A NIGHT OF NO RETURN
The half-eaten dinner plate sat untouched on the table, forgotten in the quiet aftermath of the night. Their neatly folded clothes rested on a chair, a small bag holding the ones they had worn earlier. The hotel room was cloaked in darkness, save for the faint glow slipping in through the curtains.
Harry lay beneath the blanket, tucked in carefully, his body warm against Zayn’s. His fingers rested lightly on Zayn’s bare chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. The rhythm was calming, grounding him in a moment he wasn’t sure he had fully processed yet. Zayn’s arm, strong and possessive, circled his waist, his hold protective even in sleep. Harry let his eyes drift shut, listening to the quiet hum of the city beyond the walls, his heart still racing- not from fear, but from the weight of something new, something unspoken settling between them.
Harry could still feel the lingering burn of Zayn’s marks on his skin, a reminder of everything that had transpired between them. Each bite, each kiss, each graze of teeth against his flesh had left its imprint, a silent claim Zayn had made on him. His fingers absentmindedly traced over the faint bruises, the warmth of Zayn’s body against his own making them tingle even more. It wasn’t just the ache-it was the way Zayn held him now, even in sleep, as if letting go wasn’t an option. His grip around Harry’s waist was firm, possessive, like he was afraid Harry would slip away if he didn’t hold tight enough. Harry swallowed, his heart still unsteady. He had walked into this night knowing nothing about Zayn, yet now, in the quiet darkness, Zayn felt like the only thing anchoring him.
Harry shifted slightly, his body still sensitive from everything that had happened. The sheets felt warm against his skin, but not as warm as Zayn’s arm wrapped securely around his waist. He bit his lip, unsure of what to do with the unfamiliar feeling settling deep in his chest. He turned his head slightly, eyes adjusting to the dim light in the hotel room. Zayn’s face was relaxed in sleep, his usually sharp features softer, almost vulnerable. His lashes cast shadows over his cheeks, and his lips were slightly parted, breaths even and steady. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had consumed him so completely just hours ago.
Harry’s fingers traced over Zayn’s arm, hesitating before brushing against one of the faint scars littering his skin. He had noticed them earlier but hadn’t asked. He didn’t know if he had the right to ask. A part of him wanted to close his eyes and drift off, but another part of him was restless, his mind replaying every moment. How did he end up here? How did he let himself get caught in Zayn’s gravity so easily? As if sensing his thoughts, Zayn stirred, his grip tightening slightly before his eyes fluttered open. His gaze was heavy with sleep but still sharp, immediately finding Harry. He blinked once, then smirked lazily.
“You’re awake.” His voice was deep, raspy from sleep. Harry swallowed, suddenly feeling too exposed despite the fact that they had already seen every inch of each other. “Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted softly. Zayn hummed, shifting onto his side so he was facing Harry fully. “Thinking too much?” Harry hesitated before nodding. Zayn reached up, his fingers brushing against Harry’s cheek before tangling in his hair. He tugged gently, just enough to make Harry look at him. “Stop thinking,” he murmured, voice still heavy with sleep. “Just stay here.”
Harry wasn’t sure if he meant stay for the night or stay with him in general, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he let himself settle back down, let himself be pulled into Zayn’s warmth again. For now, he would stay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Namjoon stared at the ceiling, lost in thought, while Seokjin lay beside him on the hospital bed, his head resting against Namjoon's chest. "You’re thinking about him again," Seokjin murmured, his voice laced with quiet complaint. Namjoon sighed, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Seokjin’s head. "I’m worried about him. I haven’t heard from him since... and what concerns me more is that Zayn took him somewhere. You know how hot-headed and reckless he can be."
Seokjin sighed, shifting slightly to look up at Namjoon. His fingers traced absent patterns on Namjoon’s hospital gown. "I know, Joon, but you need to rest too. Stressing over Harry when you’re still recovering won’t help anyone." Namjoon let out a deep breath, his hand tightening around Seokjin’s waist. "I can’t help it. He was terrified, Jin. And now he’s just... gone. If something happens to him~" Seokjin sat up slightly, cupping Namjoon’s face. "Zayn might be reckless, but he wouldn't let anything happen to Harry. You know that." Namjoon’s jaw clenched, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach for his phone again. "That’s exactly why I’m worried. Zayn is too impulsive when it comes to protecting people he cares about. If someone pissed him off enough..." Seokjin frowned but didn't argue. Instead, he ran a soothing hand through Namjoon’s hair, trying to ease the tension in his body. "We’ll find out where they are soon. Liam and the others won’t sit still until they do." Namjoon exhaled heavily, forcing himself to relax against Seokjin. "I just need to know he's safe." Seokjin pressed a kiss to Namjoon’s temple, murmuring, "He will be." Even so, neither of them could shake the feeling that something had already spiraled beyond their control.
