One Direction Zarry Fanfic/Oneshot

Title: Breathe Me

Genre: Romance, Drama

Warnings: OOC, (Implied) Rape

Pairing: Zarry

Summary: ‘Be my friend; hold me wrap me; Unfold me; I am small and needy. Warm me up and breathe me…’

A/N: This was inspired by “Breathe Me” by Sia which I recommend listening to while reading the fic. Also inspired by some real life stuff that a close relative of mine had to deal with. I hope you like it :)

Help, I have done it again

I have been here many times before

 “Harry,” the therapist started and Harry gave him his usual cold glare.

He didn’t want to be here; he hated this. He hated him; how he could ask all those fucking questions; know what happened to him and then talk in that robotic fucking voice as if it was going to help him.

Harry hated it.

“I think maybe you should try to surround yourself with people your age. You go to school, right?”

“When I feel like it.” Harry replied. He skipped a few times; didn’t matter.

The therapist sighed in frustration as he always did. They never could have a simple session; no, Harry Styles had always been his most difficult patient. He was rude and didn’t want the help so he didn’t comply and he didn’t listen and he gave the doctor a hard time on purpose; because he felt like it was a waste of time to fix something that was already broken.

“I think if you had some friends with common interests, you could cope with this. There’s only so much your family and I can do to help you. You have to work, too.”

“You ain’t done shit to help me.” Harry sneered and he meant it. It was the same repetitive crap everyday that Walsh would pull out of his ass and say to Harry as if he was doing something; as if it was going to make a difference and it never did.

It never did anything.

“You say the same shit every fucking week and it ain’t helping, doc. I still remember every fucking detail and I still have nightmares.” Harry cocked his head. “There’s not much you ever do.”

“Harry, I can’t help you if you’re reluctant to get help. I’m trying and every suggestion I’ve given you, you’ve declined. If you don’t try, how can you know?”

Hurt myself again today

And the worse part is there’s no one else to blame

12-year old Harry shook with fear as his mother screamed at her boyfriend, throwing lamps and whatever else she could grab at him in fury. He heard the objects shatter as they hit the wall and he whimpered; covering his ears as tears slid down his cheeks.

The door slammed and he heard his mother rush up the stairs. She opened the door quickly and scooped her son into her arms, patting his curly brown hair and whispering in his ear.

“It’s okay, Harry. He won’t come back. He won’t come back.”

“He hurt me, momma.” He said, though it was muffled by his mother’s sweater as he tucked his face into her neck.

“He’ll never do it again, baby.” She promised him.

Harry nodded but that didn’t stop the tears.

He didn’t believe her; even though he wanted to.

Be my friend

Hold me, wrap me up

 “Do you always come here instead of going to class?”

Harry glared at the boy in the varsity jacket behind him. He didn’t know him; didn’t even recognize him from the halls. But then again, Harry barely knew anyone outside of his house. Students; people on the streets; authority figures; they were all nameless and faceless statistics in his mind. Nothing more; nothing less. Sometimes, he missed it when he didn’t feel that way; back when he saw people and everyone was different and he actually bothered to remember them and talk to them and befriend them. Now he was too afraid to.

He was on the school roof as usual instead of his history class where he should’ve been. But he couldn’t handle being there for too long; he could here the whispers and the gossip as he would walk to his seat in the back of the class, head down and eyes glued to the floor, and they were like screams and echoes in his head; reminders. Everyone knew what happened.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Harry replied over his shoulder and the boy smiled goofily, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s a nice view. You can think a lot up here. At least that’s what I like about it.” The boy spoke, that smile never fading as he walked closer to Harry boldly until they were beside each other, looking over the edge of the roof.

“Why do you?”

Harry shrugged. He wasn’t sure when he started coming to the rooftop but he knew it was sometime after that. “Sometimes I just sit here and wonder what would happen if I fell off and just died.” He replied truthfully, face blank and tone just as normal as it would’ve been of they had been talking about weather and he waited for they boy to react; freak out; call him crazy; anything.

Because that’s what usually happened.

“You think that’s fucked up?”

The boy scrunched up his face as he pondered it for a minute and Harry wondered what there was to think about so hard; the boy didn’t just react on a whim and said his first initial thought. He was actually thinking about his opinion of this. Harry found that strange.

Finally, he shook his head. “Nope.” He chirped.

