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Zarry - When I was Six

When I was six, my dad and I moved together to a little house on the outsides of London, away of the big city. At that age I had two daddies taking care of me. I knew I was adopted. My daddies had explained me that like two daddies can’t have babies together, so they had to adopt. When I was six, my daddies decided to divorce so I had to choose with whom I wanted to live, and I choose Daddy Zayn. It wasn’t because I didn’t love my other Daddy, Niall, but he wasn’t ever at home, and when he was, he always fought and shouted to Daddy Zayn.

When I was six, I had a teddy bear called Tobi. I still had my dummy, the dummy Daddy Niall bought me when we were a happy family and he still loved Daddy Zayn. I didn’t want to throw it to the bin, or save it in a box like Daddy Zayn did with every other thing that belonged to Niall and we kept with us when we moved out.

I loved Daddy Zayn more than every other thing in the world. He was always so tender with me. He always hugged me when I had nightmares and kissed my forehead and my cheeks till I fell asleep; he gave me all the love he had in him, all the love Daddy Niall had never given him; he used to take me to the park every weekend and we played together. In summer, he filled the plastic pool we had and we played on the cold water.

When I was six, what I liked the most was spending time with my Daddy.

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He woke me up at six o’clock in the afternoon, after having a good nap with my head on his lap, my dummy still in my mouth and his hand caressing my hair. “Wake up, baby, you have to take a shower,” he told me with low, tender voice. I smiled to myself, my eyes still closed.

He helped me to sit up, then took me by my armpits and lifted me up. I rested my head on his shoulder, my arms dead around his neck. My Daddy was the strongest person I have ever met, and I admired him a lot for it and for every other thing he did and say and was.

He carried me upstairs to my bathroom, where I had the bathtub already filled with warm water waiting for me. He left me on the toilet, still sleepy, and kissed my head. “Undress yourself, I’ll be here in a minute,” he whispered against my hair.

I rubbed my eyes and nodded. I had a bit of a struggle to take my shirt off and unbutton my jeans, but when Daddy returned to the bathroom I was undressed and sitting again on the toilet, moving my legs happily. He put me inside the warm water and started to wash my curls with shampoo. I looked at his face. “Daddy, sing for me,” I asked, as nice as I could. Daddy couldn’t deny me anything when I asked him things that way. He shuddered a bit, but he started to sing my favorite lullaby.

"Okay, Harry, it’s done,” he said some minutes later, when he had stopped singing and my hair was glued to my face after washing the soap off it.

I nodded and went out of the bathtub after a long time playing on the water with Daddy. He covered my body with a towel and tried to dry my hair a bit. He kissed my forehead as he did so and I smiled at him. I tried to smile at him every time he looked at me, because I knew that he was still a bit affected about what had happened with Niall.

I reached my arms out towards him and he took me up, hugging me tightly but gently. He gave me my dummy and we went to my bedroom, where he laid me on the bed and sat next to me, caressing my hair.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, softly, pinching my cheeks lovingly.

I shook my head lightly.

When I was six, my Daddy and I could spent hours just looking to each other or cuddling on the sofa. I loved to hug him or just being around him and see how he smiled. We could lie on my bed, my head on his chest and listen to the rain crashing against the window till I fell asleep. He always kissed my cheek before he dropped me at school, and he always told me “Remember how much I love you.” My Daddy is, was and always will be my favorite person in the world.