One Direction | Preferences

You're scared of...

You’re scared of…

Niall: Heights. You hate them with a passion. And so the grand canyon is definitely not your favorite thing. But Niall wanted to go back, loved the feeling of being insignificant, hovering on the edge of that huge cliff face, so you agree to go with him, smiling and holding tight to his hand as he leads you to the drop. You close your eyes as soon as the bottom (so, so, so far down) comes into view, concentrating on breathing, and it takes Niall a few moments to realise something’s wrong, the quiet, “Babe? You okay?” managing to get through to your panic ridden brain. “M’fine, can we just, step back a bit.” “Oh my god, shit, of course we can. I didn’t know you were scared of heights, I’m so sorry.” He leads you back, and the two of you sit down on bench, Niall’s arm around your shoulders, reassuring you that neither of you are falling off a cliff anytime soon, as you appreciate the beauty of the canyon, just from a bit further back. 

Harry: Losing him. Harry’s one of the best things to ever happened to you, and it’s come to a point where imagining him suddenly disappearing makes the air in your chest ache and your heart beat faster. And the thing that sucks the most, is that it’s so easy for him to be ripped away from you. There are plenty of other girls out there, much better than little old you, prettier and funnier and nicer, and it sticks in your gut every time Harry leaves the country. You hate to be the possessive girlfriend, so you keep it to yourself, but he always seems to know, flowers turning up at your house, handwritten letters, and then finally, Harry himself, beaming on your doorstep, home again. 

Liam: Needles. You don’t know where it came from or why you’re scared of them, there’s just something about it going inside your body that freaks you out. So when the annual injection comes along, you can’t really avoid it, making the appointment with your doctor grudgingly and just trying not to think about it. Liam can tell though, he can always tell, as the day approaches and you get more and more anxious about it. It’s irritating how something so small can become so big. So, he drives you there, follows you into the appointment even when your protest, and holds your hand and talks to you about something completely different while you try and breathe at the same time as him, the injection procedure going smoothly. 

Louis: Tight spaces. You don’t know where it comes from or why it’s there, but you’ve always been afraid of them. The walls close in on you in any space smaller than an elevator, and your hands shake and your breath comes quicker and quicker until you begin to hyperventilate and panic, and usually, if you don’t manage to get out of there, pass out. You’ve told Louis about it, and he’s understanding and reassuring about it, but doesn’t actually experience it until you get accidently locked in a closet, and he’s the only person with you. He ends up just wrapping you up in his body, trapping you against him so you can’t move, and breathing against your ear until you begin to mimic him, safe in his arms until someone comes to let you out. 

Zayn: Fear. Anxiety is something that’s dogged you your whole life, there at every turn, and you hate the feeling with everything you have. That grip around your heart, the knot in your throat, chest tightening up, and that mind numbing terror is something that haunts you to the point where you have panic attacks about panic attacks. But, Zayn’s always there, holding your hand, showing you how to breathe with him, in and out, in and out, until you manage to relax and stop trembling and crying and let him hold you and soothe you and promise that everything will be okay.