Chapter Eight

Zayn Malik was sat patiently under the dusty old window of the art closet. The mid-May sun was lighting up the room, so much in fact that it had started to warm the small closet up. Every so often, the sounds of the lower years playing outside on the school grounds would drift inside, and make Zayn jump a little, and then chuckle at himself silently. He had done this everyday since Monday. He’d sit and wait in the art closet, every lunch, in hope that maybe Harry would walk in and take a seat next to him so they could spend lunch together. Harry hadn’t shown up so far, but Zayn knew he was probably busy. A boy as popular and lovely as Harry probably made plans for lunch that day, and followed them through. But, Zayn would sit here for a whole hour, patiently waiting in hope that his new friend may show up and they’d sit together. Maybe even share a bag of Doritos with him, if it was all right with Harry, of course.

Zayn gasped a little as the door to the art closet clicked open, but his teeth quickly sank into his bottom lip as he sent a wide grin to Harry Styles. He immediately shuffled up even more to one side on the old couch pillows under the window, in readiness for the curly haired boy to sit next to him.

“Oh hey, you got new glasses!” Harry spoke as he closed the door behind him that following Wednesday lunchtime. Zayn smiled as he rearranged the glasses on his nose. Harry made his way over and plonked down on the cushions with a sigh of satisfaction. He turned to Zayn with a wide grin.

“They suit you, much more modern and cool.” Harry chuckled. Zayn smiled back widely, wriggling his toes a little as he sat with his knees pressed against his chest. His drawing book was peeking out from inbetween his knees and chest, like a baby kangaroo and it’s Mother.

“They’re my spares.” Zayn told Harry quietly, as Harry got nestled down next to him. He stretched his legs out in front of him, before he pulled out his food.

Zayn watched him with a quiet intrigue. He liked watching Harry’s movements.  Harry’s blazer sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, so as his hands delved around in his bag, Zayn could see all of his bones and muscles move and contract together. He saw the bright blue watch strapped around Harry’s wrist, the tiny padlock tattoo sneaking out from underneath it. Zayn sat and wondered how Harry had been able to get the tattoo, before deciding that Harry must have been eighteen. He wouldn’t get a tattoo if it were illegal, that would be naughty, and Harry just wouldn’t do something like that. 

What brought Zayn back from his wondering stare on Harry’s arm was a slight hum that came from Harry himself. Zayn looked up and met a pair of green eyes that were twinkling.

“Were you looking at my tattoo?” Harry asked with a slight smirk, which caused one of his dimples to be more prominent than the other. Zayn smiled once again, out of pure enjoyment of seeing Harry’s dimples pop out from his cheeks, before he nodded to answer the boys’ question. 

“I got it when I hit seventeen last February. Turns out you can get into the tattoo parlours pretty easy if you play your cards right.” Harry chuckled. Zayn’s eyes widened a little in shock.

“But Harry! That’s bad! You’ll get into trouble!” Zayn quickly burst out, his voice quiet but urgent. He didn’t want Harry to get into some sort of trouble, what happened to people who got tattoos under the age limit? Zayn brought his knees closer, hoping that Harry wouldn’t be taken away by police cars with flashing lights, which seemed to flash around in triumph.

“Zayn, it’s only a little tattoo!” Harry chuckled, as he looked at the boy with playful green eyes. Zayn’s face was full of worry, and Harry couldn’t help but chuckle due to it.

“It’s alright, it’s only little and easy to hide if I ever do get into much trouble, but I won’t.” Harry spoke comfortingly, his deep voice flowing with care as he patted Zayn’s arm. Zayn nodded a little, gullible to Harry’s words of comfort. Harry smiled back one last time, before he turned to the small lunch box in his lap. He opened the lid, and Zayn once again found his eyes stuck onto the boy’s large hands, as they opened the lid. Harry pulled out a couple of wraps like the ones he always ate and placed them on his knee, before he pulled out a second set of wraps. Zayn giggled.

“You must be hungry.” Zayn spoke quietly, but was cut off when Harry looked up at him and handed the bag of wraps to him.

“Yes, but so must you.” He spoke, before he shook the small plastic bag in front of Zayn’s face with a wide smile. Zayn’s eyebrows met in the centre of his forehead.

“I don’t understand.” Zayn mumbled a little, his big brown eyes full of confusion at the bag of wraps that Harry was holding in front of his face. Harry frowned a little, but the smirk was still on his face.

