What if..?

What if Niall and Louis hadn't gotten through in the X-factor? If Zayn had been disqualified because he didn't dance? If Liam had been sent home during the live-shows, and Harry had won on his own? Were would these boys be now? All alone, even though we all know they were meant to be together. What exactly would their lives be like without One Direction?
(Please tell me if anyone wants me to continue this story, 'cause i've kinda lost interest in it...)

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4. Liam

 

               Liam

 

 

                    “…Matt!” No. Fucking. Way. In. Hell. I heard the cheers, and a few groans, and someone patted me on the shoulder. My body was frozen for God knows how long, and I just didn’t know what to think. I felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around me, and I zoned back into reality. I saw a mop of curly hair, belonging to Harry, a slightly younger lad, who was still a bit shorter than me. He pulled back, and looked at me sadly. “I’m so sorry Liam.” I just gave him a small smile, which he returned, and then I went to face the rest of the constantans that were congratulating Matt, and some of them even crying because I had been sent home. After having hugged everyone several times, and congratulating Matt, I faced the cameras as Gary slung his arm around my shoulder. He said something to the camera, but I didn’t pay attention. I just kept my gaze on the enormous audience, and I realized that that would be the last time I would ever be standing on a stage. I could tell that Gary had finished off, and was looking at me expectantly, so I gave the camera a smile, and then waved at the audience that screamed loudly, and then retreated, not looking back as I left. It was the second time I had left like this, and this time it was even worse than the first. I knew, though, that there would not be a third time. Last time I left there had been hope of returning, but this time I realized that hope was lost, and that this was a completed chapter of my life. For what seemed like hours, I went around saying goodbye, packing my things, constantly keeping the same happy expression as I had earlier, as if I was content with coming in fifth. As if. At some point, I had made my way back to my parents, and when my Mum enveloped me in a warm hug, the tears finally fell. I cried and I sobbed, because I knew that my dream of more than two years had ended, and there really was no going back this time. It was over.

 

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