Seokjin stayed quiet for a moment, watching the way Namjoon’s brows remained furrowed even as he tried to relax. He could feel the tension still coiled in Namjoon’s muscles, the weight of his worries pressing down on him. With a soft sigh, Seokjin shifted closer, sliding his arms around Namjoon’s waist and resting his cheek against his chest again. "Do you remember the first time you got sick when we were together?" he asked, voice low and warm.
Namjoon blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. "Yeah," he murmured after a pause. "You refused to leave my side. You even yelled at the doctor when he said I’d be fine." Seokjin huffed, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Because you weren’t fine. You had a fever so high I thought you were going to pass out in my arms. And you kept telling me to stop worrying, just like I’m telling you now." He tilted his head up, meeting Namjoon’s gaze. "But I didn’t listen, because I love you. Just like you’re not going to listen to me now, because you care about Harry." Namjoon swallowed, his throat tight. "Jin..." Seokjin reached up, cupping his cheek. "You two had something and seeing him today I understand why you are worried. But you’re also my husband. And right now, you’re exhausted, recovering, and in no state to take on the entire world for him." His thumb traced soothing circles along Namjoon’s jawline. "So just for tonight, let me carry this weight with you." Namjoon exhaled shakily, closing his eyes as he leaned into Seokjin’s touch. "I don’t deserve you," he mumbled. Seokjin chuckled softly. "I know. But you have me anyway." Namjoon let out a breath of laughter, finally allowing himself to melt into Seokjin’s embrace. He wrapped his arms around Seokjin’s waist, pulling him closer, their bodies fitting together in a way that felt like home. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The steady rhythm of Namjoon’s heartbeat against Seokjin’s ear was enough, the warmth of his body anchoring him in a way that words never could. "You’ll sleep?" Seokjin asked eventually, his voice barely above a whisper. Namjoon hummed, his grip on Seokjin tightening slightly. "Only if you stay right here." Seokjin pressed a kiss to Namjoon’s collarbone, his lips curving into a soft smile. "I’m not going anywhere, Joon." And for the first time that night, Namjoon finally let himself breathe.
.
.
Donna and Andrea, the matriarchs of the family and mothers to Hong, Gong, and Yeol, were still awake at this late hour. The house was silent except for the faint ticking of the grandfather clock, but Andrea's eyes remained fixed on the lane outside, watching intently for any sign of her eldest grandson.
She hadn't moved from her spot, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her heart heavy with worry. Donna sat beside her, a quiet pillar of support, though her own concern was evident in the way she kept glancing at Andrea. The tension in the room was thick-everyone was waiting, but Andrea refused to rest until she saw Zayn walk through that door "It's too late, Drea," Donna murmured softly, running a comforting hand through Andrea's silver-streaked hair. "Zayn has probably crashed at some hotel. He'll come home in the morning as soon as he can." Despite her reassuring words, Andrea remained tense, her hands clutching the fabric of Donna's nightgown. "Then why did he turn off his phone?" she whispered, her voice thick with worry. Unable to hold back her emotions any longer, she buried her face in Donna's chest. They both knew the truth-this wasn’t just about Zayn staying out for the night. It was about the ever-growing distance between him and Gong. Every day, the clashes between father and son grew fiercer, and every day, Andrea feared they were reaching a point of no return.
Donna sighed, wrapping her arms around Andrea in a firm yet gentle embrace. She didn’t say anything, just held her, letting the weight of Andrea’s fears settle between them. The grandfather clock continued its slow, steady ticking, marking every passing second that Zayn remained missing from their home. Andrea squeezed her eyes shut. “He always calls me, Donna,” she murmured against her sister’s shoulder. “No matter how angry he is at Gong, no matter how reckless-he always calls.” Donna felt a pang in her chest at the sheer helplessness in Andrea’s voice. She had watched her mother-in-law as in Donna's mother hold this family together for decades, through heartbreak and joy, through losses and triumphs. But right now, Andrea was just a grandmother-one who feared that the bond between her son and grandson was breaking beyond repair “We can’t let them do this to each other,” Andrea whispered. “Gong is too proud, and Zayn is too stubborn. If they don’t stop, if they keep pushing each other like this... I don’t know what’s going to happen.” Donna exhaled, rubbing slow, soothing circles on Andrea’s back. “Then we’ll make them stop,” she said, her voice steady. “We’ve seen worse storms in this family, Drea. This one won’t break us either.” Andrea pulled back slightly, looking into her sister’s eyes. “And if it does?” Donna’s gaze hardened. “Then we’ll rebuild. Like we always do.”
