Harry: You're both too busy for one another. Life has become hectic. Chaotic even. Harry's just taken over the record label he works for, signing three bands in his first month that have the potential to go global. Two of his bands have just hit platinum in every country. Harry's been flying around the country, seeing new talent and attending concerts for bands he's already signed. He's in the studio when he's not on a plane or at a concert, laying down tracks for artists and recording some of his own music. A few of his personal stuff has been leaked and the fans went crazy, eating up the sound of his voice and the lazy strum of his guitar. To say he's in high demand would be an understatement. You've just opened your new store in New York City, spending a majority of your time in the city you had grown up in. There's a brand new group of people to hire and for this store, you have to be more selective and more careful. The New York store is one you won't be in everyday and you need a manager you can trust to take care of your precious store. You glance at your phone, another missed call from Harry lighting up your screen. It isn't until after you've instructed Siri to remind you to call Harry back that you realize how ridiculous that is; needing your phone to remind you to call your own boyfriend. Leaning against the newly installed counter, you flip to the calendar on your phone and count back to the last time you'd seen Harry. Three months. It's been three months since you'd last seen each other in person. "Can we skype later? We need to talk." You text, setting your phone aside once Harry's agreed to continue with your work. "How are things with the store?" Harry questions, rubbing his eyes from exhaustion but he had woken up at an ungodly hour to talk with you. "It's going ok, busy and dusty but ok... how are things on your end?" You question, going through the binder of things in your lap at the things you still needed to accomplish. You're in the middle of making a new "To Do List" when Harry says something that drops your heart into your stomach. "What?" You question, unsure of if you had heard him correctly or if the lack of sleep was catching up with you. "This is ridiculous... why are we together if we can't even see one another? I don't like this, I don't want us to be like this," Harry admits, glancing down at his feet when you fall back in your chair in disbelief. "But, I thought this was what you wanted?" You're fighting the urge to cry because this is more than Harry missing you and you missing him. "It was, is... I don't know what I want anymore. I haven't seen you, properly seen you, in three months and that's something I know I don't want. We're both so busy, too busy for one another and this," he gestures between the two of you via the webcam of his MacBook, "Isn't fair to either one of us." His words run through your mind, the words clouding your frontal lobe and all you can hear is him saying he doesn't want you. "You, don't want me?" You choke on tears, Harry sighing on the other end before he glances up at you. Tears are brimming in his blue eyes and he swallows the lump in his throat. "I don't know," he finally admits, scrubbing his face with his large hands and you nod. "I... we haven't been working for a long time," you cry softly, trying desperately to push the tears off your cheeks before he can see but you note that he's letting his own tears fall freely. "I know... maybe, maybe we just need a break?" Harry questions, leaning forward and you laugh in pain at his words. "That's pussy shit Harry... either we stay together or we don't. There are no breaks in real life, only on TV," you assure, staring into the camera and Harry nods. "Then... I think it's best we end this. It's not fair to me or you to be together but not be together," he finally says after ten minutes worth of agonizing silence. "Ok," you sigh simply, shoulders slouching in defeat and you berate yourself for not fighting him on the issue. But, you knew he was right. "I'm still here, if you need anything. Please, don't hesitate to let me know," Harry begs and you nod but you know he's the last person you'll call. You end the Skype call at his words, crawl into your childhood bed, and cry yourself to sleep. You find it ironic when you wake the next morning after the longest nights sleep in four months.

