#231: Borrowing clothes.

• Harry: "Where did I.. I could have sworn I washed it not even two days ago. Did I put it.. No, it has to be.." Harry wandered around the room, tossing the throw pillows to the side and checking beneath the sofa cushions, eyebrows only furrowing together even further when he came up empty time after time. He sighed in defeat after five thorough minutes of searching, bunching up the end of his shirt as he placed his hands on his hips, his left foot tapping against the wooden floor with an impatient tempo. "I'm going mad," he mumbled to himself, continuously threading his fingers through his hair as his eyes continued scanning the living room. The front door then clicked open, Harry's eyes shooting across to the clock that hung above your television to prove it was that time of day. Where it had all gone, he wasn't entirely sure. He could have sworn just ten minutes ago he was rolling out of bed and trudging into the shower. He gave the room one more quick once-over before adjusting his gaze to where he expected you to appear. But his eyebrows pulled together when you finally came into view. Harry's head tilted to the side as he took in your appearance, his right hand lifting so his fingers could roll his lower lip between themselves, green eyes squinting in a confused fashion. "Is that?" He started although gave up halfway. "Yeah," you breathed, carelessly shrugging your shoulders. "I, uh. It was the first thing I could find? It was on the couch and I was in a rush, so. Yeah." Harry ducked and shook his head, nicely hiding the smile that widened along his lips. "Silly," he breathed out before his hands were reaching for you and cradling you against him.
• Liam: Tugging his laptop from its spot beneath his pillow, Liam clicking the power button and waited patiently for it to boot itself up. He then reached for his phone, deciding this precious time synchronization between the two of you could not be wasted and pressed the green call button beside your name. "Hey babe," he murmured, using his shoulder to keep his phone to his ear as he listened to you chatter away. He clicked on the Skype logo at the bottom of his screen, his patience beginning to wear thin as the icon continually bopped on the dock for another ten seconds. "Yeah, I'm about to get on right now. No, the internet's really slow here. Logging in as we speak. Er, nope. I haven't gotten a call yet. Want me to try instead? Did it pop up? Oh! It says it's connecting. Hey, I can't see you. Oh, now I can. Okay. Bye." Liam wiggled to get more comfortable, his elbows propped up and the palms of his hands cradling his chin. "Hi," he greeted happily, making sure to keep his voice generally soft due to the other four sleeping boys in the bunks above and adjacent to his. His eyes squinted as he leaned himself closer to the computer screen, his lower lip poking out a bit like it always had when he concentrated on something. "Hey," he carried out the single syllable. "Is that my shirt?" You grinned wickedly, simply nodding your head before you wrapped your arms around yourself and snuggled further into the comfortable fabric. "Stealer! This is why I never let you pack my things." Playfully, you rolled your eyes. "I prefer the term borrowed," you stated in a matter-of-fact tone, crossing your arms over your chest although the action was cut off from camera view. Liam smiled, running his thumb over the pixelated picture of you. "You're just lucky you look warm and cuddly in 'em," he noted before softly tacking on, "Miss you."
• Louis: "I need more sweaters. Mine are. Well, they're not comfy enough. I need fluffier ones. You know, like, the ones that are nice and make you feel like you're in a toaster or something," you nodded your head along with your words, peering up from the pile of old clothes in front of you to look at your boyfriend. Louis quickly pressed his lips together to hide his smirk, enthusiastically nodding his head. "You're a terrible liar, Tomlinson, and I'm offended that you would agree with me. I don't need any more clothes. I've got plenty already!" Folding the worn purple sweater currently in your hands, you placed it on top of the pile before humming, "Although you better watch out because I may just go shopping in your closet instead." Louis plopped himself beside you, placing one of his hands on your knee since your hands were currently busy. "Haven't you already?" You glared at him suspiciously, muttering, "I have no idea what you're talking about." Louis rolled his eyes in response, taking your hands in his before slotting his fingers between yours. "M'not an idiot." Louis eyed the clothes in front of you, releasing one of his hands to tug the familiar sweater from beneath the pile. "Sh," you offered, pulling the sweater from his grasp and tugging it on before jutting your lower lip out, widening your eyes. "Do I look like you now? Can you not say no to this face? Look at this perfect puppy face," you mocked, batting your eyelashes innocently to soften the already lighthearted blow. "Shut up," he joked, nuzzling his face further into the crook of your neck as his left hand snuck beneath the hem of the sweater and his thumb swiped at your hip.
• Niall: Letting the door shut behind him on its own, Niall trudged forward as his hands reached up to swipe his matted down hair out of his face. After a whole day of radio interviews and promotion, there was nothing more he wanted than to order in some pizza and spend the rest of the night watching romantic comedies with you. Expecting for you to be out with friends or curled up with a book in bed, Niall instinctively jumped back to see you sprawled across the living room couch. His eyes grew about an inch more in size when he noticed the quite familiar teal sweater embodying your upper half. "What're you wearing?" He inquired slowly, the left corner of his mouth waving up a bit. "I was cold," you humphed, wiggling over so you laid on your back, your legs still propped up and your fingertips now fiddling with the ends of the sweater. "Cold?" Niall echoed, arching his right eyebrow in suspicion. He crossed his arms over his chest, biting on the inside corner of his mouth to shut down any kind of amused sound that threatened to leave him. "It's August." Your eyes flicked out the window a moment before you threw your arm over your face, burrowing yourself into the crook of your neck while mumbling, "And it may smell like you." Niall finally let go out his duffle, taking the six estimated steps to now stand in front of the sofa. His foot gently kicked at yours. "Smell like me?" He teased. "Just, shut up Niall," you grumbled. "I'm tired." Biting back his signature broad smile, Niall rolled his eyes before sliding himself between your back and the sofa. "C'mere," he mumbled, sliding one of his arms beneath you while wrapping the other around your waist and tugging you to his chest.
• Zayn: "There's nothing for me to wear," you complained, frustratedly running your fingers through your hair before throwing your hands to your sides. "I literally just went shopping last weekend. How is there nothing for me to wear?" Zayn propped himself up his left elbow, scrubbing the sleep away with his free hand. "Dunno," he hummed noncommittally. You gave your hair another aggravated tug before resigning, "I'm just not gonna go. Forget it. I half-assed the paper anyway, may as well not hand it in entirely." Zayn rolled his eyes at that, his fingers instinctively patting at the empty space beside him in a suggestive manner although his voice was calm. "You worked hard on that paper, babe. And I'm sure it's not even that bad. Just go to class long enough to hand it in then slip out, say you gotta go to the bathroom or whatever. Then come back here. Done." Giving your head another shake, you mumbled. "But I was supposed to go out to lunch afterward. And I was really looking forward to some pizza. I can't show up to class and then not show up to lunch. My friends'll never let me live it down." Zayn allowed his head to roll back, letting a low groan rupture through his throat before he forced himself out of bed. "It's nine AM, I really should not be even contemplating getting up right now, let alone actually doing it. C'mere," he waved you back towards the closet. "Here, wear this." Without waiting for an actual response, Zayn tugged his navy sweater from the hanger and slid it over your head. "Perfect," he emphasized with a chaste kiss to the tip of your nose. "You look lovely and you'll ace the paper and everyone's gonna be jealous. Of both. Now go on," he ushered you towards the bathroom, playfully swatting at your butt as you walked away with an arguably too stifled grin.