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It's Been A Bad Day

 It's Been A Bad Day

Zayn: As soon as you were through the front door you slunk to the floor, pulled your knees up to your chest and let the tears fall. You reached for your cell phone and typed in Zayn's number. Your sobs had subsided by the third ring, and by then you had deemed yourself suitably insane for calling your ex-boyfriend and expecting him to pick up. Your insanity was solidified as you looked back down at the caller ID appearing on your now-ringing phone, because there was no way he was calling you back after not speaking to you in three weeks. "Hello," your voice was small and soft, unsure of whether you should hang up and throw your phone across the room or just continue with the conversation. "Y/N," his voice was thick with sleep and you immediately regretted dialing his number. "I'm sorry Zayn," you started quickly, "I shouldn't have called. It's just that it's been..." "Have you been crying?" Apparently your voice was scratchier than you had anticipated. "What's the matter babe?" The concern in his voice brought on a fresh wave of tears and just like that you were spilling every aspect of your incredibly horrible day to the ex you swore you were never going to call again.

Liam: You let out a frustrated shriek and chucked your cell phone at your bedroom door. However, you didn't count on Liam opening the door and having to duck for his life. His eyes were wide and they soon landed on you, sitting in the centre of the bed with your arms folded across your chest and your lips set in a pout. He had to stop himself from laughing at how absolutely precious you looked. He was at your side in an instant though, when your shoulders began to shake and the tears began their winding journey from your eyes to your jawline. "What happened baby?" You just folded yourself into him and soon the thin material of his t-shirt was soaked with your frustrated tears. When you finally looked up at him your eyes were red and swollen and your bottom lip was trembling, "Why does everyone expect me to be perfect?" "Sweetie, nobody expects you to..." You cut across him, "Yes they do." You hiccoughed and continued, "My parents, my friends, the entire public! I'm not perfect, Liam! I try and try and try and I'll just never be good enough for anyone!" He silenced you with a firm kiss. "You are the most perfect person I have ever met." You snorted, "You're not exactly an unbiased party." "True," he conceded, "But that doesn't make you any less perfect to me."

Niall: He found you curled up on the couch, eyes glassy and a half-empty bottle of champagne in your hands. "Y/N, I think you've had enough," he said softly, gently prying the bottle from your fingers. "I think I have," your voice was quiet and he suddenly realised how small you seemed then, small and broken and vulnerable. He sat next to you and nestled you into the crook of his arm. "What's the matter babe?" "Everything." You looked up at him, feeling the tears brimming at your eyes, "Everything's all wrong and there's nothing I can do to fix it because every time I try it just gets worse and worse and I'm just tired of everything." By this point the tears had started falling freely, leaving a watery path down your flushed cheeks. While his mind was racing for the right words to say, he swiped the pads of his thumbs across your face effectively eliminating the trail of tears. And when he realises that there is nothing he can say to you now, not only because you've already fallen asleep on his shoulder, but because he doesn't know what he should say, he settles for wrapping himself around your frame and easing a kiss onto your forehead. "I'll love you right, then."

Louis: "Babe!" Louis called on entering through the front door, "Where are you?" "Follow the soothing sound of my voice!" you called dryly. He found you sitting under the spray of the shower with your head tilted back against the cool tiles and the clothes you had dressed in this morning clinging to your body. "Y/N, sweetheart, what are you doing?" the confusion glaringly evident in his voice. "I am letting the hot water symbolically wash away the metaphorical dirt that is the absolute worst day I've had in a long time," you stated calmly, as if it should have made perfect sense to him. He just shook his head before getting under the spray and sitting next to you. "You know," he started slowly, "if you stay under here any longer, you're going to look like a raisin." You just blinked at him. "I'm telling you this because I know how much you hate raisins and because I wouldn't want you to have to bear resemblance to something you absolutely detest due to being metaphorical." The laughter bubbled out of your lips and you took Louis' hand as he pulled you to your feet and turned the shower off. "Now let me just get you a towel. Or two."

Harry: "I swear," you started lowly, "if you take one step closer to me I will castrate with a rusty spoon and I will enjoy every moment of it." Maybe that was a bit harsh but it had been a terrible day and Harry was just not helping your current mood. Well, he was trying to help, bless his soul, but all he was doing was making you even more irritable. The shock and hurt that flashed in his eyes was enough to make you instantly sick with regret. You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. "I'm sorry," he looked down at your head resting against his chest, "I just don't like seeing you upset. I want to make everything better." You nuzzled your head against him. Sometimes he was just too sweet, absolutely teeth-rottingly sweet. You placed a quick kiss to his exposed collarbone, "And I appreciate it baby, really I do, but sometimes," you sighed, "Sometimes I just need to be left alone okay?" He hummed his understanding. "But Y/N," he said softly, "what do I do when you're upset? I don't just want to do nothing." You let his undeniably Harry scent waft over and through you, and smiled as you answered him. "Just stand there so I can hug you."

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