Harry was a bit shocked at the response; the way he replied as if what Harry said was completely normal. But he didn’t show it, instead choosing to scoff at him.

 “Freak.” He said, turning back to the view.

“Zayn.”

“Eh?” Harry gave the boy a confused look but he just smiled; the puzzlement not even registering to him.

“It’s Zayn; not freak.” He said, nodding proudly at his statement and Harry couldn’t help but smirk.

This kid was weird; and that was cool.

 “Harry.”

Unfold me

I am small and needy

 “So, Harry. Have you made any new friends at school lately?”

That was Dr. Walsh’s first question of the session and Harry rolled his eyes. He hated how this guy tried to have normal conversations with him.

Did you have fun at school?

Have you made any friends?

What happened today?

Harry hated those questions because he never paid attentions to those types of things; he didn’t think like how he used to anymore. He couldn’t have those regular talks anymore and it pissed him off that Walsh kept trying.

Harry sat Indian style on the couch; expression as empty as it always was; there was no light in Harry’s eyes. They were light green, true, but there was no feeling behind them; no passion. And it hasn’t been that way for too many years. Harry was a shell of what he used to be; void of sentiment and any sort of optimism.

Walsh never said it but looking at Harry was one of the worst experiences he’d ever had to go through; there was nothing behind his green eyes. They were dark, cold, and fearful.

Those were the eyes of a person truly broken beyond repair.

“I met a kid,” Harry said, his tone uncaring. “He was alright.”

Short; basic; indifferent. That was always Harry’s tone when speaking.

“Really?” Walsh was surprised despite the tone. He was expecting another no from his regular patient; this was intriguing.

“What was his name?” he asked immediately; and Harry registered the curiosity in his tone but brushed it off as he did most things. Because that’s what Harry always did when he didn’t want things to matter to him.

“Zayn,” Harry replied. “He was weird.”

Harry didn’t want to say everything else that was on his mind; that he was weird but he was kind of cool and Harry wanted to hang out with him more; no he didn’t say that because, so far, he managed to convince himself that none of that was true and that Zayn was another nameless, faceless statistic.

Walsh nodded. “Well weird is better than nothing, right?”

“Whatever.” Harry’s eyes went downcast.

Yes.

Warm me up

And breathe me

 “If you scream, I swear to God, I’ll beat the shit out of you.” The man growled and Harry stared-wide eyed.

His mom and step-dad had split up a year ago and she’d gotten a new boyfriend; he was only a replacement, he knew. His mom didn’t have the same love in her eyes as she did for his step-father. This man was a stranger in Harry’s mind.

Harry whimpered as he felt his pants slide down his bony hips.

No one heard his cries.

Ouch I have lost myself again

 “Do you still wanna fall?” Zayn asked him the next day.

And Harry realized that he liked the way Zayn started off conversations. He didn’t say things like “Hi”, “What’s up?”, “What are you doing?”, “How was your day?”

No, Zayn didn’t start things off like normal people did. He asked exactly what was on his mind; no greetings; no waiting; he just did.

Harry shrugged. “Kinda.” He lied. He did; he always did and he sometimes wondered why he hadn’t done it a long time ago.

“But it’s such a long way down.” Zayn said as he stared down the edge, leaning on his hand with a thoughtful expression.

“Wouldn’t it hurt?”

Harry snorted. “No, it’d be like having sex.” He replied sarcastically. “Yeah, it’d hurt. But I’d probably die instantly as soon as I hit the ground, you know? I’d only feel it for a minute.”

Harry honestly didn’t care whether or not it hurt; he figured that dead was dead, right? And if he was gonna go out, it was going to be in a damn good way. Not for attention; not so he’d be remembered but because Harry felt he was worth more than a typical hanging or cutting.

 “Can’t you find a less painful way?” Zayn questioned and Harry thought about it for a moment. He could; if he could find something greater than falling off a building but nothing else came to mind.

“Nah.” He said finally, shaking his head.

Zayn scoffed. “And I’m weird.” He remarked. Harry smirked.

“I never said I wasn’t.” he countered.

“Yeah, I guess you never did.” Zayn concluded, sitting beside Harry.

Harry wasn’t sure why that made him happy.

Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found

It was a fact that a lot of people were nameless and faceless to Harry. A lot of people didn’t matter to him enough for him to memorize the way they looked; what people called them; anything about them. Only two (and he wouldn’t admit it but a third person as well) had any sort of worth to Harry; that he actually gave a damn about.

Gemma Styles was one of those people.

Harry didn’t feel like letting go as he hugged Gemma close, eyes closed tight and all he could do was try to imbed this final moment in his mind; everything about it because he didn’t know when she’d be back.

 “I’ll miss you.” He whispered and Gemma nodded, stroking his brown hair as she always did when Harry was upset and Harry found himself not ready to let go of that either.

“I’ll miss you too.”

Harry reluctantly released his sister as she pulled back. He wasn’t sure when he felt the tear run down his face but he saw one run down Gemma’s as well.

They always were unnaturally in sync.

Gemma let out a small laugh, wiping away the tear. “I’m not ready to leave you yet.”

“How do you think I feel?” Harry countered and his voice broke but he didn’t care. Nothing else really mattered right now besides this. Gemma was leaving; she was leaving for a long time and Harry didn’t care how long it was but he didn’t want her gone.

The horn blew outside, signaling Gemma to hurry up and she kissed her little brother on the forehead briefly. Harry wanted to grab her hand; tell her to wait a few more days; and maybe a few more and a little more after that but he knew, unlike him, Gemma had big dreams in better places.

Gemma didn’t have dreams about falling off rooftops; Gemma didn’t have therapy sessions; Gemma didn’t have statistics and Gemma had friends.

She grew past it; Harry didn’t.

Gemma and Harry were very different.

“Call me when you need me. You know the number.” She said to him, a smile on her face but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was quivering and unsure and not ready to leave yet.

But she had to because Gemma didn’t do things like Harry did; if Gemma had a problem, she solved it immediately and she grew past it and she moved on because that’s how she was.

Harry hated to think it but sometimes, he wished he was as strong as Gemma was.

“I know.” Harry waved to her as she rushed to her ride.

That night, the nightmares started up again without Gemma by his side.

He never did call her to let her know that.

Because Harry loved Gemma and he wasn’t going to ruin her new, better life with his own.

Yeah I think that I might break

I’ve lost myself again and I feel unsafe

Harry hiccupped as Gemma held him close, tears streaming down his face out of fear.

He could hear him kicking the locked door; the door shaking with each impact. Each time, Harry felt his heartbeat speed up as he anticipated the worst.

It would happen again.

It was going to happen again.

“Hide.” Gemma ordered.

“B-but Gemma—“ Harry whimpered but Gemma gave him a reassuring smile.

“I’ll be fine, Harry. Now do as I say.”

Harry reluctantly stepped towards his sister’s closet. He gave her one last look before she waved her hand, telling him to go.

Harry crawled to the darkest corner of the closet and his himself under some blankets that were there.

He tried to ignore his sister’s sobs.

Be my friend

It was two weird weeks of Zayn and the school roof before he actually saw the boy in school and not on top of it.

“You don’t feel like falling today?”

Harry looked up when he heard the familiar voice; the familiar strange conversation-starter and he glanced up; trying to appear uncaring and nonchalant.

Zayn smiled down at him; still wearing that stupid varsity jacket and a pair of black nerd glasses that Harry usually hated on other people.

He ignored the pounding in his chest.

“Yeah, I do.” Harry replied. “I just decided that it could wait a little while until I finish this book.”

“The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things.” Zayn spoke, his head tilted as he read the cover of the book, his mouth parted in an ‘o’ like fashion. Harry nodded in confirmation.

 “Is it good?” Zayn questioned, studying the cover intently as he took a seat beside Harry and scooted closer to get a better look.

Harry acted like he wasn’t getting nervous as he always did and replied; voice uncaring and monotone.

“If you call child molestation, dysfunctional families, and prostitution good. I’m not even sure how I found this in a school library.”

Zayn tilted his head. “Odd school,” he muttered.

“No, this school is completely normal,” Harry stated, flipping to the next page. “This was just an odd incident.”

And he meant it; there was nothing different or strange about the school. It had the same stereotypical personalities; same issues; same events; same everything. Had this school been different, maybe Harry would enjoy going here.

But, obviously, he didn’t.

Zayn chuckled. “That’s quite an opinion.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “What are you laughing for?”

Zayn shrugged. “I don’t know. You call me weird and yet you say things like that. You’re a bit of a hypocrite, you know?”

