Status: Complete.
Tell Me I'm Your National Anthem
Heaven's In Your Eyes
Zayn thought about it a long time, and he came to the conclusion that he couldn’t encourage Harry’s feelings even though they made him feel… they made him feel…
Well, that’s just it.
They made him feel.
It was a dangerous thing and feelings would get hurt. Zayn had a girlfriend. A nice girl who he didn’t want to upset. And he was also concerned for their band, afraid of what would change if he decided to pursue anything. But he wouldn’t even allow himself to think of pursuing anything. He saw how things blew up when Harry and Louis acted close in front of a camera, and he didn’t want any part of it. Acting was very different from being. It would be worse.
He thought he would be able to resolve a few things after his visit to Harry’s, but it did absolutely nothing. In fact, it all just continued to spiral downward, and he had no idea what to do with himself. He was lost and heartbroken, and the worst part was that the only person who could fix it was the one that started it.
Zayn dreaded going to the recording studio. It meant having to face Harry again, and judging by what just happened, Harry would not be happy to see him. This might as well be the end of their band.
No. No, what a stupid thought.
Harry was just as professional as Zayn was, and they wouldn’t let their personal issues get in the way of work, and they wouldn’t be selfish enough to drag Liam, Niall, and Louis down with them. But the dynamic would change, and the two would probably have to avoid each other. No more playful subtle flirtation to rile up the crowd, no more standing next to each other for photos, no more of anything. No more of them. The thought hit him like a ton of bricks, and made him sick to his stomach. Zayn would finally realize what it felt like to miss someone who was right there.
In the recording studio, he was wedged in between Liam and Niall on the couch, keeping as far from Harry as he could. Eye contact was awkward, and the worst part about it was how dead Harry’s eyes were. The usual spark was gone, and this was probably the most upsetting to Zayn. He just kept his gaze downcast most of the time, especially when Harry had to record his solos. His voice was lifeless and dull, and he had seemed to put no effort into his verses. Zayn figured it wasn’t on purpose, and was proved right when Harry became visibly upset and had to retreat into the hallway followed by Liam who would do his best to give words of encouragement.
The rest of the day did not go well. Harry improved, but it wasn’t the same. The mood shifted and the boys grew tired and aggravated, not understanding what exactly had gone wrong during this particular session. Zayn felt he was the one to blame. Harry’s spark was gone, and the sadness was contagious. It was useless to push through, so they were just told to go home.
—-
Home. It was the worst place to be for him. The quiet sent his mind into overdrive, and he was so desperate to be around people. Somewhere noisy, crowded, where conversations overlapped so he wouldn’t have to hear his own thoughts. Preferably not sober. But Zayn wouldn’t go to a club. He couldn’t. It would only remind him of that disastrous night with Harry, the one that kick started this mess.
What did he want though? Truly. Ideally. Fuck the media, opinions, and backlash. What did he want? The answer was simple, but admitting it was the difficult part. This entire situation hurt worse than anything he’s been through and the reason for it was clear as day.
Zayn loved Harry.
When Harry told Zayn to love him, he already had. He loved him long before that, but couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge it. He refused to. Zayn loved Harry during tour, on stage, in that crowded club during their drunken squabble, and when he told him he couldn’t love him back. But he did; completely, absolutely, unconditionally. And it was frightening.
How empty it would all be if Zayn didn’t express it, even through nervous, carefully picked, and stammering words. If he made a fool of himself, so be it. If Harry couldn’t forgive him for his previous offenses, then fine. Perhaps he could redeem himself in his own eyes and not call himself a coward for the rest of his life. He would tell Harry because he deserved to know.
Grabbing his wallet and his cap, he walked to the door, making up his mind to show up at Harry’s house, though he knew he would be unwelcome guest. Fine. He could take it. Despite his pounding heart and unsettled nerves, he threw open his front door, ready to take on this mission. But what stood on his doorstep nearly knocked the wind out of him, causing him to take a staggering step back because it was just so fucking impossible.
“Hi,” Harry stood there, his beanie pulled over his messy curls, and the rest of his attire looking unkempt. His eyes were red.
“Hi,” Zayn looked at him, dumbfounded. “I was—” he tripped over his words, unable to pull himself together. “Thing is, I was just on my way to you. But I guess, I… Well, you’re here.” He winced at himself, then stepped to the side so that Harry could walk in.
