Niall: He wrapped your present with slow, tedious hands. His heart was lodged in his throat as he finished the bow and slid it into his pocket. This year, he had you for a secret Santa. He was nervous, he hadn’t gotten you before and there was only one thing Niall had wanted to give you: his heart. There’d been feelings between you both for a long time, but Niall couldn’t live like this anymore. It was all or nothing. The party was at your house, and as he stepped into the cold to walk the block to where you lived, he was suddenly nervous. He wanted to pull you aside and give you your gift, away from prying eyes. The things he wanted to tell you weren’t meant for anyone else. When he stepped into your apartment, the party was in full swing and you, as always, were the perfect hostess. You were sitting on the couch, sandwiched between two of your friends, a glass of wine in your hands. Everyone started exchanging presents and the box in his pocket took on the weight of a rock, heavy and uncomfortable against his leg. “Pst,” he whispered at you, until he gained your attention. You raised your brow and he jerked his head toward the kitchen. Curious, you followed him, your guests unaware of your disappearance. “You okay?” You asked, your eyes full of concern. He pressed his finger to his lips and opened the back door, pulling you outside. “What’s going on?” You wrapped your sweater tighter around your body at the sudden chill. “I’m your secret Santa,” he blurted, cheeks flushing. “I thought so!” You poked his stomach teasingly, but he didn’t smile like he normally did. “I wanted to give you your present,” he started, his fingers shaking as he reached for his pocket. “Is there a reason we need to do it out here?” Your teeth were chattering and he felt bad, but he just needed two more minutes. He tilted his head back to the night sky, stars glittering like diamonds above. “Here,” he handed you the box before he could second guess himself. Your eyebrows rose in surprise as you unwrapped it. You looked at the velvet box for a long moment, your own hands trembling. The lid snapped open and you gasped. “A key?” You asked, dangling the chain in front of you. It was beautiful, the top fashioned into a heart with a diamond winking out at you. “To my heart,” he said quietly, his eyes on your face. “You’ve had it since the beginning,” he said rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted you to know. This year, I’m giving you my heart.” Your teary eyes met his and you fastened the necklace around your neck. “And I will treasure it,” you murmured, “Always.”
Harry: He was wracking his brain. He didn’t know what to give you this year for Christmas and he was your secret Santa. He was annoyingly frustrated, because you two had been best friends for so long that he didn’t know what was an appropriate gift to give. It was only when he saw the picture of you both when you were five did he know what to do. He worked for hours, pictures and paper covering the floors. When he stopped at your house later, a large box tucked under his arm, he suddenly felt nervous. “Hey!” You said ushering him inside. “Whatcha got there?” You asked eyeing the box. He gulped and sat down. “I’m your secret Santa and this is my gift to you.” He held the box out awkwardly, his fingers trembling as as you took it. You opened the lid and smiled when you saw your names engraved on the book. You flipped to the first page, a shot of you and Harry covered in mud when you were about five. You flipped the pages, stunned at the scrapbook that he had put together for you. You watched yourself and Harry grow up through the pages, both of you looking older and more mature. But there was one thing that never changed in every picture: the way Harry looked at you. The book had every single highlight of your friendship with Harry in it. There was a picture from your prom, and the first Christmas you spent wearing ugly sweaters. A few were from tour when you surprised him in Australia. But through every picture, you saw Harry’s adoring eyes on your face. You thought maybe it was just the lighting, or certain shots. But every single one held absolute adoration. It was obvious to you now why he did what he did. He was in love with you. You raised your eyes to his and the same look that had been captured in the photographs was there now, you had just been unable to see it. “One more page,” he whispered, gesturing with his hand for you to flip the page. You did as he asked, a small smile tugging at your lips. It was a shot from just last week, his arms wrapped around you and his lips at your temple as you held up the peace sign for the camera. Just beneath that in Harry’s familiar writing it said, ‘I love you.’ How did you not see it? It had been there since age 5 and Harry had never tried to hide it. “So now you know,” he said softly, his eyes on the floor. You closed the book and scooted toward him, pressing your mouth to the corner of his lips. “So now you know,” you murmured, your eyes on his face. Harry smiled and took your hand, stunned that you felt the same way as he did.
