He Reaches but You're Not There

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by The_Inbetweeners

by The_Inbetweeners

So, I'm posting this extra chapter, because I love how many views we have gotten in a weeks time and I love all you guys who are reading these <3

And if you haven't already, go check out bellgirl15 she's an amazing writer and made a wattpad not to long ago. So go and welcome her to the lovely wattpad community c:

Love you fellow Directioners <3

~Hanna

Louis: His hand falls flat against the mattress and he frowns to himself in his half-conscious state. His dreams start to blur and mar in his head, then eventually vanish, and soon he’s faced with the cold, hard reality: you’re not next to him. He scolds himself when his throat closes up and he starts to choke a bit on the tears; get a grip on yourself, Lou, you’re a man. Leave the emotional stuff for the girls. But it’s hard to be a man when every day on tour brings another crack to his heart, it’s hard to be a man and swallow back the tears when all he wants to do is cry – cry because you’re not here. He hasn’t seen you for four weeks, now. That’s four weeks too many.

Harry: He stares at the spot where you once used to be every night, hand extending out to touch it, hoping that his fingers might brush the sheets and find that they’re still warm; now it’s nothing but crumpled up sheets and weak moonlight. His body shivers uncontrollably despite the heavy clothing he’s wearing. The blankets just don’t give him heat now. He supposes it had been you that kept him warm in the night, just by your presence and your slow breathing and the love you had for him even when you were deep in dreamland; he could feel it next to him every time he lied down beside you. Sighing, he turns away, knowing that it would be another long and sleepless night without you.

Niall: He punches his fist into his pillow, grumbling and muttering to himself about today, about tomorrow, about you and your bitchy attitude. He’s glad you left. Yeah, he’s glad he doesn’t have to lie here next to you and listen to you toss and turn and mutter and grumble to yourself like him. He doesn’t want to hear it because he hates trying to fall asleep when he’s mad at you and you’re mad at him; it gives him an uncomfortable, unresolved feeling that presses down on his stomach. Try sleeping with that. He positions himself on his back, waiting and waiting for sleep to come, but he’s still mad – very mad – so like always, he reaches over to take your hand and apologize. But you’re not there to apologize to.

Zayn: He groans into his hands, fingers clenching at his hair. It’s been another rough day, another twelve, long hours of go-do-this and pose-for-that, or sing-like-this or talk-like-that. It’s been another long, twelve hours of the media in his face and the boys irritable because everyone just wants to go home – but nobody more than him. He misses his mum, he misses his friends, he misses his home and his own bed. He groans again, softer this time, reaching behind him on the bed to wrap his arm around your waist and bring you to his lap. Maybe you can make him feel better. But when he reaches, his arm finds nothing but air. Cold, lifeless air. Oh, yeah. That’s right – you’re back at home.

Liam: He gasps and sits upright in the bed swiftly, panting and shaking and eyes wide with fear; they fly around the room, scrutinizing all of the darkest corners and crannies. When he finds that the room is secure, he exhales out a big, relieved gust of air and chuckles. It was just a dream – just a dream. He reaches for you, his arm slinking underneath your waist. He smiles and brings you close, listening to the rain outside and knowing he’s okay – he’s got you, and that’s all he needs to feel safe, to feel warm, to feel loved. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck, but something else meets his lips instead of your skin: fabric. He draws back and finds him face-to-face with the extra pillow. You’re not here, it was just another dream.