Liam: "I didn't actually mean for you to get out," Liam reminds you, seated at the edge of the bed as you bustle around him. "Liam, we can't keep doing this. Fighting and saying nasty things and threatening to leave only to go back on those words the next day," you sigh, turning from the clothes you'd been pulling from the closet to stare at him. "I don't know how else to fight with you... I say things I don't mean, you say things you don't mean, then we make up and everything's fine... why is this different?" He begs to know, begging to know the workings of your brain and you give him an exasperated laugh. "Because Liam, we're adults. You can't tell me to get out every time we fight... last night was the last time you'll ever tell me to get out," you sigh, turning to continue your hauling of clothes from hangers to the suitcase on the floor behind you. "Liam," you sigh in a whisper when his strong, inked arms wrap around your waist. "Please, don't go. Don't leave me," he asks sadly, nuzzling your neck with the tip of his nose and you remind yourself to stay strong while staring up at the ceiling. "I have to," you remind him softly, pulling from his hold to continue your pursuit of gathering everything you own. "I'm sorry, ok. I'm sorry, please... just, don't go. Stay with me," Liam begs again, turning you to face him and you finally see the tears rolling down his cheeks and over his chin. "I can't... I don't want to stay somewhere that will never really be mine. This is your place Liam, and every time we fight I'm painfully reminded that you'll never think of this place as ours. I deserve more than that, I deserve more than you've given me." You state with finality, turning your back to him to gather all your makeup and toss it all into the box at your feet. You know sorting through it will be a bitch but at this point, you have to get out of this house. You have to get away from Liam before you loose the strength you've gathered to leave him. "Fine, then leave. I'm obviously not important enough for you to stay, so leave. Here, I'll even help you!" Liam shouts, grabbing the suitcase at his feet to drag it to the door. "Liam... stop it! Liam, STOP" You scream, watching as he tosses it out of his front door and onto the sidewalk before he stomps back down the hall to do the same with all your other things. You note, however, that he's more careful with your box of makeup but you can tell he's doing this out of heartbreak more so than out of anger. So, you stand back and Liam throw all your things out onto the curb and watch from the doorway as he shoves everything into your car before he turns to you. He's breathing heavily, nostrils flaring in anger and you can't decide what's harder for him; the exercitation of lifting all your things or the energy he's putting in to not crying. "Go, go on... leave, it's what you want so leave," Liam says, pointing to your car and you sigh. "Liam... you've got the tattoos and the piercings and you look so manly, so dangerous but... you're just a little boy, a scared little boy too afraid to admit he's hurt," you cry softly, touching your fingertips to his cheek gently before brushing his escaped tears away. "I love you Liam and when you can let yourself love me, really love me back... maybe I'll still be waiting. You're not your father and your father's mistakes are not your own, you'll always be alone until your realize that. Goodbye Liam," you whisper, fighting the tears before you slid into your car and drive away. Liam returns to his room and glances around, all of your things are gone. The only reminder he has that you were ever in his home are the paisley sheets and a tube of bright pink lipstick that had rolled beneath the bed. He contemplates tossing both but instead, clutches at the sheets that still smell like you and keeps the lipstick on the counter in the bathroom.

Niall: Niall's been acting strangely for several weeks now. He's skittish around you, avoiding you until he can't. He's tense and he hasn't touched you in two weeks. You storm into the tattoo shop after two weeks of no kisses, no handholding, no hugs, no anything from him. "He's in the back... his office," a familiar face you never bothered to get a name for tells you, spinning in his chair to watch you continue with your mission. "Poor lad," the man mumbles to himself, answering the phone once it rings. "Niall James Horan, what the FUCK is your problem?" You screech, slamming the black office door behind you. Niall startles at the intrusion, looking up from the artwork he'd been sketching to stare at you wide eyed. "Well, are you going to answer me or just sit there?" You demand arms crossing over your chest and Niall wonders if he could overtake you enough to make an escape. He decides otherwise, you're wearing tennis shoes and he thinks that was on purpose. "I'll chase you down, go ahead and try to run," you challenge, stepping to the side and dare Niall to run. "I've just been stressed lately; I've had a lot of clients." He defends lamely, sighing in defeat while slouching down in his chair. "Niall... the truth or do I really mean so little to you?" You question, watching as Niall sets his elbows on the desk to burry his face in his hands. Niall's terrified to tell you what's really going on, knowing that as soon as the words leave his mouth you'll leave. He finds that he can't fight the tears in his eyes and he allows a few to slip down his cheeks before he gathers his strength to face you. It's been long enough and you mean too much. "I... I kissed someone," he finally admits, looking you in the eye and that wasn't the explanation you were expecting. "I'm sorry... I must've heard you wrong, you kissed someone?" You ask again, repeating his words and he nods. "Who?" "Holly... I, didn't mean to but it happened and, I didn't try to stop it." He admits fully, watching as you lean back against the door behind you as you let his words sink in. He doesn't stand, doesn't try to reach for you, he doesn't even try to comfort you when tears fall from your eyes. "Why? Why would you do that to me?" You question in desperation, tears choking your words into broken syllables and Niall shrugs. "I didn't plan it, it just happened. She was