Moments:

Her hand was cold against his skin, the tips of her fingers like ice as he held her hand in his. Her body lay motionless upon the bed except for her chest as it rose and fell with every breath. The only sounds were her breaths and the steady beeping of the machine next to her, monitoring her heartbeat which the doctor had assured them was at in a stable condition. Liam watched television, he had seen doctor shows that used the words critical and stable. Stable meant good, at least it did on TV.

But if it was good, why wasn't she waking up?

Her eyes were still shut firmly as they had been when they'd brought her in, or so he had heard. He wasn't the first one to arrive after receiving the gut-wrenching phone call. Liam reached over towards the window and pulled the blinds shut so the sun wasn't blaring in on her. The room was instantly darker but he could still make out her broken features, tattered and bruised. He felt his throat tighten as he put his hand to her cheek and prayed that she would feel him, prayed that she would just open her eyes to see him sitting there.

The door was closed and they had enough privacy that Liam could say whatever he wanted to say to her in that moment. But he knew he wouldn't have long. He wasn't her only visitor and he certainly wasn't the only one that had been waiting here all night for any hint of news. He was her family, they all were. She didn't have anyone else, not anymore, not since they'd met.

The day that Liam first set eyes on her. From then on he was positive he couldn't live without her, without her perfect presence. She was outgoing and spontaneous and it had been a complete shock to his normally introverted personality. It only took a few weeks for her to shred that exterior of his, the walls that he had spent the past year building up since he'd split from Danielle. It had been difficult and no amount of traveling and girls throwing themselves at him could break him out of his rut.

But then came Avaline Stuart, probably the downfall of all of them. They all knew it from the moment she stepped into their pathetic lives. Liam didn't notice it at first, the affect she had on everyone. Because if truth be told, all he really ever noticed back then was her.

Ava was an artist, not like Liam and the rest of them. She was a true artist. She had the natural and fearless soul that seemed to enchant everyone. She didn't waste life in self-pity or self-loathing. She lived each moment to the brim of its worth and he couldn't remember a moment where she wasn't passionate about something. She smiled, laughed, cried, yelled…made love…all with this passion that came from deep within her and Liam had never experienced once in his life.

He remembered the first day he'd met her. It was a year ago and One direction was on location shooting a music video for one of their latest tracks at the time. France was beautiful in the summer and all of them had been more than excited to shoot a video there. But none of them knew it would be the beginning of an exciting adventure and a story of friendship and eventually love.

Ava later told them that she was just there visiting. That day she was sketching a portrait of an elderly man who sat pensively on a park bench. He wasn't sure which one of them saw her first, it was still an argument to this day. But it didn't take but a moment for her to catch all of their attention, her long dark brown locks flowing wildly in the wind and her white summer dress doing the same. But she didn't pay attention to that, only continued her sketches and every so often she'd raise her camera up to her eye and snap a photograph. The man seemed content with sitting there, watching the pigeons and taking drag off of his cigarette.

Her skin was a dark shade of olive, most likely from hours spent in the sun, careless of the effects on her delicate, soft skin and was merely enjoying the perfect weather. It was almost dusk when Liam met her officially, looking into her deep brown eyes for the first time, a moment that was forever etched into his memory like the old man on her sketchpad.

"May I take your pictures?" she'd asked him, all of them. Liam had been taken aback, and slightly apprehensive at first. "I'm not looking to sell them or anything, it's just not every day that you see refined British gentlemen on this side of the city," she told them, which was true. They were dressed in some of the most expensive clothes they tended to wear for shoots like these. She only wanted to take a few and of course it was Harry who'd agreed first. He held no reservations when it came to women. Zayn was quick to follow suit and it was only moments before the others caved as well. Zayn took a moment to grab a cigarette and they all chatted whilst Ava snapped a few pictures, standing on a park bench and then climbing a tree for a few shots before she found solid ground and slipped Zayn's cigarette from his lips to her own for one quick drag.

Never had smoking looked so sexy before. In fact she made nearly everything look sexy.

She pulled a pen from her camera satchel and wrote down her name and number: Avaline Stuart, London, UK. She told them if they saw the pictures anywhere online they could sue her themselves and with that she walked away, pulling her hair into a messy bun as her hips swayed.

Perfection in human form.

Liam looked back down at her now, her perfect skin marred by the impact of her vehicle. He squeezed her hand in his and he wished more than anything he'd told her how he felt the last time they were together.