“You never have lunch, so I made you lunch.” Harry spoke with a gentle smile, before shaking the bag once more. Zayn tilted his head to the side a little.

“But, that’s your lunch.” Zayn mumbled again, still confused as to why Harry was shaking a bag of food at his face. The two small wraps in the bag looked delicious, and the smell of the chicken and lettuce made Zayn’s tummy start to rumble to itself, but they were Harry’s. Harry needed to eat them, not him.

“No, these are mine, and these are yours. I got my Mum to make you some too!” Harry smiled, before he reached over. Zayn watched with cautious eyes as Harry’s right hand now came heading over to Zayn’s, but his body relaxed when Harry’s large hand took his softly, and placed the small bag into it. Harry’s hands were warm and soft, and Zayn had to keep in a giggle due to the ticklish sparks that Harry seemed to give off. Harry took his hands away with a triumphant smug, before he set out a big bag of Doritos inbetween them once more.

“Oh, and once she realised she was making us both lunch she went mad and that’s why my bag is stuffed with food. She likes to make sure people eat enough food, it’s why I was so fat as a kid.” Harry chuckled, as he pulled out a bag of sweets and then another small plastic box, slightly smaller than his lunchbox, which caused Zayn’s eyes to widen as they saw the slices of cake inside.

“B-but Harry, this is your food, I can’t eat it.” Zayn quickly spoke again, feeling bad that Harry’s Mum had gone to so much to pack so much food for him. Zayn didn’t deserve such nice food, Harry did, so why was Harry trying to make him eat it too?

“Zayn,” Harry started, a fatherly look on his face, “You have to eat. It’s for both of us. Like a picnic.” There was a wide smile on the brunette boy’s face, which made Zayn smile a little, but he still felt bad. The smile then slowly spun around into a smirk, and Harry chuckle to himself as he reached back over to the small bag that he had passed to Zayn. Zayn held back a sigh of relief that maybe Harry had given up and wanted to eat all of the food himself.

But Harry hadn’t given up, it was the complete opposite in fact. Harry dove into the bag and pulled out one of the small wraps, before he looked at Zayn with a devious smile. Zayn watched with confused eyes as the small wrap was brought to his mouth.

“Come on, open up.” Harry said with a wide smile, and he laughed a little as he waited for Zayn to open his mouth. Both of Harry’s dimples were set into his cheeks as he laughed quietly, as they both sat next to each other. Harry’s body was practically leaning onto Zayn. Harry’s chest was against Zayn’s upper arm, and his chin on Zayn’s shoulder as he looked up at him with a look of green eyed hope. When Zayn didn’t budge, Harry pulled out his last tactic.

“You either eat this, or I’ll make you swear again.” Harry laughed, even though there was a slight hint of seriousness in his voice. Zayn’s eyes went wide at the thought of being forced into saying more bad words, or being tickled into saying them, and quickly leant forward like a baby bird and took a small bite from the wrap. Harry smiled triumphantly, and sat leaning on Zayn until he had eaten the first wrap.

“Harry, this is silly.” Zayn giggled, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t care, I will sit and feed you all of this stuff individually if I have too.” Harry laughed, which caused Zayn to laugh a little with him. When Harry laughed, it was contagious. He kind of looked off into the distance as he did so, as if taking a moment to truly appreciate what he was laughing at, before his green eyes would turn back to face your own. After he would laugh, his fingers would slip throw his brown curls a little too, which was enchanting for Zayn to watch.

Zayn smiled, but as he did so his stomach rumbled for more, which made a flush of pink cover his cheekbones. Harry gave a smug look as he looked over the boy, and passed him the other wrap to eat himself. This time, Zayn took the wrap and started to nibble on it happily, all the while watching Harry eat his own food. The two boys sat quietly for a little while, as they ate the food that Harry’s Mum had prepared for them.

As Zayn was licking the stray bits of mayonnaise from his fingers, the heavy vibration of Harry’s phone sounded around the room, as it sat in Harry’s inner blazer pocket. Zayn looked towards the sound that had startled him a little, even though Harry rolled his eyes. He dropped the bag of Doritos and pulled out his phone. Zayn watched as Harry’s thumbs moved across the keypad at the speed of lightening, and wondered how an earth he could do that. It must take a lot of concentration. Not for Harry though, Zayn thought, since he was just good at everything.

