Harry: You've been with Harry for more than six months and while you find him tiring at times, it's the easiest relationship you've ever been in. In contrast with his outward appearance, he's surprisingly kind and compassionate. "Can we reschedule tonight?" the text on the screen of your iphone reads and you frown. You had been looking forward to the secret date Harry had planned and disappointment filled your chest with the realization that you wouldn't at least get to see him. "Sure, is everything alright?" you respond but you get nothing in return. You chalk it up to Harry being busy but a part of you knows it's more than just his busy schedule. Making the decision quickly, you grab your car keys and leave your apartment for the thirty-minute journey to the recording studio. The young female secretary is behind the desk and gives you the death glare, as she usually does when you visit the studio, but you ignore her while making your way towards the booth Harry had told you he'd be in for the week. The room is dark when you push the door open and you almost assume Harry is no longer here. "Harry?" you say gently, turning to leave but stop when you notice a lump on the couch. "Don't" he says groggily when you reach to flip the lights on. "Are you alright?" you question, ignoring him and light fills the room. He's dressed in all black, nothing unusual, but his hair is a complete disaster and his eyes are red and raw. "What happened?" you ask, dropping your purse to the floor to move closer to him but he jets off the couch towards the sound board to avoid your touch. "Remember that band I told you about? The one I've been trying to sign for a year?" he questioned you, messing with a few buttons while looking over his shoulder at you. "Yeah" you respond, taking a seat on the couch he'd vacated and he turned so he was facing you. His inked arms crossed across his chest, the neckline of his black top pulling to reveal more of the chest piece he'd been adding to and you're momentarily distracted by how sexy he looks. "Tommy, one of the other producers, signed them today. He just, went behind my back for months so he could steal them from underneath me! I've been working with them for so long and I really thought they would sign with me and then today... that smug bastard comes in here to gloat about signing them. I wanted to deck him so hard and I still can't believe I didn't hit him" he explains, nose flaring in anger and his fist clinch at his side. "I'm sorry Harry... I know how hard you worked to get them. You'll be better off without them, in the end" you try to soothe him, standing to make your way to him. "They're gonne be huge and I'll miss out on sharing it with them" he admits, gripping his curls with his fingers and you frown. "Stop that... listen, maybe they'll be huge and maybe they'll be a huge success but without you... they got nothing. You're amazing, you're the best producer out there and there are thousands of struggling artists trying to get you to notice them because you make them something. You make people hear them and appreciate their music. You care about every artist you've ever signed and if they chose some asshole over you, then screw them. I hope they fail" you exclaim, pulling his fingers from his hair before wrapping your arms around his waist. He relents against you, long arms seeking comfort from your body and you clock this as a win in "most awesome girlfriend of the year" category.

Liam: You've all but moved into Liam's spacious London flat. One afternoon, you're coming home to Liam's with a handful of groceries when you notice all the lights are on. There are papers scattered everywhere, furniture turned over and it's nothing like the home you've come to know. "Liam?" you call out cautiously, dropping the grocery bags to the floor to clutch your purse to your chest while pressing back against the front door should you need to run for your life. "Go away" you hear him call back and you abandon the fear in exchange for concern before you start maneuvering around the mess. "Don't you listen, go away... go home" Liam says, turning his back to you from the center of his destroyed bedroom and you frown. "Liam, what's wrong? What happened?" you rush, moving to step over the broken mirror and broken furniture but he stops you. "Stop, just stop moving. You'll hurt yourself" he tells you, swinging you up into his arms to carry you back to the front door. "Put me down, I'm not leaving... what's wrong with you?" you demand, pushing away from him only to stumble over the broken chair behind you and slam into the door. Your head smacks hard against the door and you crumble to the floor, vision blurring as Liam reaches out for you. "Do you remember Chase?" he questions, knelt in front of you as he checks the back of your head. "Yeah... the kid from the band you've been helping with" you answer hoarsely, wincing when Liam prods the knot on the back of your head and he nods. "I've kind of taken him under my wing. He doesn't have a dad and doesn't have a male figure to look up to so I try to make sure he's alright. He's... like my little brother" he explains and even without the possible concussion you've sustained, you're confused as to why Liam's so upset. "He was killed earlier. He was riding his bike to the music store to hang out until his mom got home and he was hit by a car. He didn't even make it to the hospital" Liam chokes out, tears filling his eyes and you're heart breaks for him. "I told him I'd protect him and he's dead... he died" Liam cries, falling forward on his knees and despite the pain in your head, you reach your arms around him in comfort as he cries. You say nothing because you know words won't heal his pain but you hope your soothing touches ease the hurt.

Niall: "Niall... where are you?" you demand, standing on the curb outside the restaurant you were to meet him at but he's nowhere to be found. "You better have a damn good reason for... did you just hang up on me?" you gasp in shock, pulling the phone from your ear to stare at it before you angrily call him back. He doesn't answer. "Oh hell no" you fume, hailing a taxi. You huff out the address of Niall's flat in upper London and you spend the taxi ride trying to curb the need to murder your boyfriend. You stomp up the stairs, your expensive heals smacking angrily onto the steps and your face is hard set. "You better open the door, you asshole" you demand through the heavy door, pounding your fist heavily against the wood repeatedly. "NIALL, OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW" you shout, tears starting to fill your eyes at his seemingly indifference to your feelings. You drop to the floor next to his door, bringing your knees to your chin as you will the tears away. Every insecurity you've ever had comes barreling back into your life, fears of being inadequate for yet another man seeps into your bones and it's stifling. The fear of not being enough threatens to choke you and before long, silent sobs are threatening to drown you in despair. The door opens and Niall steps out. Glancing up, you don't say anything as the blonde stops at the entryway to his apartment, nothing but darkness slinking into the hallway as he stands in black sweats and a white t-shirt. He's completely disheveled, face stained with tears and eyes red. His hair is a wreck, standing in every which direction and he's shuffling across the way to lean against the stairs in front of you. "I'm sorry," he says, sliding to the floor in front of you and the two of you stare at one another for several minutes. "My brother... he, he's such an asshole. He, tells me all the time that I'm worthless and that I'm a joke and that no one in my family, no one, supports me" Niall admits quietly. "He has always made me feel like the black sheep. He has always made me feel like I'm less than him and, I stupidly thought he'd be happy for me. I thought he'd support me, finally because I was doing something that made me money but, no. I'm still just the fuck up of the family" Niall cried, tears spilling down his pale cheeks and all your reasons for hating him seem insignificant now. You toe your expensive shoes off, the brand of which he'll never keep straight, before your stretching your legs across the way towards his. Small, dainty toes press against larger one and Niall looks up with a half smile. He doesn't need to hear you say you're there for him; he doesn't need words that are supposed to comfort him. He just needs you, he needs your support and your touch.