It was an unearthly warm day in London two days ago. She was lying in his bed with only a sheet covering her bare skin. He was standing at the mirror, buttoning his shirt from the previous night and he couldn't help but notice the somber expression on her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked her as he pulled his jeans up, zipping and buttoning them until they were properly in place. Her eyes travelled from her fingernails up to his eyes and she smiled half-heartedly.

"I didn't want to say goodbye like this Liam," she said. "You know this wasn't supposed to be this way."

"And yet here we are huh?" he said smiling, anything to keep his face from revealing the true feelings he was guarding. The feelings that would always be unrequited, the feelings she shared with someone else.

"You know I love you, but this…this just isn't right for us. Us going there, being something we're not…it would ruin everything," she admitted, sliding from the bed and holding the sheet over her as she stepped towards him. "We aren't fitted to last love," she said, placing a hand on his face. "I should have never let it go this far, it only makes this harder to look at you like this."

"Like what?" he asked innocently, looking away from her but she grasped the other side of his face so he was forced to look into her dark, knowing eyes.

"Heartbroken," She never missed a beat, it was part of her being so in tuned with everyone's feelings. She knew he was lying about being okay with this. He wasn't. He wasn't okay with her leaving, with her being in love with someone else while he sat here and longed to pour his heart out.

But that really wasn't necessary was it? She could see it in his eyes as he sat there, breaking into pieces right in front of her. Still, he wish he'd said something before she'd walked out forever. And yet all he could say was:

"I hope you're happy with him, you two deserve each other."

And now…in that moment…he'd give anything to take those bitter words back.

The sun was setting outside the window when he entered the room, closing the door behind him and sighing heavily before he turned to see her tattered body lying upon her hospital bed. He hadn't seen her in nearly a week before now and he felt his hands start to shake as he saw her look so completely broken and weak.

Louis had known Ava for the better part of a year and he had never, not once, seen her so frail as she looked now. He walked slowly over to the window, opening the blinds completely as he watched the melting sunlight pour over her bed, shining on her brown tendrils that were spread across her standard white pillow and her standard white sheets.

It was difficult standing there so he sat down in the chair by her bed; the chair that was still warm from where Liam had been just moments before. Louis could tell by the expression on the guy's face that he was expecting the worse, that he was looking into that deep pit of his soul and trying his best to keep any guilt from creeping up into his mind, into reality. Louis knew the feeling well.

Because it was exactly how he felt in that moment.

In that moment he felt the guilt washing over him as he placed his hand over hers, her cold fingers causing him to pull his hand back momentarily before taking it back in his own and clasping his warm hands around hers to try and bring them back to life.

Her breaths were steady and her heat beat was displayed on the screen close to her bed. But all that was drowned out by the sound of his shallow breaths as he tried his best not to think of the worst possible outcome.

Her not being here.

That was the worst possible outcome.

They needed her, he needed her for God's sake. She had changed his life so completely that he'd swore he'd never go back to the old Louis. The old Louis was immature, selfish and uncaring. Ava taught him a different way to live. A way to live that showed him how to see the world around him as more than just the polluted world of greed and lust.

She was the best friend any guy could ask for, the best friend that helped him build something with the girl he loved, Eleanor. Before Ava, Louis took his girl for granted. Took for granted all the times she come to see him only to be ignored by his immaturity and desire to focus on the tour. Ava showed him how to love a woman. Not like she did with the others, with them she gave herself freely and without concern to them. But Louis never wanted that from her and so she never offered.

He looked back in his mind to a day much like this afternoon. The last day he'd seen her vibrant and charismatic features. They were in a backyard of sorts, whose though he wasn't sure. But that didn't bother Ava. She just dragged him alongside her as they ran down towards the open pond, the water deep enough that they could jump in, and jump she did.

It didn't matter that she was wearing a white summer dress or the fact that her hair had been done just hours before for a special occasion dinner the boys had planned for her. Instead she found her way into the depths of the water and somehow Louis had decided to follow her lead.

It was there that they ended up floating carelessly for the next hour, talking about everything and anything that came to mind. Ava wasn't usually one to dominate a conversation if she didn't have to, but she had been teaching Louis that listening was the key to success in a relationship. And for Eleanor, Louis would do anything to make it work, especially after she'd threatened to leave several times before Ava came into the picture.

