Induratize [h.s/z.m au]

chapter two

induratize // chapter two

Clark vaguely remembers having a conversation with Zayn about letting anyone stay, but she was probably drunk at the time. She frowns thoughtfully. "So he's the reason I'm having a shit day, and also the reason why we currently are not fucking, therefore making my day worse."

"Heeey," Harry whines, "I didn't ruin your day!"

"True. Just my evening." Clark climbs out of Zayn's lap, running her hands over her face. Since apparently having Zayn is no longer an option, she'll have to settle for a glass of wine and her hopefully not soggy cigarettes. "If I was drunk and/or high when I agreed to this, it doesn't count. Speaking of which, I'm getting a drink. What do you want, Zayn?"

"Surprise me," he answers, purposely choosing to ignore everything before that.

"I'll have-" Harry starts.

"I didn't ask you," Clark spits, shooting a dangerous glare in his direction.

Zayn sighs, softly placing his large hand on her shoulder in a weak attempt to soothe her. "Babe, please, be nice." She clears her throat and looks into his dark brown eyes, letting herself relax her tense muscles. Harry watches the scene unfold in front of him while he takes off his ugly raincoat and throws it over the back of a recliner, a mischievous smile playing at his lips.

"Here, lemme make it up to you, Clark," Harry smiles, "I'll make dinner!"

"Vete a la mierda," she hisses under her breath, leaving a confused look on Harry's face and Zayn trying his hardest not to laugh.

"Sure, Harry," Zayn answers for her, accidentally letting himself chuckle at Clark's insult, "that'd be nice."

After about twenty minutes of Clark continually rolling her eyes at Harry moving about a kitchen that isn't even his, he'd decided he really can't cook even though he was trying his hardest, and ordered takeout for the three of them - his treat.

They sit around the small, rounded table eating the shitty Chinese food, Zayn awkwardly trying to act as if there isn't any tension in the room whatsoever.

Clark watches as Harry stupidly uses his chopstick to stab at the chicken on his plate, letting herself grow more and more irritated by his presence. She isn't even sure exactly what about him pisses her off so much, but god damn he really gets on her nerves.

Zayn notices Clark's increase in anger so he places his hand on her thigh, trying to distract her. But Harry's noticed the movement under the table and dares to speak up.

"So you two, huh?" he smirks. Clark's breathing picks up and she clenches her jaw. "Sorry about interrupting earlier, didn't realize what I'd be walking in on. Zayn, you never told me you were fucking your roommate. Or is it more than that?"

Before Harry has the chance to even finish speaking, Clark's jacket is on and she's out the door, cursing under her breath. Fuck Harry and fuck him for ruining her night, all she wanted was to get drunk off her ass and that's exactly what she intends to do.

The only thing she's more thankful for than the rain finally coming to an end is the fact that they live so close to a bar.

It's been more than convenient on multiple occasions, whether her and Zayn finished off a bottle of wine and want something stronger, or she's had a long day at work, or they decide they want to pretend they are teenagers again, grinding slow and close, sweat clinging to their foreheads.

It's more than convenient especially on times like this, when the whole day has gone to shit and Zayn, for whatever reason, either too wrapped up in his own art or his mind, isn't available to her. It's more than convenient when apparently some guy with awful taste in clothes has decided to infest their home.