Double update 😎

Word Count: 3041

Unedited

Summary: Harry bullies Zayn everyday. But today, it was worse than usual. For both Harry and Zayn. For Zayn, it was because it had been a year since his mum was killed in a car accident. And for Harry, it was because everyone had forgotten about his birthday. Everybody except for one.

Warnings: f slur, mentions of death (not any main character), bullying, abuse, sweet ending

Note: I'm not even sorry for this being the second bullying story in a row. Also, this probably has tons of mistakes in this because I wrote it all just now in one sitting which, like, never happens, and I'm super tired.

~~~~~

"You pathetic bastard!" Harry roared, slamming Zayn into his locker.

"Please stop," Zayn cried, "At least for today."

His whole body ached, bruises and cuts littering his body.

Harry brought his arm back, slamming it into the side of Zayn's face.

"I'll do this any day I want, pussy. You think I'd listen to what a little faggot wants? Fuck no."

Zayn was sobbing as quietly as he could, his breath ragged.

All he wanted was for one day free of abuse from Harry.

One day to mourn the loss of his own mother.

He missed her so god damn much, and it had only been a year today.

"You little faggot bitch can't tell me what I can and can't do, understood?"

Harry's voice was scarier than Zayn had ever heard it, and he genuinely feared for his life.

"You know no one gives a single shit about you, right? Absolutely no one. So why do you even bother coming to school still, faggot? Still trying to get a dick in your ass? You pathetic piece of shit!"

A slap stung Zayn's face, and a third punch to his gut made him almost throw up, but he swallowed it down to keep from angering Harry even more.

"You're such a pathetic little cry baby, Zayn. It's cause you're a faggot, isn't it? So you have no idea how to be a man. You're fucking sobbing right now, for no fucking reason! You little bitch."

Harry slammed him onto the hard ground, pain searing through his shoulder, making him cry harder.

"Please, Harry, just- not today, please!"

He knew the begging was useless, but he had to try anyway.

He regretted it, though, once Harry began kicking him over and over, before he spat on Zayn's forehead, shaking his head in disgust, "you make me sick."

Then, he was walking away.

Zayn layed there on the ground for a long time, before he finally managed to pull himself up, hobbling along to the nearest bathroom to clean himself and inspect his wounds.

He got to the bathroom, making sure no one was in there, before locking the door so he could take his shirt off.

He looked at his reflection in one of the dirty mirrors. There were bruises along his ribs and stomach, cuts littered throughout them.

His arms matched his torso, cuts and bruises everywhere.

His face was red and swollen. He had a black eye, his nose was dripping blood, his lip was busted, his cheek was bruised and bloody, and one of his ears were cut.

His eyes poured tears as he cleaned himself up.

He just wanted the comfort of his mum right now, though he knew he'd never get that ever again.

-

"Did you hear about Zayn?"

Harry heard a girl in his class whisper behind him to her friend.

"No, what happened?"

He stiffened slightly, hoping it wasn't about what he had just done to the aforementioned boy.

"Today is the one year anniversary of his mum's death. I think she died in a car accident, he was crying this morning on the bus when he thought no one saw him."

"Damn," the friend replied, "that sucks. I feel so bad for him, poor kid. I can't imagine the pain he's going through right now, what with the stress of the loss of his mum, and the finals we have today. That's terrible!"

"That's what I was thinking. I want to find him and hug him, but one, I don't know squat shit about him and two, he doesn't need people's sympathy."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

Harry sat there for the rest of the class thinking about what Zayn had been saying to him.

Please stop, at least for today

Just not today

How he was crying unusually hard today.

Harry assumed it was just because of his harsher harassment - he wasn't usually so hard on Zayn.

-

"Not so fast, faggot," Harry called to Zayn, yanking him back to him by the hood of his jumper.

Zayn whimpered in fear, not daring to look Harry in the eye.

Usually, Harry would only harass him once, and then verbally bully him throughout the day, but with how Harry was acting, Zayn knew Harry had other intentions than saying a few hurtful words to Zayn.

And he was right, because he was slammed into Harry's locker, a punch slamming into his stomach, bruising the already bruised skin.

"Uhh," Zayn groaned, lurching forward.

"Thought you could get away from me, faggot? Not a fucking chance."

The abuse continued for five more minutes, before Harry was slamming Zayn into the ground, trudging off down the hallway.

-

An hour later, it happened again, but Zayn had his bag with him.

When he saw Harry approaching, he opened his bag, just getting a finger in when the bag was being yanked from his grasp, a hand wrapping around his throat,pinning him to the wall.

"Please," Zayn said gravely, his oxygen getting cut off as tears fell from his eyes, "Not today."

Harry slapped his cheek instead of answering, it stinging twice as much where the tear tracks had wet his face.

The salty tears got in the crevices on his face, stinging it all and making him cry harder.

Harry slapped him again, and again, and then again.