Ava was floating on her back, stroking the water gently with her thin arms and she talked about her life and her dreams. It wasn't often that anyone heard Ava talk about her past or her future. She preferred to live in the present and the only person that was bothered by her inability to talk of herself as Liam. It was Louis who cared the least about forcing her to break out of her shadowed life and spill her life's accomplishments, so of course it was Louis that Ava felt the most comfortable telling everything to.

It was also the reason he felt guilty at this very moment, knowing the secret she kept hidden inside of her for nearly a month as she tried her best to figure out the mess she'd gotten tangled up in. That mess being love and lust. She admitted that she knew the difference, but had never experienced true passionate love that she always tried to recreate in her paintings and her writing.

Her writing that next to no one was allowed to read.

It was that day that she told him exactly who she had felt that passionate love for and exactly how awful she felt for hiding it away. She didn't ask him for advice, only floated there with her dress clinging to her, staring up at the sky, trying to decipher her thoughts.

Louis knew he should have told him, he should have told him how she felt. She was in love with the poor guy and Louis knew deep down that telling him would either sooth the chaos she felt she created or it would only increase the tempest that was on the horizon.

In fear of the latter, he kept it to himself.

And now here she was, lying helplessly in a hospital bed, hooked to machine after machine as she took in breath after breath as if she were floating there on that pond that day only a week ago. Louis would have given anything to be back in that moment. To be by her side, listening to her laugh and tell stories about her childhood passion for ballet. Her laugh that was so perfect and unrestrained, no replaced by the sounds of her machine beating along with her heart in the most mundane of ways that she'd be disgusted with her lack of excitement.

Only Ava would wish for something more interesting than a normal heartbeat.

But that's what he loved about her.

His best friend.

Dusk was giving way to the darkness as he watched Louis pass him in the hallway, nodding in his direction. Niall rubbed his hands over his knees a few times, breathing in heavily and letting out said breath slowly as he looked up at the faces in the waiting room around him. Louis, who looked guilt-ridden, Liam who looked destroyed by whatever ghosts were haunting him. Niall couldn't help but fear whatever was behind that door.

He had only seen Ava in the light of passion. She was lively and enthusiastic about everything. He'd never seen her in a dull moment.

But as he approached the bed, closing the door behind him to give him his allotted privacy with her, he paused in his steps. Dead. She looked like death as she lie there, the machine sounding her every heart beat next to her. Niall had never seen anyone in her condition, not once in his life, not in person at least. He had never known someone who'd been in a devastating car crash, who had been airlifted to the nearest hospital, who had been operated on for hours upon hours until Harry had gone hunting down the surgeon himself to find out the news.

They were family, her family, close family. All of them.

And yet it had been her that had nearly torn them apart.

She was worth it, he was sure of that, they all were, that was the problem. But she wouldn't have it. He was sure of that as well. She had started out as someone they all craved, whether it was her company or her skin on his, Niall couldn't help but want her every second he was with her.

And he hated to share.

But that was exactly how Ava lived. She shared everything she'd ever had in her life, her talents, her thoughts. It was only her past that she kept to herself.

"I'd never want to burden you," she'd say. "A past as dark as mine is a heavy burden to carry and none of you deserve that."

He remembered that day more clearly than the rest.

It was the winter, when they'd just finished a tour in Germany and she was there waiting for them as she'd promised. She was at the airport, wearing a red long sleeved dress with black tights, holding a sign that read 'My Boys' on it as she waved to them excitedly. It had taken a lot to get through the crowds and paparazzi, but she stayed and waited for the near hour it took to get from one side of the terminal to the other. He remembered that day because it was the first time he'd kissed her.

He remembered her lips being particularly warm and tasted like strawberries. It was enough to let him come to the realization on his own.

Ava didn't love him.

But he assuredly loved her. She didn't push him away or yell at him when he pushed his lips against hers. Instead she let him kiss her, let him have that incredible moment when she returned his kiss with equal fervor and smiled when he pulled back, whispering 'thank you' as they continued into the car.

Now as he sat by her side, his head in his hands, he knew exactly who she did love. He saw it in her eyes then, even if she didn't realize it herself. He saw exactly who drew out every passionate emotion in her. And Niall wasn't that person.

But he was okay with that. He could live with that, if only she'd just fucking live.

He didn't care who she ended up with, or how many times he had to relive that moment when she whispered that she loved him, but not the way he wanted her to. He would give anything for that moment again, the moment that she was lying in his arms telling him that she would love him forever, but that he'd find someone who couldn't live a second without him.