.
.
Taehyung, Yoongi, and Vincenzo sat in silence, their backs against the cool stone of the pillar of their dalan, while Thyme, Kavin, and Pond lounged nearby, just as restless. The six of them had barely spoken since settling there, their shared concern hanging heavy in the night air. In the last seven years, no matter how reckless or impulsive Zayn had been, he had never completely cut himself off from the family. Even if he turned his phone off, he always found a way to let them know he was safe. But this time? Nothing. Yoongi exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. "This isn't like him," he muttered, breaking the tense silence. "Exactly," Vincenzo agreed, arms crossed. "Something’s off. Really off." Pond, usually the one to crack a joke, stayed uncharacteristically quiet, his fingers tapping against his knee. "You think he’s with Harry?" he asked after a long pause. Taehyung let out a bitter scoff. "Where else would he be?" They all knew Zayn was reckless, but this? This was different "Why would he be with Harry? Is he like… you know~~" Pond trailed off, his voice hesitant, eyes darting between the others. They all exchanged looks, understanding exactly what he was implying. "Yeah, probably," Vincenzo muttered, running a hand through his hair. "He’s always been that way-good at giving people his shoulder, always thinking about others more than himself." Taehyung scoffed, not necessarily bitter but undeniably frustrated. He loved his brother, but this situation? It felt like history repeating itself. "Exactly. Dada always throws himself into fixing things, even when no one asks him to." Thyme tilted his head, only now catching on to what Pond had been implying. "Wait, Pon, are you saying Dada is fucking that boy?" Kavin smacked the back of Thyme’s head before he could say anything else. "Could you be any louder?!" Thyme rubbed the place where Kavin hit him and glared at him, while murmuring some bengali slangs "Yes, Thm, that's exactly what we all think," Yoongi said, exhaling smoke as he took a slow drag from the cigarette they were passing around. "Harry was stressed, desperate, and needed someone. And Dada was there. Now, both of them have vanished. What else could have happened?" A heavy silence settled between them, the weight of Yoongi's words sinking in. "If our parents catch us smoking, we’re doomed," Vincenzo muttered, glancing around warily, though it was clear that their real concern wasn’t getting caught- it was Zayn "Dada is unbelievable if this is true," Taehyung muttered, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "We’re worried to death here, Namjoon da is probably losing his mind, and he's off having sex with the man who caused this whole mess?" His voice was laced with disappointment, but more than that, a sinking dread. If their Baba found out about this, there would be no going back no way this house would ever return to normal again...
Kavin exhaled heavily, flicking the cigarette between his fingers before passing it to Pond. "You know what’s worse?" His voice was low, almost hesitant. "If Jethu finds out, he’s not just going to be mad at Dada-he’s going to blame that boy too." Yoongi hummed in agreement, leaning his head back against the pillar. "That’s if Jethu finds out from someone else first," he muttered. "If Zayn walks through that door in the morning like nothing happened, maybe-maybe-we can control the damage~But what if he doesn’t?" Vincenzo’s voice was quiet, but the weight of his words sank into all of them. "What if something actually happened? What if they’re in trouble?" A tense silence stretched between them. It was an unsettling thought, but one they couldn't ignore. Thyme, for once, looked genuinely concerned. "Dada might be reckless, but he’s not stupid. If he really ran off with Harry, he wouldn’t just disappear completely... right?" Taehyung stayed silent, staring at the entrance door in front of them. He wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe that no matter what, Zayn would never be irresponsible enough to put himself-or someone else-in actual danger. But deep down, he wasn’t so sure....
.
.
