early in the morning • zayn malik

→ oh Harry, you fool ←

→ oh Harry, you fool ←

“Zayn, open up, please. Oh god, Zayn!”

Zayn was roused from a rather deep sleep, jumping slightly at the hoarse voice. He’d recognise the voice anywhere, but never had he head Harry sound so panicked. He thought that he detected a hint of pain in his voice, but he couldn’t be sure.

He slipped a random jumper over his bare chest, and ran out, seeing a figure standing at the door. The sea wind was pounding into the small cottage, and Zayn could hear the walls creaking slightly. He grabbed the keys from the counter, and after a moment of figuring out which key was the right one-- it was hard to see in the dim light -- he shoved it in the lock and twisted, hearing the door unlock with a satisfying click.

Harry opened the door, staggering in. Zayn shut it behind him, worrying bubbling in his chest. He switched on the light, and sucked in a breath, looking at the wrecked boy in front of him, who had sat down on the couch and was crying like a little boy.

“What-” Zayn started, but then realised he wasn’t sure what to say. What had he done?

“Zayn, they hurt me. They hurt me bad.” Harry whimpered, and it was only then when Harry looked up at him that Zayn saw the red blooming on his shirt. Harry held out a bloodied hand, and Zayn grabbed it, kneeling in front of him, shock making his movements stiff.

“What happened, what did you do to yourself?” Zayn whispered, Harry’s head hanging low, his curls covering his sweaty forehead.

“I didn’t do anything, I was going... I was going to walk to Sweden, I miss Lou so much Zaynie... And then when I saw Lou I would make him come back, and then I would go get Niall. We’d be happy again, and everything would return to normal.” Harry mumbled.

Drunk. Not that Zayn was surprised, because ever since the band broke up, it wasn’t Louis or Niall that couldn’t handle it, it was Harry. He didn’t know what to do with himself, and he didn’t want Louis or Niall to move away from England, and Zayn remembered him crying in the guest room, a bottle of some alcoholic drink in his hand, screaming so very loudly.

Screaming so very loudly, loudly, loudly.

“Harry, where’s all the blood from?” Zayn asked, and he looked down at his bloodied shirt, lifting it up.

“They got me in the alleyway, and I thought they were going to kill me and I was so excited, so very excited.” Harry giggled, but more tears slipped down his face. “The guy with sideburns had a knife. He told me that I needed to give him my wallet.”

Slashes across his lower stomach, not looking too deep, but by god they were long. A bruise was beginning to form on Harry’s tear-stained cheek, and other bruises were beginning to show their true colours.

“I didn’t want him to take my wallet, Zaynie. But then he was cutting me and it h-hurt so much.” Harry hiccupped, leaning back onto the couch, green eyes staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

“We’ve got to get these cleaned up. I might need to take you to the hospital.” Zayn said, but Harry gripped onto his hand tighter, suddenly looking him straight in the eye, his facial expression serious.

“Don’t take me to the hospital. Don’t do it.” Harry said shakily. “Please, Zayn, please, please-”

“Ok, Harry, it’s alright. I’ll look after you.” Zayn reassured him, and Harry started crying hysterically, letting Zayn’s hand go.

“You’re always here for me; you always take care of me, even though I’m so worthless, so worthless.” Harry stuttered and then looked down at his bleeding stomach, like he only just realised that he was cut. “Zayn, Za-Zayn, I’m bleeding, there’s blood everywhere-”

Zayn had run into the bathroom, and with shaking hands was grabbing antiseptic and bandages, and bottles of pills (what was even in this cabinet) fell to the floor. But Zayn left them there, and went back to where Harry was sitting, staring in shock at the blood.

“Harry, you need to lie down.” Zayn said, attempting to keep the quiver out of his voice, but finding it so hard, seeing him like this, so horribly broken.

So horribly broken, broken, broken.

Harry was still crying, but there were only the tears. He looked so young, so innocent. Zayn wished that what happened didn’t happen, but he could only hope, only dream of what it would have been like if it hadn’t happened.

Zayn helped him out of his shirt, and Harry lay down. Zayn glanced at him and saw that he was pulling at his curly hair, his mouth a thin line but his green eyes were so wide and Zayn knew he was thinking of that day.

“The water, the water!” Zayn muttered, and knew that he couldn’t clean Harry up here. “Harry, we need to clean it.”

“Where we going?” He whispered.

“Just to the bathroom, alright?”

“Alright.”

He helped Harry to the bathroom, hearing him moan whenever he twisted too much. They got to the shower, and Zayn realised that he had no idea how they were going to do this. He bit his lip, and sighed. “Hop in.”

Harry stood there, looking at Zayn like he was a lost puppy. Zayn grabbed the shower head and turned it on, and started washing the blood away. Harry winced, and clutched onto the wall tightly, his eyes closed.

“Ok, Harry?” Zayn asked, washing the last bit of blood off of him.

The last bit of blood off of him, him, him.

“Yeah.” He said, sounding small. “Zayn?”

“Yes?”

“My pants are wet.”

“Oh. It’s alright; you can borrow a pair of mine.”

“Ok.”

Zayn took Harry back into the living room, and then went to go grab him a pair of pants. His heart was beating horribly fast in his chest. Oh Harry, you fool, he thought to himself, returning with a pair of black pants. He gave them to Harry who took off his own and struggled to get into the other pair.

Harry lay down, looking at Zayn as he bandaged him up. “I’m sad.”

Zayn looked at him, feeling tears well up in his dark eyes. “Me too, Harry.” He whispered.

“It... I feel like I’m drowning, but I’m not dying, but I can’t breathe at the same time, and it’s so scary.” Harry whispered.

“We’ll get through it, ok? We will. I promise.” Zayn said, his voice laced with pain and earnestness, some tears rushing down his cheeks.

“I don’t know if I want to.” Harry said, a strangled sob coming out of his lips.

Zayn gulped, a lump in his throat. “I want you to, though.”

Silence. They continued to look at each other, but Zayn had to look away sometimes, because the green eyes looking at him were barely Harry’s anymore, and that was scary, that was just so scary.

So scary, scary, scary.

“Do you still love her?” Harry asked.

Zayn nodded, ducking his head. “Yeah, I do.” He said softly.

“But how could you still love her?”

“It’s hard to fall out of love with her, especially after all we’ve been through.” Zayn muttered, sighing.

“Zayn, how could you love a monster?”

“Aren’t we all, Harry?”

Yes, aren’t we all, all, all?

.....................................................................

I nearly cried writing this idk what I'm doing

dedicated to Zarry because... well, because it's Zarry.

comment what you think and stuff. cool.

Sara xx