anxiety inside of me. I want to scream at the top of my lungs, want to let all my frustration out.

My head is throbbing, vision blurred with tears.

"I can help you pay for it...she deserves a proper funeral. A visitation and everything."

"Really don't wanna talk about it," I mumble.

"Okay," he rubs up and down my arms, little chills raising from the friction. "I love you."

He kisses me so gently my knees nearly give out beneath me. Something about the tenderness makes me weak, I could weep at the softness of his mouth and the grace of his touch, fingers skimming my skin.

"You'll always have her in your heart. That's what truly matters."

"It still hurts," I choke on my words. "I need her warmth sometimes. I need that encouragement and I just want her to hold me. How would you feel if you could never touch someone again?"

He shakes his head, eyes tearing away from mine. I watch him swallow and my hand cups his cheek as if to say I'm still here.

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me. I've made a million mistakes but somehow you make me feel like I'm more than that...more than the stupid things I've said and done."

"Well of course you are Zayn. We've practically told each other everything there is to know and I know you well enough to say you aren't a bad person. Doing a few shitty things doesn't make you any less human."

"Human," he echoes quietly. "Flawed and overly sensitive but compassionate."

"We try to be. Not all of us are so empathetic. Obviously there are evil people in the world. I try not to let it bother me too much. All I can do is share a little love."

He smiles, lips pressing smack dab to the center of my forehead. They linger there and it tingles a bit. My heart dances in my chest.

How'd he change my mood so quickly? How does he do that?

"There's a brook that meanders along here somewhere."

He takes my hand and we tramp trough the tall blades of grass until we stumble upon wet ground, ears blessed with the ripple of water.

It's a heavily wooded area, completely different from the field we abandoned. It seems like we're miles and miles away.

Glints of sunlight and slivers of blue are visible between the mossy green trees. There are gaps between branches and a bird is perched on one, wings flapping.

"This isn't even real," I say in awe. "What happened to the never ending rolling fields?"

I dip my feet in the cool water. There's a droplet of sweat on the nape of my neck from the stifling heat. It feels several degrees colder. There's a nice breeze and I want to stay here forever.

Everything seems so content.

"If I could die anywhere it would be right here. Of course nobody chooses how they die."

"Thought you didn't want to talk about death," he brushes it aside quickly, lips finding the crook of my neck.

It's a wet kiss, almost as wet as my submerged feet. I feel like I'm sinking but don't mind at all.

The sound of the babbling brook makes me smile, makes me close my eyes and inhale deeply.

His tounge laps up a bead of sweat and I have the urge to pull him in the water.

So I do.

He isn't too happy about his clothes getting drenched or being soaked to the bone but I laugh light-heartedly. It's deep where we are, nearly to my knees and I wonder where the water leads.

"I didn't bring any towels," he groans.

"The sun will dry us off. Relax Zayn."

I manage to peel off my dripping wet shirt and toss it onto the grass. Droplets of water drip from his hair. His eyes are the color of honey, lashes long and tangled.

The curvature of his lips is so perfect. His cheekbones are perfectly chiseled, brows thick and dark.

He looks like he's straight out of a painting or perhaps an editorial magazine.

Zayn is extraordinarily beautiful. He isn't someone you'd expect to see roaming the sidewalks on any given day or sipping coffee at a local dig.

You just assume he's too refined or that he's a pretentious asshat. He isn't though. That's the thing. He doesn't exude wealth, he doesn't flaunt his looks and he certainly doesn't make anyone feel any less beautiful than him.

In fact, he makes me more confident. He's always showering me with compliments and cherishing me like I'm some valuable gift. Like I'm fragile and rare and-

The way he looks at me brings a flush of pink to my cheeks. His finger trails down my chest and the water sloshes around us as he pulls me in, his lips colliding with mine.

It's all fireworks and stars bursting. That never changes.

"I love you too," I whisper as his assault on my mouth ceases. "I know that's a really delayed response but it felt important."

His finger traces around my lips and a smile spreads across his face, tongue pressed to his teeth

"Doesn't matter when you say it, as long as you feel it."

"Trust me I do."

My heart is racing, worda tumbling out of mouth and it's too late to return them. I don't have a goddamn receipt.

"Do you ever want me?"

His hands are lost in my damp curls and I'm lost in him, desperately searching his face for an answer. Sometimes it feels like he doesn't want to take that step. Either he's afraid or just hesitant. Maybe he's worried about hurting me but it doesn't matter.

I want it, I fucking want him.

His lips tickle the shell of my ear, breath warm as he replies "more than you'll ever know."

A/N: *inhuman noises*