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A certain day in the middle of February is either loved or hated by the people. Some call Valentine's day a purely capitalistic holiday, created by companies to sell cards, flowers and boxes of chocolates. Other say it's a nice day to show your partner a bit more love than on any other regular day. And there are also those who are indifferent and couldn't care less about the so-called holiday.
See, Harry doesn't really care about the day. Sure, when he was younger and people sent each other valentines in school, it was a bigger deal. Over the years, as he got older and the idea of that one February day holding some magical powerful romance within its 24 hours just dissipated and floated away like dust. When he happened to be in a relationship on Valentine's day, he didn't exactly mind a nice dinner and special sex because come on, who would mind that?
He happens to be in a relationship this year too but he's also half the continent away from him. They're grown ass adults in a committed relationship with careers of their own so spending a day like this apart doesn't mean much. It's not like Zayn will have a bitchy fit and break up with Harry if he doesn't get a life-sized teddy bear or whatever the kids are breaking up over on Valentine's day in this new age.
But the capitalism gets to Harry as he starts to get lonely after a dinner out with Jeff and a few other friends the night before Valentine's day. There are advertisements everywhere, telling you to buy your boo something or take them out for an overpriced dinner. Not to mention the couples displaying an unnecessary amount of PDA everywhere he looks. The final nail in the coffin are the rom-coms on TV when Harry turns it on after getting back home. Needless to say, he turns it off after less than ten minutes because watching his ex-girlfriend kiss her ex-boyfriend in a movie isn't how Harry wants to spend his evening.
Over a glass of wine and sulking, Harry buys a plane ticket to New York. He shoots his producer a text saying he won't be in the studio for the next few days and goes to pack his holdall. When he finally gets to his bedroom, he texts Zayn, simply saying that he's coming home. Harry's phone starts ringing just a few minutes later as he's coming out of the shower, even though it must be pretty late in NYC.
“Hello?” Harry answers after briefly looking at the caller ID, knowing it's just his boyfriend.
“Hey, babe, ” Zayn says over the phone. “ You're coming home for Valentine's day? That's so sweet and yet too cheesy even for you.”
“Hey!” Harry exclaims in mock-offence. “It's not cheesy. I just missed you so I'm coming home.”
“I miss you too, love, ” Zayn says. Harry faintly hears a meow in the background. “We should celebrate if you're coming home.”
“Celebrate how?” Harry asks, plopping down on his bed belly first and then rolling on his back. “Are you going to wine and dine me? Valentine's day style?”
“You'll see ,” Zayn says and Harry can already hear the mischief. “We've never really celebrated Valentine's day together. This could be fun.”
Harry groans, taking off the towel around his waist and throwing it somewhere in the general direction of his walk-in closet. “Fine. But nothing too extra or I'm leaving. I love romance but not when it's so artificial like this. Now put my daughter on the phone, I've had enough of you.”
“Evie doesn't like you, Haz,” Zayn says with a chuckle. “ She remembers how you abandoned her. In fact, she's being abandoned by you right now.”
“I hate you,” Harry says with a smile on his face. Fuck, he loves him so much.
“Evie and I do too, ” Zayn replies without missing a beat. “ Okay, but for real, she's sleeping right now. The meowing from earlier was just Dobby begging for more food like he wasn't fed two hours ago.”
“You shit on me about Evie and yet you starve your cat,” Harry scoffs. “I see how it is.”
“He was at risk of getting obese! ” Zayn defends the cat's eating habits. “Anyway, how long are you going to stay this time?”
Harry waits with his answer. “I don't know.”
A beat of silence. Another one. Listening to each other's breathing gets tense quicker than anything.
“I want to stay longer,” Harry says at last. “Like… honestly longer. Not just three days or something. If you want me to.”
“Of course I do, ” Zayn says simply. Then the silence envelops them again.
