Drive [Narry/Ziall]

Chapter Sixteen [Part Two]

A/N: This chapter contains a warning for course language and it could possibly be triggering. Was surprised at the number of you who said you were Team Harry, if I'm honest. Then again - who doesn't love a good chase? c;

The look on Zayn's face was nothing but pure amusement. "You want to fight me?"

Harry's eyes glimmered, with a certain sense of danger. He smiled a smile so bitter it could make someone wince. "That's right, I do. May the best man win."

It was a plan that clearly wasn't well thought out, Zayn knew. May the best man win? He almost laughed. If he lost, Niall would hate Harry forever. If he won, he would be Niall's hero. Either way, it all boiled down to the fact that he had already won. He had never been threatened by Harry, and for good reason. Niall would never love a raging psychopath like him. 

Since the day he first made contact with Harry Styles, he knew the brunette was nothing but danger and drama. Drama especially. And if there was one thing Zayn Malik wanted to stay as far away from as possible, it was drama. He'd been through enough of it.

"Listen to me well you piece of shit," Zayn spoke, his voice only comparing to gravel. He unwound his arm from Niall, and even though his boyfriend tried to grab his arm and keep him in his place, he got to his feet. He didn't make an advance on Harry quite yet, but he would. "You are quite possibly the shittiest human being I have ever known in all my years of existence, and that's an honor, really. You're up there above drunks, drug addicts, and sluts. You're a cheater, you're manipulative, you're abusive - and I'm damn sure the list goes on. You're pathetic."

For a moment, everything was silent. No one dared to even breathe a word. Zayn had even managed to render Harry and Louis completely silent for once. 

Until Harry began to laugh.

No, it wasn't even laughing. It was hysterical cackling that could make your ears ring. Laughter so hard that his head fell back, his eyes squeezed shut. Zayn was absolutely certain that he could not hate another human being as much as he hated Harry.

"Listen," Harry spoke once his laughter died down, his voice laced with dangerous amusement. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, tough guy, but I can assure you you're not that great, alright? I'm not the best guy, I'll grant you that, but you? Please. You're not shit. What have you got, other than Niall? Nothing."

Zayn had to grant him that, but what the hell did this fucker know about him?

He couldn't even hiss, because Harry wasn't done with his speech, evidently. "By the way, sweetheart - do you think you're the only one with issues? Come bitch to me again when you're the crying six year old who gets locked inside a closet so your dad can drink himself to death after your mum's death. Or when you're found four days later by neighbors, who call child services and get your ass thrown into adoption services. Try going between shit parents, parents who aren't fit to take care of a child, before ending up in a group home. Try that, you stupid fucker."

Everyone fell silent, Zayn included. There was no bigger trigger for the raven-haired boy than alcohol, and upon it being mentioned, he completely froze up. Every single muscle in his body locked up, and if he wanted to hit Harry before, now he wanted to bloody murder him. Of course, the brunette didn't know his story (Zayn didn't care to tell him, either), so he wasn't trying to trigger him, but he managed either way.

Meanwhile, Harry's chest was heaving, and he could feel everyone's eyes on him. His story was one that he told very few people - Louis and Liam were the only ones who knew his sordid tale, really. He just never wanted to people know. His private life was private for a reason, after all. However, he wanted to get it through Zayn's thick skull that everyone had varying problems.

"Fight me, Zayn," it was Harry who broke the ungainly silence. His voice was the quietest it had ever been. "I fucking dare you."

It was all provoking, and Zayn was well aware of that. It was certainly working. His teeth were gritted, his hands clenched at his sides, and he was thirsting for violence. To see blood fly. To hear the crunch of bone.

The only thing Zayn could hear was the sound of blood thundering in his ears as he advanced towards Harry. The brunette wore a sickly sweet smirk, and there would be nothing more satisfying than smacking it right off his face.

Harry's hands found their way into his sweatshirt pockets, and they remained there when he was grabbed by the collar and given a rather rough shake. 

Zayn's hands were quick to disappear, however, when Harry pulled out the object he had been fiddling with in his pockets. The silence was broken by a chorus of gasps - most of them being tense, distraught gasps. 

It was a pocket knife that Harry was quick to flip open.

The reactions were almost immediate. Zayn paled, and immediately took a few steps back, his body tense. Niall jumped up from his seat, advancing towards his boyfriend. Liam and Louis were on their feet as well, both of them going to Harry. Ed, Angela, and Josh remained sitting - faces pale, too shocked to move.

Zayn felt Niall grab at his arm, and it was only in that moment that he realized he was shaking. His eyes wouldn't leave Harry - wouldn't leave the knife, actually. It was only a pocket knife, not an incredibly big one, but it was sharp. Zayn didn't want to be stabbed by anything. 

"What's the matter, princess?" Harry taunted. Even if Louis and Liam were near him, making sure he didn't hurt anyone, they knew better than to touch him. "Scared of this little thing? Thought you were a big, strong man?"

"Harry," Louis spoke next, his voice rather soft but firm at the same time. "Put that away."

In all his years of knowing the brunette, Harry had never severely hurt anybody. He had gotten into his fair share of fist fights where he would pull the very same knife if things got too heated, but he had never stabbed anyone. He wouldn't. 

Then again, he didn't really hate anyone like he hated Zayn. Harry would go to pretty great lengths to get what he wanted, and it was Niall that he wanted. 

Harry listened to his best mate. He wore the same smirk as he folded the knife back up, and stuffed it back into his pocket. He was being glared down by Niall, but Zayn was trembling quite noticeably, his face deathly pale.

"Poor boy," Harry taunted. "What have you got, now?"