Harry made his way inside the house, not speaking even after the door had been shut. But Zayn wouldn’t break the silence, afraid to start talking again in broken sentences that wouldn’t make sense. He had been so confident seconds before, but seeing Harry unraveled him.
After taking a deep breath and rubbing his nose, Harry spoke, “I’m sorry. For before. It was ridiculous of me to get mad at you over something that’s not even really your fault. I’m sorry for kicking you out of my house like that, and I’m sorry for what happened at the studio. That won’t happen again,” he stopped speaking for a moment and swallowed back thickly. “First and foremost…” his voice cracked and his eyes became wet, but he blinked rapidly to keep any tears at bay. “.. you’re my friend. And I guess if you love someone, even as a friend, you’d always want the best for them. And it’s what I want. For you.”
Zayn opened his mouth to speak, but Harry held up a hand, indicating he wasn’t finished.
“So if you could just forget what happened,” he continued, “I’d be really grateful. At least do it for the band.” And he dropped his eyes. That was all he had to say.
A little part of Zayn was conflicted. Yes, the offer was tempting. To be able to go about their lives normally was the easy path to take. Easy. But was it really easy? Knowing that he felt the same way as Harry, having to see him all the time, having him at such a close distance and not being able to touch him and have him the way he really wanted to. There was nothing easy about that. Zayn didn’t deserve a mediocre life like that, and most of all, Harry didn’t deserve it.
Courage. Just a little bit of it could go a long way, and Zayn would take that chance. For him. For Harry.
“I’m sorry,” he said when he finally found his voice. “I’m not good at this, and I don’t think I ever will be. And there’s no right way to go about it, so I ought to just…” Zayn moved closer to Harry, placed a hand on the side of his neck, and drew him closer. And before he could lose his courage, he whispered just as their lips were inches apart, “I do love you.” And he kissed him. It was sweet and slow, and Harry tasted like coffee. Zayn could feel him trembling, and a faint whine sounded in Harry’s throat, so he pulled back slowly to look at him. The surprise on Harry’s face was one for the books, and Zayn couldn’t help but smile in amusement at it.
Also, the spark in Harry’s eyes was back.
The corners of Harry’s lips twitched upwards, his face taking on a hopeful expression mixed with confusion, but most of all, elation. “You love me?” he echoed Zayn’s question from the day before.
“Yes.”
And the answer needed no explanation.
Well, that’s just it.
They made him feel.
It was a dangerous thing and feelings would get hurt. Zayn had a girlfriend. A nice girl who he didn’t want to upset. And he was also concerned for their band, afraid of what would change if he decided to pursue anything. But he wouldn’t even allow himself to think of pursuing anything. He saw how things blew up when Harry and Louis acted close in front of a camera, and he didn’t want any part of it. Acting was very different from being. It would be worse.
He thought he would be able to resolve a few things after his visit to Harry’s, but it did absolutely nothing. In fact, it all just continued to spiral downward, and he had no idea what to do with himself. He was lost and heartbroken, and the worst part was that the only person who could fix it was the one that started it.
Zayn dreaded going to the recording studio. It meant having to face Harry again, and judging by what just happened, Harry would not be happy to see him. This might as well be the end of their band.
No. No, what a stupid thought.
Harry was just as professional as Zayn was, and they wouldn’t let their personal issues get in the way of work, and they wouldn’t be selfish enough to drag Liam, Niall, and Louis down with them. But the dynamic would change, and the two would probably have to avoid each other. No more playful subtle flirtation to rile up the crowd, no more standing next to each other for photos, no more of anything. No more of them. The thought hit him like a ton of bricks, and made him sick to his stomach. Zayn would finally realize what it felt like to miss someone who was right there.
In the recording studio, he was wedged in between Liam and Niall on the couch, keeping as far from Harry as he could. Eye contact was awkward, and the worst part about it was how dead Harry’s eyes were. The usual spark was gone, and this was probably the most upsetting to Zayn. He just kept his gaze downcast most of the time, especially when Harry had to record his solos. His voice was lifeless and dull, and he had seemed to put no effort into his verses. Zayn figured it wasn’t on purpose, and was proved right when Harry became visibly upset and had to retreat into the hallway followed by Liam who would do his best to give words of encouragement.
The rest of the day did not go well. Harry improved, but it wasn’t the same. The mood shifted and the boys grew tired and aggravated, not understanding what exactly had gone wrong during this particular session. Zayn felt he was the one to blame. Harry’s spark was gone, and the sadness was contagious. It was useless to push through, so they were just told to go home.
