Harry:
The evening was warm, the kind that lulled you into a sense of false peace. Harry sat across from you in your living room, scrolling absentmindedly through his phone while you read. His curls fell over his forehead, and he absentmindedly pushed them back as his eyes squinted at the screen.
And then, the peace shattered.
His hand froze mid-scroll, his jaw dropping slightly. His usually vibrant green eyes went wide with disbelief. "No... no, this can’t be right," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
"What is it?" you asked, sitting up straighter.
Harry swallowed hard, his fingers trembling as he held out his phone. On the screen was a headline you never thought you’d see: "Breaking News: Liam Payne Dead After Hotel Balcony Fall in Argentina."
Your heart dropped, and you reached for him, but Harry was already on his feet. "This is fake. It has to be fake," he muttered, pacing the room.
"Harry," you said softly, trying to ground him, but he wasn’t listening.
He dialed Liam’s number, his hands shaking so badly he almost dropped the phone. The call rang... and rang... and rang. No answer. Harry cursed under his breath, redialing.
"Liam, pick up. Please, mate, pick up," he pleaded into the void.
You stood, placing a hand on his arm, but he shrugged it off, pacing faster. "It’s not true. It can’t be true," he repeated, as though saying it enough would make it so.
The room felt suffocating, the weight of the headline hanging heavy. You watched as Harry’s confidence began to crack, his denial turning into desperation.
When his phone buzzed, he lunged for it, hope lighting up his face. But it wasn’t Liam. It was Niall.
"Harry?" Niall’s voice was shaky, barely holding it together.
"Tell me it’s not true, Niall," Harry begged, his voice breaking.
There was a long pause, and then Niall whispered, "I don’t know. I’ve been trying to reach him too."
That was it. The fragile wall Harry had built around himself crumbled, and he sank to his knees, the phone slipping from his hand. His body shook with silent sobs as the possibility of losing Liam became more real with every unanswered call.
You rushed to his side, wrapping your arms around him tightly. "I’m here, Harry. I’m here," you whispered, your own tears streaming down your face as you held him.
"I can’t—he’s my brother," Harry choked out, burying his face in your shoulder.
You stayed like that for what felt like hours, the night dragging on as speculation swirled online, the truth still unclear. Every buzz of Harry’s phone made him flinch, his heart breaking a little more each time it wasn’t Liam.
When morning finally came, the confirmation hit like a sledgehammer: it wasn’t a hoax. Liam was gone.
Harry didn’t speak for hours after that. He just sat by the window, staring blankly at the rising sun, tears silently streaming down his face wishing he would have called Liam and asked if he was okay. You stayed by his side, holding his hand tightly, knowing that no words could ease the pain but hoping your presence was enough to keep him from falling apart completely.
Louis:
The laughter of children echoed through the villa, blending with the gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore. Louis leaned back in his chair on the patio, a rare, peaceful smile on his face. His son was playing with one of his nieces, their giggles filling the warm summer air. His sisters were inside, chatting as they prepped lunch, and you sat beside him, your hand resting lightly on his knee.
