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His name is Zayn and he’s cool. He’s a lot more than that, but that was what started it. That was the magnet that drew Harry’s gaze to him at the beginning.
His friends tease him and say it’s a crush, but it’s really not. He doesn’t think of Zayn that way. Well, not really. He maybe thinks about the softness of his lips, and the way his fingers would caress and the way his laugh would sound against skin. But he doesn’t want to know these things. Maybe that’s the weirdest part; he doesn’t want to know Zayn. He likes watching from afar. He likes this image of Zayn he has in his head; this rebel who smokes behind the school hall at lunch time, and tutors some of the first years. He somehow manages to be an artist and on the football team at the same time and he can wear varsity jackets without looking like he’s trying too hard to be some weird American jock.
Zayn is friends with nearly everyone, and Harry likes to think that if he were in the same year they’d also be friends, maybe they’d be in the same class. Maybe Zayn could help him with his English homework because he seriously does not get Shakespeare and Zayn has gotten the top mark in English every year he’d been at their school. But he’s not; he’s one year younger and about a million light years less cool.
The good thing about living in a small England town is that you often run into people just about. There’s not that many places to go, really. Harry doesn’t really run into Zayn as much as he just sees him across the street or in the shops and watches the way he goes through life with this half-smirk on his face, quiff piled on top of his head, hands shoved in his pockets. Zayn magically manages to look like he’s brooding, but enjoying it at the same time. Sometimes Harry tries this and his mum asks if anything is bothering him.
He’s out to dinner for his mum’s birthday, when he sees Zayn across the room. It’s quite a fancy restaurant so he’s surprised. Not that Zayn couldn’t afford it. Zayn was that guy who somehow always had money, even though he smoked and had his own car. To be fair, he did work in that small corner bookshop quite a bit on the weekends and sometime during the week, and Harry knew this because he’d spent more than enough time in there not buying books. But still, this restaurant wasn’t really the place you saw teenagers without their parents. And the guy sitting across from Zayn is definitely not family.
Actually, Harry knew him too. He was that new kid, in Harry’s year; he’d transferred from Ireland just after New Years. Harry was pretty sure the boy was in a few of his classes. He watches as the two boys talk, Zayn bringing his glass of water to his mouth more times than he was actually drinking from it. He isn’t usually this fidgety. Zayn was the guy who could stand still for longer than you could stare at him, but now he looked... almost nervous. The blonde boy says something, gesturing with wild hands and Harry watches Zayn’s typical smirk widen until he’s grinning and his eyes are definitely sparkling and... Oh. They’re on a date.
Harry’s a little surprised, and leaves it at that. He’d never paid much attention to whom Zayn directed his attention. He wasn’t jealous, because he really didn’t like Zayn like that. He’d always given more attention to the way Zayn’s lips curled up when he found something cute, than who exactly he was smiling at.
Harry tries to keep an eye on them throughout the whole dinner, without staring too much or arousing suspicion from his mother and sister, although that isn’t too hard because they’re a lot more interested in their conversation about shoes.
The new guy laughs a lot. At nearly everything. Zayn doesn’t laugh as much, but Harry notices that he stares a lot, stares at the blonde boy with these warm eyes that Harry doesn’t remember ever seeing before. And it’s kinda true, the blonde is a bit like sunshine, even from across the room Harry feels warmer.
They’re onto dessert, sharing some fancy trifle, when his sister notices what he’s been staring at all evening. Cute, she calls them, and asks if Harry knows them. He says yes, to make it simpler. It is cute, he decides. Because he notices that Zayn’s traded his regular T-shirt and jacket for a proper button up, his hair perfectly in place, not the haphazard gelled wonky quiff he pushes it into when he’s woken up late.
They leave before Harry does, and Zayn pays for it even though the new guy already has his wallet out when the check comes. Zayn smirks and shakes his head. The new guy says something which looks like a promise and when they’re weaving through the tables a few minutes later, Zayn lets his hand rest on the boys back for a moment.
The new guy’s name is Niall it turns out. He knows this because he has to sit next to him in Chemistry the next Monday, and not on purpose but because his regular seat had been taken by Nina who was very obviously trying to Woo Danny although it seemed that Danny was the only one who wasn’t getting this.
So he sits next to Niall who, he had been right, is the next thing closest to sunshine. He laughs at everything even if it wasn’t funny and he swears under his breath when he doesn’t get something and his accent gets stronger when he’s confused, which is a lot in Chemistry class it turned out. He moved to England because his dad got a new job. And he keeps getting texts on his phone and trying hard not to grin when he read them.
Apart from Chemistry, Harry also has English and History with Niall. History was their last class on a Friday which means very little gets done apart from their teacher putting on something that was once a special on the History Channel and closing his eyes as no one in the class even pretends to watch. Afterwards he is walking out of the room with Niall just in front of him chattering about some football game he is going to on the weekend when he stops suddenly.
“Hey,” Niall says and Harry looks up through his hair and sees Zayn standing a foot in front of him. His hair’s a bit messy because it’s been raining all day, he’s thrown a wrinkled plaid shirt over a white t-shirt, you can see it peeking out from his leather jacket. Most of his tattoos are covered up, but you can see the edge of the one of his collarbone.
