The light pouring in through the small barred window was not what woke Zayn – it was the rummaging around of his roommate.
“Dude,” Zayn cursed. “What the fuck! Not even the alarm’s gone off yet!”
“It’s visiting day Zaynie boy,” Harry cried, casting a look at Zayn over his shoulder. He was buttoning up a clean orange jumpsuit.
“Ugh,” Zayn turned over onto his back, looking up at the top bunk above him. “Lucky for some!”
Harry stopped what he was doing and slowly turned to look at the raven haired lad. His heart called out to the older boy. Zayn never had any visitors.
The lad hadn’t even seen the visitor room,
hadn’t received any mail apart from the one letter he’d received from his family back in his first week – a letter telling him to never contact them again.
“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled softly.
Zayn raised his middle finger in Harry’s direction and Harry smirked, before running his hand through his hair, trying to rid himself of his bed hair.
Oh the joys of being in a young offenders institute – the simple, everyday items you couldn’t have, mirrors was the worst one for Zayn, Harry’s was his laptop.
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