Wherever You Are

Panic Attack? ~One Direction

LIAM: The sounds of short, gasping breaths prompt you to investigate what's going on in the other room. That's when you find Liam sitting at his desk, face in his palms, sucking in sharp breaths. "Liam? What's wrong?" you ask, entering the room in worry. "I- I," he tries to get out, but can't get enough oxygen into his lungs to be able to speak. You approach him and begin rubbing his back comfortingly. "Breathe, Liam. Calm down, it's ok," you attempt to soothe him. After several moments, he regains control of his breathing. Pulling you into his lap and hugging you close, he says, "I was just looking at some of the things people were saying online... And there were so many lies about me, about the boys, about you and me... I just freaked out for a second because I started thinking what might happen if people, especially the fans, started to believe all this stuff. We'd be out of a career!" he exclaims, beginning to get worked up again. "Shh, Liam, relax," you tell him gently, running a hand through his hair and down to his neck where you then massage his neck and shoulders a bit. "Don't worry about that. People know those tabloids thrive on lies. And your true fans won't believe any of it unless it's confirmed by you with some kind of proof - which none of it will be because they are all dirty lies," you reassure him. He nods and rests his head on your shoulder, finally relaxing into your embrace.

NIALL: "What is wrong with you?" you accuse, raising an eyebrow at Niall as he flits around the house, chugging water and muttering a bunch of nonsense. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong with me," he answers hastily, trying his best to sound casual. You simply crease your brow at him in confusion. "Oh my God..." he mutters, grabbing his chest and heading for the sink for more water. Now growing worried, you follow him into the kitchen. "Niall, what's going on? What happened?" you press. "I'm fine," he insists, putting the glass down. "You don't seem fine." "I just- I need a minute to catch my breath," he explains, leaning against the counter and running his hand through his hair. "I'm not thinking straight," he adds on. "You're really starting to worry me. Look at me and tell me what in the world is going on," you instruct gently, cupping his face in your hands. "I love you," he tells you. "I love you too." "I don't ever want to lose you." "Is that what this is about? Niall, I'm not going anywhere. I promise," you assure him, stroking his cheek lightly. He grabs your hand in his, holding it to his face. "I know." You smile at him and pull him into a hug. It takes nearly two weeks, but eventually you find out that he'd been planning to propose to you that night, but had worked himself into too much of a panic to go through with it.

LOUIS: The crackling of the baby monitor wakes you from your already restless sleep. Mechanically moving to check on your daughter, you stop when Louis' voice sounds through the little machine. "You make me so nervous, you know that?" he quietly asks your infant daughter with a small laugh. "These last two days since we brought you home have made me and your mum a wreck." He pauses for a few long beats before continuing. "Don't tell your mum this, Lea, but I'm scared out of my mind. Everyone thinks I'll be a good dad and that I have a natural knack for this, but I haven't got a clue of what I'm doing. I'm gonna do everything I can to be the best dad you could ever ask for, Lea, but as far as this whole natural knack thing goes, it's just not coming to me. I don't have those Daddy instincts. God, I feel like such a failure of a dad already..." When you hear the shaky breath he lets out, you get out of bed and pad into the nursery. "Lou?" you ask quietly from the doorway of the nursery. "Don't you ever say you're a failure at being a dad. You've been doing just fine." He turns to face you before looking back down at your sleeping baby. "I just don't feel like I know what I'm doing," he admits, releasing another shaky breath. In the moonlight you can see he's biting back tears, on the brink of a complete meltdown. You join him at the edge of the bassinette, wrapping your arms around him, and assuring him that all new parents feel that way, including you.

HARRY: "[Y/N]? [Y/N], are you home?" Harry's panicked voice shouts through the house as he bursts through the door. "[Y/N]?! he yells, now rushing through the house like a madman in search of you. "God, please be somewhere..." he mutters, checking every inch of the downstairs before tromping upstairs. You wake up to the sound of your office door opening and closing across the hall, and before you have a chance to register what's going on, Harry is hurling himself at you and throwing his arms around you, his breathing ragged. "Oh thank God you're ok," he whispers into your hair just before placing kisses all over your face. "Of course I'm ok. What's gotten into you?" you question. "There was a bad accident by the shops, and I know you said you were planning on heading over there today. When I first heard about it, I called and texted several times, but you never answered," he points out, narrowing his gaze at you. "I'm sorry, I was sleeping, I didn't hear the phone. I woke up this morning feeling terrible so I've been trying to sleep it off," you explain, reaching for your phone to check it. "Why didn't you call the house?" you press. "I did," he deadpans. "Oops," you mutter, unsure of how you'd managed to sleep through that ringing. "I'm just glad you're ok. I was so scared when I heard about it and thought you might have been there." "There's nothing to worry about. I've been safe in bed all day," you remind him, stroking his cheek to calm his nerves. "You make me crazy, woman," he teases, to which you reply by smiling warmly and pulling him further onto the bed to nap with you.

ZAYN: You'd received a text from Zayn asking you to come backstage for a minute before the show starts. When you get into the room, you find him pacing the floor and frantically wringing his hands in front of himself, taking deep, patterned breaths. "What's wrong, babe?" you ask as you close the door behind you. "I can't do this," he blurts out. "Can't do what?" you inquire. "This. The whole thing. This show is such a big deal and there's so much pressure for us to do well and I just can't do it," he rambles hastily, barely pausing long enough to take a breath. His face is twisted into a look of panic as he continues to pace the room and mutter nonsense under his breath. "Aside from the large venue and crowd, how is this show any different from the ones you boys have done before?" you ask. He takes a moment to think about it before replying, "It's not." "Exactly. So don't let yourself get so worked up about it. The people out there are here because they already love you, so it's not like you need to worry about winning them over or anything," you point out. Zayn nods in agreement as he takes in your words. "I need water," he states, prompting you to toss him a nearby bottle. After taking a few moments to calm down, he sits down on the couch and lets his head loll back. You sit next to him and place a gentle, comforting hand on his thigh. "You gonna be ok, babe?" "I think so. I'm still nervous though," he admits. "It's perfectly alright to be nervous, but you can't let yourself get overcome by your nerves. You'll do fine just like you always do. I promise," you assure him warmly. "I love you, [Y/N]." "I love you too." With that, you give him a quick good luck kiss and return to your seat.