One Direction preference

The First Time He Sees You Cry

Harry: “Have you ever seen this?” Harry asked you, mouth full of pizza.  You peered at the DVD he was showing you.  “Like Crazy?… Um, no.  I don’t think I’ve even heard of it…” you replied absent-mindedly, toying with the pepperoni on your slice.  “I know what we’re watching for movie night then,” he sang, skipping over to the TV.  You grinned, amused by his immaturity.  “What’s it about?” “No idea,” he responded, popping it into the player.  You cuddled up to Harry, not knowing what exactly to expect.  It turned out to be a romantic movie, the cliché ‘they can’t be together’ story, but it was much, much more than that.  You were completely unprepared mentally and emotionally for that rollercoaster.  Halfway through, you were balling.  Harry hadn’t noticed the tears silently coursing down your face, but when he did he exclaimed, “(Y/N)!  Are you okay?!  Oh my gosh, what’s wrong?!” Slightly embarrassed, you choked out, “They-they just can’t b-be together- and it’s so sa-sad.”  You took a shaky breath, remembering you were an ugly crier, and he’d never seen you upset before.  “Sorry,” you said through your stuffed up nose.  “Don’t be sorry, babe.  I was getting pretty emotional myself,” he teased.  But then he wiped away a tear and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.  He kissed you softly, looking into your shining eyes.  As it turned out, you and Harry had more important things to do than watch the rest of that movie.

Liam: “Okay, I’ll tell him,” you laughed.  “That’s amazing.  You have no idea…  Yes, of course.  Yeah we’ll fly in as soon as possible!  Okay.  I love you too…  Bye.”  Your boyfriend of two months peered at you expectantly as you hung up the phone, looking like a perfect puppy.  You weren’t sure how to relay what you’d just been told; it was just starting to sink in.  You looked down at the hands folded in your lap, and watched as Liam’s fingers crept up and laced with yours.  “Who was it babe?”  A tear fell, trying to cling to your eyelashes.  Liam grew flustered, seeing you cry.  You’d never so much as whined in his presence.  “Baby, what’s wrong,” he said panicking, jumping to the wrong conclusion, gently lifting your chin.  You took a shaky breath and felt a smile wind its way up your face.  “It’s okay… it’s good.”  You hastened to wipe your eyes, saying, “My dad.  He’s better.  He’ll be out of the hospital this week.”  “Oh,” was all Liam said, a slow smile spreading up his face.  “It’s good…”  You just nodded, all the stress and worry leaving you at once, leaving you with a good kind of tired, overwhelmed feeling.  He pulled you close.  “So, when do we leave?”  You couldn’t help but laugh.

Niall: You’d been really good about not letting Niall know the hate hurt you.  You’d bunched it up inside of you, trying to push it to the side, but today, as you scrolled through Twitter, you couldn’t help but let the sobs rack your body.  Your fingers shook as you scrolled down, farther and farther.  It was never ending.  You had only been dating Niall for a few weeks and people had already developed a critical opinion of you.  You let the insecurity take over.  You were blinded by self-pity.  You didn’t even hear Niall come into your flat and shout out, “(Y/N)!  I’m ho-ome!”  Nor did you hear his calls of “(Y/N)?  Where are you?”  He finally found you, curled up on the bed, laptop pushed to the side.  He knew exactly what you were doing.  “Oh God…”  He hurried over, instinctively wrapping his arms around you.  “No, don’t even start.  I’ve seen it tear other relationships apart.  You just can’t listen to them.”  You tried to steady yourself.  “I’m-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  I kn-knew this would hap-pen.  It’s not your f-fault…” you stammered out.  He slowly rocked you back and forth, making gentle “Shh”-ing noises.  “You’re perfect for me, baby, you know that, right?  Don’t even listen…”  You wiped your face and looked up at him, smiling.  “I know.  I was just… I don’t know…”  “It’s okay babe,” he said, kissing you lightly.  “I’m not going to let them hurt you.”  You snuggled up to him, knowing that was his promise.

Louis: You scanned the page, uncomprehending.  You reread the words a million times.  No, no, no…  There must have been some kind of mistake.  A printing error.  He can’t be dead.  You were dumbstruck.  Confused?  Yes.  Angry?  Yes.  Upset?  Yes.  But you didn’t know what to do.  You stared at the words, so plainly stating his side effect of dying had won.  And though it was explained that cancer wasn’t the bad guy, you couldn’t help but feel otherwise.  You didn’t know what to do.  You couldn’t read on.  “He’s just a fictional character!” you shouted, frustrated at yourself, chucking the book across the room.  You heard Louis rush in, “Babe?  Sweetheart!  What’s wrong!?”  “Why would you construct such a 3-dimensional character and just have him LOSE HIS BATTLE WITH FUCKING CANCER?!” you shouted at no one in particular.  “Why would you do that to your readers?!  You made him gorgeous, smart, athletic, funny, and perfect.  Who else would create such a deep metaphor for CIGARETTES?!” You didn’t realize how fast the tears were sliding down your cheeks.  Then Louis had his arms around you.  “Babe, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he cooed.  He rubbed you back while you calmed down.  Then, realizing how crazy you must sound, you managed an embarrassed laugh.  “Oh God, Lou.  I’m so sorry.  You must think I’m perfectly mad!”  He just laughed.  “If this is all you’ve got to cry about, I think I can handle you.”  You grinned, thinking perfect people might not exist exclusively in books.

Zayn: “I don’t think you even realize I’m here by myself all day!  I’m not asking that much!”  you threw at him.  “Oh really?”  Zayn countered.  “How do you think we can afford to leave here?!”  He gestured to the magnificent apartment.  “I’m not saying stop working altogether!  It’s just we’ve been dating for, like, a month and I don’t think I’ve had three real conversations with you!” you pleaded.  “I thought you knew what you were getting into,” he spat.  “Obviously sitting in a big empty flat for hours and having your boyfriend, who’s been at the studio messing around all day, come home and just start watching some dumb television show, not even acknowledging your existence was not in the job description!”  You had said the wrong thing.  “How successful do you think we’d be if we were just ‘messing around in the studio all day’?!” he yelled defensively.  “Zayn, that’s not what I meant.  I’m sorry - I know you’re busy-”  But he wasn’t listening.  He’d turned away from you.  “We haven’t even been together that long and we’re arguing about the fundamentals of our relationship.”  Shocked, you felt your eyes prickle at the corners.  “… What are you saying?”  Your voice broke on the last word.  After a moment, he turned, and seeing you so small, with a tear slipping down to your chin, his eyes softened.  He came towards you, wrapping you protectively in his arms.  “Oh, I’m sorry baby.  I didn’t mean to make you cry, I didn’t mean it.  You’re right; I’ll try not to work so late.  I owe you that…”  You just stood there, melting into him, feeling his warmth and knowing he meant it.