One Direction imagines

Harry Imagine

Sunday morning. I had never found this one moment in the many that had, and will happen, so comforting. The light from the world outside was flooding in from the slightly opened blind, hitting every uncovered area of the mainly white room. The white sheets were covering my body in way that could only be described as unmessily messy. The room was silent to the ear, but the feeling of comfort and love was screaming as loudly as a siren. But something, or more, someone, was the thing that made this moment so, so perfect. Him. The way his chocolate brown hair fell perfectly over his forehead in a messy curl. The way his big, green eyes stared at me sleepily, inviting me only to stare back in complete and utter awe. The way his mouth slowly creeped into a subtle curl, only just reviling the small indents in his cheeks. He was perfection. Completely, unbelievably, effortlessly perfect.

“Good morning,” he whispered in his low, sleepy voice. I had only hummed in response. No word or action could describe what I had felt, what I feel and what I am to feel in the future.

“You are my everything, you do realise?” He said, as if he could read my mind.

“As you are mine.” I replied silently.

“I love you,” The words he spoke made me feel warm and wanted.

“As I do you, my dear, I always will, until the day I die.” I muttered into his ear.

“Do you promise?” His question made me smile.

“With my entire heart. With every fibre in my body. With the every means of my existence. I promise,” I said,

“I promise.”