One Direction | Preferences

Last Kiss

: Last Kiss

Niall: The airport is loud and crowded and you’re a little overwhelmed and your feel sick to your stomach because Niall’sleaving for a good couple of months and you still can’t get your head around the fact that you won’t be able to just turn up outside his apartment and spend a Friday night on his couch eating Chinese. But his hands are steady, eyes still bright and blue as he hugs you, promising that he’ll be back soon, he’s always coming back, and there’s a phone and a Skype program, and when he presses his mouth to yours for the last time, smiling – although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes - before turning to walk away, your eyes are glittering with tears, but you know he’s right, he’s coming back.

Harry: He’s sleepy and only in black sweatpants, yawning into his fist and raking his hands through his hair, but he’s followed you to the door, grabbing your waist and pulling you tight against him, mumbling a request for a “last kiss, please, beautiful girl” against your mouth. You laugh against his lips, still half-heartedly trying to pull away because he’s going to make you so late, but you’re not really trying and he gets a good few minutes of making out in the hallway, much to his delight.

Liam: Your face is so pale it makes Liam’s stomach twist, so completely exhausted after fighting for so long that you can barely raise a hand to brush against his face, still smiling though, tired and sore, but managing to grin up at him. He’s been quiet all day, because he’d had to get through the hushed conversation with the doctor that morning, telling him that you don’t really have long, not long at all. So here, in this moment, the hospital almost silent in the night, his heart is breaking, because he can see the life fading from his eyes, and he can’t do this. He can’t watch you die and keep on living himself. So he distracts himself with your mouth, kissing and slipping a hand behind your back to pull you to him so he can taste your tongue again. Your fingers shake against his neck and he pulls back, both hands wrapped around one of your cold ones, watching with his chest shattering beneath his skin as you murmur one last “Li, love you so much” before fading away before his goddamn eyes while he sits there and does nothing but hope you’re not in pain. And with a final beep from the machine your hooked up to and your doctor bursting in with sad eyes, you’re not here anymore, and he thinks he might just die of shock himself.

Louis: It plays back in your mind, it was the morning of the day that at the moment is your separation of ‘with Louis’ and ‘after Louis’. You’d both been leaving the house early in the morning, rushing around grabbing clothes and cereal and make up (in your case) and a football (in his case) – why he needed one for a day recording in the studio you’ll never know – and right before you’d run out the door, you’d bent down while he sat at the kitchen table eating cornflakes, kissing him lightly on the mouth (although he’d gently manoeuvred your head to pull you down a bit deeper). It haunts you late at night when the bed is much too empty and your heart is much too broken, clueless to the fact that across the city, he’s awake as well and replaying the same moment.

Zayn: You’re nearly asleep, face smushed into the pillow, body heavy against the mattress, when Zayn comes home, picking his way quietly through the house because he knows you’re in bed and the last thing he’d want to do is wake you (even though you’re adorable when you’re half asleep, all messy hair and pink lips, rubbing your eyes like a child). He gets undressed and climbs into bed almost silently, still thinking you’re dead to the world, but you nudge your foot against him and mumble something that isn’t really a word to let him know you’re still half here, eyes still closed. He laughs quietly, reaching to drag you across the bed, tucking you up against his body, pressing one last kiss to your mouth before you finally fall asleep completely, much more comfortable huddled against his secure frame.