there, we were talking, and we have history and... I couldn't help myself," Niall states, ashamed at the truth behind his words but you deserve the truth. "I... why... how.... What does that mean?" You question through your tears and Niall sighs. "It means, I couldn't touch you knowing I was lying. I don't know what or who I want. I thought I only wanted you but then she came back and, she was the first girl I loved. I always thought we'd end up together. Maybe this is our chance, maybe this is the right time for us to be together," Niall states softly, standing from his seat at the sob that rips from your throat and echoes around the office. "Don't, don't touch me. I... hate you, I hate you Niall. Why would you do this to me? Why, I love you... why isn't that enough? Why am I never enough for anyone!" You screech, slapping his hands away and he sighs, leaning back against his desk in sadness because the last thing he ever wanted was to make you feel inadequate. "You are enough but maybe, maybe I'm not enough for you. You deserve better than me," Niall reminds you and you laugh in exasperation, wiping tears off your face. "That's the damn truth... I'm done, we're done. You can have your precious Holly, god... you're disgusting, you actually disgust me right now. I hope you're fucking happy with that cunt," You scream, slapping him hard across the cheek before wrenching the door open and storm out. You pass Holly as she steps into the store and instead of knocking her damn lights out like you want, you opt for flipping her off with a "He's all yours," before leaving the tattoo shop for good. Of course, you only make it half way down the street before you collapse at the passenger side door of your car in tears for the boy you'd loved so deeply.

Louis: "Where are you going?" You question from the couch, already knowing he was going out to party. "It's Michael's birthday today so the Club is throwing him a party at the stadium." "Have fun," you tell him reluctantly, not wanting to fight again about his disappearing act every night. It wasn't Michael's birthday though. You knew this because his wife Lisa had called you just one day prior asking for last minute ideas for the party she was having for his birthday 'in two weeks'. You had only confronted him about his lies once and the shit storm that followed was always the reminder to never bring anything like that up again. Instead you watched him leave, every night, with no idea where he was going. The guys on the team had assured you many times that he wasn't cheating and that he was out with them most of the time. The team liked to party, you had been made aware of that fairly early into your relationship. You used to accompany him to the parties but soon got tired of seeing the same intoxicated faces every night. Louis's lying started only a few months ago but you dealt with it. If he wasn't cheating what was the worse he was getting into? You knew the answer to this could end up pretty bad but just like the lying you looked past it. The continuous trying to forgive and forget every night wore you down though. He had a lot of balls to look you dead in the eyes and tell you something that wasn't true. You hated him for being able to do that. It wasn't like he was fooling you, but more himself. How could he be so stupid to think that you were so ignorant to his nightly whereabouts? You get up from the couch once you hear the garage door open and his Porsche start up. Nothing was stopping you from walking up the stairs to the bedroom at this point, you actually wanted to go. You bend down beside the bed and pull out your holiday suitcase. You wouldn't be going on holiday this time. You meander around the room almost in a daze, grabbing everything you thought you needed to survive until you could come back with something bigger to put everything else in. This didn't seem extreme to you, you should have done it sooner even. Leaving Louis was the right thing to do. You drag the bulging suitcase down the stairs and to the kitchen table. You leave the luggage at the table and go into the office to find a piece of paper and a pen. Sitting down at the table the words you need to use to say 'goodbye' come easily: 'You treated me better than I will ever deserve, that is except for all of your lies. I don't know why you did that. Please know that I spent every second of every day loving you more than the last.' You sign it with only the stain of the tear that fell as you read your words back one last time. You get up from the table only to collapse back into the chair. Walking out the door was going to be one of the hardest things you ever had to do. But you had to do it. You stand up and firmly place your feet on the floor. You had to walk out the door. You pull your suitcase to your side, starring at the door as if it were your worst enemy. Your feet trudge forward and once you make it to the door you don't hesitate to open it. You slowly step into the garage and turn to look at the row of keys hanging up. You look past the Mercedes keys that went to the car he had bought you to drive around, instead you grab the keys hanging on the end. These were your original keys, the ones that went to the apartment your best friend still lived in, the one you were heading to now. It also went to the Mini Cooper parked at the far end of the garage, it hadn't been driven in months. After putting your bag in the hatch you sit in the driver's seat for only a moment before starting up your car. You pull slowly out of the garage and make sure the door closes all the way back before you pull off. Once off of the property you are relieved at the decision you had just made. Even though it was hard you couldn't take Louis's lying anymore. Your old apartment welcomes you warmly. Your old bed was just as welcoming, it felt like little had changed in the many months you had been gone. You sit on the couch, discussing the situation you had just left with your best friend only to be interrupted by the buzzing of your phone. "Where are you?" He asks, unsure of exactly what the letter in his hand meant for the relationship. "Gone," you reply before hanging up, feeling that was more than what he deserved from you at this point.

