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If he ever remembers this, he's definitely going to kill Niall.
But again, this was mostly his fault because yes, it was indeed Niall who had suggested going out with some other people that night, even if it was a Wednesday and they had classes to attend the next day, but it was Harry that had let himself be charmed by his best friend's blue eyes, putting down his Taxation Law and Policy book in favour of choosing a nice shirt that would go along with the black skinny jeans he was currently wearing.
The pub they got to was the one Niall had determined as the winner last year, when he had decided to try out every single pub in town purely for "research purposes".
(Harry was mostly sure the blonde guy had just come up with that as an excuse to avoid the clubs Harry had been dragging him to, but when he had tried to bring up the subject Niall had just started ranting about Ireland and the importance of finding a trustworthy pub, so he just had let it go).
But when they finally got in Harry was once again reminded of why he had so strongly agreed with that choice: the place was filled with a pleasant buzz of chatter, the softly dimmed lights creating shadows on the wooden interior and the smell of beer immediately reaching the boy's nostrils. He had always been a guy for loud clubs, with people dancing and busy bartenders, but once in a while it was a nice change to just relax with some friends, a pint in hand and an update on Louis' new plan to woo his super-secret crush whose identity nobody, or at least not Harry because "you're too absent-minded Haz, no way I'm risking my rep only because you forgot it was a secret and accidentally told them", was allowed to know.
"Hey Haz, are you going to stare at the wall all night or are you planning to actually drink?" the boy in question lowered his gaze just to find Nick staring at him, his lips quirked in his signature pose and a glint in his eyes that made his words look a lot like a dare.
So maybe it's also a bit Nick's fault that an hour and a half later he's attempting an Irish dance, Niall on his left and Sean, the pub's owner, on his right. In his defence, if he hadn't been completely plastered he probably would've managed to follow his friend's lead through the complicated dance moves, he was a decent dancer after all, but as it was right now his head was spinning and his limbs were definitely not following his brain's orders and Nick was probably laughing and filming him and- God, he really needed some air.
In the gentlest way possible, even though he's not sure he managed to not look like a mess, Harry disentangled himself from the grip the owner -Sean- had on his arm, throwing him one of his best smiles even if he was feeling like shit before scrambling towards the door, eager to escape from the now hammering music that was making it hard for him to think.
And that's when he felt it.
He tried to move faster, a final attempt to avoid the inevitable and was about to push the door's handle when a chair suddenly got in his way, causing him to stumble and he would have fallen if it hadn't been for two strong hands that, out of nowhere, grabbed him by the shoulders. He faintly heard a deep voice, probably asking him if he was okay, but Harry didn't even have the chance to look up that he felt it again and suddenly he was doubled over, puking his guts out over the nice person's combat boots.
It was only after he finished that he could finally look the person in the eyes and- fucking hell, he definitely hated himself because of course he would be the one to vomit over the most angelic person to ever walk on Earth. His vision was still blurry and his mind was far too hazy, but he was sure that he would've been able to see the guy's lashes even from the other side of the pub, not to talk about his sharp cheekbones. What he didn't like though was that the guy was now looking at him in a weird way, probably wondering what had he done to deserve some drunk idiot's vomit on his shoes and Harry would've loved to tell him that he had done nothing to deserve that, that this was entirely his fault and that he would've gladly apologised by buying him another pair of shoes, or maybe by getting on his knees and showing the guy how good he could be with his mouth, but before he could say anything another pair of hands, this time far more familiar, pulled him back and the last thing he remembers is Niall profusely apologising on his behalf before everything became blurry.
*
When he woke up, he was only a bit surprised to establish that he was indeed in his own bed. Not that he had expected Niall to ditch him, but generally Harry always found his way to someone else's bed after a night out, so what if he had hoped to find a particular set of brown eyes next to him this morning? Not that cheekbones guy would ever sleep with someone who had puked on his shoes, but a man can dream, right?
