15!Zayn 18!Harry

Third Person's POV

Harry was heading home after an intense football match with his friends that had him sweating like a pig and feeling vehemently dehydrated.

He stopped by some café and specifically ordered two ice-cold water bottles. He was quickly uncapping one of the bottles and gulping down the water it contained by the time the lady behind the cashier handed him his change. She gave him an amused smile causing him to blush slightly as he turned around to leave the warm place.

He continued his stroll home, basking under the unusually cool weather and the soft breeze that caressed his heated body.

He stopped when he heard a whimper as he passed a seemingly deserted alley. He peeked behind a large garbage can to come face to face with the saddest thing ever. A black-haired boy who didn't look older than fifteen and appeared to be nothing but skin and bones, sat curled up and was slightly shaking due to his lack of suitable clothes.

"Hey, um, are you okay?" Harry knew the question was kind of stupid, but he didn't know what else to say to grab the boy's attention.

The dark-skinned lad raised his head slightly to identify the intruder. Once his eyes landed on Harry, he shook his head no.

"Can you come out of there?" The boy slowly uncurled from his fetal position and unsteadily staggered to where Harry stood.

"What are you doing here?" Okay, maybe Harry wasn't the brightest kid.

"I-I l-live here." The boy weakly stuttered with a hoarse voice, which indicated that he was thirsty. Harry was quick to uncap the bottle and hand it to him. He watched him carefully as he sipped at the bottle tentively.

"Oh. Erm, would you like to come with me?" Harry knew that that wasn't his smartest move but he didn't have the heart to leave the pretty malnourished boy here alone.

The boy titled his head questioningly to the side.

"To my house." Harry further elaborated. The boy only nodded in response.

Harry regretted not taking his car because the boy looked like he was about to pass out from the lack of food in his system. A few more minutes later, they finally reached Harry's flat.

"Would you like some food?"

The emaciated boy shyly nodded.

"My name's Harry by the way. What's yours?"

"I'm Zayn."

"Spaghetti and meatballs sound okay, Zayn?"

"Yes, thank you." Zayn politely nodded.

"Would you like to take a shower while I prepare your food?" Harry offered.

"If it wouldn't be much trouble..." Zayn trailed off.

"No of course not, there's everything you need in there and I'll prepare some clothes for you. Follow me."

After Harry made sure Zayn had everything he needed, he made his way back to kitchen. He knew his friends would probably feed him shit if they knew that he took a complete stranger to his home. But Zayn looked as harmless as a baby, the boy would probably pass out if Harry so as much pushed him to the ground, if he were to try anything. Harry was known for his kind-heartedness, and Zayn looked so vulnerable that it tugged at his heart strings; he couldn't just leave him alone. He was knocked out of his thoughts once he heard Zayn's soft footsteps approaching him and it was just in time for him to serve the food.

Zayn looked absolutely adorable in Harry's hoodie which reached his knees and the overly-large sweatpants which looked like they were about to slip off his waist. He blushed slightly once he caught Harry staring at him and quickly diverted his gaze to the ground.

"Here you go Zayn, I'm not the best cook, but I can make a mean spaghetti and meatballs."

"Thank you, Harry. I really appreciate it, I hope I'm not being a bane to you."

"Of course not! Now come on, dig in." Harry left Zayn to eat while he washed the dishes he used and cleaned around the house for a while until Zayn finished his plate and placed it in the sink.

Harry joined him at the marble counter and looked at him inquisitively.

"So Zayn, why were you at that alley?"

"My mom's boyfriend kicked me out of the house." Zayn sadly muttered.

"Where's your father?" Harry sympathetically asked.

"Dead."

"Oh Zayn, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-."

"It's okay Harry, you didn't know." Zayn interrupted.

"And your mom let him do this to you?"

"She's too in love with him to care." Zayn answered stoically.

"Well, you can consider this your new home." Harry declared kindly.

"W-what no, that's t-too much Harry, really. It's okay I'll be fine, I'll-."

"No Zayn, you're staying here and that's final."

"But-." Zayn stopped once he saw Harry's serious face.

"Thank you." Zayn mumbled sincerely.

"It's nothing. I'm glad I could be of any help. How old are you Zayn?"

"Fifteen." Zayn blushed under Harry's gaze.

"You're so young for this. I'm eighteen."

After Harry explained Zayn's situation to his friends they scolded him for offering a room to a stranger but shook their heads fondly at how kind their friend was.

Five years later, Zayn was still living with Harry, and they both were happily in love with each other.

Zayn fell for Harry's kind heart and his sweet nature, not to say his picturesque looks. While Harry fell for Zayn's shyness and his love for drawing, not to mention his sharp cheekbones and his perfectly chiseled face.

Then Harry thought, if he drove his car to the park that day, he wouldn't have encountered Zayn. He looked down at the mop of black hair resting on his shoulder and tried to imagine his life without Zayn. He cringed at the thought and pressed a kiss to his hair, and Zayn squeezed his hand gently in response.

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Requested by @LayanWT , hope you liked it!

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