One Direction | Preferences

Spring

Spring

Niall: It’s small signs that let you know spring is here, flowers blooming in the front garden, sunshine gleaming through the clouds, and the morning’s aren’t quite so frosty and cold. You don’t have to wear so many layers, and you pull out your first pair of shorts a few weeks in. Niall grins at you from the breakfast bar when you wander in, munching on toast, “Shorts, hey?” You pull down on the hem slightly, shrugging, “I’m gonna trust the weatherman.” He laughs, barely noticing when you steal a slice of jam toast from his plate, well used to it by now. “Good for you, babe. Call me when you need me to bring you a pair of jeans.” You roll your eyes, but barely last three hours once you leave the house before you need him to come bring you a warmer pair of pants.

Harry: It’s your daughter’s middle name. It’s not that common of one, but spring holds special meaning for the two of you, you met in spring, and after breaking up, got back together in spring, got married in spring, and delivered Emme in spring. So the season is special, the world awakening from a long, cold winter, bringing you first Harry, then bringing him back to you, and many years later, bringing you your perfect baby girl.

Liam: You and Liam wait a few weeks or so, until the sun is steady every day, and then spend a weekend in the back garden, planting and weeding, bringing your garden back to it’s usual state that will carry through summer and autumn before disappearing again next winter. It’s always a lovely couple of days, sun beaming down, planting neat rows of flowers and the edible garden in the corner. And, if it gets hot enough, Liam tends to take his shirt off, and it’s not the worst view in the world, watching his back muscles flex in the sunlight.

Louis: The days start to get warmer, one by one, the sunlight growing stronger, the tree in your front yard beginning to get it’s leaves back. It’s easier to get up in the morning, not being quite as cold, but Louis will still take a sleep in whenever he can. He’ll drape his arm over your waist, spooning you against his chest and nuzzling into your neck, “Still sleeping, baby.” “We’ve gotta get up, Lou, it’s not winter anymore.” “Still cold, and you’re warm.” You whine quietly, wriggling a bit, but he kisses the back of your shoulder, keeping his arm tight around your waist. “Stay,” he whines, and you can’t really resist.

Zayn: A spring wedding, new beginnings, new weather, new flowers. The morning starts off crisp but by the afternoon when you’re bridesmaids are fussing over you and your mother’s crying and you’re worried about being late, the sun is shining, bright and beaming over the beautiful garden prepared for you and Zayn. Everyone you care about is here, and you have to swallow a lot to stop yourself from crying when you first round the corner onto the aisle and find Zayn at the other end, gleaming at you.