HARRY STYLES INTERRACIAL IMAGINES.

you are a nascar driver and get in a wreck.

my car raced through the track, the roars of the engine filling my ears.

26 was catching up to me.

i needed to win this.

i sped up, "bait them." i spoke.

the next thing i knew, my car was flipping through the air.

maybe this was the end of my career.

it couldn't be. i had to make it.

"bring harry to the microphone."

"baby? stay with me."

"i am. am i still flipping?"

i just felt dizzy, and faint.

"no baby. we're coming down to get you."

i was pulled out of the car into strong arms, immediately recognizing them to be harry's.

i felt at home, and closed my eyes.

i woke up later to a beeping sound, and someone clutching my hand.

i fluttered open my eyelids, closing them again because of the light. then opened them again.

"harry." i croaked, my voice hoarse.

"baby." he cried, tears falling on our intertwined hands.

"hey. i'm here. i'm not going anywhere." i soothed, turning my neck to look at him.

"you were driving one second, then you flipped through the air. my heart dropped to my stomach. you wouldn't stop flipping. but when i heard them call me to come to the microphone, i thought you were saying your goodbyes."

"never. i'd never give up on you like that." i shook my head.

he smiled, and pressed his lips softly to mine. our lips touched, and it felt like i had died and came alive again.

this is what i craved, this is my drug.

we pulled away and he rested his forehead against mine.

"i love you."

"and i love you."

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