Louis: He walks into the store, cell phone up to his ear. "That's impossible," he replies, anger in his voice. "No man, that's literally impossible. I wasn't even with her nine months ago." You walk around the rack you were organizing and follow him to the counter. "Well then she's lying!" He shouts into the phone. You place your hand in his to comfort him unaware of the situation he was in. "Listen," he begins, his voice as loud as it could go. You place your free hand on his chest to calm him and he begins again in a lighter tone. "Listen, I was not with her at that time. How many times to I have to tell you that?" "I don't care what she is saying or what kind of proof she thinks she has, she's a fucking liar." "Yeah, well get this straighten out before the Board hears about it." He ends the conversation, smacking the phone on the counter. "What was that all about?" You ask softly. "My lawyer." A confused expression crosses your face and you continue to ask questions. "Why were you talking to your lawyer?" He sighs loudly and begins to explain. "My fucking ex-girlfriend says that her baby is mine." At his pause you let go of his hand and take a step back. "It's not," he assures you, allowing you to release the breath you had kept in. "Well if it isn't yours then you can prove that with a test can't you?" He nods but his face was still long. "Then what's the problem?" He shakes his head and continues his explanation. "She apparently has enough proof, which has to be made up because I was not with her, but she is saying she has enough proof to take me to court for it." "Shit," you reply. "Yeah shit." "But all you have to do is take a paternity test, that will prove that you aren't the father." "That won't fucking stop her from taking me to court!" His tone was pure rage now. You had never seen him upset in the least, much less this infuriated. "She's not going to want me to take the test beforehand because she knows what the results will show." He pushes away from the counter, pacing the floor with his hands latched behind his head. "I don't think I understand," you begin, trying to figure everything out. "The court is going to request a paternity test and after the results come in she won't have anything on you." He turns around having already made it all the way to the other side of the store. "That's not it. It's not about the child. She knows what taking me to court will do to my reputation with the Club." You're silent, showing him you still don't understand fully. "It will ruin it! They don't like any sort of bad press for the owners." "Who is they?" "The Premiere League Board." "You're an owner, they can't just fire you," you protest. "They can do whatever they want," he explains. You sigh and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso and he brings his arms around to grasp your waist. "We'll figure this out, please don't worry too much." He rests his chin on your head, leaving a small kiss among your hair. "I'll try."

Zayn: You sit on the living room couch as Sophie is by the door, both waiting for Zayn to show up for your date this afternoon. He was almost an hour late and you were starting to get worried. He had never been late for anything since you had known him, especially dates. You had called him several times with no answer. As you end the call for a fifth time, you shake your head. You rise from the couch and grab your keys. You head out the door, leaving Sophie to watch you from the window. He had only taken you to his apartment once so you were hoping you could remember how to get back. After a few U-turns and abrupt reverse moves you reach his building. You noticed his car was still in the resident lot so you make you way inside to confront him as to why he hadn't showed up to your house yet. The ride up to his floor seemed to take forever. Once in front of his door you take a deep breath in and begin to knock. "Zayn?" You shout from the hallway. With no answer you persist. Knowing that he was behind this door meant you weren't going anywhere without an explanation from him. "Zayn! I know you're in there?" You hear slight steps from behind the door and you lower your voice. "Zayn, babe?" He says nothing as he unlocks the door. You walk in slowly and he shuts the door behind you. You turn to face him. "What is going on?" You ask, worried that he had done more than forgotten. "Why are you here?" "What do you mean why am I here? You had me worried." "Why?" You look at him confused, this sorrowful demeanor just wasn't him. "Why? Because I care about you and when you are an hour late for something I want to find out why." Your explanation breaks him. He backs up to the door and slides down, reaching the floor with a hard crash. His head immediately falls between his knees. You quickly take his side in the floor. "Zayn what is wrong?" He shakes his head and you notice tears staining his shirt. "Zayn," you say quietly, reaching your hand to his chin, lifting his face to yours. "You're perfect," he begins and you look at him in confusion. "You're too perfect...too perfect for me. I don't deserve you. I thought that if I didn't show up today you would just get mad at me and not talk to me anymore. Then you would have a chance to meet someone you deserve." That explanation really confused you. "Is that what you really thought? You thought that you not showing up once would make me never talk to you? Zayn that's ridiculous!" His head falls back between his knees. "You are the someone I deserve. You are everything I deserve. A bit unconventional yes, but I wouldn't trade you or this for anyone or anything else. I said yes to you and it wasn't just because of Sophie." His head rises at your explanation, tears still falling from his eyes. You reach in to wipe them away, moving his arms to the side and squeezing into him before wrapping them back around you.