HARRY STYLES - IMAGINES

A box of memories HS

this is tooth-rotting fluff. as sweet as harry bean on this gif. 

sole purpose: I got to magically summon my babygirl @LE_POTATO_LOVER back to life. I hope you enjoy this...all the love and kissy, Nica.

I thought I had lost the box with the pictures I had set up years ago. I had even started to forget that she existed, my memory of it disappearing with every flake of dust that fell on it, whilst hidden under our bed. Of course in the corner the most difficult to reach, between several other boxes we had stored there. Which was why I almost jerked back when I pulled it out, the dust sticking to my fingers and a small, silvery gleaming cobweb connecting my index finger with it. Almost eagerly I had pushed the cover off the box and carefully placed it next to me. The first picture I fished out of the pile of stacked Polaroid's, simple pictures printed on paper, postcards and laminated paper, was one that catapulted me far back into the time. All the way back, when Harry and I were still in Highschool and we stupidly had decided that we could easily afford a trip to California. The photo I was staring at, was taken in the second night, where we had had no money left for anything to eat because we had underestimated the price of the motels. It was an innocent selfie, a bit shaky and a bit unsure of what to do in a situation like this, especially because our flight back was already paid and would be in two days that time. With the last few dollars we'd found in the bottom of our trunks we had then bought a huge loaf of bread and that had been our breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next hours in America. His unruly curls were still long and flying around his face in a mop of hair. He'd been sixteen then, and it was just a few months before he auditioned for the X factor UK.

In the Next picture, Harry and I had already grown a lot and were seen backstage at some show they played. I had painted "I LOVE 1D" on my forehead and cheeks, just to mock him and his ego. It captured the moment he saw me the first time with my painted face. His eyes were wide and his mouth opened in a wide smile. I was grinning, hands crossed behind my back and a smug twinkle in my eyes. He was around...eighteen that time.

At the next, a on simple paper printed snapshot, I chuckled. There had been a time where I hated the picture and the whole story behind it. It was a paparazzi shoot, somewhere in front of a club and Harry and I were currently arguing pretty heavily and you could see that on the picture. I don't exactly recall about what we fought, but it was one of our first big arguments we had. That a paparazzi had not only witnessed this, but also photographed had made me incredibly angry. The reason I had it in printed out form, was simply because Harry had made a bad joke with it and an apology written on the back; "We look ugly, yet hot when we fight. Love you always, h." It had annoyed me all over again, but not to the point where I would argue with him. Looking at the snap shoot now, it made me smile. It showed how much human we both were and how much our relationship had endured through time. We fought, we laughed, we joked and we yelled...but most importantly, we loved. And how cheesy that might sounded...I was glad that the picture existed.

The next picture I fished out of the dusty box on my knees, started to shake slightly in my hand as my eyes started to water. It showed Harry and I, still young and green on in what I believed was Aït Benhaddou, Morocco. We had asked another English tourist to capture the moment for us, as we both couldn't speak a word French or Arabic and the young woman had agreed immediately. Maybe she had recognised Harry, maybe the warm sun and the cool breeze that came from the ocean side had just erased any annoyance that could've sparked. Maybe, she'd just been exceptionally nice. So there we stood, leaned against the reddish walls of a building inside the ksar, probably a merchants house. We both faced each other, bodies pressed flat against the hot Moroccan clay architecture, on both of our face wide smiles. It was one of my favourite pictures of Harry and I that had ever been taken by anyone, despite it being shot with a (in comparison) shitty iPhone 6 camera and slightly shaky. The reason why I loved it so much was simply because you could see the love Harry and I had for each other in our eyes, in the smile and you could feel it in the energy the picture radiated. When I closed my eyes I could still smell the warm stone and the hot dusty air. I thought I lost the picture along the others, but seeing it right here made me realise how much it would've hurt if it would've been gone for real. I put it aside, just the moment someone opened the door behind me.

"Love I...what do you got there?" I turned around to Harry stepping into our bedroom, a kitchen towel over his shoulder. He curiously stepped closer, kneeling down next to me. He smelled like chocolate and cake and Harry. "Found the box with the pictures...under the bed! I thought we threw them away..." Harry rose an eyebrow. "You looked for this? To be honest, I put it there, I didn't even knew that the pictures were in here...sorry." I gave him an aghast look. "You knew they were there?" he quickly rose his hands in defence. "No! I mean, not really. I just knew that this box was there, I was not aware of its content." He pouted adorably, reaching out for the picture in my hand. "Sorry, really. But if I had known that this picture was in there..." I chuckled softly, handing him the picture. "All good. We should frame it, don't you think?" Harry nodded immediately. "Definitely. But first...I think I broke the kitchen and actually need your help." I snapped up, mouth agape. "I beg you pardon? And you just sit here with me? Something caught fire?" Harry just laughed, quickly pecking my lips. "No, don't worry. I may have exaggerated a bit, the kitchen is fine. I just can't get the bloody microwave to thaw the chicken..." a laugh bubbled up inside of me, as I looked at his playfully frowned face. "There is literally a button with a chicken icon...I'm coming. You are unbelievable..." Harry only chuckled, pulling me. "Kissy?" he asked with pouted lips and I reached up to press my lips against his. "Now, come let's get this..." "...bread?" I snorted. "No Harry, chicken. But same same I suppose." He grinned, wrapping his arms around my waist. "Remember when we tried to do caramel popcorn?" I shuddered at the memory. "You mean, when you tried to do caramel popcorn?" he smirked innocently, giving me a soft squeeze. "Had that not originally been your idea though?" I laughed out loud, just as we entered the kitchen. "Well, wasn't it you, who then actually managed to take the only not-microwavable bowl we had, and burn a hole through the plastic?" he only tilted his head innocently. "Can't remember. Unless of course there is a picture in that dusty box of yours of it..." with a playful push I shove him off. "Dusty box my ass, can you not shame my treasured box please." I grabbed the plate with the still deep frozen chicken and walked towards the microwave. "Sorry. But now, the chicken!" I nodded, waving him to come over. "Yes, the chicken. Look, you need to press this button..." 

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(the caramel popcorn thing is based on true events btw)