Harry Styles Imagines

More Than a Melody

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Harry had never been so in love before. So much was evident from his smile, his loving notes, his sweet kisses, and his songs. If he'd ever thought he'd loved someone, he'd been almost proven wrong just from his immense love for you. you made him a different man; you filled him with happiness that he didn't even know to be possible before meeting you.

You knew, undoubtedly, that songs about you were near inevitable on his second album. What you hadn't expected was for him to write what you insisted to be "the most romantic song in the history of ever", sunflower, vol. 6.

"My eyes, want you more than a melody", he had written. Me wanted you more than he could ever begin to put into a song. In fact, the very song only scratched the surface of his feelings for you. you'd never fully begin to wrap your head around his love, he thought.

Like a catchy melody, you were always running through his head. your gorgeous smile, your contagious laugh, and your addicting touch.

He remembered all of the moments that the two of you had shared, keeping them sweet in his memory. From the moments where you finally started opening up, and he finally got to know more about you, to the mundane moments where your mouths would be full of toothpaste from a night shared at each other's homes, brushing your teeth together the next morning.

You'd lean over the sink and laugh as he'd make a funny face into the mirror, looking over to make sure you were amused.

But when you would dance in the kitchen together..... It was always his favorite thing. You would turn the simple room into a dancefloor; spinning around in your pajamas to whatever classic rock song was playing. your domestic relationship was all he'd ever hoped for, and he was so lucky to be the one in your arms as you'd pull him to you, resting your head on his chest.

"My sunflower." he'd always call you. the term of endearment started up one day as if it was nothing.. just a little nickname he used to call you over to him. it very quickly became your favorite.

"Sunflower, can you please bring me my mug?" he'd ask while reading the newspaper in the morning, his feet perched up on the coffee table in front of him.

You'd kiss his cheek, brushing the hair from his eyes as you stood behind him to read the paper over his shoulder, leaving to get your matching coffee or tea mugs (it depended on the day) from the kitchen. little moments like these were his favorites. they made everything else in his life: the paparazzi, the music, the sold out shows- all just slip away. the only thing that mattered was you.

But his actual favorite moments were the ones in the morning before the newspaper. your tired eyes truly were the death of him. your bed head as you rolled over to your side to look at him, your pretty sleepy smile as he would kiss your head. He was so infatuated with you that it killed him. He'd never felt a love like this; where something as small as your hazy headshakes of response would make his heart ache.

He admired you almost like a piece of fine art. He collected art, and knew how to handle it with care. You, however, were prettier than anything in his entire gallery. he admired your sunshine smile and your shining eyes, and even more-so your incomparable personality. But he'd be lying if he said that, on top of having the most kindness in your heart and the most perfect sense of humor, you were also the most beautiful person he'd ever seen.

Of course, like every relationship, you had your struggles. at one point you'd had a disagreement (so insignificant that he couldn't even remember what you'd been fighting about). you'd gone to your shared bed without a goodnight, shutting off all the lights.

Harry hesitantly made his way into your room, dropping to his knees so that he was eye level with you. he knew you couldn't sleep properly when he wasn't in bed with you, so he figured you hadn't yet fallen asleep. "sunflower." he cooed, brushing hair from your face. "please don't go to bed upset with me, we promised not to do that."

you had rolled over to allow him space next to you. Your little argument was forgotten as you both apologized, wrapping each other up in your arms. you needed each other, which was made evident by your little grasps on the others' t-shirt, almost begging them not to leave.

Even the fights you'd have would plant new seeds into your relationship, leaving you stronger than before and even more in love. You learned lessons about each other, learning what things were sensitive topics, and what things weren't worth arguing over.

It was without a doubt in his mind that he could see himself settling down with you. everything about you was what he looked for in a partner, and he didn't think he'd ever possibly get enough of you. He could see himself having kids with you, dancing with the little beauties of creation that you had made together; the offspring of your love.

He always pictured the kids listening to the Jamaican music that you and he had danced to. Dancehall, as it was called, had been played in Jamaica while he had written his first album. you had found the music to be the best you'd ever heard, dancing and spinning around to the sounds of the electronic keyboard and drum machine.

"C'mhere!" you'd slurred out through a giggle, holding your hands out to him. His heart hurt from how beautiful you were, and how pretty the lights made your smile look, and how the radiance reflected off of your hair.

You pulled him close to you, laughing as you both began to jump and twirl around to the music. the style had a special place in both of your hearts ever since, and he couldn't wait to share it with your future children.

He was looking forward to his future with you, and that much was certain. He'd told his mom every single detail possible about you, a grin on his face while he told her that he wanted to marry you. he'd even asked your father for his blessing, wanting everything to be perfect.

But, for now, he was content with his lazy mornings with you; content with holding you close to his chest as he smiled down at you.

And all of this was running through his head as he finally picked his pen up from the paper, little scribbles of thought left on the once blank page. "Sunflower.." he mumbled to himself as he looked at the ideas he'd written. "Gey, i have some ideas for a song, if you want to hear." he said as you walked into the room, picking up his guitar and beginning to strum. "Sunflower, my eyes, want you more than a melody."

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