Louis: “Mum, Dad! Did you see?” Burying your head beneath your pillow, you let little Oliver release his Christmas morning excitement. “Did you see? Look what Santa got me!” Silently groaning from your position, you emerged from underneath the covers, letting the interest in your son overpower your fatigue. Beside you, Louis was already propped up on his elbows, “What’ve you got there, bud?” Jumping up and down on your bed, he yelled, “A football jersey! A professional football jersey!” Looking up at Louis, you saw the glint in his eye, infected by his own sun’s bubbling happiness. The happiness that could only come from a seven year old with disheveled hair and missing a front tooth, donning a jersey that fell to his knees. A Tomlinson boy. Despite the miscalculated size, it was dubbed his favorite present to date. “Is that so?” You asked, voice still tired. Bouncing down in between you and Louis, Oliver spoke his dream, chest heaving. “One day, I’m gonna be a professional football player for the National Team and I’m gonna be in the Olympics and the World Cup and, and I’m gonna be even better than Dad! And the fans are gonna cheer for me so loud, and stadiums are gonna be full and we’re gonna win every single game, and…”
Niall: “Why don’t you go away? I’ve said no so many times, why are you still here?” you asked, frustrated. Standing in your way, keeping you from walking away, he stated, “Because I’m not letting you go. I’m gonna keep asking until you say yes. There’s nobody here to see, what’s there to hide?” He was perseverant, you would give him that, although too much for your liking. And you were tempted. So so tempted to say yes to him with his blue eyes and his smile, it was almost angelic. It wasn’t fair, really. You just tortured yourself, denying him so often. But pride. You wouldn’t let him win, you couldn’t let him win. “Why would I say yes? You’re full of yourself and you’re no good for any girl and you’re…dumb.” You didn’t even convince yourself. Effortlessly brushing you off, he retorted, “Stop lying to yourself, you know none of that is true. Give me a chance. All I need is one date. Let me take you out for dinner.” Nudging him aside, you repeated, “No.” Still unfazed, he let you pass, eyes trailing after you. Glancing back, you heard him call, “Don’t worry, one day you’re gonna say yes. You’re gonna say yes and I’m gonna make you mine.”
Harry: Every time you looked, the more disappointed you were. Another flaw, another imperfection. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, you let out a shaky breath, head held in your hands. It was annoying, you were better than this. You could usually stand up for yourself, but the constant criticism wasn’t easy to deal with, no matter how difficult it was to admit. Seeing you sulk in the bathroom, Harry walked in, eyebrows creased with worry. “Don’t tell me it’s this again, please?” Your only response was a shake of your head. You didn’t want to be like this, it’s just how things were. “You know you shouldn’t believe them. You know none of it’s true.” “I know, but…it’s hard. They make it so convincing. That I’m not good enough.” Sitting beside you, he took you into his arms, pressing kisses to the top of your head. Rubbing your back, he consoled you, “You are more than good enough, okay? When you stop listening, they’ll stop. I promise.” Trying to pull you closer, he continued, “You know, one day, I’m gonna call you beautiful and you’re gonna believe it. And it’s gonna feel amazing.” Someday.
Zayn: “You know, it’s fine if you don’t want to say it back, I just needed to get it off my chest. But you can’t just sit here, staring outside.” In your mind, there was nothing else to do. Why face him if you were only going to hurt yourself? So you remained silent, waiting for him to leave. “Are you even listening? You can’t leave me here like this.” Resting your head against the glass, you closed your eyes, trying to shut him out. “Please, you can’t push me away. I didn’t expect anything in return, I just needed to tell you that I love you.” The desperation in his voice was too clear for comfort, you could almost hear his heart breaking. “Zayn, I just need some time,” you started. “Time for what?” he asked, flustered. “I need time on my own okay? Because if I say it back now, I’m gonna regret it.” “Why?” he asked, voice full of pain. “Because one day, you’re gonna hurt me and then leave, just like everybody else. Why bother if I can’t end up happy?” Avoiding your gaze, he turned away, hands tugging at his hair. Speaking in a broken whisper, he assured you, “I’d never hurt you. I love you, don’t you see that?” “I don’t know, Zayn. I’m lost,” you choked out, tears threatening to spill.
Liam: Scooting over to the wall of the bunk, you and Liam contained the fit of giggles threatening to wake the entire bus. Trying to find comforable positions, you elicited a groan from Niall, who muttered, “Can’t get any sleep with you two around.” Finally settling into the mess of limbs and blankets in the dark, you laid facing each other, still smiling. “How’d you get here,” he whispered. “You invited me, remember?” you replied, pushing your palms against his chest. Clutching your shoulders to steady himself, he scolded you, “I could’ve fallen right then. What would we do then?” So you pulled him in closer, ensuring his safety. Sitting in the silence, you were accompanied only by loving gazes and quiet snores. “Hey, this is really random, but have you ever thought about like, the future? With us, I mean.” Suddenly growing nervous, you mumbled a quiet no. “Well, I don’t know, I have. And it’s kinda nice, you know? One day, we can get married and have our own kids and we’d be parents and spoil them and it’s just nice,” he exhaled. “Wow,” you said, both flattered and humbled that he’d thought of all this with you. Beaming, you brought your body closer yet to his, pressing a kiss to the base of his neck, drifting off to sleep with the same smile.