“I know I've been kind of a dickhead lately,” Harry says quietly after a minute or so passes, “with the whole… fucking off to Japan thing. And now being in LA. I just- I'm tired of missing you all the time but this is so new and yet not new at all and I'm just-”
Harry cuts himself off, mentally scolding himself for starting this conversation over the phone. They need to talk, like actual adults and not the kids with communication issues they used to be a few years ago and because of that, everything went to shit. So far their track record of healthy communication in their “new and improved” relationship hasn't been perfect but they're trying at least and that's something.
“ You were,” Zayn agrees with him, “ but I've also missed you.”
Harry hears him sigh on the other end of the line.
“Okay, we'll talk later, yeah? ” Zayn continues. “Everything is fine. If you're staring at your bedroom ceiling right now and being all sulky and pouty, stop. Don't overthink this. We're gonna have a great night tomorrow. Oh, when is your plane landing?”
Harry reluctantly turns to his side to look out of the window instead of the ceiling. “At three. I should be home around four. Are your plans time sensitive?”
“Not really,” Zayn replies with a hum, “ we're not leaving the flat so we can fuck at any time.”
“Wow, modern-day romance,” Harry remarks grimly and promptly giggles.
“Sorry, make love, my bad, ” Zayn laughs. “Anyway, I'm gonna sleep now. Evie's hogging the bed but I guess I'll fit there somewhere. Night, Haz. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Harry can't help but smile as he hangs up the phone. He wishes he was there now, in a warm bed with two rowdy cats and a beautiful man he loves so much his heart hurts sometimes.
Harry's spent too many lonely nights like this, wishing for a warm body to hold on to, someone to kiss goodnight before drifting off in each other's arms. He has that someone now, a someone he longed for for years and yet he can't stop running away. Why? Why can't he sit still even when he wants to, god he wants it so much it's like his lungs breathe it instead of oxygen. But there is still that quick heartbeat, that uncertainty when he opens the door with his own key to an apartment that isn't his. It's prevailing the serenity of kissing, of getting lost in each other's bodies, of laughing together over spilt marinara and then kissing instead of cleaning it up. There is so much good and yet the bad still finds its way to the leading position without any real footing.
As Harry drifts off to sleep that night, alone and yearning, he lets his mind show him just the true things, the good things that this slinking anxiety always find a way to dismiss. Maybe a stupid Valentine's day can be the milestone of change. Maybe he isn't destined to keep running away from people he loves.
xxx
Leaving the plane, at last, the next day, Harry's kind of glad to smell the smog of New York instead of the stale airplane air that seems to cling to him for hours after a flight. He hides himself with a hood and sunglasses, getting into a car his assistant called for him before anyone properly notices and recognizes him. The traffic is terrible as it isn't anything special for New York and his ride to Manhattan is long and seemingly never-ending. He just wants to get home and kiss his boyfriend, cuddle his cat and maybe stuff his face with chocolates from a box because he does have an excuse to do it after all.
Harry dozes off in the car, the sound of traffic and just a big city, in general, lulling him to sleep. He's awoken by the driver, simply saying “We're here, sir.”. Fuck, Harry hates when people call him sir. It makes him feel old and feel like someone he absolutely isn't but it is a thing he had to get used to at one point. The familiarity of it doesn't make Harry hate it any less.
Zayn's building doesn't really have a doorman, just a guy sitting behind a reception desk type of thing in the corridor that just screams this building wasn't intended to be an apartment block with fancy flats for millionaires. He smiles at Harry waving a little, which Harry returns despite his slightly grim mood trying to taint this day. He's not going to let these pointless doubts and worries ruin everything. Not today.
Harry takes the lift because while he does like taking the stairs sometimes to have a microscopic workout, walking to the top floor with a heavy bag on his shoulder isn't what he usually imagines by that. As per the text Zayn sent him earlier, Harry opens the front door with his own key, finding the flat a bit too dark for the afternoon. Dropping the bag on the floor, Harry takes his shoes off in the hallway.
