The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the hairdryer in the bathroom. Damian sat on the edge of the couch, knees drawn up, he had his phone in hand, but he was barely paying attention to what was on his screen. He'd spent almost a week at Zayn's now, and those past days had been one of the best moments of his life. His bruises had faded, so he knew it wouldn't be long before he has to go home.
Zayn stepped out of the bathroom, towel slung low around his hips, hair still damp and tousled. He was humming under his breath as he rummaged through his closet for something to wear to the party tonight. One of the track team's end-of-season blowouts at a senior's house. The kind of party where everyone drank too much, danced too close, and pretended the real world didn't exist until Monday.
"You gonna be okay here by yourself?" Zayn asked casually, pulling a black button-down off a hanger. "I shouldn't be too late. Midnight at the latest."
