One Direction Imagines

Just Random Imagines For All One Direction Fans c:

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6. You Die

Harry; "Mr. Styles?" The white-haired doctor said, staring down at the curly haired boy who had been forced to sit alone in the waiting room of the hospital. It’s half past midnight, and the only sound that can be heard is that of the mindless chatter exchanged between nurses and the faint beeping of monitors. Harry had rushed you here after discovering your nearly lifeless body sprawled out on the bathroom floor in a pool of your own blood, an empty pill bottle in your limp hand. He carried you out to his car, begging and pleading to God that he wasn’t too late, and sped through every stoplight and intersection. You were immediately rushed into the O.R, and that was the extent of his knowledge. Nobody came out to tell him anything, and there wasn’t anything he could do but wait. Harry looked up at the doctor, his eyes red and puffy, and sniffled, waiting anxiously for him to continue. His face was grave and so full of pity that Harry could have vomited right there, “Mr. Styles, I’m afraid she-" He began, pausing briefly to clear his throat and get his bearings, “She didn’t make it, son. We did everything we could, I am so very sorry." He couldn’t speak, he could barely even believe what he was hearing. Harry’s heart sank to his stomach, it felt as if his entire world just caved in on him. Anguish flooded his face and he hung his head as the cries began to rip their way out of his chest. You were gone, and he couldn’t help but blame himself.

Liam; Liam was on tour, very reluctant to do so considering your condition. You’d been battling stage three brain cancer for about a year, and though it seemed to be slowly getting better, he still worried and put up such a fight about leaving. He had to be told by four doctors that you’d be okay without him for a month to do his job, insisting that he couldn’t let all of his fans down. Eventually he caved, and even though he hated it, he admitted that you were right. Two weeks later, he was warming up before a show in Chicago, and he heard the ringtone he had set for you go off. With a smile, he pressed the phone to his ear, holding up a finger to the boys to let them know he’d only be a minute, “Hey babe, we’re in the middle of warming up, can I ring you back-" His words were cut off by the sound of a woman’s cries on the other end of the line, and they most definitely weren’t yours. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and eyed the boys, each of them inching closer to find out what was going on. “Liam? Liam, it’s Mrs.(Y/L/N)," Your mother sobbed, sounding near inconsolable. Liam froze, “What’s wrong? What’s happened? Is it (Y/N)? Did her system reject the medication again?" He rambled, listing off question after question until your mother answered at least one. Harry glanced at Louis, him being close enough to hear how hysterical she was. “Liam," she wailed, “She’s gone." He stared blankly for a few moments as those words sank into his system, floated around inside of his brain. The phone dropped from his hand and he completely lost it, tears raining down his cheeks as the tremors began to rock through him. He should have been there, been able to say goodbye, but he wasn’t. And that’s what kills him.

Louis; The doctor tells you that it’s okay for you to push, and after doing so for about three hours straight, the doctor and nurses started getting nervous. You felt a pain sharper than the contractions rip through your abdomen, and you instantly blacked out from the pain, scaring Louis. “N-no, what’s going on, why is she out cold?" He questions, his eyes darting back and forth between you and the doctor, who of which muttered a curse words under his breath. The EKG that’s hooked up to you starts to slow down, indicating that something is very wrong. “We’re losing her, we’re losing them both. She needs a C-section," The doctor says, motioning for the nurses to grab his tools to perform the surgery, breezing past the bewildered Louis. He looks at the man, who resembles that of a scared little boy at this very moment, with a sense of urgency, “Mr. Tomlinson, I know how hard of a question this is, but if the choice has to be made, which life should be made a priority?" Louis blinks, tears forming upon hearing those words. How could he choose between the love of his life and his newborn daughter? He shakes his head, knowing what you would want him to choose, though it kills him inside. “T-the baby," He whispers, being shoved away from you and lead out the door, them saying something about it being unsanitary for him to be there. He can barely understand them, so frightened and hopeless that he feels as if he can’t function. Not even a half hour later, he hears the healthy sounds of your baby girl, and he breathes a sigh of relief that she’s okay. The doctor steps out of the room, and with one look, Louis knew. You didn’t make it.

Niall; "I’ll leave you two alone," The nurse solemnly says, holding her clipboard awkwardly against her chest and shuffling out of the room. Niall stares at the floor, leaning his chin against his fist and shaking slightly, the news he had just received making him a nervous wreck. You’ve been in a coma for the last three months, your brain having shut down for no known reason. You’re basically lifeless, there being no sign of activity going on anymore. The nurse told Niall that your parents have made the decision to cut the life support today, unable to afford to pay the medical bills, and not wanting to hold onto the unlikely hope that you’ll wake up. They allowed Niall the chance to have his own goodbye. He looks up at you, your pale skin, your hair that he had just finished brushing and your blank face, his heart aching with every passing second. "(Y/N), this is your shot. Prove them all wrong, come on, wake up," He begs, the tears slipping out of his eyes and running down his cheeks. He takes your cold hand and gives it a squeeze, “Please." He waits, hoping and praying for something, some sort of sign that you’re still there, but is let down once again when your nostrils don’t even flare. He bows his head over your empty vessel of a body and cries, basically drowning you in his goodbyes as the nurse and the rest of your family walks in to cut you off.

Zayn; Zayn’s sitting out in the waiting room with the rest of the boys, all awaiting to hear the news on your condition. He keeps bouncing his knee and running his fingers through his tousled hair, wishing that there was something he could do to help. You had been in an awful car accident earlier in the day, a head on collision with an eighteen wheeler and your injuries were dubbed fatal. Though the doctors told him that you were basically a lost cause, he refused to give up on you, the same way you never gave up on him. Liam and Louis did their best to offer hope, patting him on the back and saying, “She’s strong, she’ll make it.",  but served no other purpose than making him feel worse. After awhile, the doctor called him over, folding his hands professionally in front of him. The boys stared after their friend, exchanging worried glances as they tried to read lips to find out what the hell was going on. The doctor patted his shoulder and walked away, leaving Zayn standing there alone, looking helpless and lost. He turned on his heel and covered his face with his hands, making his way back over to his support group. They waited with baited breath, not wanting to rush him if it was bad news. And it was. He started sobbing as he pulled his hands away. “They couldn’t save her," He announced, his lips quivering and his tone of voice so full of sorrow that it broke their hearts to hear, “Th-they couldn’t-" Liam rose from his seat and pulled the dark-haired boy into his arms, allowing his best and closest friend to drop the tough facade and feel the hurt. He had just lost the most important person in his life, and he simply didn’t have it in him to be strong anymore.

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