olivia [zarry]

epilogue (for the rest of our lives/ baby, be with me so happily)

You don't understand, you don't understand
What you do to me when you hold his hand
We were meant to be, but a twist of fate
Made it so we had to walk away

_

"Oh God." Harry stops in the doorframe as he takes in the scene before him. Don't get him wrong, it's quite aesthetically pleasing to his eyes- of course it is. It's always nice to see his boyfriend all sleepy-eyed and splayed out across their pillows like that, but the nice sight does nothing to prevent him from holding back his groan as he enters the room.

"Baby, are you really still reading that?" He whines, absolutely mortified. "C'mon, stop. It's awful. I still don't know why you even brought it with us."

Zayn just lazily smiles up at him and wordlessly reaches out for his hand. Harry wants to frown at that, but he just grudgingly (not really) takes it in his instead and is promptly pulled back into bed.

"It's a good read," Zayn corrects him, not waiting a minute to rest his head on Harry's shoulder. He nuzzles closer. "I remember you singing this one once or twice," he says softly, pointing to one of Harry's old songs which he wrote before they'd gotten together. "'s really deep, although the music would lead you to believe otherwise. Reading the lyrics properly now though... how did I not know that this was about me?"

Harry laughs big at that, because it's honestly such a funny thing to think about now (mostly) and gives his brown-eyed boy's hand a squeeze. "Louis always says we're both a bit daft, so I mean." He shrugs. "Why are you so interested in my old book all of a sudden? You know I've written tons of songs about you since then that are much less sad and sappy."

Zayn smiles on a yawn, which was bound to happen given he actually allowed Harry to wake him up this early in the morning today, and he appears all soft and pretty and painted with rest, and it's really one of Harry's top favorite looks of his.

"I dunno," he purses his lips thoughtfully, "I think that I actually quite like reminiscing about the time when we were mutually pining for each other but didn't know it yet. Don't you?"

Harry playfully scrunches his face up, though he doesn't think that Zayn can see it from where he is. "No? Why would I? I was miserable and didn't know how your lips tasted back then. I like things much better now," he says with a firm nod and punctuates his statement with a kiss to Zayn's lips.

"That's fair," he grins, meeting his eyes now, "but it's still nice to remember how we got here."

"I agree," Harry nods again, "but those words are all cheesy and cliché, and I was being way too dramatic, so you really should stop reading them now before I have to pack up all my things and leave you and never look back out of sheer embarrassment." Though, now that he thinks about it, he's really not less dramatic now, is he?

"You won't," Zayn tells him easily, lightheartedly rolling his eyes.

"I won't," he woefully agrees, pouting like it's truly something to be sad about, "but I can still threaten to."

"Good," Zayn smiles at him, pushing a loose strand of Harry's hair behind his ear. "I love it when you threaten me. 's cute."

"'s not supposed to be cute," he grumbles.

Zayn laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Harry's heart swells. He doesn't think that he'll ever grow tired of seeing that. "Yet here we are."