Harry or Louis 💚💙
Have I fallen down the one direction hole again? Yes.
Did I ever really leave it? No.
Is one direction going to follow me everywhere for the rest of my life? Yes.
So I regret anything? Absolutely not.
Am I a clown for hoping there is a one direction reunion with the ot5? Better believe it.
Listening to One Direction in 2010-2015: 💞🌟💕😅🤩🎉✨😍😘💫😜😛😝😊🔥😋🤣🎊😅🥳😈✌💝💖
Listening to One Direction in 2016-2020: 😢😩💔😩😪😫💔💔😥🥺⚰🥺😢😓😒😣🚬😿🥺😪👀💦💔🚬
-Dont let it break your heart
LET IT SNOW
Chapter 1: Snowfall
“I just don’t see a future for us. I don’t see this going anywhere. And it’s not fair, and we both need to move on.”
Liam watched the snow fall, her voice a tinny whine in his ear.
“Anyway, hope you’re good. I’d love to hang out whenever you’re back in town. Merry Christmas.”
There was a soft sigh, the one that Liam kept replaying over and over again, trying to find meaning. Was that regret? Remorse?
Did she feel a hint of what she had done? Then a click. Finality. It was really over.
The snow fell thicker now, the flakes sticking on the ground, a blanket of white.
Sophia was the kind of person that thought snow was magic. She’d be thrilled by this, the magic and mystery of it all.
For a moment, even though she was hundreds of miles away, nothing more than a voicemail on a telephone, he turned to see her reaction. The way her big brown eyes would sparkle, the joy that poured out…
Then Liam remembered that he’d probably never see that again.
The dorm was empty, and it was Christmas Eve.
There was nothing but snow.
Zayn was a big fan of Star Wars, which might have explained why he was on the Skywalk.
It apparently had been named with absolutely no idea of what it referenced, which was even more hilarious. And alluring.
The Skywalk connected the library to the Annex, a short tunnel suspended in the air with spiral staircases on either side, lined with windows, the fluorescent light a beacon in the growing darkness, and just enough of a thin floor that you could feel the empty air underneath, that you nearly floated, that it might be just a little bit dangerous to stay up so high, and not move.
Zayn let his music roll over him, closing his eyes. He sometimes liked to draw like this. Sometimes, music made him see songs in colors, and he’d create scenes from them.
This one, however, was different. He was drawing the snow, but as the song continued to go on, as the music built to a crescendo and came crashing down, the artists’ voice at once tortured and thin and full of life, screaming to get out, the snow got tints of red.
Zayn was drawing without thinking about it, which was the best way. Sometimes he got too caught up in the technique, in the critics. He thought too hard about who it was for, who would like it, who might post a mean comment because it wasn’t their exact vision for a character.
Zayn sketched out the pointed, pale face, the scarf with a Slytherin mark on the edge, flapping in the wind….
If he never posted this, would it still matter to him?
A tree falls in the forest…
Suddenly, the music was interrupted by a loud beeping noise. WINTER ADVISORY. EXTREME ICE AND SNOW. CAUTION IS ADVISED. ROADS ARE CLOSED.
Zayn exhaled through his nose. Wasn’t like I was going anywhere, anyway.
He still couldn’t believe his father had said those words, just a few days ago.
Standing in the kitchen of the house where his mother had taught him to cook, where he’d helped his sisters with their makeup (amid thousands of YouTube tutorials), where he and his father had shared Zayn’s first beer, and Zayn had come out to him, the alcohol slurring his breath…
“You are not welcome here if you choose this, Zayn.”
“This is not what I raised you to be. You will not starve for a dream.”
“I can’t be a lawyer, Dad. It’s not what I want.”
“And does it matter what you want? You are young. Sometimes things are bigger than you, Zayn. Look around you—” His father gestured to the pristine kitchen, the photos on the walls, the stainless steel coffeemaker and the kitchen island that had cost a fortune to install. “You only believe you can handle having nothing because you have never experienced what it means to have nothing.”
Zayn’s jaw had twitched, but he stood his ground. “I already put in the paperwork,” he said. “I start an internship with the gallery in the spring.”
