Luke: are your eyes. You met him in a coffee shop, the one you worked at. You didn’t really notice him when he walked in, since it was a busy day and you were trying to get everyone their coffee as soon as possible, as you knew a lot of people were in a hurry in the morning. Now he didn’t really notice you either; his phone asked for all his attention as he tapped away while he waited for his turn. “Sir, can I help you?” you finally said, turning towards him, and he looked up. The moment your eyes met his, he felt this strange feeling he hadn’t felt before. And suddenly he couldn’t remember how to speak. You stared at him, waiting for him to order, but when nothing came out, you took matter into your own hands. “Sir, I’m sorry, there’s a queue…” “I’m sorry, you just have really pretty eyes,” he blurted out. Realizing what he’d said, he slammed a 5 dollar bill on the counter, his cheeks flushed red. “And a black coffee, please.”
Ashton: is your fashion sense. He first saw you in a clothing store. He wasn’t much of a shopping person, but the problem with tour was that there were never enough places with washing machines, and he was running out of clothes, so on a certain Thursday afternoon, he dragged himself to the mall. He noticed you immediately when he walked through the doors, not even you personally at first, but your shirt. “Hey, I have that shirt!” he said, before even really realizing that you would be able to hear him. You turned around, looking at the attractive young guy that was blatantly staring at you. “It’s a good shirt,” you answered with a smile. His eyes travelled you up and down, and when you did the same, you noticed you were basically wearing the same thing; the black ripped skinny jeans, the band shirt, even down to the beanie on both of your heads. He grinned, sticking out his hand to shake yours. “I’m Ashton. I feel like we will have a lot in common.”
Calum: is your voice. He was walking around town late at night, going home from a late band practice, when he suddenly heard a voice singing. It wasn’t a song he recognized, and he hadn’t heard the voice before either, but for some reason, the sound made him stop dead in his tracks as he tried to locate where the sound was coming from. He turned to a restaurant. The door was open, but when he peeked inside, he didn’t see anyone. This was definitely where the sound was coming from, though, so he walked inside. Just then, you stood up; you’d been kneeling behind the bar, stocking up, and when you saw him standing there, you froze. “We’re closed,” you muttered, hoping the stranger didn’t hear you sing. “I know, I was just…” his voice trailed. He was just what? Being a creeper? “I really like your voice,” he finally said. “You’re very talented.” You giggled. “That’s such a lie!” “No, really, it isn’t. What song were you singing?” You bit your lip, focusing your eyes on the ground. “I wrote it, kinda. But it sucks. I can’t come up with the verses.” “I can help,” he answered, his eyes lighting up, and suddenly stocking up the bar didn’t seem all that important anymore.
Michael: is your laugh. You met him in a cinema, where him and his bandmates were watching the same stupid comedy you and your friends had chosen to watch. It really wasn’t that funny at all, but you had quite a lame sense of humor, as your friends told you on occasion, and you found the movie hilarious. Michael couldn’t really say what he thought about the movie, because he hadn’t been focusing on it at all. He didn’t even know what it was, but the moment he first heard your laugh echo through the silent cinema he’d dropped his eye on you. “Is it creepy if I really like that girl’s laugh?” he asked Luke, when the movie was over. “Yes,” he answered, making his way out of the cinema. Michael stayed behind though, and when you walked past him, or rather, when you tried to walk past him, he stopped you. “This is gonna sound really weird,” he stumbled, “but you have a really nice laugh.” A giggle escaped your lips. “That’s the weirdest and also the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” “It is weird,” Michael admitted sheepishly, “but I am a bit weird, I guess.” “I can tell by the hair,” you teased. “I’m Y/N.” “Hi, Michael.” “Well, Michael, you’ll be happy to know that I love weird…”
