Induratize [h.s/z.m au]

chapter three

induratize // chapter three

Clark tries desperately to avoid all eye contact with either of the fuck boys sitting across from her at their small dining table while they all eat their breakfast, her muscles tense and eyes fixed onto her cell phone. Clark is angry. She's angry with Zayn for letting Harry stay, angry with Harry for being Harry, and just angry with everything about life at the moment.

Harry is humming under his breath and it's making her want to kill something. Like, obliterate an actual organism. It's lucky that Zayn is the only person close enough, because of all the human beings in the world, she probably wants him alive the most.

But she can barely even stand to be in this close of a proximity to Harry, so she shoves the rest of her toast in her mouth and abruptly stands up, knocking his utensils off of the table and onto the floor.

She freezes and stares at the silverware on the kitchen tile, clenching her jaw. "You gonna get those for me?" teases Harry with a wink, earning a sharp glare from Clark and a nudge from Zayn before she mutters a string of foreign curses at him and leaves them on the floor as they are.

"I'm going grocery shopping, I'll be back later," she says in a flat voice, grabbing her jacket and shoes.

"Oh, wait," Harry butts in, standing up, "could I actually come with you? I have a few things I need to get."

Clark laughs. "Fuck n--"

"Clark," Zayn warns. "Be nice."

She tenses back up and shuts her eyes. She hates Zayn. She really does. She hopes the glare she shoots in his direction conveys that general idea. "If you aren't outside and in the car in thirty seconds I'm fucking leaving," she tells Harry before grabbing her keys off the shelf and slamming the door behind her.

Harry's eyes widen in amusement as he watches her leave, shaking his head with a smile. "That's a feisty one you got there, mate."

Zayn bites his lip and chuckles. "I'd hurry, bro, I don't think she was kidding." But Harry's already rushing around to grab his wallet and coat, a stupid smile still plastered on his face as he runs after her.

Clark starts to pull out of the driveway before Harry's completely in the car, biting back a laugh at seeing him struggle to sit down and buckle himself in. "Oh, come on," he whines with a frown.

"You were five seconds late."

"You could have run me over," he pouts.

"Oh my god, what, are you going to tell Zayn? Are you five?"

Harry's features shift to a smirk. "I'll be whatever you want me to be."

Clark stays silent and continues onto the road, her eyebrows knit in concentration. They ride without saying a word for about a minute, then Harry uncomfortably twitches due to the silence and fumbles with his rings. "What's your favorite color?"

"What?"

"Do you have a favorite color?" he asks again.

"Um, sure, I guess. Maroon."

"I like orange."

"I didn't ask what you liked," she says, turning the music up the tune him out.

"What's your favorite food?"

Clark impatiently clears her throat and sighs, turning the music up even louder. "Enough with the small talk, Harry."

He bites on his bottom lip before slouching down, leaning his head back and looking out the window, dramatically sighing. He then turns to watch her deeply concentrate on the road, eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly pouted. Clark looks like she wants to wreck him. Harry kind of wants to let her.