One Direction | Preferences

Remembering How You Met

Remembering How You Met

A/N: I have to say, I do quite like this one. I hope you do too! Feedback would be amazing :) x

Niall: Niall’s eyes are red rimmed, but yours must be in even worse shape, having let the tears out instead of holding them back like Niall has managed to, mascara rubbed around your eyelids, shading the skin a dark grey. Niall’s chest is rising and falling quickly as he stares at you, your last insult that you’ve yelled still piercing the air, even after the sound has faded, ringing in your ears because, gosh, how could you be so cruel? “I – I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice cracking, and he shakes his head, knuckling his eyes and letting out slow breath. “Remember when we first met? And you were so quiet and soft and innocent…,” he looks up, blue eyes dull and faded, and you move forward, closer towards him. “You were nice and sweet, and you still are, but now… I can’t believe you would think that, let alone say it.” “ I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean it, I promise.” He shrugs, and he looks so sad and tired and heavy. “I’m really sorry, Niall,” you breathe, reaching forward to wipe away a stray tear rolling down his cheek. He lets you do it, but mumbles desperately  “I don’t know, (Y/N). I don’t know.”

Harry: You’re tucked up against Harry, safe from the world and prying eyes. For now, all that exists is Harry’s body and Harry’s breathing and Harry’s voice, your nose resting against his collarbones, body rising and falling with his for every inhale and exhale, his arms wrapped around you like a baby. “Remember when we met for the first time?” Harry murmurs, and you blink your eyes open, looking up at him, “Of course, do you?” His forehead crinkles as he peers down at you, “No, I can’t actually, I wish I could, but I can’t.” You’re just opening your mouth to scold him, when he grins, squeezing you a bit, “Kidding, babe, of course I remember.” You roll your eyes, and he chuckles, chest rumbling as he plants a kiss on your forehead. “You looked so beautiful, and you had your hair up, and you smiled at me, and no one else had ever smiled at me like that before, like you knew something I didn’t. I’ve never believed in love at first but…,” he hums, sliding a hand up your back to rest at the nape of your neck, fingers tangled in your hair, “I think I did the second I saw you.” 

Liam: You’re lying in the bath, half floating, hair spread out around you, the water a surface around your ears, Liam lying on the bathroom floor beside you, fully clothed and a towel spread out beneath him to protect his back from the cold tiles. The two of you are gazing up at the ceiling, talking quietly, existing only here and now, in this hotel bathroom in the middle of the city that never sleeps. “(Y/N)?” “Yeah?” He waits a beat before replying, “Do you remember when we first met?” You smile lightly, “Of course, Liam.” “What did you think of me?” You exhale slowly, dragging your fingertips through the water, “When I first saw you, I thought, that is the most handsome man I have ever seen. And then I started talking to you and thought, this is the kindest man I have ever met. And then I kissed you for the first time and thought, this man is the man I’m going to marry.”

Louis: It’s when you’re still panting a bit, delaying rolling over and finding your clothes and having a shower for as long as possible, Louis stretched out beside you on his side, playing with your fingertips, occasionally sticking his bottom lip out to blow up and get the hair out of his eyes. “Remember how we met?” he murmurs, voice low and soft in the dark bedroom, moonlight splaying over the surfaces, striping his legs in silver, bold against the golden of his skin. You smile, small and sleepy, blinking before you say anything, “Yeah.” “I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen,” he muses, locking gazes, the corners of his mouth turned up, “My opinion hasn’t changed.” 

Zayn: “Remember how we first met?” You’re perched on the kitchen counter while Zayn cooks, sitting on your hands, occasionally taste testing the lasagna he’s preparing. He raises an eyebrow, sliding the tray into the oven and shutting the door, turning the timer on, “Of course, why?” You shrug, and he walks over, spreading your legs to stand between them, hands on your thighs, brushing his nose with yours, “Why?” “I just… what did you think when I left?” He laughs quietly, pulling back a bit to look you in the eye, “You shut the door and went inside, and I walked out and stood on the pavement, and looked up at the sky, and said, ‘That’s the woman I’m going to marry.’” You blush, “Oh.” He grins, smoothing his palms over your thighs, kissing your mouth gently, “Yeah, oh. Don’t ever think I’m not in this relationship for the long run.”