One Direction preference

You have a psychotic depression

Harry: Your hands dug into your hair, pulling at the roots with enough force that the strands should have snapped, eyes ablaze, murmuring so softly that Harry could barely hear you. "Quiet, quiet, quiet, quiet, quiet." Your hands shook as Harry took them, squatted in front of where you sat on the floor. "Come on. Tell me what's wrong. What's going on?" His voice was filled with patience, jumping back as you stood abruptly, shaking your head. "No no no. Stop. I can't hear. Just stop talking." The more you spoke the faster he was able to realize that you weren't talking to him. The voices were back and they were at it again, Harry only able to imagine the negative words that played in your head as you paced the floor, getting louder with each command for them to stop. "(Y/N)!" He called though he knew you weren't listening, large hands gripping your arms as he held you in place as he tried to pull you away from the darkness. "Baby, listen to me, just me. I need you to block everyone else out and focus on my voice. I love you."

Louis: Louis was always working to cheer you up when you'd been down and the cycle could sometimes go on for days. Still, Louis constantly attempted to make you feel better in any way he could, showering you in your favorite treats, movies and love. Whenever you were down, stuck in a rut that your mind never seemed to be able to get you out of, Louis was there to pull you out, to show you the light. Louis laid in bed with you, his fingers running through your hair after having cooked dinner for you at the end of the day, making sure to give you all his love and support in your journey through dealing with your depression, even going as far as to sing you a short song before you fell asleep, a night where you could finally rest with a tinge of peace in your mind.

Niall: Niall smiled wider than you'd ever seen him, laughing along with you as you both dance behind random people, counting how long you could go without being caught or laughing, both of you running away before anyone could come after you. Out of breath you both laid down under a tree, continuing with your cackling, tears falling from your eyes as you clenched your stomach. Niall rolled over on his stomach, shaking his head at you. "What?" You asked smiling, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. "Nothing, it's just that I haven't seen you like this in a long time. I've missed it." His eyes held a hint of sadness that you know had been because of your extreme case of depression. Right now you were on a high, the happiest you'd felt in a long time, though you knew tomorrow could be just the opposite, Niall's smiled fading slowly at the mere though of losing you to your illness again. "Hey, lets just focus on now. It's these little glimpses of happiness that keep me going." You responded, your hand cupping his cheek to pull him down for a kiss, stuck in a blissful moment.

Liam: Liam stood next to your bed, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand in small strokes, his head down, peering up every so often to see if you had awaken. He shot up as you let out a groan, reaching up to rub your head. "It hurts." You groaned, reaching up to rub your head, taking notice of the needle sticking out of your vein, a tube running to a bag, feeding some sort of liquid substance into your system. "(Y/N), listen to me. How are you feeling?" Liam cooed while pressing a button next to your bed, letting the nurses know that you were awake. "What happened?" You moaned. "You had another episode." He answered just as the doctor came in to explain. This time you'd tried to take your life through medication, thoughts and voices driving you to the edge for the fourth time this year, Liam heartbroken and hoping for a way to heal your mind and body.

Zayn: It'd started with a silence that Zayn didn't know how to handle. He hadn't known what was wrong, only thinking that you were angry, unable to come up with anything he'd done to deserve the excruciating treatment. For three days you kept quiet until Zayn left for Germany, two days that he'd be away with the hope that he'd return to a smiling face and forgiveness for his unknown actions. Perhaps a little space was what you needed. At the end of the second night keys jingled in the lock, a confused Zayn stepping through the doorway, his house still filled with silence, seemingly exactly the way that he'd left it. Curious and afraid he walked down the hall, only stopping in the bedroom doorway, your head leaning against the headboard, legs crossed in precisely the same position he'd left you in two days prior, greasy haired and dressed in the same grungy clothes as when he'd left. "Are you okay?" He moved slowly to your side, no response as he realized that you weren't. Your lips chapped and your stomach growled, urine stained sheets, completely unresponsive or present as he worried, trembling as he picked you up, carrying you to the bathroom where he sat you in the tub. Lukewarm water covered your body, Zayn's voice cracking as he bathed you, stopping to pause a few times. "I don't know what to do or how to handle this. I don't even know what it is. You won't say or do anything and I don't know what to do. I'm just going to help you okay but don't hate me for doing what I've got to for you to get better. Okay?" He posed it as a question though he knew there wouldn't be a response, cold eyes and dull skin that nearly matched the hollow of your mind.