One Direction One Shots 1

Seven Shots (Harry)

"No!" She shouted, slamming her palms flat against the table. We had never been in an argument this bad before, she had never raised her voice at me like this. I knew I had fucked up, but the problem was I couldn't even really the event we were fighting over. She moved farther away from me.

"I'm going upstairs. Don't even think about following me, okay?" I opened my mouth to speak, but no words would come.

"Okay," I whispered, defeated, but she was half way up the stairs. I stood up, looking around the kitchen, feeling awful and alone, my usual confidence destroyed. Tears sprang to my eyes and I kicked the chair I had been sitting on. It flung back against the tile flooring, creating an awful racket I hoped Olivia heard upstairs.

Walking into the living room, I collapsed on the brown leather sofa. My hands were shaking and my head was pounding. How could I have been so stupid? After a few minutes I couldn't help but crawl into a ball, my face turned towards the back of the couch.

My eyes burned from the tears that were trying to escape, my throat starting to feel like it was constricting. I had never felt weaker, not even when I thought there was a chance I'd be going home on the X-Factor.

My thoughts were interrupted by a short, clipped, "Harry." I sat immediately, wiping the tears from my face, noticing the red and black paisley duffel bag she had thrown over her shoulder. I had never seen her look so angry before. Her bright green eyes that usually looked at me with love were cold, brooding. Unlike me, there was no evidence she had been crying.

"Are you leaving?" I whispered, running my hands over my knees.

"Yes," she replied.

"Liv, please," I started. "Don't go,"

"Stop, Harry. I'm going. I just wanted to tell you."

"Are you coming back?" Olivia pursed her lips, running her fingers through her dark brown ringlets.

"I don't know," she answered; looking at the promise ring I had given her four months ago. Hastily pulling it off, she threw it on the table before turning to leave.

"Wait, please. Just one more question." She let go of the door knob and let her back rest against the door.

"Are we breaking up?" I was terrified of the answer, wrapping my arms around myself to keep from falling apart.

"Harry," I heard her kick the door with her foot, but I was too afraid to look at her. "I don't know." And with that, the door opened and closed and my life walked out the door.

The tears started again, the familiar lump forming in my throat, causing me to swallow hard. Stumbling into the kitchen, I grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniel's. The ginger colored liquid burned my throat as it went down, causing me to take another harsh swig.

Half way through the bottle, I drug myself up the stairs into our bedroom, falling onto her side of the bed. I inhaled deeply, pushing my face into the pillow that smelled of her shampoo, the Egyptian cotton sheets smelling of her perfume.

It was when we were in Australia. We had just had one of the biggest shows, the biggest crowd we'd ever performed for. Louis and Eleanor were going through a rough patch, so he talked us all into going to a club to celebrate.

He'd gotten drunk off his ass almost immediately. The only boy that wasn't drinking was Liam, which wasn't unusual. He sat in the booth, texting Danielle. I watched him smile as I took my fourth shot of the night, the strong liquid burning my throat.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, quickly typing a text to the only girl that was on my mind. The buttons seemed to blur together and seemed much too small for my fingers.