Zayn: You sit outside of his locked apartment for the third time this week. He had let his emotions get to him yet again and changed the locks to keep you out. You had expressed your concern for his emotional stability in the past and his actions as of late had only reinforced that concern. "Zayn, are you going to let me in now?" You question, almost fed up with sitting in the hallway of his complex for nearly three hours without a single sound from him during that time. You weren't exactly sure what had set him off on this tirade. All you knew was that he came back from Leeds in a horrendous mood that lead to you leaving after only being around him for a few minutes. You hadn't wanted to deal with his emotions. But here you were, four days later, dealing with said emotions. With no response you sigh loudly and stand to your feet. "Everything alright?" A voice asks from behind you. You turn and notice a guy standing in the doorway of the apartment across the hall from Zayn's. "I wish I knew honestly," you respond. "Sorry to hear that. I've noticed you sitting out here for the past couple of days and was a bit confused as to why." His voice was nice, but any sort of conversation was nice after the days you had been having. "Well unfortunately for you I don't even know why. All I know is that he won't let me in and I can't get him to respond to anything." Your voice was sorrowful and it caught his attention quickly. "You want to come in? Have something to eat? I know you couldn't have eaten anything while you were sitting out there." "No thank you. I'm fine. I will eat when I get home. That's nice of you though." "Well I'm a nice guy," he begins with a smile, one that you return, "at least let me walk with you to the garage." "What is this?" You hear from behind you. You turn quickly to see Zayn standing in his doorway. "What is what?" You question. "Why are you talking to him?" He questions, anger coming through his words. "Him? We were just talking before I went home." "Why would you go home?" He questions, confusion in his tone. "Maybe because I have been trying my best to get you to come out for the past three hours with absolutely no response from you." "LEAVE THEN!" He shouts, "And don't bother coming back." "Zayn!" You shout after him but he only slams the door in your face. "Um what just happened?" Zayn's neighbor asks. "I think we just broke up," you reply, your tone soft but full of confusion. You turn from the door, your eyes beginning to water. "Oh....no. Don't, don't do that," he says, moving from his doorway to pull you into his arms. You didn't even know him well enough for him to feel the need for comfort you but even then you accepted his embrace and let out the three days of pent up emotions that you had into his chest. "Won't you come inside now?" He questions, looking down at your now red eyes. You didn't exactly feel comfortable nodding your head but going home and sitting in your house with only Sophie wouldn't be a good thing at the moment. Zayn's hateful words replay in your mind as he leads you into his apartment. "What do you like to watch?" He inquires, pulling away from you only to take your hand and lead you over to the sofa, trying his best to take your mind off of what had just happened. You shrug and sit down, pulling your knees into your chest. "Oh come on, not a single guilty pleasure show?" You shake your head and quickly stand up. "This was a bad idea, I have to go." You don't even give him time to reply before are running out of his apartment and past Zayn's to the elevator. You race to your car once in the garage, almost forgetting to put your seatbelt on as you quickly pull onto the road to head home to be alone.