Harry - are what he holds like pebbles in the crinkled base of his palm when you’re not with him, nothing but the soft, patterned image of fluttering eyelids when he thinks about you, soft lips gaping open when he lays back, his first day off in weeks, but you’re a thousand miles away, a daydream the only way he can see you.
Liam - are what he rests on when he’s laying with you, in the backyard under a yawning sun, his arm around you, holding you, every squeeze that happens jolting a little more when he thinks about marrying you, having you like that someday, his fingers holding tighter and tighter, a little closer to being real with every gentle caress, sun-kissed skin what he feels.
Louis - are what he falls back on when he’s had a bad day, and you’re too far away for his fingers to get to, so he rests his head in the crook of another unfamiliar hotel pillow, closing his eyes to the sound of your voice in the middle of a day, strangely quiet, like a break in the current he’s rushing down, your voice murmuring and your eyes all that he wonders about.
Zayn - are what he closes his eyes to when he’s laying down with you in the middle of the day, a rare break where he doesn’t talk much and neither do you, daydreams filtering in like the sun through his window, clutching your thoughts and sending them down a stream so peaceful you don’t want to open your eyes from it and neither does he.
Niall - are what he has with you, even when he’s not with you, peaceful and idyllic the way he sees them, the way he sees his life with you, hands holding and everything feeling a little better, better than before, better than whatever he was doing before he met you, daydreaming of life ahead and what it could be, it could be anything.
