Zouis One Shots

The Door Is Always Open Part 2

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/977418/chapters/1923482

Summary: Zayn’s always had Louis, and thought he always would. But, when high school starts and that all changes, he’s left with nothing but old memories and a damaged heart. (a growing up AU where Louis’ the boy next door, and Zayn’s hopelessly devoted)

~*~

  When Zayn turned seventeen, as a sort of gift, his mom set up their garage as his workshop. It’s where he spends most of his nights, painting with spray cans and old watercolors. He has yet to make something he likes well enough to hang, or to really show anyone besides Harry, but he makes sure to always save his work. He has an old entertainment stand that his dad made long before they ever moved—its wood partially rotted, the hinges rusted—where he stacks his dried paintings and keeps his stereo when the quiet of the night holds no inspiration. Now, with a blue spray can in hand and a blotched and colored canvas in front of him, Ian Curtis’ voice fills the void of his garage, singing about tearing love apart. Zayn can’t help but bob his head along to the beat, tapping his feet and singing along as he creates bright line after line.

As he’s trying to decide between adding green or yellow to his project, the garage door’s motor whirrs, seeming to shake the entire house as it opens. He squints through his goggles, expecting to find either his mom or dad standing outside, ready to tell him to turn down his music, but it’s Harry, still wearing his Burger King uniform.

“You just get off work?” Zayn calls, pulling his mask off. Harry’s hair is flat against his head, evidence of wearing his visor, and Zayn can smell French fries on his uniform when he steps closer.

“You didn’t answer your phone. So I thought I’d just stop by.” He stands at Zayn’s side, looking down at the array of colors. “What is it?”

“I have no idea.”

“It’s nice.”

“Thanks,” he wraps an arm around Harry’s waist, pulling him in for a kiss. “Mm, fast food.”

“You hungry?”

“Nah. Just ate.”

“It’s 9:30,” Harry raises an eyebrow. “You did not just eat.”

“Well, a bit ago, then. Don’t worry.”

“I got something,” Harry singsongs, wiggling out of Zayn’s hold.

“Oh, yeah? What is it?’

Shaking his shoulders, and dancing around in a way that makes Zayn choke back a laugh, Harry pulls a wadded up envelope out of his back pocket. “Look—”

Zayn snatches it, holding it out of Harry’s reach. “Your first paycheck?” he shouts, happily, pride knocking him right in the face. “Look at you! Big money.”

“It’s not much.”

Reading the paper, Zayn whistles. “225. That’s more than I have. It’s good!” Turning the check over in his hands, he sighs heavily. Just looking at it makes him miss his old job, but Home Depot hadn’t been keen on the whole smoking pot thing, and how was he supposed to know if he dropped something on his foot that he had to give a piss test? He thought it had been inconvenient then, and that’s what he thinks now. Handing the check back, he hooks a finger into the collar of Harry’s shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. “What are you gonna do with it?”

“What do people usually do with money?”

“Save it?”

“Spend it.”