He had found that person. He had found that love that Ava often spoke about, the kind that broke all barriers and blinded all previous thought. Niall had once believe that Ava was what true love was meant to be, but when he met Rebecca, he knew that Ava was simply the vessel that which true love flowed through.

Ava gave and gave to others. She gave her love freely and her body too if she found a worthy partner who could share her passion. Niall would have never been that person for her. He loved much differently than other people, than the other guys especially.

He loved with all his heart, no matter how bad the tear was if things ended poorly. He knew what was good for him and that Rebecca was not only his perfect match, but his soul mate. Ava had been right about her, about Rebecca. Which was why she'd introduced them in the first place.

So as much as he loved Rebecca, he couldn't bear to lose Ava. Ava who had brought him into the world and opened him up from his naïve outlook on things. Now, this beautiful being in front of him deserved that same love that she'd introduced him to. She deserved the love that she wanted so desperately.

"Wake up love," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "He needs you."

"You're up mate," Niall spoke as he exited the room, Rebecca rushing to his side immediately as he wiped the tears from his face. Zayn had yet to cry but the lurching feeling in his stomach had claimed him for most of the night, making it impossible to sleep in the already uncomfortable hospital chair of the waiting room.

Now he would see her and he wasn't exactly sure that he could handle it. Zayn had seen death in his life time. He had experienced loss and lived through tragedy that had only broken his heart further with each occurrence.

But today was something different.

Ava was different. He couldn't lose Ava, the woman who had come into his life so suddenly and met him step for step with the liveliness he constantly thrived upon.

Ava, his lover, his friend.

He took a deep breath as he reached for the door, and then paused as he looked back at the waiting room full of watching eyes. Liam watched him carefully, his brow furrowed in confusion, a look that matched Louis' as well. But Zayn couldn't make himself open the door. His hands were frozen in place along the handle.

He didn't want to see Ava there, broken and so lifeless as he imagined she was. He could tell by the looks on the other lads' faces that it wasn't a positive site, that there was nothing uplifting behind that door. So instead of opening the door he tried to picture her in his mind, tried to picture her on a day where she'd been at her most beautiful.

It must have been raining that day, the day when they'd been in the middle of the street nearly six months ago. It was freezing outside and yet they continued to laugh in the rain as they kicked the football around. She'd tackled him to the ground, scraping up both of their arms but neither cared as they laughed, her smile unyielding as she stared over at him.

That was the first and last day he'd made love to Ava Stuart. Her body was absolute perfection against his skin. He probably memorized every inch of her in those moments as they moved together as one under her sheets. He was breathing heavily when they'd finished and she just laid there, covered in sweat, whether it was his or her own he still wasn't sure.

But it was in that moment that he realized that he loved her, that he was completely in love with her and her presence there next to him. But she didn't love him, how could she. How could she love Zayn Malik when she loved him. With Zayn there was a risk of getting hurt sure, but deep down he knew he'd never be able to do anything to disappoint her.

He would do anything for her and that was the problem.

Ava didn't simply want to be desired, to be loved. She wanted to be needed, whole-heartedly. It was her one flaw. Zayn never believed in any of that romantic mumbo-jumbo so he didn't understand her innate desire to have a love that never seemed to exist in the real world. He often wondered if it was simply a wall that she'd put up of her own, one to make her completely unattainable as a whole. No man could have her entirely, which was why she gave so much of herself in pieces to those she loved around her.

Zayn looked back once more at the door handle and let his hand go limp against the cold steel and stepped backwards. He didn't look at the faces around, the ones that were sure to be frowning in confusion. He didn't care. Right now he couldn't do it.

I just simply couldn't go in and face her as she was because he was sure he'd break down.

So he took that moment to leave, because looking back he'd been a coward to whole time, making a joke about the way he felt about her, mocking her ideas about romance.

When in reality the joke was really on him.

The door closed with a soft click behind him that seemed to echo throughout the entirety of the room, masking for a split second the sound of her heart monitor on her right. He entered the room slowly, cautiously as he took in the sight of her lying there on the bed. The room was dark, only the lightning outside was able to light up the room, at which point he'd catch a glimpse of her dark bruises and deep gashes.

He cringed, closing his eyes tightly against the view as he made his way blindly towards her bedside table where a lamp was. He did his best to search for the switch and flipped it on so the dull light illuminated the space more clearly. Harry glanced over again at her mangled form and had to sit down to keep from falling, his legs suddenly unable to hold his weight.

