Need • Zarry

17. Coney Island

Zayn moved back in the following day.

In their usual fashion Harry had made him his favorite dinner that very night, which consisted of ribs, baked macaroni and cheese and a tossed side salad before they had retired to the sofa, relaxing with Back to the Future on the television. And Zayn laid in Harry's lap comfortably and of course, he fell asleep about two thirds of the way in with his ever-so-cute gentle snoring that Harry adored so much.

And luckily Harry's story about the black eye held up. He told everyone he knew that he tripped and accidentally fell into his door knob. It was not exactly the epic fighting story that Zayn had suggested he drum up to make himself look like some kind of superhero.

But Harry didn't want to have to concoct more lies than he already told as it was, and he had a feeling nobody would have even believed that he had gotten into some bar fight anyway. And yet, everyone totally believed that he fell into a doorknob without any further questions.

Embarrassing.

Time had flown through the remainder of April and straight on into May before Harry could stop and press pause on life, to just savor it some more. The flowers were already starting to bloom;  lilacs, daisies, lillies, the budding roses of yellow and white, all Harry's favorites. And as the golden sun came out and the air grew warmer around him, the normal serotonin-inducing season that had once been Harry's favorite was now just a creeping reminder that college acceptance letters were on their way.

The conversation about Zayn's future had come up numerous times over the last month. Zayn had applied to a dozen different schools across the country and he explained to Harry that he just wanted to see if he could get in.

But Harry knew that he wasn't going to choose the University of Pennsylvania or his old stomping grounds at Liberty. No, not somewhere that close and convenient for him. Zayn was more interested in going somewhere exciting, different, farther away, a place where he could find himself.

So Harry had no choice but to practice much more selflessness in this matter. Nothing felt right about holding Zayn hostage in Montclair against his will, anyway. It wouldn't be worth it to him because Zayn wouldn't be happy with staying and if he wasn't happy, then neither was Harry. The only thing Harry could do now was remain supportive of whatever future decisions Zayn wanted to make, regardless of how sad it made him feel inside.

Harry found himself outside of Gail's brick colonial one evening in May, bending down to pick up her heavy Maine coon cat, Boopsie. And she mewed softly in his arms as he brought her inside, proceeding to fill up her food dish and she chomped away on the cat chow. Gail had gone off to Atlantic City like she typically did every month, only to gamble away her deceased husband's money, all while Harry promised to take care of her cat; because that's the type of person Harry was.

He stood and looked around her dusty kitchen, scrunching up his nose before shuffling into the living room, eyeballing her knick knacks and the plethora of framed religious paintings that hung around on the burnt yellow walls. He sighed. As much as Harry prided himself on being kind and helpful to the people of Montclair, people like Gail, he stopped to wonder why he even chose to do half of the things he did; all for people who would never do the same for him if they knew who he really was.

The evening sun burned bright in the sky as Harry revved up the Volvo in Gail's driveway after he had tended to her cat, and he spun off into the street with the windows rolled down, Otis Redding playing on the radio.

Just sitting on the dock of the bay wasting time.

Harry peered out the window as he took a right at Mulberry Street, making his way to the market where he was planning on picking up a banana cream pie for dessert when he spotted James and Julia standing outside by their car just talking to each other.