the pool in his backyard ➳ zarry

it was such a rollercoaster

Harry stormed home, walking faster than he's ever walked before, his mind swarmed with the worst possible answers, his palms sweaty and his heart racing.

The main question going through his head was why in the world Anne would tell Liam before she told her own son.

Upon arrival at his home, Harry opened the door harshly, swinging it open wide enough to almost hit the wall beside it.

The house smelled of Anne's special—something Harry hadn't had in a while—lasagna. Anne's mouthwatering homemade basil tomato sauce, mixed with perfectly seasoned beef, herbs, spices the works. Topped with melted mozzarella.

"Harry?" Anne's voice travelled from the kitchen and in one of Harry's ears, out the next. "I decided to cook for us today! I know it's a bit early but-"

"Mum?" Harry began immediately, practically stomping into the kitchen.

From the counter, Anne, in her blue apron, turned around with a warm smile. "Hi, love! How was Zayn's house?"

Harry blinked, blatantly ignoring her question. "What did you tell Liam?" he said, swallowing.

He could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

Evidently unaware of Harry's intense attitude, Anne put her oven mitts on before switching the oven off and pulled the tray of lasagna out. "What did I tell Liam?" she questioned as she placed it onto the island counter.

"A promotion Mum," Harry breathed out. "Liam said you said something about a promotion,"

"Oh," Anne nodded slowly, smiling a little. "I was going to tell you, love,"

Harry stepped away from the island. He felt like he was going to throw up. "When? What does this even mean? And why would you tell Liam before me?"

"Hey," Anne shook her hand. "They told me about it a couple of days ago-"

This set Harry off instantly. "And you decided to not tell me a couple of days ago?"

Frowning Anne raised her hands. "Woah, Harry. A couple of days ago, I wasn't sure I'd take it. I've given it some thought now,"

"Thought?" Harry blinked. "Why would you even-Mum! This house! What's going to happen?" Harry didn't want to say Zayn. He didn't want to mention Zayn at all. In his mind, if he didn't say Zayn, then he wouldn't have to leave him.

He didn't even know if he had to leave Zayn.

But he wasn't going to say it and he wouldn't dare think about it.

"Love, you're going off to University. I'm out practically all the time for work. The house is going to be empty,"

"Uni- Mum! That doesn't mean I wouldn't be coming home!" Harry was fuming. He could feel a cloud of heat building over his head, boiling, overheating after every word.

With a breath, Anne shrugged softly. "Don't you think its time to move on, Harry?"

Now Harry had to think about it.

He had to think about leaving the only home he had ever lived in. The bedroom that he found himself in, the countless hidden notes scattered around the house hoping his Mum would get a clue, the only place where he had come alive.

His stomach hurt.

He had to think about leaving his childhood behind. The trips to the convenient store for slushies, underneath the bleachers on his high school football field, riding his bike home as fast as he could before the sunset.

His stomach lurched.

He had to think about leaving Zayn.

Zayn.

The person who snuck him out of his house in ninth grade to go to his first party, the person who would be right behind him cracking jokes about how proper he is for wanting to be home before sunset even though Anne wasn't there to judge, the person who singlehandedly showed him that it is okay to be who he is.

He had to think about leaving Zayn.

He threw up.

Right on the kitchen floor beside the island, he couldn't stop. He was doubled over, his throat burning, his Mum scrambling around, his eyes squeezed shut and his mind screaming. His mind was so full, the fullest it had ever been, colours, numbers, addresses, smells, people, friends, Zayn.

Zayn. Zayn. Zayn. Zayn.

Yelling, screaming, shrieking in his mind. His brain.

You can't leave.

You can't leave this place.

This place.

"Harry, love!" Anne was on her knees at this point, thrusting a garbage can beneath Harry's chin, a firm hand rubbing consistent circles on his back. "You're going to be okay Harry," she whispered.

Over and over again.

"What is happening?" Harry managed, after inhaling with the last bits of energy he had floating around in his chest.

Shaking her head, Anne helped Harry to his feet and lead him towards the living room where he practically threw himself down onto the couch.

"We clearly can't talk about this right now, love," Anne said softly, scurrying back into the kitchen and rummaging underneath the sink for the bleach, gloves and a scrub brush.

"Yes, we can," Harry murmured, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. His mouth tasted like poison. "What is happening?" he repeated weakly, lying down on the couch, curling up with his hand underneath his head.

"Harry, love," Anne was on her knees beside the island now, scrubbing up the mess Harry had made, her eyes heavy. "We're going to have to leave this place eventually,"

This was a punch in Harry's gut. A big, huge punch, a continuous punch. Over and over again. Harry was sinking deeper and deeper, his throat scratching, his eyes brimming with tears, his voice hoarse.

This couldn't be the end, could it?

"Mum, no," Harry shook his head between quiet sobs, burying his face into a pillow. "Mum, we can't leave. We can't,"

"Oh, lovey!" Anne sprang to her feet, pulling the gloves off, throwing them on the floor. She made her way over to Harry and bent down beside the couch, grabbing one of his hands.

"Love, is this about Zayn?" she questioned softly, squeezing her son's hand.

Is this about Zayn? Harry wanted to scream, but no energy was left for him to even dare scream. It was about Zayn. Even when it wasn't about Zayn, subconsciously, it was always about him.

Everything Harry had done in this town, everywhere Harry had gone, everything Harry had experienced. Zayn was always there. He was either stood right beside Harry or hovering in his mind.

It wasn't just the fact that Harry had known Zayn forever. It wasn't just the fact that Harry was in love with Zayn.

It was the fact that Harry had never lived without Zayn. What would he do without Zayn?

"We can't leave," Harry shook his head, his breath shaky as he tried to breathe in. "It's not fair. It's not fair,"

"I know, lovey," Anne nodded whilst running her thumb across Harry's hand. "I know,"

Harry couldn't live without Zayn. He's never lived without Zayn.

He's never lived without Zayn.

Harry had always had Zayn.

Without Zayn, Harry didn't exist.