“Remember that time you looked at my eyes and named every colour in them?” Harry remembered. They’d been high or drunk or something and Niall’s head was on his lap and they were laughing and there was gold and blue and green at the very corners and he heard himself reciting “Azure, gold, teal,” over and over again.

The sun dripped from around Harry’s shoulders and pooled at their feet, and they were summer boys, grinding up against the tiki patterns and kissing the alcohol out of each other’s mouths.

(originally a ziall one shot x)