Harry - "You can’t just do this to me, (Y/N), not now. I can’t just sit here and process this," he bit into the phone, to where you held it back from your ear to swallow and remember you’d made him this way, anger ebbing in your bones like it was with him, somewhere else, away from you.
You groaned out loud, “what am I supposed to do then? Just hide my feelings? Never bring them up because it’s an inconvenience for you?”
"Just not now," he finished like he were screeching to a halt, "just… God, just not now… not when I can’t hold you and… and make it better and kiss you and look in your eyes when I tell you that I love you and only you, not any other girl, just you, (Y/N), just… just you…"
"Harry," you sobbed the rest, "I’m… God, I’m just scared. I’m scared that you won’t come back to me and I hate myself for thinking that but I can’t help it."
"I’m coming back to you, (Y/N)," he set his voice straight for you to listen and know he meant it, "I am. I love you."
Liam - you scowled down and ran one hand through your hair, “Liam, I’m hanging up now, this is ridiculous!”
"No, no, baby, baby, no, come on. Please don’t hang up," his voice rushed like a backed up aisle down the other line, wherever he was, pacing the studio or a hotel room, panic in his voice the way you tried to tell him you were serious. You choked on knowing what to say next, feeling tears well when you looked down, "there’s nothing else to say…"
"Yes, yes, there is," he rushed again, "baby, I love you. Please, let’s not fight like this, let’s just… let’s just work it out, okay? Let’s just talk."
"I don’t have anything else to say to you," you turned back, "I just…" and you stopped because it was true. Sighing, you had run out of words.
"Please," his voice was quiet from the other end, "there must be something else to say, babe. I can’t hang up with us like this… I can’t…"
Louis - your hands through your hair made you think of it enough, the last call with a dial tone still playing dully in your head. You jumped a little when your phone buzzed, and his name flashed across the screen like a reminder. You ignored the call for as long as you could, until he called again, and again and again. You thought about his feet pacing a hole into the floor wherever he was, and you didn’t even know where that was.
"Louis," you finally answered with a steely voice, when he wouldn’t let up.
"Please, don’t hang up," he huffed at first, "(Y/N), please," he softened his voice again, "I… I don’t want you to be mad at me, not anymore, I can’t…" he inhaled when he could, "I can’t just be stuck here and have you mad at me, I… I can’t, okay?"
You shook your head at first, before you found words appropriate, and it was harder to say them, but you sighed to start, “okay, then. Let’s talk.”
Zayn - you waited for him to text you back, like it mattered, like it would be some kind of appropriate talk, after a morning of stale silence over the phone before you’d given up. You stalked the hallway of your house, empty without him, with a phone heavier in one hand than the other. You stopped when it vibrated, Zayn calling, “Zayn,” you answered, standing still, “why are you calling?”
"Because you’re mad at me," he answered, softly like the fact killed him.
"I told you," you sighed, "I don’t want to talk like this, or… or fight like this. You’ll be home next week, we’ll just leave it till then."
"No," he said it suddenly, "no, I’m not gonna have you mad at me until I get back. Babe, I love you, and I can’t… I can’t know that you’re mad at me and be okay, I can’t do that."
You took one step, idly, “then what are we meant to do?”
"Talk," you almost felt him smile into the phone, "talk, babe, and make it okay. That’s what we do."
Niall - you hung up the phone, and over slamming the door, it seemed to hurt a lot more, like a sharp sting, three layers deep from the surface of your skin. And it made you wonder about his skin, three thousand miles away, dialling your number again. You looked down when your phone buzzed, sick of it, his name flashing on the screen with every ring like he was persistent. You picked up, frustrated, “what?”
"Baby, I’m sorry," he spilled, all at once.
"Yeah, well, that’s getting a little old…" you toyed with a frayed edge on the rim of the couch.
"I know, I know," he gave you, "I know, baby… it’s… it’s my fault, I know. And I’m so sorry. Just please don’t be mad at me, not now, okay? Please…"
"Niall," you groaned, sitting down, "I can’t just switch it off, I…"
"Let me, then," he pushed in, over the phone, his voice still clinging to you, "let me make it better for you. Baby, let me. I love you."