Harry grinned and turned back to the book. “Guess I am.”

“But you’re a cool hypocrite.” Zayn said, ruffling Harry’s hair. He got up from his seat and smiled at Harry.

“Tell me when you feel like falling again so we can go to the rooftop, okay?”

“Maybe.” Harry said and Zayn decided that answer was satisfactory; running off to the exit.

Harry knew he’d tell him.

Hold me

Wrap me up

“So how have things been going with you and your friend, Harry?”

“He ain’t my friend.”

And Harry knew that he was lying but he didn’t show it and he supposed that if he put enough faith in the lie; it’d be the truth eventually.

He liked to believe he didn’t have friends in this place; that his best friend was gone and off studying and having fun in college. That was where his best friend was; they weren’t here with him.

“So what is he?” Walsh questioned and Harry paused.

What was Zayn? A freak; a weirdo; some guy who didn’t stop talking to Harry; some boy that smiled too much; some boy that made Harry laugh for the first time in a long time; some boy that made Harry nervous and feel weird and sometimes, happy.

No, no he wasn’t a friend.

“I…I don’t know.” Harry said and for the first time, Mr. Walsh saw something in Harry’s eyes.  For that moment, Harry actually felt something; for that moment, Harry didn’t have an automatic answer and he was unsure. His eyes spelled confusion and puzzlement and he was actually, genuinely, uncertain about something.

Mr. Walsh determined Zayn had to be a very exceptional sort of person.

Unfold me

Harry sat in the principal’s office; fidgeting nervously with his shirt and his eyes wide and darting about the room.

He didn’t want to be sent home; he didn’t want to go back there this early.

Not while his mom was at work and he was there alone. No, he couldn’t be there by himself.

“Harry,” the principal said in a firm tone and Harry jumped, snapping his head up to attention and straightening his posture instantly.

The principal gave him a bewildered look but he decided not to discuss that.

“Harry, can you explain to me what happened in Mr. Cowell’s class?”

Harry nodded his head timidly, eyes downcast and passive. “I…I had an outburst, sir.” He said.

“Explain it further, please.”

“N-Niall gave me a hug a-and I screamed, sir. B-But it wasn’t done purposely, I swear! Please, don’t send me home! Please!”

The principal became even more confused at this. Harry was acting much differently now. Last time he had Harry in his office, it was because the boy had put a thumb-tack in his history teacher’s chair and then, he could look the principal in the eye and make little snarky comments like the troublemaker he was.

This boy; he wasn’t even the same person.

“Harry,” The principal spoke slowly. “Have you been having…problems at home?”

Harry’s widened eyes and nervous flinch said it all but he waited for the boy’s reply.

“No, sir!” he practically yelled. “No problems at all. I’m fine!”

“Harry,” the principal sighed. “If there’s something wrong, you know people can help you. You don’t have to lie.”

“No, sir. I’m serious. I-I’m fine.” Harry said, even forcing out a laugh but the principal noticed. “Can I please go back to class now?”

The principal hesitated before sighing and finally giving in to the boy’s request. “Yes, Harry, you can leave.”

As Harry stood and headed towards the door, his shirt came up a tiny bit and revealed a purple mark on his abdomen.

The principal said nothing.

I am small and needy

“Stop coming here.”

It was firm, cold, and was said like a strict order; like Harry actually meant it. And he glared down at Zayn; the same glare he had given the boy upon their first meeting; hatred filled and judging him like it did everybody else. But Zayn was too much of a freak to just do what Harry said and leave; to not ask questions; to not be like everybody else.

Harry refused to say that’s what he liked the most about Zayn.

Zayn tilted his head from his spot across the rooftop.

“Why?” he asked and Harry scowled.

“Because I said so. Just stop coming around me. We aren’t friends. There’s no reason for you to be here.”

And Harry would like to believe those words; he would like to say that they were easy to force from his mouth and that he didn’t care if Zayn did it or not.

He would like to.

Warm me up

“You never said we were friends.” Zayn noted and he took a step closer to Harry because he knew he could and that Harry wasn’t being dead serious. “You must’ve already thought that.”

Harry’s face burned red at Zayn’s words and he backed away from the boy like he was a disease. Harry actually was beginning to think that he was because since they met; Zayn’s been like an infection that just didn’t go away no matter how much medicine you took and how many times you went to the doctor.