“Zayn? Are you home?” Harry calls out as he straightens his back. Looking around the darkened entrance, he notices a paper folded and stood up in the middle of the entryway. He picks it up, seeing Zayn's looping handwriting on it. “Follow the trail xx,” it says. Harry then notices the rose petals on the floor leading to the living room, there joined by lit tea candles. They smell faintly of vanilla which is always welcome with a candle.
“Oh my god,” Harry chuckles, placing the paper on a dresser in the hallway. “I can't believe this.”
His cheeks flame up despite himself because no matter how cheesy or cliché this is, it makes Harry's heart burn with affection and love. No one's ever done something like this for him and while it isn't original or whatever, it's just as special to him.
He carefully follows the trail that leads up the stairs, the candles lighting his way because of the thick curtains being drawn in the living room, effectively making the room as dark as if it was night. Harry's heart starts beating harder as he reaches the second floor because he has no idea what's waiting of for him in the master bedroom where those petals ultimately lead to. There are many, many clichés Zayn could've utilized and he truly has no idea. He knows this isn't an over-the-top proposal because they're definitely not there yet. Yet? Harry stops to think. He doesn't know if this part of their relationship is a question of when or if . If it's even a real possibility.
But instead of a ring box, or his naked boyfriend with like… whipped cream on him, Harry finds more red rose petals on the bed, this time arranged in some words. There are also more candles, illuminating the room with a nice warm light that's strong enough to see the room better than the living room with just one trail of tea candles. Harry walks in front of the bed, reading the words and he promptly breaks into nearly hysterical laughter. He doubles over with it and his laughter only intensifies when Evie and Dobby suddenly jump up on the bed, ruining the carefully placed arrangement of rose petals.
“Happy Valentine's day, babe,” comes from the door.
Harry turns to his side to see Zayn leaning against the doorway, with this kind of a sweet smile, kind of a smug smirk on his lips and Harry kind of wants to devour him.
“ 'Can I eat your arse?'’ Harry asks with a wide smile that's stuck to his face, pointing at the bed. “Really? Is that romantic to you?”
“It wasn't meant to be romantic, it was meant to be funny,” Zayn says as he comes to Harry, pulling him closer by his hips and leaving a small kiss on his lips. “It worked, didn't it? Hi, babe.”
“Alright, I laughed ,” Harry rolls his eyes, relishing in the feeling of finally being close to his boyfriend. “And hi, it's nice to see you again not through a web camera.”
“I've missed you,” Zayn says quietly, pushing a lock of Harry's hair away from his forehead. “How was Japan?”
“Shitty without you,” Harry sighs and nuzzles his face into Zayn's neck after pulling him into a hug. “But other than that it was fine. I got some work done. Met some cool people. It was… well, Japan.”
Zayn hums. “Going back to the previous question that was ruined by our cats. Can I?”
Harry snorts, rolling his eyes and pulling away from the hug. “Yes, you can. Of course, you can. Such a stupid question.”
“Great,” Zayn grins and kisses Harry shortly. “Let's kick the cats out and get to it then.”
“Did you at least get me some chocolate?”
“Yes. That nasty one you love that's not sweet at all. I can't believe you eat that crap. Oh, and champagne. And flowers.”
“See, that's why I love you. And that's why I got you that weird comic book you talked about. But it's being delivered in the morning so we can actually have sex and I won't just look at you, horny as fuck, as you read it.”
“You know me too well.”
xxx
It's dark outside by the time they're just lying in bed together, sweaty and spend but unable to move more than an inch from each other. The candles are still burning and Harry watches the flicker of flames as he draws shapes with his finger on Zayn's chest. There is certain melancholy around like a deadly mist.
“Z?” Harry asks quietly.
“Yeah?”
A moment passes before Harry speaks again. “I won't run anymore.”
Zayn doesn't reply and the silence is nearly painful. This stinging uncertainty puts a whole world between them even though their naked bodies are touching on so many places that any other time Harry would feel like they were melded together as one.
“I was scared,” Harry continues, his voice shaky and uncertain despite the steadiness of his feelings, “but I'm not anymore. I want this. I want you . For as long as you'll have me. I won't leave. I won't. I promise.”