“You type so fast…how do you do that?” Zayn asked quietly, but he was not heard, as Harry’s eyes were in full concentration of his phone. Zayn stayed quiet, until Harry finally gave a mumble and looked up at Zayn with a slight frown.

“Do what?”

“Type. You type fast.” Zayn spoke again. His brown eyes were full of innocence as he looked over the curly haired boy next to him. Harry’s face then softened as he gave a little shrug, the movement of his shoulders causing his blazer to shuffle around his shoulders a little. Zayn quickly picked out the loose ends of thread that came from the stitching that went along the shoulder of the blazer. His attention went back up to the emerald eyes of Harry.

“I guess so…do you not type fast when you text?” Harry asked with a slight laugh. Zayn shook his head quickly, a small smile pressed to his face, which caused Harry’s own head to tilt in curiosity, but a smile spread on his face nevertheless.

“Are you one of those people that text like my grandma?” Harry asked, before he chuckled a little. Zayn smiled innocently and shrugged. Harry’s laugh died down a little, showing his confusion to Zayn’s answer.

“I don’t have one.” Zayn said with a slight smile, but the smile slipped from his face when he saw Harry looking at him incredulously. There was a silence, as the two green eyes looked at Zayn is disbelief. Zayn pulled his knees tighter to his chest and gulped under Harry’s dominant look.

“Sorry!” Zayn blurted out quietly, and Harry laughed a little and shook his head.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Z,” He spoke, before he leaned over and patted his arm with a smile, “Not that many don’t have phones, so it’s weird when you find out someone doesn’t! There’s nothing wrong with you, I promise!”

Zayn smiled a little and leaned into Harry’s touch. The harsh words of his Father’s words were still spinning around his head, so to hear one of his only friends speak kindly to him made him happy. He shuffled up to Harry cautiously, like a small animal being coaxed over to a human. Harry watched him with a small smile as the boy kept shuffling over a little bit, and eventually gave in.

Two large hands reached out and pulled Zayn into a huge bear hug, and Zayn found himself on Harry’s chest, Harry’s arm draped around him lazily, occasionally prodding his ear or cheek playfully, so that a giggle would escape Zayn’s lips. Zayn felt so warm when he was cuddled up next to Harry’s body. The small padlock tattoo was right next to Zayn’s face, and he looked at it with interest. Harry made them look so cool…but he would never get one, they were bad.

“What’s so scary about one?” Harry’s voice came, as the boy moved his head over to Zayn’s. Their faces were both side by side. Harry’s pink lips were by Zayn’s ear, and his nose was blowing slow breaths down the side of Zayn’s cheekbones. Odd curls stuck out and tickled the side of Zayn’s face. Harry’s green eyes were staring into the side of Zayn’s face, and Zayn could feel Harry’s stare burning into the side of him, but he liked it.

“My Dad has them.” Zayn whispered, before he closed his eyes and snuggled into the crook of Harry’s neck, like a small child that was frightened of its surroundings. Harry did nothing but let a heavy sigh fall from his lips. He put his hand into Zayn’s hair and ruffled it comfortingly, before an idea fell into his curly headed mind.

“Give me your hand.” Harry whispered softly. Zayn opened his eyes, but gave Harry his free hand nevertheless, while the other one was clinging onto his drawing book, that was still held close to his chest.

Harry pulled a felt tip pen from the floor of the art closet, and took the cap off. The tip of Harry’s tongue slowly poked out from his lips, as his green eyes stuck down at the boy’s wrist in his hand. With great care, Harry drew a small key onto Zayn’s wrist. Both boys watched the thin tip of the black pen ink the small drawing of a key onto Zayn’s wrist. Once Harry had drawn it, and was happy with it, he threw the pen to one side and brought Zayn’s wrist closer to him. Harry’s pink lips pursed into a pout, where he blew over the newly drawn pen so as not to smudge his delicate artwork.

“Now you’ll always have the key to my lock. Whether it washes off or not.” Harry mumbled, and both boys looked over the pretend tattoo on Zayn’s wrist for a few more moments, before Harry’s arms wrapped around the boy properly, where he hugged away the guilt from the weekend at the park.

 A/N: Thank you for the never ending support. Much love always. You will always have me to talk to if you need me. :) Take care <3