“Find another one ‘cause she belongs to me”
Zayn
Stretched out on the couch in the apartment that you and Zayn shared, you lazily gripped the remote, sifting from various channels, trying to find something to catch your eye. You were invested in a murder investigation onCriminal Minds where a suspect had just been arrested (but you knew he wasn’t the killer. There was still twenty minutes left) when you were happily interrupted by the opening of the front door and Zayn’s tired voice calling out, “Honey! I’m home!” Abandoning your show, you jump up to greet your boyfriend but immediately stop to question the sorrow on his face, “What’s wrong baby?” Of course, if it were anyone else trying to pry open the rusted cage of his heart, he’d wean them away with his silent demeanor and cold shoulders, but it was you so he pulled you into his arms as you both collapsed on the couch. Propping up your elbows on his chest, you intently listened as he began, “Management was just shittier than usual today. Apparently they’re under the impression that they own me and the rest of the lads. It bugs me that some fans are a bit too possessive too, trying to control aspects of my life. I mean, I don’t belong to anyone, except to my family – and you of course. Like, the way you belong to me.” You inner feminism began to protrude because as far as you were concerned, you were not an object to be possessed. Heeding the fire in your eyes, Zayn quickly interjected to explain himself, “No babe, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just – sorry, you know I’m shit with words but – it’s like, y’know how your cheeks blush when I stroke them with my fingertips?” To emphasize his point he’d caress your cheeks with his fingertips, overwhelming you with faint smell of his recent cigarette break and his action was rewarded by the sight of pink hue blossoming on your skin. “See?” he continued, “That belongs to me. To us. And you know how you shudder when I kiss you where your skin is the most sensitive?” He paused to gently nip at the skin just below your earlobe, eliciting a slight tremble of your body from pleasure before saying, “That belongs to me too. And the beautiful face you make when you wake up in the morning? That’s mine because I’m hoping to wake up to your face every day for the rest of my life. So those parts of you belong to me.” Stunned by the beauty of his words, you just stared at him, speechless. Kissing the top of your head, he continued, “I belong to you too of course. Like my eyelashes are all yours babe. Every time I give you butterfly kisses, wisping my lashes against your belly, that’s me. That’s my way of offering you a small piece of me for you to take and make your own. And the way I look at you, that look belongs to you and only you because I promise I’m never going to be able to look at anyone else the way I do at you.” Lazily stroking your back, gliding his fingertips over your arch and curves, he finished “And finally, my heart. You’ve had my heart since day one. It’s yours completely, always been yours. And I’m never gonna ask for it back.”
“She knows she knows
That I never let her down before”
Harry
Every one’s initial reaction when they heard that you, class valedictorian, clichéd good girl, and avid supporter of saving the whales, were dating Harry Styles, notoriously dangerous boy, lacking care, and a leather jacket aficionado, they’d all offer misguided warnings (“Oh you poor girl, you fell under his spell too huh?” and “You’re going down a dangerous road my friend. Save yourself and leave him before he breaks your heart”). With a small smile that guarded your secret thoughts and a careless flip of your hair, you’d disregard their warnings only to walk into Harry’s arms. They told you that he would break your heart to a point of no return (but who was the one who held you throughout the night when you first discovered that you didn’t get accepted into your first choice college? Who wiped away your tears, sacrificed their own sleep and time to cradle your melancholy frame against theirs only to whisper snippets of comforting advice and the promise of brighter days?). They said that hanging out with him would ruin you and your grades would plummet (When in reality, Harry gave up a night out with the boys to help you study for your finals because you were one frayed nerve short from experiencing a nervous breakdown, removing all sharp objects away from your vicinity he offered “Here love, I’ll highlight the important things in this textbook while you work on memorizing those formulas. Then we’ll switch, you can read my highlighted passages and I’ll quiz you on your memorization. Deal? And of course I’ll drive you to school tomorrow, that way you’ll get a few extra moments of studying squeezed in during the commute,” and the pair of you would study into the late hour. And maybe you’d wake up from your accidental nap, spastic about the essay that you had to finish as school would begin in less than an hour, only to open your laptop to see that Harry had finished it for you). They whispered urban legends claiming that he would suck you into the spiraling vortex of his dark world, only to leave you suffocating and craving more, but honestly, Harry was trying to shed his old skin in order to become a boy that you would be proud of. His old friends would wonder why Harry no longer seem interested in hanging out in dingy clubs promising excess skin and compromised morals, the owner of the little shop on the corner wondered why he hadn’t seen his regular customer, a boy with untamable curly hair who always bought a pack of cigarettes, in a long while. His mother would wonder why her boy would no longer scowl at the world but rather greeted her with dimpled smiles and departed with swift kisses to her cheek. (And of course, it was all for you. Because every decision Harry made from the day he met you, was done with the thought of you in his mind). People would judge from afar, unable to fathom why such a nice girl such as yourself would waste time fraternizing about a boy who demolished his body with meaningless tattoos (and you would portray your indifference by tracing each of his works of art with your pinky and asking for the story behind each one. “And this ship? What’s that one mean?” “That I believe that there’s more to the world than this one judgmental town. That the world is so vast that people can travel by the sea and fail to experience every inch of it. I wanna do that one day y’know? Travel the world? I want to see everything beautiful that this world has to offer. But of course, I don’t expect to see anything that could compare to you.”) Despite his shady past, his motorcycle that was considered a mobile death trap, and the words and thoughts of close minded naysayers, you knew and believed with all your heart that Harry would always be there for you and would never let you down. He proved himself to be true to you countless times, even when you saw all the evidence you needed in his eyes the first time he declared his love for you, and you knew that no matter where life would take you, there would always be Harry not too far away, prepared to guard you from danger, to have your back, and anything short of taking an actual bullet for you.