“Hey,” Zayn replies, a smile ghosting his lips.
“Thought you had football practice?” Niall asks, shuffling his feet a little.
“Cancelled. Rain or whatever,” Zayn shrugs. Niall smiles at this, before realising that Harry is still standing right behind him.
“Oh, Harry this is Zayn. Zayn, this is Harry,” he says, offering no other explanation. Harry smiles, offers a little wave and tries to read Zayn’s face. Zayn just nods, his eyes showing a glint of recognition.
“Niall told me about you,” he says.
“Zayn!” Niall mutters, but Harry just cocks his head. He’s nervous all of a sudden. It’s stupid, but he thinks this is probably what it feels like meeting a celebrity.
“Well, your hair,” Zayn adds, his lips curling to show he’s joking.
“I think my hair’s more popular than me, to be honest,” he shrugs and Niall laughs loudly. Zayn looks at him, the joking smile softening to match his warm gaze.
“So you’re free now, right?” Zayn’s hand reaches up to touch Niall’s elbow. Niall looks like he’s about to say something, but he just nods, a grin that’s far too pleased settling on his lips.
“Alright, see ya round, Harry,” Zayn nods and takes a step away, but pauses, doesn’t start really walking until Niall says something about having a good weekend, and moves as well. They fall into step within a second and Harry watches them walk for a bit before turning and heading out in the other direction.
The problem with being properly introduced to Zayn is that he’s now recognised when he walks into the bookshop the next morning.
“Hey,” Zayn nods, looking incredibly bored.
“Hi, it’s not very busy today,” Harry replies because, obviously, when you don’t know what to say, you should just point out the obvious.
But Zayn doesn’t seemed annoyed, “Yeah, been pretty shit today actually. Can’t wait till my shift’s over. You looking for anything?”
He wasn’t, he wasn’t a huge reader really, and he’d choose music over books if he was honest. “Erm... yeah. But I don’t know what. I just wanted something good I guess.”
Zayn perked up at this, happy to be able to impart his wisdom. “I’ll give you something you’ll love. Even Niall liked it and I don’t think he’s read anything other than the Nando’s menu in the last two years.”
Harry laughs, and follows Zayn to the popular fiction section, thinking that he’s probably right.
They’re very low-key, Niall and Zayn. They don’t touch a lot, just chat normally and share an absurd amount of smiles. Harry starts to wonder whether he’s gotten the wrong impression, maybe they were just friends. But he realises he’s right one night when he’s out with friends at the movies, and spots Niall in the line for tickets. He’s about to go say hi, when he notices Zayn coming back from where the toilets were. This time, instead of the usual nod and smile they always do in the halls at school, Zayn wraps an arm about Niall’s waist, pulling him closer, until Niall’s head is rested in the crook of Zayn’s neck. Niall says something, pointing to snacks menu and Zayn laughs loudly, his shoulders shaking. Niall lifts his head, looking at Zayn for a second and then leans in, pressing their lips together. It’s a short kiss, but definitely not their first. Zayn smirks a little and leans forward to whisper something in Niall’s ear. No one can hear it, but judging by the way Niall’s cheeks turn red, Harry has a pretty good idea of what it is.
He doesn’t see them together for a while after that. The nicer weather means that Zayn’s football practices are almost never cancelled and Niall gets a job at the local coffee shop, which is right across the road from the bookshop, Harry can’t help but notice, and he sometimes has to leave school running to get there on time for his shift.
Niall’s getting a lot better at, and a lot more interested in English, which Harry doesn’t think is a coincidence. He’s actually able to explain the Shakespeare sonnets they’re reading in class, although he does start most sentences with “Oh yeah, Zayn told me that meant...” Harry can almost picture them studying together, heads close together . Niall’s brow furrowed and his accent thick as he tries to read the stupid poems. Sorry, sonnets. Zayn chuckling quietly, the way he’s seen him do whenever Niall’s being cute.
For his part, Harry cuts down his trips to the bookshop, because he actually kind of knows Zayn now and it’s a bit weird. But when he does go in, Zayn’s always nice to him and they chat a bit. Harry decides it’s definitely sweet the way Zayn always mentions Niall at least once when they’re talking. It’s always something that he probably hopes sounds really casual. But when he says “Niall fell asleep reading that one,” and follows it up with “I had to wake him up because my mum made dinner for us,” he didn’t seem to realise how much he was actually revealing.
The second time he sees them kiss they’re in Zayn’s car, outside school, so really it isn’t supposed to be secret, although it’s half five in the evening, and the only reason Harry is leaving school then was because of the stupid group assignment he had for his business class. This kiss is very different from the first, mostly because it didn’t seem to end. Their hair is completely messed up and Harry can tell that Zayn has his hand under Niall’s thin t-shirt and the way they are twisted Harry can’t imagine how that would be comfortable. He leaves pretty quickly because it was still cold in the evenings.