With a low groan, he slowly lifted himself off the bed, thanking under his breath Niall for being such an angel while taking the aspirin with a glass of water he was sure his friend had left him. He was still feeling a little dizzy, but unfortunately not enough to forget what had happened the night before. He slowly brought up his hand to his face, wishing that somehow angrily scrubbing his forehead would erase whatever mess he had done the previous night, because not only he had been an absolute prick by vomiting on the guy's shoes, but he hadn't even apologised.
God, could the universe hate him more?
It was only after a nice shower that he finally started feeling like himself again, humming under his breath "Jessie's Girl" while drying his hair out with a towel. He had definitely slept through his first class of the day, but if he hurried up he could probably manage to get to campus in time for the other one. He quickly dressed before leaving the flat, sending a quick text to Eleanor to ask her if she could send him this morning's notes and then bolting towards the bus stop, where he barely managed to get on the bus. Hopping on it, he flashed an apologetic smile at the driver before moving to the back, searching for a place to sit.
And that's when he saw him.
He was wearing a black leather jacket and ripped jeans, a couple of rings adorning his fingers and wait, was that a nose ring?
God, he was even fitter than his dizzy mind had imagined.
The guy was currently looking down, his eyes scanning through the pages of a book, so Harry had plenty of time to be mesmerised by him without getting caught. Or at least that was what he thought, but not even a second later the guy in question lifted his gaze up, almost as if he had felt someone's eyes on him and that's when their eyes met for the first time. Feeling actual chills going down his spine, Harry was now sure that he had to do something. He wanted to, almost needed to do something, because of course he would be lucky enough to find the mysterious boy again just ruin it by looking like a creep. Unfortunately, the time for him to think quickly finished when, not even a couple of seconds later, the other got back to his book, which honestly made sense: that was probably far more interesting than a staring competition with the guy who puked on him the night before. Still, the curly lad was never one to be easily intimidated, so that's when he shut his brain off and went for it anyways.
"Hey, hi! I'm really sorry to bother you, I don't know if you remember me-I'm sure your shoes do- but even if I was drunk I'm pretty sure I recognize you and I just wanted to apologise for yesterday since- you know, since I wasn't really able to do it in that state and as for the shoes I'm also terribly sorry, I'm sure that they were very nice shoes, even if I can't remember them and--I'll just shut up now"
At those words, the guy's eyes immediately shot up, almost as if he was surprised that Harry had actually spoken to him, but it only took an instant for him to recompose, a shy smile slowly growing on his face.
"Don't worry, my friends have been saying for a while now that I had to get a new pair of shoes anyway," the shines was still there, but Harry could have sworn that cheekbone guy also looked amused and, iff possible, it was only making him more attractive. He was so screwed. "So you probably just did me a favour there."
Quickly Harry reciprocated the smile, even if he didn't know whether it was actually directed at him or just a subconscious reaction to the mention of his friends, but at the moment he wasn't even that keen on finding it out. Instead, the green-eyed boy held out his hand, hoping his dimples were having an effect on the gorgeous human being currently in front of him.
"I'm glad to be of help, then." Harry answered, his tone light and friendly. "I'm Harry, by the way. Just to avoid being remembered in your mind as 'the dude that puked on my shoes', you know." tentatively, Zayn shook his hand in return. "Zayn. And well, yeah, I did actually think about you with that nickname, if I'm being honest."
So he's been thinking about me?
The guy, Zayn, probably had the same thought because suddenly a faint blush appeared on his cheeks and he ducked his head down, murmuring something while putting his book back in a small black backpack he had between his feet. "Sorry, I didn't catch that."
Zayn looked back up, but in his eyes now he could only see a glint of amusement. "I said that this is my stop."
"Oh," trying not to show his disappointment, Harry moved, letting the other reach the doors of the bus. "Alright then, see you maybe, then?" he hoped he wasn't sounding as hopeful as he truly was, but judging on Zayn's smile he wasn't managing that well.
"Yeah, see you maybe." and with that, he was gone.