One Directon Preferences

"She's No Longer Our Little Secret, Is She?"

The O2 arena looked much smaller than it had done a little over an hour ago.

With it being an arena that he had performed in so many times before, alongside four other artists that he felt privileged to call his band mates, brothers and best friends, no matter how at home he seemed to appear, he still felt minuscule under the high ceiling that towered and curved into a dome at the height of the venue.

There was no one around him in the large space; no one except himself, his thoughts and a few of the arena staff members, tucked away and hidden in the far distance, who had volunteered for clean-up duty now that the show had officially come to its end. There were no shining torch-lights that caught his attention among the scene from his platform, that flickered at times when it felt necessary, and there was no beautifully lit room during his slow and personal songs. There was no rainbow project lights filling the room that made his heart fill with love, that made him feel proud to have such a supported group of fans around him, and there were no glow-sticks flashing brightly from their seats. There were also no twinkling fairy-lights, attached to twisted strings, that were used as attention-grabbers and had been wound around signs, printed on cardboard, that people wanted him to read.

There was none of that - just the empty arena, an empty stage, plenty of empty blocks and seats - but there was still a thrilling buzz that clung to the atmosphere.

And now that the house lights were up, he could see right to the back of the building from where he was perched on the edge of the stage, a little off center but not too far from the middle, feet hanging over the edge as he leaned back on his palms. He could see the highest seat in the furthest block that had been completely succumbed to the darkness that was needed to show off the pyrotechnics and the spotlights shining down on him during the show. And he could see every single seat in every single row of every single block that had been sold-out for both of his London shows and he could see every single step that lead to the top of the arena set-up.

A huge contrast to the few meters he could see whilst in front of everyone.

It was times like this, post-concert and when he was alone with his thoughts and allowed the time to think, with no family and no wife and no friends and no work colleagues around him, that he truly, and selfishly, liked the most. Where he could sit back without being interrupted, without losing his train of thought, where he could relax after a hectic night and not be needed elsewhere backstage to take photos with his crew or the fans who were welcomed behind the scenes. Where he could think everything through, thoroughly. From not believing how far he had come in the industry to his life before the X Factor audition that had propelled him, fresh, into the industry to thinking about how things would be if his life never turned out like it had done. What would he be doing now? Where would he be in the world? Would he have stayed at the bakery or would he have traveled out of Manchester, out of Holmes Chapel, to explore? Would he have had a career that he enjoyed? Would he have been stuck in a dead-end job? Would he be earning money and living in a house that was big enough to home 4 children and a pet?

Because, he knew that he most certainly wouldn't be performing on a stage that had once been the prime view for fifteen-thousand fans, that's for the sure.

"I thought I'd find you out here."

It was a voice, pure and angelic, and spoken softly from behind him, almost like you were speaking at a deliberately hushed and gentle level, scared to attract any unwanted attention in the empty venue, that instantly captured his attention. He craned his neck and took a glance over his broad shoulder, his Gucci jacket, still draped over his shoulders. Rustling with his gliding movements as he ignored the aching crick in his neck (probably from the endless nights of whipping his head around when the opportune moment arose). Still a deliciously unscathed baby-pink colour and still covered in its diamond-encrusted detail.