Yeon shifted under the blanket, half-asleep, while Gong sat wide awake, his mind racing. He was seriously considering filing a missing person report or even launching a complaint against Zayn for kidnapping Harry. At this point, the entire family had come to one undeniable conclusion- if both Harry and Zayn's phones were off at the same time, there was no other explanation. Zayn had definitely done something to Harry "I told you so many times, Yeona," Gong hissed, his frustration bubbling over. "Control your son! Scold him a bit! But no, you just keep pampering him, and now look-your spoiling is exactly why he’s turned into such an arrogant little fucker" Yeon sat up abruptly, his eyes flashing with anger and hurt. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?” he snapped. “You think scolding him would’ve changed anything? Maybe if you weren’t always pushing him away, he wouldn’t feel the need to act out like this~Yes, it is your fault!" Gong snapped, his patience worn thin. "You should’ve forced Zayn to marry Tasha when her father brought up the proposal, but no-you and your son were too busy playing future-future like fools. And tell me, exactly what future has he made for himself?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "He doesn’t even practice law anymore! He’s stuck in some regular nine-to-five job that barely pays him enough to survive in this damn economy. And whatever little money he does earn? He wastes it all on alcohol!" Gong ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “And you dared to say I push him away? Yeona, I tried! I tried to make him understand responsibility, but you~” He pointed at Yeon, his frustration spilling over. “You coddled him, let him think he could do whatever the hell he wanted, and now, here we are! He’s gone God-knows-where with that boy, phones off, and we’re sitting here like fools while everyone worries their heads off!”
Yeon’s lips trembled, his anger wavering under the weight of worry. “He wouldn’t just disappear like this, Gong... He wouldn’t.” But even as he said it, doubt crept into his voice.
Gong scoffed bitterly. “I am damn sure he is~” He stopped himself, shaking his head as if the words were too much to say aloud. “Doing something with that boy.” His voice was low, edged with frustration and something dangerously close to fear.
Gong let out a deep sigh, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair. He could tolerate a lot-Zayn’s recklessness, the chaos in their family, the endless arguments-but Yeon’s tears? That was his breaking point.
“Yeona…” His voice softened as he reached out, gently pulling the blanket down from Yeon’s face. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to~” He stopped himself, exhaling heavily. No, he had meant every word, but seeing Yeon like this made his anger feel insignificant. Yeon sniffled, wiping at his damp cheeks. “I just.... I don’t know what to do with him anymore, Gong. He never listens. And now he’s missing, and God knows where he’s dragged that boy with him.” His voice wavered, thick with exhaustion. Gong closed his eyes briefly before shifting closer, pressing a reassuring hand against Yeon’s back. “We’ll fix it,” he murmured, though even he wasn’t sure how.
.
.
Yeol and Rang were still wide awake, unable to rest as the weight of the night’s events loomed over them. Rang had just gotten off a call with Seokjin, who reassured him that Namjoon was doing better. The doctor had confirmed that they could bring him home in the morning. Yeol exhaled in relief, leaning back against the headboard. "At least that’s one less thing to worry about," he muttered.
Rang sighed, his worry gnawing at him. As much as he was always the first to criticize Zayn-never hesitating to call out his reckless decisions or even mock his low salary-right now, none of that mattered.
Right now, he was terrified. Terrified of what could have happened. Terrified of what that boy-Harry-could have done to his nephew, He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at Yeol, who looked just as tense. Rang scoffed, his jaw clenching. “If something happens to our Zayn... I swear, I won’t let that boy, Harry, get away easily. I’ll make him suffer.” His voice was laced with venom, his frustration barely contained. Yeol shot him a side-eye, unimpressed. “You really think that kid is capable of doing anything to our Zayn?” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “If anything, you should be more terrified for Harry, or whatever his name is. And if I know my bhaipo well enough...” He trailed off, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. “He’s probably with that very boy, spending the night in a way that would send Dada into cardiac arrest.” Rang’s fingers curled into a fist at his side. He wanted to argue, but deep down, he knew Yeol was right. And that realization only made his worry worse....
