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Neither of them ask why they’re still doing this, three years later, both of them in relationships with other people.But Harry’s senses are alive with open-mouthed kisses and stolen breath. His back hitting a mattress made of clouds. Long, slicked fingers sliding into his body, filling him with bone-deep need, passion and unspoken feelings, sizzling through him like lightning across a velvet night sky. Silk sheets dangling around naked frames, clinging to bare skin like the intermingling scents of them that filled the surrounding air.Honeycomb eyes burn into his. He inhales sharply, breathing in the feeling of complete. Almost complete.“Fuck, Haz.” Zayn groans.His hips grinding against him, moving in and out of his stretched-out hole slowly, sensually. Zayn’s thickness reaching inside of him, dragging deliciously against his prostrate. He moans loudly, body alight with a deep seated euphoria. Zayn grunts as Harry surrenders himself to him, their bodies merging, their skin rippling with pleasure. Harry sinks his teeth into Zayn’s muscled shoulder, crying out against the flesh as Zayn thrusts into him deeply, digging directly into his prostrate.Zayn moves like he wants to burn his name on the inside of Harry’s clenching walls. As if it isn’t already carved into the flesh of Harry’s heart.He comes with eyes half shut and Zayn’s name on his tongue, his pink-rimmed hole fluttering around the solid girth of Zayn’s cock, to the feeling of being filled to the brim with stardust.~Afterward, they lie down side by side, shoulder to shoulder. The dim light of the moon filters into the room, illuminating their blank faces in an ethereal blue hue.They don’t talk about it.They never do. Neither of them know what to say. What do you say when there’s nothing left to say? Except there is, because Harry’s heart is beating a mile a minute, ricocheting back and forth against his rib cage so fast and hard that he thinks his chest might crack open, and if it does then Zayn will know. He will know that Harry doesn’t let anyone else touch him there, not if they’re not Zayn. He will know that Harry’s heart has never stopped beating for him, that whenever he so much as thinks of him, his entire body feels like it’s on fire, like he’s just been punched and had all the wind knocked out of him because it’s started to feel like every breath that he takes doesn’t even belong to him, like he’s not living for himself anymore. He will know that when he left he didn’t just take Harry’s heart, he took everything, every single part of him.He will know that when Harry says, “Why’d you leave the band?” That what he’s really asking is, /“Why did you leave me?”/And when he answers with stiffened shoulders and a shuddered,“Not tonight.”Everything in him seems to sigh.He can almost feel the eight years worth of ‘i love you’s rolling around on his tongue, clenched like a fist in his throat. It takes everything in him to keep it from spilling out.He can’t help the single tear that leaves his eye, not even when he feels the brush of a thumb swiping across his cheekbone, collecting the evidence of his sadness on its tip. Harry still writes poetry, late at night by the light of the stars, because he’d always felt like they were swimming in a cosmic sea when they were together, sailing across the midnight sky. Zayn wraps his arms around him and it feels like the whole universe is folding itself around him, blanketing him in a star-stitched coat. The only way they know how to say sorry to each other, is through touch. It’s almost not enough anymore.Harry’s heart calls out to its missing half. All he can hear is the sound of stars.