Niall: it’s kind of a running joke between the both of you, because you both can’t help but speak your minds without filtering (which you both secretly love about each other anyways). And he’s the one who started it anyways, because the first time you’d fallen asleep at his flat was the first time he’d gotten to wake you up in the morning, which was the first time he’d seen your nose crinkle up while your hands rubbed your eyes and a little yawn escape your lips and your hair thrown up in somewhat of a bun and your voice not quite woken up enough to be normal as you told him to ‘stop being a little shit and let me sleep’. That was the first time he’d blurted out the ‘marry me’ partially as a joke but mostly as a subconscious thought that somehow found its way up through his vocal chords. And then you’d replied with something along the lines of ‘maybe sometime after 8 am preferably’ which got him blushy as blushy can be as he watched you sniffle a couple of times and snuggle closer to him. And this became more and more common of an exchange between the two of you, like the time he’d heard you humming the song you first danced together to as you were folding the laundry. Or the time you really ended up hating the new flavor of ice cream you’d tried out and he traded his for yours even though you both knew full well that it was his favorite and he doesn’t usually let anyone share. But then The Day came when Niall was just out of sorts, really, buzzing about and you can’t help but ask him what’s gotten into him when he just kind of stops for a second and looks you straight in the eye (“Ni, really, what are you looking at?” “Marry me” “Well I’d like to get a spot of lunch first, if you don’t mind” “No, really, y/n, marry me. Like, actually and properly marry me. Setting a date, picking flowers… look, I’ve got the ring and everything—probably should’ve got it out a while ago…”). And then he’s bending down and pulling out a little velvet box that’s been positively burning a hole through his pocket for the last couple weeks because, god, he’s just so certain at this very moment that nothing could be more perfect than you saying yes. And then you’re nodding your head, unable to speak really, as he pulls you in for a hug as you drop the blanket you were folding less than a minute ago as you mention that you were ‘quite serious about the lunch thing, though’ which has him giggling a bit as he kisses you because he’s properly in love and properly engaged to you.
Harry: it comes down to the fact that with everyone he’s ever known, which is quite a bit of people actually, there’s really just something about you. The specifics of it are really a blur, but there’s something about the way you tuck your hair behind your right ear when you need to focus, or that you end up doodling on your wrist more often than not—almost a new drawing every day. Or maybe the way that you don’t just say you’re ‘fine’, even just in passing, that you make it a point to say what’s really going on in your head and heart and life at that moment. Because you’ve got that one freckle on your cheek that he would really just love to kiss at any given moment, and he’s just so fond of the tastefully mismatched socks you seem to always have, or the fact that you might end up wearing Grinch socks in the middle of August because you were feeling a bit of the Grinch spirit that day. He’s just caught up in the little things about you, despite the fact that most people would call him absolutely mental that he notices all these things about a girl in the same psychology course as him that he seems to run into quite a bit, actually. He can’t help but think of how he’d really like to spend the wee hours of the morning in the library with you, talking about how beautiful the world and making origami stars because he’s seen you do it during class and finally asked you to show him how, which was actually the first time he talked to you (“umm, hii, I was just… well I’ve been watching you for a while now and—shit, that sounded creepy, well, uh, it’s just that you must’ve made about twenty of those this past week and, uh, I’m really just fascinated by ‘em. Could you… I dunno, maybe you could show me how you do it, but I mean it’s not like, don’t feel like you have to, I just… ugh I’m sorry). And you couldn’t really contain yourself when you saw the lanky, curly-haired boy tripping over himself as you showed him the way to fold them, with his huge hands making a right mess at first, but slowly getting more precise (and it’s not like you weren’t completely content to watch his hands fumble around for a while because, I mean, look at them). So it’s really no surprise to him that he’s found himself outside your dorm at 2:17 am with the book you loaned him, a pen, and numerous paper strips. And then you’ll find yourselves positively on top of each other not an hour later, cramped on the small but cozy bed as you discuss a favorite chapter of said book and draw on his arm a bit as he fumbles around with the paper stars but also with your hair and the hem of your—actually, his, shirt (and it’s no wonder he’s kept all the stars on display in the house after all these years because he’s quite fond of the story of how you both met and absolutely jumps at the chance when anyone asks him about them).
