Preference: He finds out you cut.
Harry: Harry rarely lets you drive but today he’s letting you take the wheel. It feels good with the windows down and your hair blowing in the wind. Harry is beside you singing along to the radio when you lift one of the sleeves of your arms, forgetting you hadn’t slathered yourself in makeup today. You don’t realize until Harry grabs your wrist, examining the sc...ars, some of them fresh. “Why would you do this to yourself? To me? You’re beautiful.” He whispers, leaning down and burying his face into his arms while tears stream down his face.
Louis: Louis sneaks up behind you while you’re cooking, startling you as he wraps his hands around your waist. Your hand slips across the knife you’d been using to cut vegetables, slicing your finger, blood trickling down the sleeve of your shirt. You don’t respond but Louis runs to the sink, grabbing a cloth and running water over it. He moves back to you, wiping your cut and the blood from your hand, rolling back your sleeve a little in the process, revealing several other cuts, identical to the one now on your hand. He doesn’t say anything as he presses his lips to your new cut and to the fading ones on your wrist, finally whispering the words. “I’m sorry.”
Niall: It’s an early morning and you’re just feeling down. You head to the bathroom, not to cut necessarily but to just sulk, sinking to the cold tile floor and running your hands over your scarred bare thighs. “What is that?” Niall asks alarmed as he enters the bathroom without knocking. He’s never seen you without your clothes so you instinctively reach for a towel, draping it over your body. Niall crouches by your side, pulling the towel back and staring at your scars. He runs his fingers over your thighs and leans down to lay his head in your lap, his lips pressed to the cuts. “I don’t want you to do this anymore.”
Liam: Liam has known for some time that you’ve gotten back into the habit of cutting. He just doesn’t know what to say. One day you head to the bathroom to relieve some stress but can’t find your razor. Liam instantly knows your question before you even ask as you head back into your bedroom. “I threw it away. I know you need to handle this on your own but I just can’t let you do this to yourself.” He says, his eyes apologetic. He stands and pulls you to him, cradling your head against his chest. “I don’t want you to result to hurting yourself. Just come to me and I’ll make everything better.”
Zayn: You and Zayn have never been intimate before but tonight he was feeling extra frisky. As you both sat on the couch he tried to run his hands under your sweatshirt but you moved out of his reach, afraid he would feel the risen scars that blemished your skin. He sighed, giving up as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, turning your attention back to the TV. Before you knew it he’d reached his hands around again and he’d felt you, lifting your shirt up quickly, his eyes locking with your belly. His face changed from shock to sorrow to rage in seconds and he was standing over you, his eyes piercing into yours. “How could you do this? I can’t believe you’d do this to yourself! Why?” He screamed at you, anger continuously rising in his voice. You didn’t say anything, curling into a defensive ball and sobbing instead. He was by your side in a moment, pulling you into his lap and cradling you into his arms. “I’m sorry baby. I just don’t want anyone to hurt you, including yourself.”