“Then you are no longer welcome in this house.” His father’s voice was eerily calm, his mustache barely trembling. Zayn looked desperately for warmth in his father’s eyes, but he found only icy contempt.
“Dad—you can’t mean that.”
“Go back to school, Zayn. And don’t come home until you’ve changed your mind.”
Zayn could feel tears starting in his eyes, but he tried to hold them back. “Dad, I’m never going to be happy doing something else. Can’t you—”
“Get out.” His father turned away, and Zayn knew that it was over.
Zayn had three missed calls from Waliyha. She’d left voicemails, too, and sent texts. She’d been trying to bridge the gap between them.
Zayn glanced at them, then closed out of his messages. He couldn’t read them like this. He was still angry, so angry that it was like a living thing inside him, a parasite staving off hunger and exhaustion and sadness.
He hadn’t really slept since he arrived back on campus. From his vantage point, high in the Skywalk in the middle of the snowstorm, he felt utterly alone and apart.
He felt like the last man on Earth.
Liam hadn’t really meant to throw his phone in the snow.
It had been an impulse decision, a moment of weakness, a brief eclipse of insanity across a mind that, Liam thought, had been handling the breakup fairly well up until that point.
He’d been scrolling through Sophia’s Instagram. She’d already deleted pictures of the two of them, three years of prom and homecoming and goofing around in class. Three years of anniversaries and Valentine’s Day and New Year’s Eve,. Instead she’d put up pictures with her new friends. People Liam didn’t know, with too-bright eyes and delighted expressions. People who were hearing all her jokes now, with a thousand stories and references that Liam would never understand.
The longer they were apart, the more the distance yawned between them.
How could someone be such an integral part of your life, a person you spoke to every day, who knew all the deepest parts of you, and then be gone? It didn’t make sense.
None of it made sense.
Liam hadn’t deleted any pictures of the two of them together. He could barely even look at them. It was like stabbing himself repeatedly in the gut—it hurt every time, a sharp pain that took his breath away and brought tears to his eyes.
And it was in the middle of one of these pains that it had happened.
Liam yanked open the window, threw his phone into the storm, and watched it fall into the packed snow below.
There was a brief moment of stillness, where there had been nothing but the snow falling, the cold curl of the air as it entered the suffocating heat of the dorm, where Liam’s mind had felt comfortingly and refreshingly blank—
And then he yelled, “What the FUCK!”
Liam yanked the window shut, grabbed his keys, and dashed down the stairs. Luckily, he only lived on the second floor, so his phone might be okay. He might not have just lost his only source of entertainment and communication for the next week, his contact to his parents, his friends, he might not have just completely fucked up his life .
Liam’s phone had a black case on it, so he figured it would be easy to spot in the snow, but when he got outside, shivering because he’d forgotten his jacket, it was to see it all—
A blanket of white.
Sound muffled, a soft rustle, as the snow continued to hit the Earth.
Liam raced to the space of ground beneath his window and scrabbled desperately, his fingers already starting to go numb, searching for that black rectangle was his entire life—
His fingers caught on something hard and metallic, and he nearly cried with relief. Until he pulled the phone out of the snow.
The screen was black, and spiderwebbed with cracks.
Desperately, Liam pushed on the home button. Held it down to reset it. Wiped it on the remaining dry part of his hoodie and brought it out again, hands shaking.
Liam felt hot tears burn at the corners of his eyes. Nothing was going right. There was the first snowstorm in Texas in a hundred years, and he was completely alone.
Utterly, indefensibly lost.
Liam looked around the campus, hoping for a sign, some way he could just have a tiny bit more hope.
There was the Academic Building, dark and moody without its cheery affliction of lights.
All the other buildings in were dark, too.
About fifty feet ahead, Liam could see a gleam of light.
He thought back to the freshman manual he’d barely skimmed. Didn’t the library have a cell phone repair place? With manuals and tools to repair your tech?
Sure, there wouldn’t be anyone there since it was Christmas Eve, but the library was open, right? It had to be open…
Shivering, his fingers stuffed into his armpits, Liam began his trek.
And the snow fell.
Zayn didn’t notice the figure kicking the side of the Annex at first.
He was a blur of dark motion, difficult to see in the snowflakes that still descended.
