One Direction | Preferences

He doesn't want to get out of bed in the morning

He doesn’t want to get out of bed in the morning

Niall: You’re not sure if he’s tired, or sad, or missing home, or even just lazy and wanting to stay in the warm bed, but Niall has refused to stir, wrapped in the duvets and burrowed into pillows, dozing in and out of consciousness. You eventually end up sitting beside him, finding the kitchen and lounge room too empty and quiet without his presence, tapping away on your laptop in the afternoon sunlight while Niall naps. He wakes up occasionally, sending you sleepy smiles and telling you about the dream he’s had and how he would get up, he’s just really, really tired. And maybe you should be irritated that he doesn’t want to get up and do something, but really, you’re quite happy to just sit there with him.

Harry: He’s sad, curled up beneath a pile of blankets and covers, hair crumpled on his forehead so he looks sixteen again. You peek into the bedroom, and find him with his face buried in the pillow, back shuddering slightly, muffled gulps of air filling the room. “Harry?” He stills immediately, and you pad across the floor, tucking a finger under his chin and turning his head so you can see his face. His usually sparkling green eyes are red rimmed and dull, cheeks tear streaked  “Baby,” you sigh, rubbing you thumbs beneath his eyes, ridding his face of tear tracks. “What’s wrong?” His chest stutters with a suppressed sob, but he manages a smile. “Nothing, m’fine.” “Harry…,” “I’m fine, really, just, you know, tired.” You bite your lip, “Okay.” His eyebrows raise, slightly surprised you’ve believed the poor excuse. “Okay?” You smile, not believing him in the slightest, but he doesn’t need an argument right now, and so climb into bed with him, wrapping your arms around his torso, kissing his bare shoulder. “Okay. Let me hold you for a little bit, it’ll make you feel better.” He sinks into you, “Please.” 

Liam: It’s been a long tour, so you can’t really blame Liam for mumbling about five more minutes and turning away from you, burrowing further into the blankets. After about ten tries of trying to rouse him, you give up, deciding to just let him be and go about your day, running errands and cleaning before finally peeking back into the bedroom around lunchtime, finding that Liam has barely moved, slumbering away peacefully. He’s obviously bone tired, and, not wanting to wake him up, you decide to just get in with him, shedding your jeans to crawl in next to his warm body. He rolls over, slightly crushing you with his weight, but wraps his arms around you, nuzzling into your shoulder before stilling, the two of you drifting to sleep together.

Louis: Louis groans when you wake him up, tugging the covers up to his chin, refusing to open his eyes. “No, it’s not morning yet, it can’t be morning. ‘M still sleeping.” You laugh as you pull open the curtains, letting sunlight illuminate the bedroom. “It’s just past eleven, babe, I can’t let you sleep any longer, you won’t make the meeting.” “Fuck the meeting.” You drop down onto the mattress, pulling back the arm slung over his face, “You’ve gotta go, Lou.” He humphs, glaring up at you with sleepy blue eyes. “I’d rather stay here and sleep. Preferably with you.” You sigh, brushing some hair out of his face, “You can come straight back home to bed after.” “It’s not the same!” Louis protests, and you choose that moment to yank the duvets off the mattress. Needless to say, he’s much more inclined to hop in the shower and get going after his source of warmth has been taken away, slowing just long enough to kiss your cheek and invite you into his shower.

Zayn: Zayn always looks so pretty in the morning, golden skin standing out against the white of the covers and sheets, hair messy and swooping over his forehead, eyelashes thick and long, brushing against his cheeks, lips pink. His voice is rough and skin warm, refusing to let you out of his grasp as the clock ticks over to ten a.m., arms tight around your waist. “You’re not going anywhere,” he mumbles against your shoulder as you try to wriggle from his grasp. “Zayn, we have to get up. We’ve got stuff to do.” “We can do it tomorrow.” “But we should do it today.” “We’re gonna stay here and sleep and cuddle,” he decides, and, well, who could resist that?