SIX - One Direction

65

The decision to move out of the shared house isn't made lightly. It's one of those things that sneaks up on them, slowly at first, until it's unavoidable. The house, once filled with constant noise and chaos, has grown quieter over the months. They're not bumping into each other in the kitchen at 2 a.m., not slouching on the sofa together after long days at the studio. The hiatus has them exploring their own paths, finding their own rhythms.

One evening, over cups of tea and the last remnants of a takeaway, Louis is the one to finally say it. "Reckon it's time, don't you? Time to pack it all up." His voice is casual, but the weight of the words sinks into the room like a stone.

Harry sets his mug down, staring into it like he's trying to divine an answer in the swirling tea. "Yeah," he says quietly. "It's not the same anymore, is it? We're all... everywhere."

Alex frowns, her heart sinking. "It's not just a house, though, is it?" she says softly, her voice barely audible. "It's been... us."

Liam nods, running a hand through his hair. "It's been home. But we can't just hang on to it because we're scared to move on. That's not what we're about."

Niall sighs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Still feels like shite, though, doesn't it? Packing up... leaving all this behind."

"It's not leaving it behind," Louis says firmly, sitting up straighter. "It's just... growing up a bit. Doesn't mean it all disappears."

They all sit in silence for a moment, letting the decision settle. It's agreed without much debate. They'll start packing up next week.

When the day finally arrives, the house is a mess of boxes and half-packed suitcases. Everyone's been putting it off, avoiding the inevitable. Alex finds herself in her room, staring at a pile of old notebooks on the floor. They're filled with lyrics, scribbled ideas, and random thoughts from late-night bursts of inspiration. She flips through one and smiles as she reads a half-finished line she and Louis came up with years ago.

"Alex! You're not seriously just sitting there reading, are you?" Louis's voice carries up the stairs, and she hears his footsteps approaching. He appears in the doorway, a box in his arms and a raised eyebrow. "Thought you were meant to be packing, not bloody reminiscing."

"I am packing," she protests, holding up the notebook. "This counts. Emotional labor and all that."

He grins, setting the box down and plopping onto the floor beside her. "Go on, then. What's that you've got there?"

She flips to a random page and clears her throat dramatically. "'You and me, we're like Marmite and toast. Bit of a mess, but somehow it works.'"

Louis snorts, laughing so hard he nearly falls over. "I knew that sounded familiar! What were we on about with that one?"

"No clue," Alex says, giggling. "But it's very us, isn't it?"

---

Downstairs, Niall's found an old jacket buried in the back of a closet. He holds it up, grinning. "Oi, Lou! Remember this?"

Louis shouts from the other room, "If that's the bloody leather jacket from that interview, burn it! Burn it now!"

Harry wanders over, plucking the jacket from Niall's hands. "You can't burn this—it's iconic. Vintage, even."

"Vintage shite," Louis retorts, finally joining them. He grabs the jacket, inspecting it like it's a relic from an ancient civilization. "Why didn't anyone tell me I looked like a Poundland James Dean?"

"'Cos we were all too polite," Liam says with a smirk, taping up a box labeled Studio Gear.

"Speak for yourself," Alex says, passing through with a stack of books. "I distinctly remember telling you you looked like a prat."

"Yeah, but you always say that," Louis quips, tossing the jacket onto a pile.

By the afternoon, the house is almost empty. The walls, once covered in posters and photos, are bare. The living room, where they've spent countless nights sprawled on the sofas, feels cavernous without the furniture. They gather there, one last time, the air heavy with unspoken emotion.

Louis breaks the silence first, his voice softer than usual. "We've had some bloody good times here, haven't we?"

"Best times of my life," Niall says, his voice thick with emotion.

Alex looks around at the boys, her chest tight. "This isn't just a house," she says quietly. "It's been everything."

Harry nods, his gaze distant. "It's where we became... us. Properly."

Liam steps forward, raising an imaginary glass. "To the memories, then."

Louis smirks, though his eyes are glistening. "To the absolute carnage."

"To us," Alex adds, her voice trembling.

They all raise their hands, mimicking the toast. "To us," they echo in unison.

As the sun sets, they linger in the driveway, each of them finding it difficult to say goodbye. Alex leans against her car, watching as the boys pile into theirs.

"Reckon this is the start of something new," Louis says, winking at her as he climbs into the passenger seat.

"Or the start of me calling you all constantly to annoy the hell out of you," Alex replies with a smile.

Harry lingers for a moment, stepping closer to Alex. "You alright?" he asks quietly.

She nods, though her eyes betray her. "Yeah. Just feels... final, you know?"

"It's not," he says firmly. "It's just a new chapter. We've still got so much ahead of us."

He pulls her into a hug, and she clings to him for a moment longer than necessary. When he pulls back, he smiles at her, a soft, knowing smile that makes her chest ache.

"See you soon," he says.

And as they all drive off, the house shrinking in the rearview mirror, Alex feels the bittersweet weight of an ending—but also the promise of new beginnings.