#zarriallweek

“Hi, boys!” said Anne as she opened the door. “Come in!” She stepped to the side to let Niall and Zayn into the house.

"Hullo, Anne," said Niall.

"Hi, Mrs. Twist." Zayn gave a shy little wave.

"Harry's upstairs," she told them. "He's in a proper mood because he thinks he lost that jumper." She pointed at the grey cable knit sweater Zayn was wearing. "Been looking for it—"

"Mum," called Harry from the top of the stairs, "have you seen my purple jumper?" Anne and Zayn turned to look at Niall as Harry came down the stairs. "How did I lose both of my favourite"—his eyes fell on Zayn and Niall—"Oh."

"Hey, Haz," said Niall, smiling and pushing up the sleeves of the oversized purple jumper.

"Suppose you can stop ransacking every room in the house now, can't you?" asked Anne, a smirk on her face.

"You two!" exclaimed Harry, a little exasperated.

"Oh, you like it," teased Anne gently. "They look sweet, all bundled up in your jumpers."

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“I’m freezing,” moaned Zayn. “Can’t we go inside, Haz?”

“Don’t even waste your breath, Zayn,” said Niall. “We always stay out until the fire’s gone out.”

Zayn groaned. “But it’s cold.” He snuggled under one of the blankets Anne had brought out to them, moving closer to Harry on the blanket they were cuddled up on. “My hands are like ice,” he added, pressing them against the side of Harry’s face.

“Why didn’t you say that?” asked Harry.

“I said that I’m freezing,” said Zayn, pulling his hands back from Harry’s cheeks.

“Your hands!” exclaimed Harry. He reached out to take one of the boy’s hands into his own, interlacing their fingers.

“Poor Zaynie,” said Niall from his other side. He rolled onto his side and tucked his face into the raven-haired lad’s neck, his own cold nose pressed against Zayn’s throat. He moved his hands down and took Zayn’s other hand in both of his, thumbing gentle strokes over his knuckles. “Gotta warm you up, love.”

“Okay,” said Harry, walking into Zayn’s bedroom, Niall following closely behind. “Hot chocolate.” He reached forward and handed Zayn a paper cup, identical to the cup Niall was holding and the one in Harry’s other hand.

Zayn took the hot chocolate from Harry. “Thanks.” He gave his boyfriend a little smile. “What’s this for?” He sipped some of the chocolate and looked from Harry to Niall, who stood drinking his own hot chocolate, and back to Harry.

“It’s the first day of autumn, Zayn,” answered Harry, as though that explained everything.

“Yes,” agreed Zayn.

“Hot chocolate,” said Harry.

Zayn’s gaze moved from his taller boyfriend to his shorter one as though looking for some explanation; if anyone other than Harry could explain this, it would be Niall.

“The first part of autumn is hot chocolate,” Niall told Zayn, sounding like he was reciting something he’d learnt by heart after having it said to him many times. “Harry always brings me hot chocolate on the first day of autumn. When we were kids, Anne used to bring him round with a Thermos full o’ the stuff every year. Now he just stops at Black Treacle and gets large hot chocolates because he thinks it’s better than Anne’s.”

“They use Valrhona, Niall,” said Harry. “My mum uses Sainsbury’s dark chocolate.”

“Apparently that makes a difference,” Niall said to Zayn. “I don’t know. Doesn’t taste much different to me.”

Harry tutted. “Makes a huge difference, Ni. Not my fault you’ve got an unrefined palate.”

“It’s delicious,” said Zayn, cutting off his boyfriends’ bickering. He smiled sweetly. “Thanks, babe.”

“At least Zayn appreciates it,” muttered Harry.

Niall rolled his eyes.

“Haz, pet,” said Niall patiently, “we’ve walked around here three times already.”

“Four,” mumbled Zayn quietly, clasping the paper cup of cooling coffee in his hands as he followed behind his boyfriends.

“Four,” said Niall. “You didn’t see a single pumpkin you liked?”

“No,” said Harry stubbornly. “They’re all lopsided and crooked and funny-shaped.”

“I found one,” Niall told him, holding up the pumpkin in his hands to show the taller lad.

“It’s all tall and skinny,” observed Harry; clearly, in his opinion, tall and skinny was not an acceptable pumpkin shape.

“That’s how I like ‘em,” said Niall, giving Harry a grin as he ran his eyes up and down the tall, lanky frame of his boyfriend.

