One Direction Preferences

You See Him Cry For The First Time

You See Him Cry For The First Time

Harry: “Harry…?” You padded through the apartment, trying to find him. Through a few text messages you had shared throughout the day, you knew that he wasn’t having the best of days. You hadn’t moved in together yet, and you shuffled through his massive flat trying to find him. When you finally got upstairs you headed down the hallway to the bedroom, knocking on the door quietly before opening it and going in, “Harry?” You asked again, keeping your voice quiet. You saw a little ball curled up on the bed, tucked under the duvet and trembling. “Babe…,” you sighed sympathetically, going over to him and sliding under the blankets next to him. He was curled up in a little ball, crying softly as he tried to keep it in. “What happened today, babe?” You prodded gently, sitting up in the bed so he could put his head in your lap. “J-just everything,” he sniffled, “The media-a, and the f-fans, and m-management,” he squeaked, “I can’t do it all!” “Ssh,” you chided gently, running your hand through his curls, “You’re so much stronger than you think you are. You can do everything you want to. Just let it out, Haz, and we’ll make some tea, it’ll all be alright…” 

Liam: “C’mon, babe,” Liam whispered into your ear, his hands firmly gripping onto your waist, “We’re going to get out of here, no problems, alright? Just hold on tight to me, and keep your eyes on Paul.” You looked up at Liam and nodded, both of you a little nervous to fight through the crowd that was awaiting you outside of the hotel doors. Paul opened the doors and tried to fight to get you all through, and when you finally got into the van, you collapsed into the chair, begging Paul to shut the door. “Are you okay? What happened, [Y/N]?” Liam jumped in, slamming the van door shut and grabbing your hands. “O-one of them h-hit me,” you sighed out, holding onto your arm. Liam’s face went dark, then angry, then full of regret. He reached his hand out and grabbed your arm, turning it as if inspecting the bruise slowly but surely breaking the skin. You looked at Liam’s brown eyes, only to see them tearing up, “I’m so sorry…,” he murmured, kissing you as a few of his tears broke free, “I’m so, so sorry…” 

Louis: “God, god damnit!” You heard the front door to your apartment slam, and a million curse words come pouring out of Louis’ lips, the slam of his bags accompanying it. You sighed, knowing that Louis probably hadn’t had a good day at work, knowing that he had vocal rehearsals for the new tour today. You put your book down and trotted down the stairs, expecting to find him changing to go to the gym or making a cup of tea, the usual things he did when he got angry. But instead of finding an angry, boiling Louis like you were expecting, you stopped short at the bottom of the stairs to see him laying hap-hazardly on the couch. His limbs sprawled out, and his cheeks wet as tears rolled down them continously. “Oh, Lou…,” you murmured, moving to where he was and sliding behind him on the couch, so you could be the big spoon for once. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed his cheek. “V-vocal rehearsals,” he sputtered out, and you just nodded. “Louis Tomlinson,” you kissed him again, “You have,” another kiss, “The most amazing voice. One bad day doesn’t make or break you. Okay? Now, let’s get some tea."

Niall: “You got this, babe!” You yelled encouragingly from the side lines, your jersey proudly emblazoned with Niall’s number. “I love this,” Eleanor giggled, “I don’t think the boys ever look better.” You laughed, tossing your head back and giving her a little elbow, “Got a thing for footballers?” Louis was having his second annual charity football game, and this time, had invited Niall to play on the team with him. You were sitting right on the sidelines with Eleanor, both of you enjoying yourselves immensely. “Go, Ni!” You screamed, jumping up and down as Niall went down for a penalty kick. You watched in horror as he went in for the kick, sending the ball sailing into the net, but twisting his other ankle awkwardly and then crumpling to a heap on the field. “NIALL!” You screamed, covering your mouth with your hands before running out on the field with the trainers. When you reached Niall, his blue eyes were filled with tears, which you could tell he was holding back for the sake of his manhood. “Ssh, Ni,” you bent down and kissed his cheeks, “The trainers say it’s just a sprain, we’ll go ice it, ssh, ssh…” You followed the gurney to the locker room, holding his hand the whole way. 

Zayn: “Come on, babe… come on,” you bit your lip and nervously waited backstage at one of the boys shows on the Take Me Home tour. Zayn had a touch of a cold, and his voice was definitely not normally where it needed to be. His vocal coach had told him to lip sync the concert to preserve his voice while he healed, but he wouldn’t have it, insisting to sing live. He was approaching one of his high notes in ‘Rock Me’, and you knew if he didn’t hit it, he’d me a mess. You held your breath and shut your eyes, listening, then feeling your heart break when the note fell flat. You let out a low sigh and sent him an encouraging smile from the sidelines, bracing yourself for the next costume change. When Zayn came running off with the rest of the boys, he did a beeline for you. You opened up your arms and hugged him tightly as he burrowed his head in your shoulder, and you felt him cry silently. “Ssh,” you cooed, “You’ll get ‘em next time. You have an amazing voice, everyone knows that… listen to that? Your fans, they still love you. Of course they do. And I do, too. So get changed and get out there. I love you, babe.” 

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