Fückbuddies Gone Wrong AU

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"I should've told you a long time ago," it's the first thing that leaves Harry's mouth the second Zayn opens the door to his flat. Harry imagined this quite differently. A simple hello could've done as the first word of this conversation. The worse part of him, the one that made him come here and make an idiot out of himself whispers him that at least he didn't blurt out I love you without any warning. He reckons that the evil part isn't so wrong after all.

           Harry's heart is currently hanging on a noose, tightened rigidly around it, pushing out precious blood while the muscle pumps and pumps with little to no result. It's scary – knowing someone could make you do anything, anything at all just for one small piece of their love and affection. Is this how Zayn felt about him all that time ago? When they were freshmen in university, coming to London with big hopes and bigger dreams and nothing seemed impossible. It's karma or universe's way of retribution or anything that Harry's mind comes up with in those few moments when he tries to believe the lie that none of this is his fault. It is. He was the one to hide from his feelings – the deep ache in his heart when he was sneaking out of Zayn's bed almost every morning, the fire burning in his veins every time they kissed, the peace that distinguished moments when he felt like they were the only two people in the world. He was the one to be silent when all he had to say was I love you, too.

           "What are you doing here, Harry?" Zayn sounds exhausted, despite looking very rested for 11AM. There are no dark circles or bags under his eyes and he smells freshly showered, like the same shampoo Harry used to steal every time he wanted to keep a piece of Zayn with him all day. No, he's not exhausted. He's fed up with Harry trying to play him like a violin in an orchestra band.

           "I need to talk to you. There are some things you should know because I won't be able to live with myself if I keep quiet any longer. Just hear me out and then you can kick me out and never see me again." Harry's desperate enough to beg if he has to. This is his last chance.

           Zayn visibly considers all the scenarios that could happen if he lets Harry in his flat again. Harry sees it on his face, as clearly as if there were subtitles floating over his head. Will we fight? Yell? Scream? Throw things at each other? Will we sit on the opposite sides of the sofa, pretending like we're strangers? All polite words that we don't really mean because they lack about 99,9% of the emotion we really want to show? Will we fuck just like we used to a long time ago after every fight, no matter how insignificant or serious it was? The touch will be mostly muscle memory, because we'd try to conceal everything that made us...us?

           Eventually, he steps to the side and gestures for Harry to come inside. Harry wastes no time.

           Zayn leads him to the living room. They get seated on the opposite ends of the couch. He doesn't offer Harry anything, not tea, not a proper glance. It's the strangers scenario.

           "Okay," Harry breathes out and wipes his sweaty hands on his thighs, "I'm not going to walk around this. it's no use. You won't like the things I'll say but please, don't say anything. Just- listen and let me get it all out, then you can say whatever you wanna say. If it's nothing at all, just say the word and I'll leave and never bother you again, yeah?"

           "Okay," Zayn's not nervous. His voice answers the question as if Harry was asking something mundane like I'm leaving, close the bathroom window in 20 minutes, yeah?. Eyes casually set on Harry, he sits unperturbed with his legs crossed, ankle set on his knee, probably waiting for a catastrophe.

           "A little over a year ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life. Fine, that's a bit dramatic. Anyway, I made a huge mistake. You told me you loved me and I fucked it all up. I didn't say it back, despite every single cell in my body screaming at me to do so. It's not because I didn't love you, I did. I do. But I was scared. I was terrified by all the things you made me feel. I've never experienced anything like that before. It was constant ache and burning and it was so fucking good. My body turned into an addict when I was with you and you were the drug I couldn't live without.

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