—-
Home. It was the worst place to be for him. The quiet sent his mind into overdrive, and he was so desperate to be around people. Somewhere noisy, crowded, where conversations overlapped so he wouldn’t have to hear his own thoughts. Preferably not sober. But Zayn wouldn’t go to a club. He couldn’t. It would only remind him of that disastrous night with Harry, the one that kick started this mess.
What did he want though? Truly. Ideally. Fuck the media, opinions, and backlash. What did he want? The answer was simple, but admitting it was the difficult part. This entire situation hurt worse than anything he’s been through and the reason for it was clear as day.
Zayn loved Harry.
When Harry told Zayn to love him, he already had. He loved him long before that, but couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge it. He refused to. Zayn loved Harry during tour, on stage, in that crowded club during their drunken squabble, and when he told him he couldn’t love him back. But he did; completely, absolutely, unconditionally. And it was frightening.
How empty it would all be if Zayn didn’t express it, even through nervous, carefully picked, and stammering words. If he made a fool of himself, so be it. If Harry couldn’t forgive him for his previous offenses, then fine. Perhaps he could redeem himself in his own eyes and not call himself a coward for the rest of his life. He would tell Harry because he deserved to know.
Grabbing his wallet and his cap, he walked to the door, making up his mind to show up at Harry’s house, though he knew he would be unwelcome guest. Fine. He could take it. Despite his pounding heart and unsettled nerves, he threw open his front door, ready to take on this mission. But what stood on his doorstep nearly knocked the wind out of him, causing him to take a staggering step back because it was just so fucking impossible.
“Hi,” Harry stood there, his beanie pulled over his messy curls, and the rest of his attire looking unkempt. His eyes were red.
“Hi,” Zayn looked at him, dumbfounded. “I was—” he tripped over his words, unable to pull himself together. “Thing is, I was just on my way to you. But I guess, I… Well, you’re here.” He winced at himself, then stepped to the side so that Harry could walk in.
Harry made his way inside the house, not speaking even after the door had been shut. But Zayn wouldn’t break the silence, afraid to start talking again in broken sentences that wouldn’t make sense. He had been so confident seconds before, but seeing Harry unraveled him.
After taking a deep breath and rubbing his nose, Harry spoke, “I’m sorry. For before. It was ridiculous of me to get mad at you over something that’s not even really your fault. I’m sorry for kicking you out of my house like that, and I’m sorry for what happened at the studio. That won’t happen again,” he stopped speaking for a moment and swallowed back thickly. “First and foremost…” his voice cracked and his eyes became wet, but he blinked rapidly to keep any tears at bay. “.. you’re my friend. And I guess if you love someone, even as a friend, you’d always want the best for them. And it’s what I want. For you.”
Zayn opened his mouth to speak, but Harry held up a hand, indicating he wasn’t finished.
“So if you could just forget what happened,” he continued, “I’d be really grateful. At least do it for the band.” And he dropped his eyes. That was all he had to say.
A little part of Zayn was conflicted. Yes, the offer was tempting. To be able to go about their lives normally was the easy path to take. Easy. But was it really easy? Knowing that he felt the same way as Harry, having to see him all the time, having him at such a close distance and not being able to touch him and have him the way he really wanted to. There was nothing easy about that. Zayn didn’t deserve a mediocre life like that, and most of all, Harry didn’t deserve it.
Courage. Just a little bit of it could go a long way, and Zayn would take that chance. For him. For Harry.
“I’m sorry,” he said when he finally found his voice. “I’m not good at this, and I don’t think I ever will be. And there’s no right way to go about it, so I ought to just…” Zayn moved closer to Harry, placed a hand on the side of his neck, and drew him closer. And before he could lose his courage, he whispered just as their lips were inches apart, “I do love you.” And he kissed him. It was sweet and slow, and Harry tasted like coffee. Zayn could feel him trembling, and a faint whine sounded in Harry’s throat, so he pulled back slowly to look at him. The surprise on Harry’s face was one for the books, and Zayn couldn’t help but smile in amusement at it.
Also, the spark in Harry’s eyes was back.
The corners of Harry’s lips twitched upwards, his face taking on a hopeful expression mixed with confusion, but most of all, elation. “You love me?” he echoed Zayn’s question from the day before.
“Yes.”
And the answer needed no explanation.