“Are you sure?” Zayn asks, his delicate touch between Harry's shoulder blades like fire. Even the skin on his chest feels like fire against Harry's cheek.
Is he sure? Does he want this? A relationship without running away every few weeks for a month? Having a real home together, not just calling a place like that without it holding any real meaning? Spending years together and not just months interrupted by a vacuum of a desolate time of uncertainty and fear?
The love is there. Love was never a problem. It was other people and mistakes and not confessing to that love.
“Yes,” Harry replies resolutely. “I'm absolutely sure. I love you. And I want to stand still sometimes. I'm tired of running. I miss you too much when I'm away. Whatever I'm doing, I want to be doing it with you. I need you. I need us. ”
Harry feels Zayn's fingers on his chin, gently lifting his face up so they can look at each other.
“I love you,” Zayn says, his hand on Harry's cheek. “And I know we're not a lost cause. Neither of us is perfect but we can make this work. I love you too much to just give up because we're both stubborn, selfish arseholes.”
Harry chuckles wetly. “Wow, someone call Rosamunde Pilcher, you're coming for her job with all this romance.”
Zayn laughs before pulling Harry into a kiss which tastes sweeter than any chocolate ever could. It turns heated quickly, with Harry rolling onto his back and pulling Zayn between his legs and wrapping his own around his waist. They fucked less than thirty minutes ago but they both know they could go again at the drop of a hat.
“So are we finally officially dating dating?” Harry gasps out after pulling away from the kiss.
“Well,” Zayn cocks his head, “I like to think so we have been for quite a bit now but yeah, we are. Properly established. We should get like… matching pyjamas or something, to truly make it official.”
“Do I get another drawer in your closet?” Harry grins.
“You basically live here so you might as well get half the closet.”
“Oh, sexy,” Harry croons and bites the underside of Zayn's jaw, and the bite turns to soft kisses rather quickly, the tenderness from before returning and Harry can feel it settle deep inside his heart.
Their mouths meet again with a gentle kiss, their hands roaming around each other's bodies, touching gingerly like they were kids again and this was their first time. It's a welcomed change because they don't usually take the time to just appreciate being together like this, naked and vulnerable.
“Make love to me,” Harry whispers, his lips catching on Zayn's ear. “Slow. Deep. I want to feel you. Don't want anything else just be with you tonight.”
So this time they don't fuck. They don't laugh like they did just an hour before, don't talk dirty to each other between rough kisses. It's gentle, almost sweet with their chest glued to each other, the intensity of it poignant despite the excruciatingly slow pace.
The love is nearly palpable, hidden in small gestures. Harry's nails digging into Zayn's back. Zayn's hand gently grasping Harry's hip. The hot kisses pressed into any piece of skin they could reach. It's somehow different, as if a barrier that held them back before was removed and they were allowed to roam free, to reap all the benefit of the entirety of their love.
The next morning isn't going to be awkward like it used to be sometimes back when they started sort of dating again after years of not seeing each other. It also won't be full of jokes to hide the fact that they don't know what the fuck they're doing and where all of this will lead them to.
They can't possibly know how long this relationship will last. Maybe a month or two. Maybe five years for all they know. Maybe forever. They're young and still a bit dumb, still with doubts about the world and adulthood. They want this, they need this to some extent. They need each other.
As they both finish, staying like that with Zayn on top of Harry, both breathing hard yet still holding onto each other, it feels like endgame. Like this is where they were tumbling down to uncontrollably for years and they've finally reached the final destination. It's peace, it's love, it's the irking feeling hidden deep inside their chests that wants them to plan for the future together.
It is what it is, Harry thinks as he runs the tips of his fingers over Zayn's back. They're here today and it's what matters. He feels at peace, laying like this. Like nothing could possibly disturb this oasis. It feels right, every bit of this day. He smiles a little as he looks out the window at the barely visible stars obscured by New York's light pollution. He's home. He's finally home.