One Direction Preferences

75. You're Homeless and He Takes You In

Harry: “Just…just give me two minutes,” mumbles the lanky boy in front of you, turning away from you with fumbling hands. Turning back around, he hands you his Styrofoam cup filled with hot coffee and some cream. “Hold that for me, would you?” You watch him with a raised eyebrow as he fumbles around in his pockets and speaks lowly to himself. Finally, looking defeated and a bit embarrassed, he reaches his hand up and feels around the top door frame, pulling down a key on a string. “I always keep a spare for when I lose my own keys,” he chuckles a little, thrusting the key into the hole and turning it quickly. Harry steps in, motioning you to come in and taking his coffee from your hands. “I’ll get your stuff from the car. You can go and shower, if you’d like. Uh, first door to the right, jut up the stairs.” With that, he turns away from you and heads out the door. You make your way up the stairs, finding the bathroom just where he said it would be, and walk in. It takes one glance in the mirror for it all to finally dawn on you what had just happened. After finding your fiance in bed with someone else, he proceeded to drag you out of your formerly shared apartment, bags and all, and kicked you out. He left you out on the curb with your tear streaked face in your hands and you sitting on your bags, and that’s how Harry found you. Having watched the whole ordeal, he offered you a place to stay. With your family on the other side of the world and all of your valuables still at the apartment, you nodded your head. All you had to lose was your life, and it didn’t seem like much to you anymore. Now, you stand in front of the mirror, your make up wiped clean from your face and your clothes changed after your shower. When you walk out, you see Harry standing next to an open door with a soft smile. “I figured you’d like this room better. I put your stuff in as well.” Suddenly washed over with an overwhelming feeling, you rush over to the lanky man, throwing yourself against his body and squeezing tightly, hoping to push all of your gratitude into the hug. “You’re welcome,” he mumbles, patting a warm hand u your arm comfortingly.

Liam:  ”I always lose these damn keys,” Liam grumbles, patting at his pockets. “Aha,” he says when he finds them, shoving them into the key hole and unlocking the door. He holds the door open wide for you. Cautiously, like an animal surveying it’s new habitat, you peak your head in your foot following in suit. Liam watches you with an intense gaze as you look around uncomfortably. As you shift the bag Suddenly, he smiles, reaching an arm out for you to hold. “Let me give you the grand tour,” he says brightly, waiting until your arm is hooked in his to move. As he names the rooms, giving brief descriptions of certain items and letting you know what is accessible to you, he comes to a stop on the the second floor in front of a door. Sneaking a peak towards you, he opens the door and flips a switch. “And this is your room.” You gape slightly, staring at the queen sized bed matched with soft covers and vanity styled furniture, and snap your attention to him. “I can’t..I couldn’t possibly…I could be a murder, for all you know!” Liam smiles, his shoulders shrugging slightly when he slipped his hands into his pockets, and he leaned against the door frame. “You haven’t killed me yet.” “Liam..” “Oh, come off it. I have plenty of space here, and it’d be a shame to let it all go to waste.” As you worry your bottom lip, your eyes fall to the soft looking bed and you step a little closer. “There’s plenty of room for you here,” you hear him add behind you. Sighing, you let your shoulders slump, letting your knapsack slide off of your arm and crumbling onto the bed. Your body floods with relief, and you eyes flutter close. “t’s been so long since I had my own bed.”

