Luke: “Y/N” He mumbles. It’s late at night, around midnight, and you are cuddled up against Luke’s chest, with your small hands clasped on his flannel pajama and you’re feet tangled. Its freezing, small snowflakes are falling outside and even though the heating is on, you want to feel your boyfriend’s warm embrace of. He has his arms wrapped around your body, his mouth pressed against your temple and his thumb slowly running down your arm. You can’t look up at him, your position forbids you to, so you just mumble: “Mhm?” And Luke’s eyes are looking down at you, “I love you” “I know” You tell him, burying your head in the crook of his neck as you let your arms travel out the covers and sneak around his nape, embracing him, “I love you too” And Luke’s smiling, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head as he let’s out a low sigh that announces he’s about to fall asleep.
Ashton: His hazel eyes are locked on yours, and yours are locked on his. You don’t know how much time you have spent in each other’s eyes, lying on the bed and merely looking at each other. It could be 9am or midday, but you couldn’t care less; the only thing that matters to you in this right moment, is the person that holds you as if you were the most fragile and precious thing in the world. And that’s exactly what Ashton is thinking at the moment, about how beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have you because you’re everything he could ask for; his girlfriend, his best friend, his lover, his partner in crime and adventures. And maybe, at the thought of the last words he’s already planning some new mischief you both could do, that definitely would involve Calum, Michael and marshmallows.
Calum: You swallow your tears, hiding your head in his chest as you try to hold back the sniffs and bring your self together, but you can’t. You can’t. You want to hug him all night and every night for the rest of your life. You can’t bear with the idea that he’s leaving for Tour and won’t be home in the next six months and just… Ah! It’ll be difficult, it’ll be so damndifficult because you’re so used to his shelter, to his stupid comments and bad jokes, to the way his tanned skin looks beside yours when his hands are traveling along your skin. Calum shares the same feeling; he loves tours and preform around the world yet he wants to stay at home, with you. And he lets out a long sigh when his phone rings for like the fifth or sixth time and he knows he’s like twenty minutes late or something and the guys will kill him, “I have to go”
Michael: With one of his arms across your chest, your back resting against his chest and a Xbox control on his right hand, he manages to kill some guards, zombies and enemies in this new game he have just bought. And you’re resting your head in his free arm (the one that wraps you) as you watch him in his natural habitat, exanimating every grimace he does and how he slightly jumps each time he’s about to kill or shoot someone, or the different color of his eyes, or his hair -wondering if he’d get bald anytime soon. And he’s eventually giving up, accepting that he sucks in the game as in many others and throws the control to somewhere on the floor as his arm joins the other, and he rest his chin in the top of your head, closing his eyes. Because he’s not holding the most beautiful girl in the world, he’s holding his world.
