Harry: You scroll through the pictures one more time, waiting for him to pick up the phone. He’s across the Atlantic, but you had to call him. “Hey, babe,” he answers, his voice cheery, as the loud voices in the background slowly fade as he finds a quieter space to talk. You sniff loudly, trying to hold your emotions in before even attempting to talk. “Everything alright? What’s wrong?” He questions with concern, wanting to know why you were calling him crying. “Everything is perfect,” you say, your voice cracking. “Babe, what’s the matter?” His tone searching for an answer from your side of the line. “Absolutely nothing,” you continue, trying your best to control your tears in an attempt to actually have a conversation. “Okay, well, why are you crying?” You take a deep breath in, looking at the pictures on your computer screen once more, shaking your head in awe, a smile forming on your face. Once you gain enough composure to talk you answer him. “Can I just say something?” You begin. He says nothing, allowing you to get your thoughts out uninterrupted. “Can I just say how absolutely and incredibly proud I am of you?” You hear him sigh in relief at your confession and the truth that nothing was wrong. “I am scrolling through these pictures of you visiting that girl and her family in New Jersey, and Harry, I don’t think I have ever been more overwhelmed by anything else in my entire life.” He laughs softly at your honesty. “I just wanted to visit her,” he tells you and your smile grows wider. “I know you did, and the fact that you actually went shows just how…” You pause your thought as your tears begin to fall once more. “…it just shows how incredible you are. I am so proud of you. And so unbelievably honored to call you mine.” “Honored? That’s a bit of a stretch babe,” he acknowledges with a chuckle, trying to play off his actions. “It isn’t,” you begin. “Thank you for once again showing the world the true Harry Styles, the one that I love with all of my heart.” “You’re welcome, I guess,” he answers, with another soft chuckle, never being able to fully accept sentimental compliments. As your eyes begin to dry, you review the conversation the two of you had just attempted, laughing at your breakdown. “What is it now?” He inquires, your laughter sounding like wailing. “Nothing, I’m just laughing.” “Good, laughing is good. Please don’t call me crying again, especially when there’s no reason to,” he orders playfully. “I’m overemotional sometimes. I can’t help it!” “You’re overemotional all of the time,” he counters. It was true.
Liam: “Wait, what? Slow down,” he says over the line, and you try and catch your breath. “We broke up,” you cry, your sobs creeping back up your throat. “What? Why?” Liam’s concern was ever present in his voice. “He just said he didn’t love me anymore,” you reveal, your heart weakening as you relive the moment those words had come out of your now ex-boyfriend’s mouth. “Babe,” he begins, pausing to find the right words. “Come over,” he offers, the right words not coming to him. “I don’t want….” “Come over,” he interrupts. You sigh into the phone, knowing turning down his offer, especially when you were like this would not end well for you, he would be at your door in minutes if you weren’t heading out it now. “Good, I’ll see you soon,” he responds to your sigh. You credited Liam with getting you out of your flat, something that needed to be done. The drive allows you to concentrate on something other than being told you weren’t loved anymore, something that hurt so deeply. You find a spot in the parking garage of Liam’s complex, using the guest card he had given to you almost as soon as he had moved in. The lift ride up to his floor was long and quiet, not the situation you needed to be in. You look at yourself in the reflection of the mirrored walls surrounding you, your emotions flooding back. You had to get away from this. You quickly exit the lift once the doors open, hurrying down the corridor. Your knocking at the door sounds more like pounding to him. Once you stand face to face with him in the doorway your emotions consume you completely. His hand latches around your neck, pulling you into him as tight as possible as he closes the door with his other hand. He sways slowly with you in his arms now, trying his best to comfort you. You know you should move, step back from him, so he doesn’t have to keep holding you. You can’t though. Your legs won’t budge. “I’m sorry,” you say into his chest. “Do not be sorry,” he scolds, his grip getting tighter as the swaying continues. You look up at him, your eyes swollen and red. He looks down at you with a smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re staying with me tonight,” he tells you, pulling away only to take your hand to lead you over to the couch.
