Louis: Forget ickly sweet romance and sweet whispered words after a big fight with Louis. You both were nothing but short tempers and stubborn anger that carried on for days. Responses were curt yeses, slight glares and dinner was always, always bad on the first day.
"I’m going out." You’ll growl over your shoulder as you walk out the door.
"I hope it hits your ass on the way out!" Louis would spit right back from wherever he was.
"You wish!"
Every other fight, that dragged out for long days and bad dinners were always different variations of those moments.
"Oh for crying out loud, could you be any louder?" He’d say, most often when you reading a book, just to get a rouse, and it worked every time.
"Oh I’m sorry Louis that your not used to me making loud noises." You’d smirk with fire in your eyes over your book, or tea, or cuddled pillow.
That always shut him up, and left you both sexually frustrated but no one gave in either way. Stubborn pride.
By the second night, where dinner tasted less awful, Louis on the couch would sneak into bed whilst he always thought you were sleeping. You’d never touch on the second night but you’d always here him mumble something like, ‘this is shit’, ‘I should probably let her win’ or your personal favourite, ‘screw her….screw me even’.
It was always on the fourth night, when Louis snuck into bed again, and dinner tasted almost normal that he’d grab you almost roughly, and hold you in his arms.
"Finished now." He’ll murmur in your ears.
Then you’d face up to kiss him, just like always on the fourth night and smile that same wicked smirk with that fire in your eyes.”Want to remind me how that goes?”
Zayn: You and Zayn hardly ever fought. He was so quite, discreetly funny and lovingly watchful that the only thing you really had anything to complain about was his lack of cleanliness around the house. When he was home dishes and left overs would be strewn across the bench, dirty towels, socks and underwear littering the bathroom and one time you swore up and down that if you found another used paintbrush or spray can in the bedroom he’d be sleeping outside.
The fights only lasted a mere hour because Zayn simply groaned and went to pick up his things. However, there was one fight you two shared that lasted a few hours more than usual. You had complained that you were not his Mother and you couldn’t keep cleaning up after his mess.
He had actually yelled then. He yelled about how much shit he put up with everyday and how when he was home he didn’t want to do anything.
"So sorry my presence seems to bother you and here’s a little fact for you my Mother never whinged about it like you do all the fucking time."
"Well maybe she should have it would have taught you something!" You yelled right back him.
Zayn left the room in a storm, tossing anything he could on the ground as he went.
You had only realised after saying what you had, that Zayn just missed his Mum.
In the few hours it took you to clean up his mess in steely, almost guilty silence, Zayn returned from the bedroom with used paintbrushes and spray cans in his hand, and wordlessly placed them in the rubbish tip.
"Look, I’m sorry okay…I just miss my Mum…I mean- what I’m trying to say is you’re right."
You sighed and placed the last dish in the washer before drying your hands and looking up at him.
“I’m your girlfriend okay.” Is all you said and Zayn nodded in full agreement.
After that there were always a few dirty pieces of cutlery in the kitchen, and maybe and odd sock and towel in the bathroom, but it was always less then it had been before. You couldn’t complain afterwards, the small mess was always a sign Zayn was around and you liked it that way.
Liam: Fighting with Liam was like battling heavy waves in the ocean. You could swim over or under them but one always caught you off guard and would slam right into you. Those waves were Liam’s specialty because he knew just what to say to wound you where it hurt the most in that moment. It was the option to leave him.
"Leave then! Why are we still here? This whole thing is- urgh, it’s so pointless I swear." It always made your yelled responses a little quieter, less sure and Liam would strike right there when you were off guard just so it would stop.
"It’s not what I want." He’d whisper as he’ll walk upstairs to wait for you.
In the hours you stayed downstairs fuming like a riptide, Liam was always scared that you might leave. It was always, always a risk giving you that option. There however was just no alternative for when your clashes almost drowned each other out. Some nights you’d even sleep on the couch and those nights were the worst for Liam because he always thought in the middle of the night he could hear the door slamming closed.
By sunrise though, he’d hear the creak of the second last step on the stairs and the wind of the door being pulled open and he knew you never left. Liam would always turn then to see your face soften at his tired eyes, just as his face fell with guilt at your teary ones.
"I thought you left." He’d whisper, always pulling back the sheets for you to join him. Another option, and with Liam’s calmed heart, you always chose to climb back into bed with him.
Harry: Fighting with Harry always felt one sided because he never said a word while you screamed and raged on in front of him. He always lent on something; a wall, the kitchen bench, or the couch and he would fold his arms in a silent defensive matter, staring at you without any notable expression. At first you thought he did it just so he could enrage you further and for a few months you did exactly that.
"Jerk! Say something. Don’t just stand there. It’s about communicating and if you can’t respect how I feel-"
"How about how I feel?" Is all he’d say, and it still didn’t catch on.
Not until you were about together for two years. In one of your fights you were raging like usual and Harry was leaning with shoulder first on the wall, arms crossed just like always, when you suddenly stopped. It had caught on. Clicked to you in that moment why Harry never spoke when you were like this. It was his silent stance, his protest sign of ‘I don’t want to fight.’
The surprise in his eyes was almost laughable when you simply sat on the floor with open legs and arms and breathed in long calming breath and exhaled.
"What are you doing?" He asked, almost scared as he looked down at you, hands in his pockets.
"I’m done fighting. I want to talk instead."
Harry smiled then, light catching into his eyes. “Finally.” He breathed, crossing the room and sitting across from you, his open hands a welcome for you to hold them.
Now ‘fighting’ was always like this. Before any of you felt like yelling or screaming, one of you simply sat on the floor with uncrossed limbs and open hands. No matter how long it took, you both would talk, and talk and talk until you both knew it was over.
Niall: The biggest fights Niall and you ever had were always about how unaffectionate he could be sometimes. You always thought it looked silly when in photos out together there wasn’t so much as holding hands or gentle touches. That wouldn’t have bothered you so much if it wasn’t the same in private. The only thing close to affection was his armed draped around your shoulders on the couch when he watched football. He only ever got overly affection when you wanted to sleep with you and that’s when the fights always started.
"No, forget it. You haven’t earned it." You said in exasperation, moving completely off the bed for Niall to fall into it.
"What are you trying to say?" He asked through gritted teeth, trying to keep control of his anger and arousal.
"I’m not your mate Niall. You can’t just sling an arm over me whilst watching football or when we go out with your friends and expect me to feel loved enough to have sex with you. Honestly. How ignorant are you? I mean, do you not want to touch me?"
Niall glared at your words. “It’s just- I’m not gonna slap your butt and make out with you on the street or every time you think we should. Don’t you think that’s a little clingy? I’m not an affection guy like what exactly do you want me to do?” He was yelling now.
"You just don’t get it!" You scream in a last response. Niall could almost hear the neglect you felt.
The fights always went something like that, and honestly, he didn’t mean to be like that. He loved you with his whole heart but sometimes he just forgot the small things you paid so much attention too. In the end you always forgave him and for a few weeks he’d try a little harder to remember a hand hold, but it’ll always slipped his mind and a few months later you’d start up again. Instead of taking it as a fight, Niall in the end always saw it as a reminder to keep loving you more and more. At least you always asked for it, and that’s all he ever wanted you to do.
