Need • Zarry

9. Christmas

Harry woke up the next morning enveloped in warmth, feeling Zayn's presence beside him and it jolted him awake at first when he realized he was still there. He had almost forgotten that Zayn had crept up into his bed last night and held him until he glanced over his shoulder, rolling slightly and saw Zayn slumbering away with his head contoured into the plush, down pillow. Harry had a habit of trying not to wake Zayn up. He thought it was better to just let him sleep soundly, undisturbed, so he slowly removed the covers and started to pull himself out of bed.

Zayn must have felt him move and he scooched over, sleepily reaching his hand back to search for Harry, latching on to his arm.

"Mm, where you goin?"

"Hey. Was going to make breakfast and coffee. Didn't want to wake you," said Harry quietly as he felt Zayn grasp his arm a bit tighter, tugging on it gently.

"Stay. Five more minutes," he urged softly.

"Okay," Harry obliged and sunk back under the covers, watching as Zayn turned over to face him, his eyes fluttering open.

"Your bed's more comfy than mine," he said, nuzzling into the pillow.

"Is it? Sorry, I can get you a new mattress."

"Or you could just let me sleep with you here."

Harry paused after Zayn's suggestion. The idea of Harry sharing his bed with Zayn every night felt a lot more intimate, domestic. And as nice as it had felt having Zayn there beside him through the night, it made Harry feel slightly uneasy, like it was all just moving too fast. He wanted to explore the physical touch and he wanted to keep Zayn's company, but it was beginning to feel like...dating.

Is this a relationship?

Harry wasn't so sure that he was on that level quite yet. To be that close to someone emotionally. It felt terrifying when he thought about what it might mean, like he would be unveiling this sort of vulnerability with someone, with someone ten years younger than him, with someone he had only known for nearly a month, someone who still had so much of their life left to live. It seemed risky and Harry was afraid that if he moved too fast before he was ready for it all, hearts would get broken.

They haven't even had sex yet. Not oral sex. Not intercourse. It hadn't progressed there because Harry hadn't made that move and he knew Zayn was probably waiting for his cue because he respected Harry.

But he thought about it. He thought about it a lot.

And every time he did Harry knew that it would just be one step closer to him admitting to himself that he might actually be gay. And he still didn't know if he was, if he ever wanted to admit that to himself, to Zayn, to ever say it out loud.

He was grateful that Zayn seemed to understand him in that way, that he never rushed or pressured Harry into doing anything that he didn't want to do, that he wasn't ready to experiment with. And Harry continued to lay there on the pillow facing Zayn, getting lost in his drowsy eyes and he watched a smile form lazily on his lips.

"You don't wanna sleep in the same bed," said Zayn with his unwavering gaze.

"It's not that," Harry replied, still amazed at how Zayn could read his mind.

"Not a routine thing at least," he added, gently reaching out his finger tips to lightly trace along Harry's bicep.

"Maybe sometimes," Harry compromised.

"Sometimes," Zayn echoed.

"Is that a good enough compromise?"

"I s'pose..."