One direction and 5 Seconds of Summer preferences and images

Apologies

Michael: He's not very good with words, but the one thing that shows you how much he's sorry if he upsets you is when he hugs you. Yes, hugs. It's really quite cute to see him lumbering towards you awkwardly and stiffly before pressing you into him, his lips in your hair, mumbling incoherent apologies. It's endearing and he's honestly quite worried every time he does this that you might reject him one day. But you never do, and you can't because he's so in love with you that all of his apologies, even if you're wrong at times, are sincere because he doesn't want to fight with you. He apologizes to get his girl back and make sure she doesn't go sauntering off into the arms of another, less worthy suitor.

Ashton: It's a very secretive relationship the two of you have, he's the very popular and very likable senior and you're the defiant and brutally honest underclassman; you two are somewhat polar opposites of each other and the whole aura of a secret relationship makes things more exciting for you. So when school's done for the week, he'll pull you in his car, lips pressed against the soft skin of your neck, mumbling so many apologies that your head spins. "I'm sorry I ignored you all week," he mumbles, hands roaming your sides. "You know I love you, right? Because baby I do." And the rest goes flying over your head as his apologies turn to physical need, and physical need turns to passion.

Luke: Six years old and defiant, you stand in front of your mom to see him hiding behind his mom, wide-eyed and a bit scared of you really. He cowers behind his mother as your mom struggles to make you advance toward him, visibly struggling against your mom. "Apologize to him now," your mother sternly says, pushing you toward him. You look across to see him, red in the face and eyes a bit teary. His mother pushes him forward too, making him stumbled on his feet as he sniffles, hastily rubbing his eyes. Boys don't cry, especially in front of girls. "Mom," you whine, crossing your arms over your chest. Your mother only looks at you sternly, arms crossed over her chest as well. You sigh, before bowing your head and grumbling an apology, unwillingly, to him. "I'm sorry I kicked you in the shin. I didn't mean to..."

Calum: He doesn't really pay attention to anything, not the people staring and pointing at him, nor the path he's headed. He blindly follows the road, hands stuffed in his pockets, earphones in and eyes wandering the scenery. He doesn't see you, and you certainly don't see him as you're rummaging through your bag, until you two collide, falling to the ground. He's about to tell you off, pulling out his earphone before his eyes meet your gentle and kind eyes, apologies spilling profusely from your pretty lips. And even though you've already stood up, looking down at him worriedly, he's not even listening to what you're saying, captivated by you and only you.