Also, Zayn was trying to capture the contour of Draco’s smirk as he grinned at Harry. There had to be a hint of knowingness, an awareness that Harry was already caught, even if he didn’t think he was….
So he’d been preoccupied, until the guy had started kicking the annex doors.
From his angle, Zayn could see only a black beanie and a hoodie, sneakers that must have been completely soaked from the snow. Didn’t this kid have boots?
It was hard to even tell the person’s gender by what they were wearing, but Zayn figured it was probably a guy, just by the way he stood. He squinted. There was something about the way the figure moved, the set of his shoulders…
Zayn’s fingers itched, and envisioned sketching those broad shoulders with a pencil, filling in the dips of shading and the outlines of muscles that no doubt flexed and slid under the coat. Then he imagined running his fingers—
Zayn jumped, shaking himself out of his reverie. The last thing this poor guy needed was some voyeur fantasizing about him.
This is full serial-killer behavior. God, I need to get out more.
But the figure did look helpless. Like he had no idea that a path to his salvation lay right above his head.
The figure had stopped kicking the wall and wandered over to the bench where students smoked in between classes. He placed his head in his hands, his shoulders wracked with…sobs? Or shivers?
Zayn got to his feet. The least he could do was make sure the boy got inside. It was freezing, and Francine, the break librarian, had already gone home for the night. She’d only let Zayn in because he charmed her with drawings. And because she knew, by the mere fact of his being here, that he probably didn’t have anywhere else to go.
“I guess this makes you the librarian.” Francine had said, winding her scarf around her neck and fluffing her still-spectacular head of hair. “Don’t do anything stupid, young man. I want this place pristine when I return. You hear me, young man?” she fixed him with a beady eye. “Pristine.”
“Yes ma’am.” Zayn said solemnly.
Francine tipped her head to the side. “You sure I can’t tempt you to come over for Christmas? I live just on the other side of the quad, and it’s so upsetting to see someone alone over the holiday.”
“I’m not alone.” Zayn rolled his eyes. “I told you, I’m Skyping with my family.” This was an outright lie, but the last thing Zayn wanted to do was get into an argument about his future and his family with somebody else. “And we’re Muslim.”
Francine put a hand on his cheek, lightly. “Good boy.” She said softly. “But you are always welcome.”
“Merry Christmas, Francine.” Zayn huffed.
“Have a good holiday, Zayn.” Francine swept out of the lobby, leaving nothing but the faint whiff of old perfume behind her.
Francine wouldn’t want Zayn to let someone stay outside the Annex, in the cold, in distress. She’d consider it un Christmas-like.
“It is my duty as a librarian to help this man.” Zayn said aloud, then cringed.
The guy was still sitting on the bench, shivering.
Zayn sighed. Then he tapped on the glass.
Zayn tapped harder, feeling like a fish in a tank.
“Fine.” Zayn muttered. “Don’t move.” He clambered to his feet, racing to the spiral staircase that led down into the Annex.
Zayn’s father wasn’t something most people understood. Unlike people whose parents had selfish designs for keeping them from doing what they wanted, living vicariously through them or simply needing control, Zayn’s father truly had the purest intentions. He simply believed that family should be the number one priority in someone’s life. Family was the center of your universe.
The worst part was, Zayn agreed with him. He agreed with him, and he wanted to draw for the rest of his life, and he was going to starve and destroy every inch of his father’s respect for him, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.
I didn’t choose this. Zayn thought at the specter of his father in his head. I have to do this. It pulls me in. I can’t escape it. I’ve tried, so many times. And you won’t listen, because you’ve never had that. You’ve never had something that’s air to you, something that becomes the reason you’re put on the Earth, the only thing that keeps you—
The boy’s head went up. He turned around. Zayn waved his arms frantically, gesturing to the door that he held propped open with his foot. “Come inside!”
Still covering his face with his arms, the boy lurched to his feet. He stumbled toward Zayn, finally looking fully at him as he stepped beneath the awning.
His eyes met Zayn’s—
directioner twitter of 2010-2015 will always be the elite fandom. the power we had & still have. the only fandoms that are tolerable today are made up of that era of directioner twitter. i said what i said