Breathe With Me » Zarry ✔

Part 2

The next day, Zayn's doorbell rang. He really didn't want to answer it though, because judging by how many times he rang it, it could be no one other than Harry. But Harry had his things and he wanted them back.

When he opened the door, Harry was standing there innocently smiling with his backack draped over his shoulder and Zayn gave him a look that he seemed to give him often since the moment he met him. One of confusion.

"Are you gonna let me in or let the sun cook me?"

Zayn would rather let the sun cook him but he backed out of the way and let Harry in anyway.

"Wow." Harry said. "Your house is nice. This green color is probably my favorite." He pointed to the wall.

"Why? Because they match your eyes?" Zayn joked. But he only did it because it sounded like something Harry would say.

"No, but you think my eyes are just as pretty?"

That question wiped the smile right off of Zayn's face and he changed the subject quickly. "Do you have my sketchpad and pencils?"

"Yeah, be patient. I just got here... And I have a few questions for you."

Well that was surprising... Not.

"Where's your room?"

"Upstairs." He said reluctantly.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go." Zayn wasn't brave enough to tell Harry No. Just give me my stuff and leave.  And at the time, that was a mistake, sure. But no one was there to tell him that in the long run it was the best mistake he could have ever made.

He led Harry upstairs and tried to ignore his rambling much about nothing. Something about how steps can tire him out easily.

"Here it is." Zayn sighed and Harry stepped into it with a big smile that faded quickly. "Your room is gray? Why?"

To tell the truth, Zayn wasn't really sure why himself. His mom tried to get him to pick a brighter color a few years ago but he refused it. He figured his paint choice would much better fit his semi dull life anyway. "I don't know."

"You don't know much about anything." Harry stated placing his bag on the floor and folding his arms. "You probably don't even know why you wrote my name in your sketchpad do you?"

Zayn have him a harsh look. "You went through my stuff?"

"Maybe."

"That's not cool." Zayn reached for his backpack, but Harry stepped in the way. "Don't touch my bag." he uttered calmly. "Never touch my bag."

Zayn paused at his sudden protectiveness over it and wondered why he had it anyway. After all, school was out for the summer. And he was homeschooled. Harry turned and reached down into his backpack barely opening it at all.

Zayn practically snatched his pad away from him when he held it out.

"Why do you draw my house over and over?" Harry held on tightly to Zayn's colored pencils and the new pack he had brought.

"I don't-" He started to defend himself. Then he frowned. "Because I like to draw it... sometimes. And I didn't know it was yours."

"Don't you ever get tired of drawing the same thing?"

"No, Why do you ask so many questions?" He asked getting frustrated.

"Because you don't ask any at all."

Zayn dropped down on his bed and fell backward with a small growl, hitting his sketchpad on his forehead and keeping it there. "I don't like talking like you do Harry. I don't like talking and I don't like people."