Can you do a pref where you and Harry are having a serious fight, but mutually decide to put up a happy front around others. And everyone buys it, but one of the other guys notices that somethings wrong between you two. And he pulls you away and is like "spill" and you confess everything and you break down crying
This was no-doubt the worst fight of your relationship.
“You can’t just leave me and Darcy here while you go shoot a six month movie in France!” You exclaim, throwing your hands in the air. Harry tightens his jaw, and he basks in his silent fury while you go on and say, “We’re in a marriage, Haz! That means you can’t just pick up and leave anytime you want to!”
“This isn’t anytime, though!” Harry yells, fist colliding with the wall. You filch visibly, but that doesn’t stop him from scaring you. “This is a once and a lifetime opportunity! My movie screen debut! I could win an oscar or–”
You sigh exasperatedly, “Do you hear yourself!” You tear your fingers through your hair and your breathing becomes laboured. “You’re saying a goddamn oscar is more important to you than me and Darcy.”
“AT LEAST AN OSCAR WON’T LEAVE ME!” Harry screams and the plaster on the wall crumbles under his fist.
Your chest heaves up and down and a moment of silence goes by before you whisper, “That was two years ago, Styles. And I didn’t leave you. I just thought it would be better for all of us if Darcy and I lived with my parents while you were on your tour, so she wouldn’t keep asking where daddy was–”
“FUCKING EXCUSES!” He screams, and you start crying. You didn’t understand why he was so furious at you. He takes a step closer to you, teeth grinding. His voice lowers to a deadly whisper, “Sometimes I wish I didn’t love you so much because I’m giving you everything you need to rip out my heart and let me bleed out.”
Your eyes crinkle at the sides, and you fold your arms over your chest. “So you’re saying you regret falling in love with me?”
Harry looks at you, right in the eye, for the first time that night. He can see how much his answer will impact your next actions, so he takes a few moments to think his answer through. But apparently he’s too blinded by rage to choose wisely because he says, “I don’t regret falling in love with you. I regret taking that love and letting it control my life.”
You furrow our eyebrows and shake your head slowly, vision blurred with tears. “You don’t mean that,” you give him another chance to change his answer.
But his eyes are still trained on yours as he says, “I do.”
And just like that, the two words that started your marriage are the same words that are ending it.
Both of you wince as you hear the door swing open and the sounds of your four-year-old daughter Darcy being carried by Louis, who is followed closely by Niall and Liam, fill the living room.
You quickly rush over to the sink, rinsing our face to make it appear as if the wetness of your cheeks came from a facial wash. Harry quickly hangs a calendar over the hole in the wall he had created, and is quick to walk out to greet the guests.
Struggling to hold back tears, you watch as Harry greets Darcy with a kiss on the cheek. How can somebody who regrets having their own daughter still smile at her?
“Hey Y/N.” You turn around to see Liam exiting the kitchen, a glass of cold Cola in his hand. His eyebrows knit together as he sees the red outlining your eyes. “Is there anything wrong?”
At those words, Harry quickly turns to you, and you hesitate as you tell Liam, “No…I just got soap in my eye…that’s all.” Your husband turns back around and rocks Darcy back and forth in his arms as he and Niall discuss sports. Liam’s eyes are still trained on you, however, and he’s not buying your lie.
“Come on,” Liam pulls you by the elbow, abandoning his glass on the kitchen counter as he leads you into the downstairs bathroom. He locks the door, and whispers, “Spill.”
You shrug nonchalantly, trying to pass off as cool. “Nothing’s wrong, Liam. Just soap in my eye, like I told you–”
“Bull,” he calls you out. “Y/N, do you know overtime you lie your cheeks heat up?”
You feel them heating up now. “What? No they don’t,” you try but fail miserably. Huffing out a breath, you confess, “Fine. Harry and I had a fight.”
He didn’t have to prompt you for you to break down crying, “And he said he regrets letting our relationship play such a big role in his life. That means he regrets marrying me, having Darcy, and–”
“Harry would never say that,” Liam interrupts you, baffled. “He’s not that kind of dude.”
Liam storms out of the bathroom, and points an accusing finger at Harry. “Styles, you selfish–” about to say bastard, but sees Darcy peering up at him curiously, so he settles for “–respectful, successful, talented man.”
Harry looks more confused than ever, but when Louis steps in to take Darcy upstairs to the loo, his eyes find yours and he sighs deeply. “Liam, whatever Y/N told you–”
“Is true,” he interrupts. “How could you say those things to her? And mean them?”
“Liam, you’re not our couple therapist,” you step in and shoot a sad smile at him. “Thanks for trying, though.” You turn to your husband, and your expression immediately hardens.
“Go shoot that fucking film, Darcy and I can survive without you.”
i’m writing a sequel but don’t rush me darling xx