The next time Zayn comes to pick Niall up after class, he’s wearing a shirt Harry’s certain he’s seen on Niall several times. Zayn smiles at him, and his hip bumps against Niall’s when he steps closer. It’s subtle but Harry’s always looking at this point. Everyone else is gone by this point, and he’s kind of just staring at the way Niall’s fingers brush Zayn’s wrist while he’s telling him about whatever they just learnt in their class.
Before he can really stop himself he bursts out with, “I know you’re dating.”
Niall and Zayn share a glance, but Harry’s too busy rambling to decipher it, “I mean, I don’t know if you’re trying to keep it a secret, but it’s cool like I’m happy for you and yeah. I just wanted to let you know I know. ”
“Wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, mate,” Niall grins and Zayn just shrugs. This time, though, when Harry watches them leave Zayn’s hand rests on Niall’s back a moment, before dropping and searching out Niall’s hand, their fingers intertwining.
One Saturday he walks into the bookshop (for a legitimate reason this time, he’s actually looking for something), and it’s not empty but it’s not busy either. But more importantly, Zayn isn’t alone behind the counter this time. Niall’s sitting on a chair next to him; although he’s leaning so close he may as well be sitting on his lap. Too coffee cups sit in front of them; Niall must’ve brought them from across the road. And Zayn, who usually hears every chime of the door and looks up at each customer as they walk in, completely ignores the noise that Harry’s entrance makes. Niall’s whispering something into his ear and chuckling, his cheeks already blushing. Even from here Harry can see Zayn’s eyes dance over Niall’s face, his gaze landing on lips. Zayn’s tongue flicks out to lick his lips, and he stretches out his arm to rest his hand on the middle of Niall’s back, fingers tracing shapes through his white T-shirt.
Harry sneaks past to the lifestyle section and finds the book he needs himself so that he doesn’t have to interrupt Zayn and Niall before he absolutely has to. Niall sees him first, as he approaches the counter, and he grins, pulling himself slightly away from Zayn’s embrace.
“What you up to?” Niall asks, eyeing the cookbook Harry’s placed on the counter. Zayn smiles at him as he slowly gets up to reach the register.
“S’my aunt’s birthday next week,” Harry grins, and hands Zayn the money his mum had given him for the present.
“Thanks, mate,” Zayn smiles, putting the book in a paper bag and handing it back with the receipt. Niall starts talking about their Chemistry homework he hasn’t done yet, and somehow that turns into talking about that movie he and Zayn went to see last week and whether Harry’s going to that party Danny (who’s now properly dating Nina) is having tonight.
After chatting for a bit Niall mutters that he’s hungry, and Zayn pats his stomach in response, “When are you not, though?”
“I’ll go get us some food; maybe you can actually do your job while I’m gone, yeah?” Niall grins back at him, getting up and chucking the empty coffee cup in the bin. Zayn reaches over to smack his bum gently and Niall just waggles his eyebrows. Harry holds back a laugh and tries not to feel like a third wheel.
Niall walks out with him, and they go a bit down the road before Niall stops at the pasty shop.
“I’ll see ya later then,” he grins and pats Harry on the back.
And at Danny’s party Zayn only has one beer so he can drive Niall home, and Niall’s obviously buzzing with alcohol as he’s singing along to whatever terrible song is playing. Harry wonders if he should go say hi, but then Niall whispers somethingto Zayn, who looks at him, amused smirk on his face before leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek. Niall shakes his head, and Zayn chuckles before leaning in again and pressing his lips against Niall’s for a short moment. Niall looks like he’s glowing and Harry thinks maybe it’s not just the alcohol.
Harry’s not sure if he’s happy that he’s sort of friends with Zayn now. It’s not as though he’s disappointed; Zayn didn’t prove to be a dick or an idiot or anything that made Harry think less of him. But he’s more real now. The smoke from his cigarettes he smokes follows him around, even though he’s trying to quit or so Niall says. His quiff isn’t always perfect, and that broody look sometimes just looks a bit bored now that he’s knows it better. Harry’s definitely still more friends with Niall though, and he likes it that way. He likes being able to hear about Zayn and the way he drove Niall to airport when he went to go visit his grandparents in Ireland, and the way he apparently stammered that he’d maybe like to go with Niall next time if he’s okay with that. And he still likes watching Zayn, although now he always sees them together. He sees Zayn stare at Niall when he’s laughing so hard he can’t stand straight, and the way his hand is always inching to touch some part of him. He likes watching Niall too, though that’s a bit weirder because they’re kind of actually friends. But he likes seeing Niall blush when Zayn whispers something into his ear and seeing Niall rest his chin on Zayn’s shoulder even though he’s actually a bit taller (not counting the quiff). He likes seeing Niall open a text in class and seemingly forget all about German history or the molecular formula of bromium as a smile threatens to split his face.
“Shit,” he mumbles as he realises whatever the teacher is about to rub off the whiteboard is actually important, he drops his phone on the table, halfway between him and Harry and hastily scrawls down whatever it says. Harry peers down, glancing quickly at the screen like he can’t help it even though he knows he shouldn’t. It’s from Zayn, of course. Though the sender box just says “Z”.
Ws running late so cudnt call u this mrning, see u at lunch. i love you x