One Direction Preferences

Christmas Ball

Liam: He was heartsick, so besotted with you he couldn’t sleep. He felt your lips in his dreams, saw your eyes in every single precious gem. Liam was beside himself. Tonight was the annual Christmas Ball, and his father was amendment about his attendance. How could he go, when his heart was elsewhere? How could he dance when his legs were stone, the only way to make them move was if you were in the room. How was he to raise his arms, when they ached to hold you. No, Liam could not dance tonight. You gave him wings. But he could not ignore who he was, and what he was. He was the crown prince, and he had to attend. He dressed, his suit coat the exact blue of your eyes. If he could not see you, then he would dress for you, even if you never saw. He felt closer to you like this, your memory inked on his heart. He entered the room and sighed. The party was in full swing and Liam sipped his brandy. The jewels and dresses were so fine that it hurt him to look at. He didn’t see the appeal of it. He thought of your plain white dress and the way you braided flowers into your hair. That was what true beauty was, this, this was just a facade. When he felt the tug on his hand, he turned. He nearly dropped his tumbler, so surprised was he. There you were, in a dress the exact color of his jacket. Your hair was up, showing off the long column of your neck. “How?” He asked, taking your small hand in his. “I had to come, I couldn’t…” he hushed you, he understood. He knew the longing, the never ending torture. With a sigh and a relaxing of his muscles, he whirled you onto the floor. “I never saw true beauty till this night,” he murmured softly, making you grin. “My lord knows Shakespeare,” you laughed, truly enchanted by him. His eyes were warm on your face, his thumb running over your knuckles. “I have never been more miserable. I have read plays, I have written sonnets about your eyes. I have spent more time drawing your face then I care to admit. You have cast a spell on me and I,” he said spinning you beneath his arm, “am helpless against you.” When the song ended, he looked up. You were beneath the mistletoe. Several people looked your way and he bowed, pulling the glove off your hand. He pressed his lips to the warm skin of your wrist, his eyes on your face. “I would marry you,” he said softly. “I don’t give a damn about my rank. What good would I be if we were not together?”

Louis: The stables were covered in snow. You could not remember the last white Christmas you had. It wasn’t proper for ladies to rush about in the snow, soaking wet and freezing. But when had you ever been a normal lady? With a bright smile, you stepped into the snow, sinking up to your knees. The world was reborn before you, the crisp whiteness making the land look pure, untouched. The trees were heavy with the snow as it laid there, basking in it’s glory. You ran your fingers along the icicles that clung there and smiled, watching the way they caught and threw the light. The sun barely peeked out behind the clouds but you were happy for it. If the snow didn’t come out, this wonderland could not be washed away. You walked to the stables, knowing you would find Louis there. True enough, there he was, his back turned to you. His hair had snow in it and his hands were red from working in the cold. You felt the bundle you had hidden in your cloak and thanked god for sending you the perfect gift idea. “I have medicine for your hands,” you croaked, breaking the silence. You hadn’t talked since that day in the stables, since he told you that you owned his heart. He turned, his sea eyes looking impossibly blue in the soft light. “Do ya now?” He grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. As always, the shirt was left undone, the smooth skin of his chest winking out at you. He had a leather vest on over his shirt and that too was left unbuttoned. His boots and pants were splattered with mud. You didn’t think you’d ever seen Louis without mud covering him. He smelled the same though, of winter, sunlight and the outdoors. It was intoxicating. You removed your bundle, unfolding it. You took his hand in your timidly and ran your hands over the cracks. “This will sting,” Louis didn’t care if it stung. You were touching him. He let you treat the cracks in his hand and clean up his bloodied knuckles from the cold. It did sting, but Louis kept his eyes on your face. You were so beautiful and god, how badly he adored you. You wrapped his hands, carefully moving your fingers over the damaged skin. “For you,” you said holding out the black gloves. He took the gift, stunned. “For me?” He asked sliding them on. They were a perfect fit. You didn’t tell him you’d spent hours studying his hands, or measuring the holed gloves he always wore. “But I have nothing for you,” his eyes were level on your face as he spoke. “You told me I had your heart, is that true?” You raised your eyes to his and he smiled. “All of it is yours,” his voice was quiet. “Then I have everything I need,” you said boldly, stunning you both. You curtsied, ready to take your leave when he grabbed your arm. “No, not everything,” he said, pressing his mouth to yours.

Harry:  It was Christmas morning. The snow was falling and he could not sleep. He was haunted by your eyes, your lips, your fingers as you touched his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to forget you. What life could he give you, what home, when he was the bastard son of a duke. He was nothing to the ton. He was dispensable, replaceable. He knew that, he did not pretend to be ignorant of it. But what he could not be ignorant of, was the love he held for you. Sighing, he slid out of bed. Dawn was fast approaching and he slid on his jacket and boots. Maybe a walk with the cool winter air would settle his nerves, his restlessness. He slid out the back door, the snow falling into his eyes. He didn’t mind, the world was peaceful now, and Harry hoped to draw from it. He tucked his hands in his pockets as he walked, his eyes looking at the snow covered tree limbs. It was beautiful, the dark wood a startling contrast to the pristine snow that kissed it. When he heard the snow crunching to his left, he stopped. There, in a scarlet cloak, you walked. He was drawn to you like a beacon, his footsteps turning to head in your direction. You walked slowly, your hands reaching out to touch the branches and the snow, a soft smile on your lips. “Couldn’t sleep? He asked startling you. Your eyes met his and you flushed. “No, I have much on my mind.” He could see the weariness beneath your eyes and his heart broke. “Would you tell me?” He looked so handsome, the chill of the wind on his cheeks and his hair disheveled. “I am to be married a week from Friday next.” Harry felt like someone had torn his heart out. He leaned against a tree for support, his eyes glassing over. “You can’t,” he loved you. Loved you more desperately, more truly than he ever imagined. You nodded, tears welling in your eyes. “I am. I don’t know what to do, how can I when I…” you trailed off and Harry looked at you sharply. “When I love you,” you whispered brokenly. He crossed the clearing in two strides, roughly pulling you into his arms. It seemed that this year, Harry got a broken heart for Christmas. “We will think of something, I promise.” His mind was racing, how could he be without you? “You are my home,” you whispered into his jacket. “I am to be where you are.” Harry nodded. He would be where you are too. He would be with you for all his life, he just needed to figure out how. He slid the ring he wore off his finger and onto yours. “This is my promise,” he said fiercely, his green eyes glowing. “My promise that I will love you, I will marry you. I will spend my life with you. Believe in me, believe in us. I will not fail you.” Without a backward glance, Harry walked away his mind racing. He needed to secure you, and fast. He would not lose you. Not now, not ever.