“Shut up! Don’t tell me that shit! Now, go away! I’m done talking to you!”

“No, you’re not.” Zayn said and he said it with the upmost confidence because, despite his demeanor to Harry, Zayn wasn’t stupid and he knows Harry isn’t doing this because he wants to. He’s doing it because he’s scared.

What he was afraid of still wasn’t quite clear to Zayn.

He took another step and if he reached out, he could touch Harry and Harry was gritting his teeth.

“Just get away from me!”

“Why are you pushing me away all of a sudden?” Zayn countered, voice rising in a way that shocked Harry because since day one, this boy had been nothing but a little ray of fucking sunshine.

“Did I do something to you? I don’t understand why you’re doing this.” Zayn said and Harry glared.

Harry took a glance behind him; at the edge of the roof and he wasn’t surprised that he didn’t feel the nausea anymore from when he first looked down. So he made a bold move and he stepped up on the ledge, glowering down at Zayn.

“Go away now or I’m jumping!” he yelled and Harry wasn’t even sure of himself anymore; whether or not he’d do it. He liked to believe he wasn’t afraid of falling and he’d like nothing more than to jump off this roof and end everything but, that’d probably be a lie if he thought about it.

“Is it because of what the other kids say?” Zayn asked and Harry raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

Zayn hesitated a moment before responding. “The other students say you got raped or something. Is that why you don’t talk to anybody? Is that why you’re pushing me away? Because someone finally got through to you?”

“Don’t talk like you know me!”

“I don’t have to know you to know that’s what this is about, Harry.” And Zayn was serious, eyes saying it all and Harry wasn’t sure when he started to have to blink away tears.

He stood on the ledge, wind nipping at his cheeks and whipping his already wild hair around his head; lip quivering and fists clenched tight.

“I know you don’t hate me,” Zayn spoke, voice gentle and Harry didn’t want to hear it; he tried to pretend it was robotic like Walsh’s and meant nothing but he heard it and his heart hurt. Zayn extended his hand.

“Get down please.” He said and Harry glared at his hand.

“I told you if you didn’t leave, I’m jumping.” Harry rasped and Zayn’s eyes widened as Harry spread his arms out and let himself fall backwards.

And Harry didn’t feel anything as he fell through the air; there were no thoughts in his mind; no memories; no friends; no family; no Zayn. Because none of that mattered anymore because as soon as he hit the ground; it’d all be gone anyway.

But he felt something; and it didn’t feel like the impact. It was like arms; wrapped tightly around his chest and abdomen and there was something warm behind him.

The last thing Harry saw before he hit the car parked underneath was Zayn’s face; eyes shut tight as he held Harry close to him and mouthing.

‘I’m not letting you fall alone.’

He didn’t even feel it when they landed.

And breathe me

Mr. Walsh read over the note with a shocked expression, glasses hung low on his nose and mouth parted slightly in absolute disbelief. This couldn’t have been from Harry; no, not cold, vulgar, broken Harry Styles.

Anne watched with a faint smile; she had thought the same thing.

‘Sorry, I couldn’t make it today, doc. I had something to do and it was really important. Yeah, I said it, important. Something finally matters to me. Remember Zayn? That guy I said I was sort of friends with? Yeah, well I did something to him and now I gotta fix it. By the way, thanks for putting up with my shit for all this time. I know I was a real ass to you during our sessions and I’m sorry for that. I don’t think we’ll need to continue our sessions. I’m not fixed; and I probably never will be. But Zayn’s pretty much all the therapy I need. –Harry’

Walsh looked to Ms. Styles skeptically who nodded at him in affirmation. Harry had handed the note to her early this morning before rushing off to the hospital; kissing her on the cheek for the first time in years and before headed off; she saw the light in his eyes the excitement, happiness; love.

And she felt like crying; crying tears if joy because her son was finally, finally improving; slowly but surely.

Walsh let out a dry laugh.

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

Be my friend

Harry’s mind raced as he pushed the white door open; he felt guilty every time he stopped in front of the hospital door despite when Zayn tells him he shouldn’t be. Because, in the back of his mind, he knows it’s his fault Zayn’s here and that he’s responsible for his condition.

He was the one who jumped; he’s the one who did this.

