An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Figuring it can’t hurt to release stress in more ways than one, Zayn turns onto his stomach, bracing himself up a bit with his elbows, and buries his face in his pillow. He screams, muffling it as best he can, and drags the sound out for as long as possible before he loses his breath. He slumps, dead weight, to the mattress. He turns his cheek to drag fresh, cool air into his lungs. His eyes open, his lashes brushing wetly against his cheeks as he blinks.
He thinks he just had a breakup but, because they’d never really talked about it, he isn’t quite sure.
Or, Zayn and Harry are secretly together and both entirely sick of sneaking around. They don't handle it very well.










