Louis: "I'm a ballerina!" you squeal, twirling around on the hardwood floor. "You're a beautiful ballerina," Louis laughs, sliding past you and giving you a smile. The two of you had both had the day off and you were both spending it sliding across the hardwood floors of your flat in your socks. It was certainly fun! "I feel like I'm ice skating," you muse, sliding across the floor and crashing in to Louis, who catches you and lets out a laugh. "So do I," he replies, grabbing your hands. "Twirl for me!" You spin around and around, your socks smoothly sliding across the polished wood until you're so dizzy you can hardly stand. You lean back into Louis' arms, the room spinning and smile. "We should do this more often," he says softly, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Absolutely."
Harry: "This is the strangest game," Harry grins, thumbing through a magazine from the pile. After deciding on spending Harry's day off at home, you'd decided to teach him a fun game you used to play with your friends back home. Basically, you got a stack of magazines and picked a picture for the other players to re-enact. What made this game super fun, though, was that Harry himself was in the magazines and you loved seeing if he could make the same expression twice. "Make this face," you giggle, holding up a rather unflattering picture of Harry caught in mid-speech, his eyes squinting. "What is that?" he laughs, examining the magazine and shaking his head. He attempts to imitate the expression and you hold the picture up next to him, laughing at how the expression is nearly the same. "Your turn," Harry says a moment later, pointing to a picture of Louis, making his signature sass face. "That's easy!" you reply, mimicking the face with flourish. "I'm tweeting this to Louis," Harry laughs, pulling out his phone and holding the magazine photo up to you.
Zayn: "Zayn, it's noon and all we've done all day is sleep," you yawn, snuggling back up against his chest, the sunlight streaming through the windows. "So? Sleep is nice," he replies sleepily, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Outside the day is up and calling," you sing part of your favorite Ed Sheeran with a laugh. "But I don't have to be so, please go back to sleep," Zayn smiles, singing softly in your ear. "Stay with me forever..." After a sleepy rendition of Cold Coffee, you two decide to just stay in bed. You were both out late last night and there's really no other place you'd rather be than in his arms.
Liam: "You look really cute when you're reading," Liam looks away from the television and looks at you. You're snuggled against him, his arm around your shoulders and you've got a book in your arms, your eyes scanning the pages peacefully. "Do I?" you smile, giving him a flirty expression. "You do," he smiles, leaning over and kissing your nose. "What are you reading anyway?" You hold up the cover of the book and shrug. "Sarah Dessen's new book, it's good." He nods and pretends he knows what you're talking about, even though you know he totally doesn't. "You know, you should read more, it'll help you with your spelling," you tease, resting your head on his lap. He runs his fingers through your hair mindlessly and shakes his head. "Not really into reading, but maybe you could help me with my spelling," he grins, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. "Or maybe I could kiss you instead," you say boldly, placing your hand on his cheek. "I like that idea better," he replies, closing the space in between.
Niall: "Even on your day off you're making music," you smile, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate into the living room where the blue-eyed boy is strumming his guitar and scribbling notes on paper. He looks up at you and shrugs, his face lit up like it always is when he's playing music and when he sees you. "I'm working on writing a song," he replies, taking a sip from the mug and wincing. "Careful, it's hot," you warn, a little too late. "I know, I burnt my tongue," he sticks out his tongue with a frown and you laugh, sitting cross legged on the sofa next to him. "What's the song about?" He shrugs shyly and strums a note on his guitar, his cheeks turning red. "I don't really have words yet, but I was thinking of you when I made it up," he says softly, strumming a pretty tune on the wooden guitar, his hair falling over his eyes as he plays.