Louis: In the corner of the small coffee shop, you sit with a tattered old book in your hands, curled up into the soft, warm cushions of your table’s chair. You momentarily glance up, catching the eye of a man with the bluest eyes you had eve seen. Slightly thrown off, you look at the steaming cup of tea in is hands, accompanied by a bagel and a small scone. Your stomach groans hungrily, so you look away and go back to your book. It takes you five minutes to realize that you’re no longer sitting alone, and when you look up, you’re met with the softest gaze you’ve ever seen and the brightest smile from blue eyes. He has two steaming cups of tea in front of him along with four scones and  two bagels, and he pushes half of his food towards you. “I’ve seen you here every single day and the phrase ‘Curiosity killed the cat’ can not seem any more fitting. So, how about you tell me your story?” You blush deeply, but surprise yourself when your words tumble freely and unrestrained from your lips. He listens carefully while you tell him of your mom’s lost battle to cancer and your dad’s lost battle to alcoholism. He listens to you as you tell him of the abuse you suffered under foster care, of how you finally broke free when you came of age, of how you struggled to live a “normal life” until the norm became to complicated and expensive. He listens as you tell him how you packed the necessities in a small bag along with a book, some paper, and some pens, and took off. When you finish, you expect to see pity, but you’re surprised when you see understanding and a solemn sorrow in the blues. “And no one helped you? No friends? No family?” ” No family. I eventually became too much of a burden for my ‘friends.’ They’d only heard half, took  pity on me, and took me in only to become bored and move on to the next cliche.” Smiling softly, he reached out and pat your hand. “Then they weren’t really your friends. But I would you could consider me to be one. A real one.” With raised eyebrows, you watch him stand, holding a hand out for your’s. “And, as your fiend, I insist on you moving in and occupying the large flat that I call my home. And I won’t take n for an answer.”

Zayn: The sunlight peaks in through the blinds, landing on your closed eyes and stirring you from your deep sleep With a yawn, your eyes spring open, and your surroundings are unfamiliar to you, which stirs a panicky feeling from your stomach. You stand up, noticing the over-sized  clean clothe hanging off of your body, and spot the bathroom, navigating your way around the heaps of clothes, obviously belong to a man. When you reach the long mirror, a horrific sound leaves your mouth. Deep violet and red marks dance across the visible parts of your pale body, and about seven small bandages randomly spot your skin, You here heavy footsteps and hands fumbling with the doorknob before it flies open, revealing a sleepy looking , handsome man with olive skin and almost golden eyes. “Are you alright?” And, just like, the blurred scenes from last night play out in your head. The piss drunk man who found you in the alley, the struggle to get away, and the blurred olive skin that came to your rescue. Breaking from your trance, you meet the worried eye of your hero, and you swallow down the lump that formed in your throat as you try to speak. “Here,” he suddenly says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bag of ice. “Your head must be killer.” You nod, taking the ice pack from his hand and placing it against your throbbing head. “I…ah..I don’t know your story, and you don’t have to tell me, but I’m going to assume you’re uh…your homeless, huh?” Your eyes lower from his gaze, and you nibble at your bottom lip as he says. “I’m not judging you. As I aid, I don’t now your story, even then I wouldn’t judge. Regardless, you’re staying here. For as long as you need to. And you don’t have to pay or anything. Just…as long as you feel safe and-” He’s cut off by the sudden force of your body, almost knocking the both of you over, and you bury your head into the crook of his neck. “Thank you.”

Niall: “I’m not moving in without paying rent, at least,” you argue, taking a gander at the walls of Niall’s far from small house. You stand in the middle of his living room, your suitcases next to your leg and your duffle hanging off of your shoulder. “Oh for the love of…for the sake of fuck, Y/N, you’re my best friend!” You stare him down, tight lipped and unyielding, and you cross your arms over your chest. “Niall, I’m not going to let you let me mooch off of you without paying.” “Would you let me pay rent if  were homeless and you offered me a place to stay?” Scratching at your head, your eyes lower to the floor, your weight switching to the other leg as you mumble, “It’s different.” “Different how? Your parents kicked you out and your boyfriend -wait, no, your ex-boyfriend is the biggest douche bag alive. If the roles were…oh, no. Don’t go and do that.” Your face crumpled up somewhere around the middle of his rant, and he now has his arms wrapped around your shaking frame. “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot,” he sighs, moving his hand in a small circle on your back. “I just…I just want you to stay here. I don’t want you to pay or feel like you owe me anything, because to me this is already your home and..ah, fuck I just want you to think of it as that and be happy. You sniffle and wipe at your cheeks, and you pull back from his embrace to stare at his wide eyes. “Okay.”