Harry Styles imagines

He is in love

WARNINGS: Swearing

Words: 6.8k

                                                                                                              

Waking up was my favorite part of my day, or it had grown to be. 

The moon had never shinned so bright in the foggy London winters, nor had it ever seeped so deep through my skin, tickling the buds I could feel the warmth spread. It had never stretched so far to reach my eyes, peeling the heavy blanket laying peacefully over them late Friday evening. No, it had never really gotten that far before. Never that intense, but here I was, feeling the total contentedness of it all, wrapping my body in a cocoon of blankets and pillows, feeling totally at peace I let the clock tick by rhythmically.   

My eyes rid themselves of their sleep, clear as day I saw everything in high definition, the walls paint shining off the cracked beams of light, the curtains swaying so elegantly against the wind, the dust laying a thin coat across the warm toned floors, a homely sense to it all.

But trailing around the room, my eyes met to my right, silky h/c roots draped messily over the wrinkled pillow cover. Her skin was porcelain in the snowy downfall, cool breeze sneaking up on her pores, little bumps and chills shivering down her spine quickly and so smoothly it nearly looked like she had only shifted positions. Her lips jutted outwards, little puffs of air escaping freely past her lips, brows furrowed together intently, focused on her one track pace in her beautiful mind. 

I couldn't help it when I reached up, thumb placed between her brows to smooth out the creases, watching with such deep focus as her features softened and her intense focus bubbled over into a dozy huff escaping in salty morning breath, I winced. Yet she laid perfectly still, cuddled up against her pillow, holding it tightly, attached to the cottony whiteness stuffed between her fingers.

My eyes traced her features from afar, face surely mush by now. My lips were upturned, cheeks round and rosy, eyes scrunched and gleaming, relaxed and shifting to inspect her. I looked at her adorningly, admiring every inch of her face, how her lips sucked into lick the dryness covering them. Absolutely infatuated with the simplest things she did with no memory of even knowing she'd done it. Hopelessly devoted to the girl, I watched sleepily, besotted over everything in that memory I held close, a snow day for us, I felt awestruck and love sick. Doting over her, I ignored how her hot breath tickled my neck, or how her knee had pressed up so tight against my thigh I broke a sweat between our heated bodies. I barely noticed how her baby hairs stuck to her forehead in curls or how her eyes leaked with the mornings tears for no reason, bottling up nothing but the wetness they held comfortably all day. Barely even saw how her lips parted again, drool stringing onto the pillow. Everything about her felt like I home, I looked to her for home.

One look, dark room
Meant just for you

Maybe that's why I couldn't help but hold the sigh falling between my lips, or how the air came out too quick or harsh, blowing against the curl in her eyelashes. Maybe that's why her eyes dared open this late, and I'd forever blame myself for not turning away for even a moment, admiring her for a little longer, quieter, softer. Something so magnetic drew my gaze to her, making the bonds too heavy against my iris I couldn't force myself to look away while she laid in front of me so peacefully. But I would never forgive myself for ruining that moment I got with her without her even knowing, a stolen memory.

Time moved too fast
You play it back

"H..?" She mumbled, eyes barely open, they fell closed against in a blink. One long blink, she licked her lips again, head lifting shakily against the weight of her feeble arms.