Zayn was starting to black out, and the pain he was in was making it harder for him to fight consciousness.

Harry let him go seconds before he fainted, and he collapsed on the ground.

Harry began saying terrible things to him while Zayn lay on the floor, barely conscious, as he reached for his bag, pulling out the nearly wrapped box.

Harry stopped talking when he saw it.

Zayn reached a shaky, weak arm up, offering it to Harry without looking.

He took it after a moment.

"Happy birthday, Har..."

He couldn't finish his sentence, because he lost consciousness too early to finish.

-

Harry stared down at the box in his lap, sitting in a chair in the nurses office.

The box had wrapping covering it neatly, a bow tied around it to hold it together.

The wrapping paper was green, pink, blue and orange.

It had solid patches of color, it had polka dots, it had stripes, it had zig zags.

It was pretty.

The wrapping was beautifully done, and the edges were sharp and sleek.

The box was a square, and was a decent size.

The only flaw on the package was a bent corner, probably from when Harry had thrown the bag down, and a patch of blood from where Zayn had grabbed it.

Emotions were swirling through Harry's head, and he couldn't bring himself to open the box yet.

No one, not even his closest friends, had remembered his birthday. Yet Zayn, the boy he abused severely, even more so than usual that day, had remembered.

And had gotten him a present.

But why?

Harry finally untied the boy, slipping it off of the box, peeling away the wrapping to reveal a cardboard box that held the present inside.

Harry stared at that for a second, before he tore the patterned tape away, the flaps popping up slightly, wanting to open and reveal the present already.

Harry lifted the flaps, peering inside, staring at the contents, before tears welled up in his eyes, and he had to cover his mouth go contain his sob

He gripped the box with one hand, the other covering his face as he cried.

He sobbed into his hand as quietly as he could, in a chair inside of the nurses office.

Inside the box, was a card with Zayn's, messy handwriting.

But beneath that, was enough money Harry needed but never had.

He collected himself, before he picked up the card, reading it's words.

Hi Harry.

I know this is strange, and I know you'll beat my ass for giving you a present since you hate so much, but I just couldn't not get you this.

I know, through my dad (please don't be mad at him, I begged him to tell me all this), that you and your family have always struggled financially since your dad left.

It makes me sick to my stomach that somone could just leave their family like that.

In this box, is enough money to pay for your older sister to go to college, since she has to stay home and take care of you and your mum.

There's also enough to get your mum better chemo treatment to hopefully get her through this. I believe in her!

There's enough in there for you to pay for your own college once you leave high school, and I truly believe you will be able to get into just about any college.

And lastly, there's enough money in there to help get you and your family back on track - to pay all the missing bills, regularly get groceries and other necessities.

No one knows I did this (not even my dad) and no one knows about any of these issues you have.

You don't have to even acknowledge that I have you any of this, since no one but you and I will know, and you can go back to bullying me daily.

Just, know that I'm silently rooting for you?

Zayn M.

Harry counted through the money and, sure enough, it was enough for all of the things Zayn said it would cover, and his tears only became more heavy as the weight on his shoulders he had carried for so long disappeared.

He was so fucking happy, so relieved, and so hopeful for his, and his families, futures.

But he felt so guilty.

Zayn was just able to give him all of this money? He wasn't even mad at Zayn for inviting his personal life, and he didn't even care how Zayn's dad knew about all that.

He just knew he had to see Zayn.

He dried his face, collecting himself as much as he could, closing the box and holding it close to him as he got up.

He walked into one of the two rooms for hurt students, the one Zayn was in.

He was laying in the bed, staring at the ceiling.

When Harry came in, Zayn turned to the doorway, flinching severely when he saw who had entered.

He started shaking, tears welling up in his eyes.

"I-I'm sorry, Harry, I know I shoul-shouldn't have tried for that information about you, I'm sorr-rry. You can beat me up, if you'd like. Since it's your b-birthday and all. It's okay."

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, and leaned down, making Zayn flinch and close his eyes. 

Harry wrapped his arms around Zayn's neck, hugging him tightly, crying softly into his shoulder.

"Harry," Zayn whispered.

"Why would you do that for me?" Harry asked, "for my family?"

He felt Zayn shrug, and then arms slowly wrapping around him.

"I know what it's like to lose someone so close to you. And you aren't living, Harry. Are you? You're just existing, and that's no way to live. Besides, I got to help three people by doing this, and that makes me so so happy."

His words were soft and quiet, but he was obviously still guarding what he said, as to not upset Harry.

"I didn't deserve any of it," Harry stated truthfully.

"Yes you did. No one deserves to not have enough money to go to school, to stay alive, to buy food. You deserve every bit of that, Harry."