No, it wasn’t severe. The impact hadn’t been too hard on Zayn; caused a bit of a dent in the poor woman’s car that they landed on and a few bruises but Zayn’s parents and the school insisted he be checked out by a doctor.

But Zayn was lucky; had it been the ground, Harry doubted either of them would’ve been here.

And in the deepest, most melancholic parts of his mind, Harry thought Zayn shouldn’t have even been involved and he should’ve hit the concrete alone.

But Zayn was too obstinate to let him do that.

Hold me

Wrap me up

Harry’s eyes widened as the car’s sirens went off around him, annoying his ears and filling his mind but all he could feel was Zayn; Zayn who still hadn’t let go of his torso; Zayn who had his head buried in his shoulder blade; Zayn who was hurting but was still more worried about Harry.

Crazy, weird, extraordinary Zayn.

He couldn’t speak; his mouth open wide but no sound eliciting from it and suddenly, Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe either. This was all too unreal; all too sudden for his liking and the way Zayn was holding him; still not letting go.

Harry was, simply put, frozen.

“Zayn,” he rasped, gulping a bit. “Why would you do that?”

Then Zayn chuckled.

He freaking chuckled like everything a joke because he was crazy and that’s what he always did.

“I guess I wasn’t ready for you to fall yet.”

Nothing else was said as a student called for ambulance.

Unfold me

“Oshawott!” Zayn exclaimed as he flipped the stuffed toy around. Harry thought he looked weird without the varsity jacket; instead wearing a flimsy hospital gown and covered in white sheets that Harry didn’t feel fit him well enough and he really didn’t like on someone like Zayn.

The boy smiled at him from the bed; despite the injuries and the pain in his back, he still managed to smile at Harry as if nothing had happened. As if they were on the rooftop again; having strange conversations that Harry used to pretend he didn’t like and laughing and smiling despite himself.

“You didn’t have to get this for me, you know. But it’s cute, so…”

“You always talk about that damn thing so I thought I might as well. So you’d shut up.” And Harry knew that was a lie and that he bought it because Zayn liked it and Harry liked it when Zayn was happy; and if that meant buying every Pokémon plush doll in the world, he’d do it.

Because that’s how much of an impact Zayn had on him.

I am small

And Harry stopped denying it the moment he saw Zayn get carried off in that white vehicle and the boy smiled at Harry because he didn’t want Harry to feel guilty; to let him know that he wanted to do it and that he didn’t regret it. And Harry thought he was incredibly stupid and foolish but that’s why he liked Zayn; because he was the only person in the world who’d do those sorts of things.

“Do you still think about falling, you know, even though I fucked up your last try.”

Harry was silent for a minute; pondering this and he realized that since the incident, Harry never thought about falling off that rooftop. He hadn’t even been up there since then; he went to class, sometimes he did his work but going to the rooftop felt strange now without Zayn there, starting off with his strange questions and bright smile.

No, it didn’t feel the same and falling was the farthest thing from his mind.

And this time, he was honest and he told Zayn.

And needy

“No, not anymore. I blame you for that.” He mumbled. Leaning back in his seat and Zayn laughed.

Harry didn’t even try to stop the blush emerging on his face.

“That’s good; I would’ve been upset if you tried that again. I know you went through a lot but…” Zayn’s grip on the stuff toy tightened as he bit his bottom lip in thought. He looked distressed as he thought of what could’ve happened if that car wasn’t there and Harry hadn’t made it that day and it made his chest clench and his heart beat faster.

“I…I would’ve missed you.”

Warm me up

Harry glanced at him and, though it didn’t show completely on his face, he was surprised at Zayn’s words. To know that Zayn would’ve missed him—that Zayn cared that much for him, well, Harry didn’t know what to think.

All his life, the only people that mattered were Anne and Gemma; no one else.

Everyone else was nameless, faceless statistics.

And then here comes Zayn, barging in and taking over Harry’s thoughts and feelings and making him smile and laugh and actually feel something for the first time in five years.

Since that happened; since he happened.

“…You’re a freak.”

Zayn couldn’t utter another word as Harry’s lips collided with his and he could feel every bit of emotion and passion he had created in Harry.

Thanks…for everything.

And breathe me

(Source: midnight-down)

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  5. mid-night-day-dreams reblogged this from midnight-down and added:
    Why can’t there be people like this in the world?
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