Yeol watched as Rang pinched the bridge of his nose, his frustration barely contained. He could see the storm brewing in his cousin’s mind, the war between his usual sharp-tongued criticism and the undeniable fear gripping him. “Rang,” Yeol said, his voice calm but firm. “You need to breathe.” Rang let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “Breathe? How can I when I don’t know where the hell he is?” His voice wavered slightly, betraying just how much this was getting to him. “Zayn is impulsive, sure, but he’s never done this before. Cutting us off completely? Not even a damn text?” Yeol exhaled through his nose, his fingers tapping against his knee. “No, he hasn’t.” Silence stretched between them. It was heavy, thick with unspoken worries. “I just~” Rang started, then stopped, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I just don’t understand him sometimes. He has everything here. A family that~that fights with him every day?” Yeol cut in, raising a brow. “A father who thinks he’s a failure? A house that only welcomes him with more responsibilities and expectations? Be honest, Rang. When was the last time Zayn came home and wasn’t either arguing or avoiding someone?” Rang opened his mouth, but no words came out. Yeol sighed, his voice softer now. “I get it. You’re worried. We all are. But this? This isn’t just about Harry. This is about Zayn and what’s going on in that reckless head of his. And if he’s with that boy...” He smirked slightly. “Then I have a feeling Zayn is exactly where he wants to be.” Rang swallowed hard, his throat dry. He wanted to believe that. He really did. But something still didn’t sit right with him. And until Zayn walked through that damn door himself, that feeling wasn’t going anywhere.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Zayn let out a soft sigh, his fingers still tangled in Harry’s curls as he pulled him closer. Their bodies pressed together naturally, warmth seeping into Harry’s skin in a way that made his heart pound. “You’re still thinking,” Zayn murmured, his lips ghosting over Harry’s temple. Harry bit his lip, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Zayn’s chest. “I just... I don’t know what this means,” he admitted quietly. Zayn was silent for a moment before he pulled back slightly, just enough to look at Harry properly. His dark eyes searched Harry’s, unreadable yet intense. Then, he smirked, though it lacked his usual arrogance. “It means whatever you want it to mean,” he said simply. Harry frowned. “That’s not an answer.” Zayn huffed a soft laugh, his thumb brushing over Harry’s lower lip. “It is an answer, you just don’t like it.” Harry let out a frustrated sigh, but Zayn didn’t let him dwell on it for long. He rolled over, caging Harry beneath him, his weight pressing down just enough to keep him in place. “You overthink too much, doll,” Zayn murmured, leaning down to press a slow, lingering kiss to Harry’s lips. It wasn’t rushed or hungry like before-it was steady, deliberate, almost reassuring. Harry’s fingers curled into Zayn’s back instinctively, his body relaxing into the kiss. He could feel Zayn smiling against his lips before the older man pulled away, pressing a kiss to his jaw this time. “Sleep,” Zayn whispered against his skin. “We’ll talk in the morning.” Harry wanted to protest, wanted to ask what would happen when morning came, but Zayn’s warmth and the steady rhythm of his breathing were lulling him into drowsiness. For now, he let himself believe that morning wouldn’t change anything. That when he woke up, Zayn would still be there, holding him just as tightly.
Harry wasn’t sure when sleep finally claimed him, but when he woke up, the room was still dark, the only source of light being the faint glow from the streetlights outside. He could hear the distant hum of the city, muffled by the hotel walls, but inside, everything was still.NZayn was still beside him, his body warm and solid, his arm draped loosely over Harry’s waist. His breathing was deep and steady, his face relaxed in sleep. He looked peaceful like this-so different from the Zayn who carried the weight of his family’s expectations, the one who walked with an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance. Harry swallowed, his fingers twitching as he hesitated before reaching up to trace the faint stubble on Zayn’s jaw. It felt... intimate. Too intimate. His heart clenched at the thought. He wasn’t sure where they stood now, what this meant for them. Zayn had said it could mean whatever he wanted, but what did Zayn want? Was this just a fleeting moment, something that would fade when they left this hotel room?
The thought made his chest tighten. He turned his head slightly, pressing his forehead against Zayn’s collarbone as he shut his eyes. He could pretend, just for a little longer, that none of that mattered. That here, in this bed, wrapped in Zayn’s warmth, he wasn’t just another complication in Zayn’s life. But before he could sink too deep into his thoughts, Zayn stirred. His arm tightened around Harry’s waist, pulling him closer as he let out a sleepy hum. “Doll....” Zayn’s voice was husky, rough with sleep. Harry swallowed hard, his body going still with this new nickname of his. “Hmm?”Zayn’s lips brushed against his hair, and then, to Harry’s shock, he whispered, “Stay.” Harry’s breath hitched. His heart pounded so loudly he was sure Zayn could hear it. “Stay,” Zayn repeated, this time softer, as if afraid Harry would slip away. Harry’s fingers curled against Zayn’s chest, his heart pounding as he tried to process what he just heard. Stay. The word echoed in his mind, settling somewhere deep in his chest. Did Zayn mean for the night? For longer? Harry didn’t dare ask. He took a slow breath, steadying himself before answering. “Okay.” Zayn hummed, satisfied, and pulled him closer, nuzzling into his hair. His warmth was all-consuming, and Harry let himself sink into it, into him. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but right now, in the quiet of the dark hotel room, wrapped up in Zayn’s arms, he let himself believe-just for a moment-that maybe this was something real. Maybe this was something that could last. His eyelids felt heavy again, the rhythm of Zayn’s breathing lulling him back to sleep. But just before he drifted off, he felt Zayn’s lips press lightly against his forehead.