“And I found one right away,” added Zayn, still clasping the paper cup in his hands, now holding the barely-steaming coffee inches from his nose.

“That’s because you took one of the baby ones by the front gate before we even got into the patch,” said Harry. “I don’t even know how you’re going to make a jack o’lantern with it. It’s too tiny.”

“I’m an artist, babe,” Zayn reminded him. “I’ll make a bitty one and you’ll say, ‘Zayn, it’s so cute! Look at its little teeth!’”

Harry huffed and pouted because Zayn was probably right. He took a few steps away from his boyfriends and looked around. His eyes landed on a pumpkin that he’d not noticed before; it wasn’t perfect, had a bit of a lean to it, but he thought he could make it work. Maybe Zayn would help him if he asked. He walked toward it and bent down to pick it up.

“All set then, Haz?” asked Niall, watching as the brunette walked back to where he and Zayn stood.

“I guess,” he sighed, holding the pumpkin to his chest. “If you’re going to make me choose, I guess this one is fine. It’s crooked and sideways.” He sighed again.

“You’re so dramatic,” teased Zayn with a small smile.

Harry looked at Zayn, eyes wide and brows raised. “Really?” he said, taking in the paper cup of lukewarm coffee the boy was still holding as though it was offering him much-needed warmth. “I’m dramatic?” He eyed the heavy cable knit jumper—stolen from Harry’s closet—that Zayn was wearing over his own jumper and shirt, the knit beanie pulled down over his ears, the boots on his feet. “It’s not that cold.”

“Oh, please,” said Niall, rolling his eyes and smiling at his boyfriends. “You’re both dramatic!”

Niall cuddled closer to Harry under the blanket they were sharing. He reached over and dragged his other boyfriend closer, wrapping his arm around Zayn’s waist and pulling him in. Zayn gave a small contented sigh and nuzzled his face into Niall’s collar.

“This is nice,” said Niall, voice quiet and sweet. “Just being with the both of ya.”

Harry turned his head to kiss Niall’s temple and Zayn pressed his lips to Niall’s collarbone.

“Ya ever think,” he started, voice a little shaky and sounding nervous, “ya ever think about, like, about us, um. About us getting a little flat someday? Together? Having, like, our own… Like, a- a home together?”

“All the time, love,” said Harry gently, running his fingers through Niall’s blond hair.

“Cuddle up like this,” said Zayn. “Rainy autumn days. Have Haz make us some hot chocolate.”

“Buy him his special Valrhona chocolate,” said Niall, relaxing a bit now that he knew his boyfriends felt the same way he did. “Where do you even buy that stuff, Haz?”

“Amazon,” answered Harry. “You’d really buy me special chocolate?”

“O’ course,” said Niall.

“As long as you make us hot chocolate,” added Zayn, a smile on his lips.

Niall looked up at the clouds in the sky, the chill of the autumn day making it a pale blue. It wasn’t the steel grey of cold winter days but the faded blue of a tired summer giving way to autumn; it was a colour Niall had come to associate with hot chocolate and raking leaves and Harry’s awful cable knit jumpers that he loved for some reason, pumpkin patches and jack o’lanterns, and Harry’s last furtive attempt to make summer last a bit longer by insisting he and Niall camp out one last time in his tent still pitched in the back garden. (The last was something Niall had never enjoyed because it was always cool and breezy and he and Harry usually squeezed into one sleeping bag to share body heat; he did it for Harry, though, because it made Harry happy.)

And cloud-gazing. All of the things that, Harry had assured Niall for over ten years, meant autumn.

“I don’t know, Haz,” he said. “Doesn’t really look like a kitten to me.”

“You’re not looking at it properly,” insisted Harry. “You’ve got to move”—he pressed closer to Niall’s body and pushed him so he was positioned a little more to the left with his head angled a bit toward the house—“like that. Now look.” Harry pointed at the cloud in question again.

Niall squinted. He wasn’t sure what he thought it looked like but it wasn’t a kitten.

Zayn scooted closer so his head was right next to Niall’s, temples pressed together. “See that sort of oval bit with the little points on top?” he asked, gesturing to the spot of cloud above them. Niall nodded against Zayn’s head and the boy continued, “That’s the head, yeah, with its little ears.”

Harry listened as Zayn explained to their boyfriend where each of the kitten’s cloud body parts was, gentle and patient.

Like autumn patiently waiting for summer to end so it could come in, gentle and slow with its changing colours and shorter days, easing graciously into the cold harshness of winter.

Perfect.