"Where did you get that money, Zayn?" Harry asked.

It was quiet for a second, so Harry pulled away, looking at Zayn worriedly.

"Did you steal it?" He yelled.

Zayn furrowed his brows, "what! No! I had a bunch of credit cards and cash that my dad's given me, so I took all the money from them."

Harry gaped at Zayn, "You used all the money you had to give it to me?"

Zayn's cheeks flushed, and he looked away from Harry.

"Yes."

Harry put his hands in his hair, pulling at it slightly, "I'm the worst person on this planet!"

Zayn sat up but winced from his injuries, "No, you're not. I'm mad at you for hurting and tourmenting me for all these years, but I just can't help myself but forgive you for it. You have been in such pain for so long, though that is not a valid excuse to abuse someone or hate them just because they are different from you.

"You aren't the worst person in the world, and the fact you care so much about your family shows that, Harry."

Harry nodded. But he still felt like shit.

And now, he was also confused.

He was seeing Zayn completely different than he had just an hour before, but for some reason, he saw Zayn different now.

He saw him in ways he was oblivious to before.

"Harry," He heard Zayn say, "What's wrong?"

Suddenly, Harry leaned in and kissed Zayn on the lips.

It was just for a second, but it made Harry feel so weird.

In a good way...?

He leaned away from Zayn immediately, and Zayn looked shocked and confused.

"Sorry," Harry whispered.

"It's okay," Zayn responded.

Harry felt overwhelmed, so he got up and picked up the box, "I-I have to go."

-

Zayn was about to fall asleep that night, when his window was opening, making him jolt awake immediately.

"It's me, Zayn," he heard Harry's voice call.

Zayn relaxed immediately, sighing in relief, before he was tensing up again, "How do you know where I live?"

"I don't know," Harry replied, fiddling with Zayn's lamp, before turning it on, the room filling with light.

"Your house is huge. You have a TV in your room? Lucky."

Zayn let Harry scan his room for a moment, before he heard his dad's footsteps approaching.

He grabbed Harry's arm, throwing the boy under his covers.

He turned on his side, facing the door, and hoping that when his dad came in, he wouldn't see the human shaped lump under the covers next to Zayn.

A knock resounded on the door, before it was opening to reveal Zayn's dad.

"Hey, Zayn. I thought I heard someone else up here. You'd tell me if you had a boy up here, right?"

Zayn groaned, his cheeks pinking, "Yes dad, I'd tell you. And no, I didn't bring a boy up here."

A lie and a truth.

Zayn's dad nodded, "right. Goodnight, then. Don't stay up too late."

"Goodnight."

Once his door was shut again, and the footsteps weren't audible anymore, Zayn turned around, lifting the covers off of Harry's head.

"You okay?" He asked.

Harry nodded, staring at him.

"Why are you here, Harry? Did something happen?"

Harry shook his head, staring at him.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Harry nodded, staring at him.

"Harry," that snapped him out of it.

Harry blinked a couple of times, staring at Zayn, his cheeks tinting pink slightly.

"Sorry, didn't mean to stare," he whispered, pulling the covers up to below his chin.

Zayn quirked an eyebrow up.

"Sorry, I'm just so cold, and your bed is warm and so fucking comfortable. It feels like I'm on a fucking cloud."

"Language, Harry."

"Sorry," Harry responded.

"It's okay. Now tell me why you're here."

"Well," Harry started, "I wanted to...try something."

Zayn raised an eyebrow again.

Harry flushed.

"I- earlier, I felt something weird, and when we...kissed...I felt that even stronger. In my stomach. And I just wanted to see if it was still there."

"Are you asking me to kiss you, Harry?" Zayn asked.

Harry nodded hesitantly.

"Harry. You bullied me severely for being gay. And now you want me to kiss you? That's gay, Harry. You'd be completely contradicting what you've done for years by doing this. Are you here just to make fun of me?"

Harry was looking down, ashamed at all of his previous actions.

"No, in not making fun of you," he said truthfully, "and I know I've bullied you for being gay. But I've never felt this before, and I want to be near you. I'm so so fucking sorry for all I've done to you. I don't expect you to forgive me, but please, just kiss me. One time."

Zayn stared at Harry for a moment, a pleading, desperate look on his face.

He looked lost.

So Zayn kissed him.

It was only lips, and they held them still, just keeping them pressed together for a few seconds until Zayn pulled away.

Harry was right.

It felt good.

"Again," Harry pleased, "longer. Please."

Zayn hesitated for a second, before he complied, pushing their lips together again.

This kiss lasted longer, and they moved their lips together softly.

They pulled away after a few moments, Harry looking at Zayn.

"Did you still feel it?"

Harry nodded.

"I'm scared, Zayn."

Zayn frowned at that, "why?"

"I've never felt this way for a boy before."

"It's okay."

"You've said that a lot today."

"It's okay."

"Zayn, I can't thank you enough for what you did for me and my family, and I can't apologize enough for everything."

"It's okay. For tonight, let's put that out of our heads. Tell me about yourself, Harry.

The two of them spent hours whispering to each other random things about themselves, giggling and blushing.

They drifted off sometime in the night, and slept tangled together.