Harry whimpered softly, instinctively reaching out, only to be met with cool sheets where Zayn had been. His brows furrowed as he blinked the sleep away, his body aching in ways that made heat rush to his face. Slowly, he pushed himself up, the hotel room eerily silent except for the faint hum of the city outside. His fingers clutched the blanket tighter around him as he scanned the room, searching for any sign of Zayn. The clothes they had worn last night still sat neatly on the chair. His bag remained untouched. But Zayn was nowhere in sight. A pang of unease settled in his chest. He hadn’t expected anything-hadn’t let himself think too much about what last night meant-but waking up alone still stung.
His eyes landed on the bedside table, where a half-smoked cigarette rested in an ashtray. Zayn’s phone was gone. Harry swallowed, pressing his lips together as he tried to push away the creeping thought that maybe-just maybe-this had all been a mistake.
Harry exhaled shakily, rubbing his arms as if that could chase away the cold creeping into his bones. He shifted under the blanket, wincing slightly at the soreness in his body, a reminder of everything that happened last night. His fingers traced over the faint bruises Zayn had left, a mix of tenderness and something more intense swelling inside him. He didn’t regret it-he couldn’t. But waking up alone felt... off. Just as he was about to slip out of bed, the door to the hotel room clicked open.
Zayn stepped in, his hair damp, he was wearing the same clothes before they got married. He was holding two bags full of something. He smelled like soap and cigarette smoke, a scent that was quickly becoming familiar. He didn’t look surprised to see Harry awake, but there was something unreadable in his eyes as he took in the sight of him wrapped in the blankets. “Morning,” Zayn said casually, setting the bags down onto a chair. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken since leaving.
Harry swallowed, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. “You left.” Zayn raised a brow, reaching for his pack of cigarettes. “I went to get a smoke and take a shower, then I left to buy you some new clothes , Didn’t think you’d wake up so soon.” Harry pressed his lips together, nodding slightly, but the unease in his chest didn’t fade. Zayn wasn’t acting different-he wasn’t cold, wasn’t dismissive-but something about him still felt distant. Zayn exhaled a slow stream of smoke, watching him. “You alright?” Harry hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Just sore.”
A smirk tugged at Zayn’s lips, but there was a flicker of something softer in his gaze. “Should’ve told me to be gentler.” Harry flushed, looking away. “I didn’t mind.”.Zayn let out a low chuckle before stubbing out his cigarette. He walked over, resting a knee on the bed as he reached out, brushing Harry’s messy curls back from his face. “You’re thinking too much again” Zayn murmured, his thumb tracing over Harry’s temple. Harry met his gaze, searching for something in those dark eyes. “I don’t know what this means,” he admitted quietly. Zayn was silent for a beat before he sighed, his fingers slipping down to tilt Harry’s chin up. “It means you’re mine.” Harry’s breath hitched. “Just for last night?” Zayn’s eyes darkened. “I don’t do one-night things, doll.” Something warm and unfamiliar spread through Harry’s chest, making him shiver. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or if it should scare him-but as Zayn leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips, he decided he didn’t want to think about it right now.
Zayn pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against Harry’s, his breath warm against his lips. His fingers traced slow circles against Harry’s jaw, grounding him in the moment. Harry swallowed, his heart hammering.“Then what now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Zayn hummed, his thumb brushing over Harry’s bottom lip. “We'll go home this evening, We’ll figure it out then” Harry let out a shaky breath. That wasn’t an answer. But before he could press for more, Zayn tilted his chin up and kissed him again, slow and deep, as if sealing a promise neither of them fully understood yet. When they finally broke apart, Zayn’s hand slipped down to Harry’s waist, pulling him closer. “You need to eat,” he murmured against his temple. “And I need to make some calls.” Harry blinked up at him, confused. “Calls?” Zayn exhaled through his nose, his expression shifting. “Yeah. I turned off my phone last night. Pretty sure the whole damn family is looking for me now.” Harry tensed, his fingers tightening around the sheets. “And me?” Zayn’s grip on him didn’t waver. “They don’t need to know you are with me” Harry’s breath caught. “Zayn~Don't worry too much, let you bor handle things” Zayn cut in firmly. His eyes softened, but his voice remained steady. “I need to call my brother and let him know, first” Harry’s stomach twisted. He wasn’t naïve, he knew Zayn was shielding him from the family. The thought unsettled him, but he also knew pushing right now wouldn’t get him any answers.