Louis: “You’re my entire goddamn world, and it feels like I’m nothing to you sometimes.” he snaps from across the room, eyes wide and cheeks red from exhaustion. You sigh, not bothering to argue back, only continuing to pack your things messily into a duffel bag, while he paces a few feet away. “You can’t leave, you can’t-” he begins, and when you open your mouth to retaliate, he continues, “I know that this is fucking hard for you, I know because it’s hard for me too, alright? But I can’t do this alone. When you’re not here, things go hazy and I can’t fucking think and it scares the hell out of me, but I need you. I need you to just,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face in frustration, “I need you to need me too.”
Harry: “This hurts me too and you know it damn well,” he shouts, hands running down his face and through his hair in frustration. When you don’t respond, only wiping away angry tears and sending a glare over your shoulder, he sighs deeply, body collapsing onto the sofa. He opens his mouth to speak but all that comes out is a cry, shoulders shuddering uncontrollably as he gasps for air through heaving sobs. This catches your attention, it’s not a common occurence, and when he feels your eyes on him, he glances up, bright eyes gleaming with tears, silently beckoning you to his side. As you step in his direction, he sobs out, “I can’t do this alone.”
Niall: His breathing is returning to normal now, body stopping it’s trembling. After a phone call with his brother and a heart to heart with you, he’s feeling more reassured, he’s feeling safe. It’s like that, always has been, he’s safe and he’s confident and he can let his walls down with you around. So, when you ask how he’s feeling, he only nods while tucking his face into the crook of your neck, warm breath slightly less ragged but ever so warm on your skin. His fingers curl into the back side of your shirt, his hold firm and steady. “Thanks,” he mutters, lips brushing the weary skin of your neck, “I really can’t do this alone, not without you.”
Zayn: “Jesus Christ, I’ve called you at least fifty times in the last few days, pick up, please,” he begs into the speaker as the voicemail message ends, the beeping tone of the dial ringing in his ears. “I need-Christ.” He breaks off, struggling to form words, phrases, the message his mind is trying to convey but his mouth cannot. His mouths opens and closes a few times as he tries to get the words out, “I’m, I can’t do this alone, I get home at night and you’re not there on the sofa watching old movies in my clothes and waiting for me to get there. You’re not there at all and I feel like I’m drowning and I can’t fucking breathe and I- please, just call me.”
Liam: “This is difficult, innit?” he murmurs to you, breath fanning across your cheeks with his words, his arm around you shoulders and you legs tossed over his lap, it’s safe and it’s warm and it’s comfortable. “All this shit going on, and want you to know that I’m in it with you. If you’ll have me, that is,” he sighs out, breathless with a kiss pressed to your shoulder, smiling shyly as you nod in return, he continues happily, “Good, because like, I’m glad you’re in it with me too, I can’t do all this alone, and I’m really glad, that if I could have anyway, I’m glad I’ve got you, my baby girl.”