Her chest moved evenly while his was aching with shallow breaths. His hands were shaking as he reached over to her. He wasn't sure where to place his hand, everything seemed so unnatural, as if she'd break into a thousand pieces if he touched her. But she wouldn't, not Ava, not this incredibly strong girl in front of him. So he placed his hand on her face, his fingertips lightly brushing over her chapped lips and felt his throat closing up and the ache in the depths of his chest deepened.

Words. That's what he'd come for. To speak to her, he reminded himself. But every time he tried to speak his throat was raw and nothing came out but a strangled cry. He sighed and wiped a tear from his cheek and grabbed her hand in his empty one. He was going to speak to her, he thought to himself. He wasn't going to leave things unsaid, unsaid as they'd been for far too long.

"Hey there princess," was his whisper, barely audible from the tightness in his throat. Even the pet name caused his heartbeat to quicken. The name 'princess' he had adopted for her, something she always made clear she hated. But as months passed she stopped correcting him, and sometimes he'd catch her blushing at the name he learned to reserve only for her. He loved those moments, when that pretty shade of pink would appear on her sunkissed skin.

"The Dr. says you put up a right good fight in there," he said, this time his voice giving more depth, allowing him to annunciate as he desired. "He said that it's a miracle that you're still us. I told 'im that he didn't know how bloody stubborn you are," he told her, laughing so slightly that he felt himself start to break down. "Ava you fight me all the time on everything, this should be a piece of cake."

"I need you to get better okay?" he whispered this time not concealing the tears that started to fall from his eyes. He pulled her hand into both of his and placed them against his mouth as he spoke. "I don't deserve you, I don't deserve anything from you. But…damn it Ava I can't lose you. I can't lose you sweetheart. You're all I have, the only good I have in this world."

Harry had never wept like this in all his life. Very few times did he ever cry and seldom did he have a reason to feel sad. But here he was, sobbing like a baby as he laid his forehead on her stomach and held what he could of her as he cried. For a moment he tried to remember her eyes, the color a deep color, like chocolate she'd always say. Her eyes on his, that's what he could picture, the only memory able to escape the pain deep within his soul.

She was looking at him carefully in the dim light peeking through from the streetlamp outside. Rain was hitting the windows, just as it was now. His eyes had fluttered open to find hers watching him with a look that he'd never seen before, but a look he enjoyed coming from her nonetheless. She smiled over at him, her hair covering his pillow and his sheets covering her bare chest.

It was the first night Harry really understood the meaning of the term 'making love.' He had shagged more than a handful of girls in his short lifetime as a young man, but never had he considered any of those times, making love. Even with Ava it had started out as just sex. Though of course he had to admit sex with Ava Stuart was simply the best sex he'd had in his entire life. But making love to Ava Stuart was a completely different experience.

It was as if their souls were connected, their thoughts entwined into one single thought as they moved together. Her body fit against his so perfectly and Harry noticed for the first time just how incredibly beautiful she was.

He had of course known that she was beautiful before, he had been the first to spot her that day in Paris when they first met. He couldn't forget how enraptured by her beauty he'd been. But as she cried out his name in the moment of passion, in the moment of great pleasure, Harry found her to be breathtaking. Sweat glistening off of her neck and lower back. His name coming out of her mouth in a throaty cry of ecstasy.

Yes he'd made love to her then, and hours later when the thunder awoke him from a dream of her flowing hair and naked body, he found her there, her dark eyes peeking out at him from under her dark lashes.

And he knew.

Harry knew he was absolutely in love with her.

And now here she was, nearly lifeless in his arms and there was nothing he could do but cry with his head on her and wish that just for a moment he could see her eyes once more, hear her perfect, unrestrained laugh of pure pleasure.

"I love you," he whispered into the sheets. "Please…" he started. "Please come back to me."

But she would never come back to him. She wouldn't come back to Liam, the lover she'd lost, nor to Zayn the lover she never knew she had. She wouldn't come back to Niall, the man she taught to love and not to Louis, the man who was her best friend.

And she wouldn't come back to Harry, the only man who had her completely, who had her as a whole, body, heart, mind and soul…he had all of it. But she never got the chance to tell him. Because it was 45 minutes later when Harry heard the stead beeps of her machine slow down and slow down until they were one continuous tone of lifelessness. He called out, yelled as doctors and nurses came in.

But there was nothing to be done.

He'd lost her.

They'd all lost her. Ava Stuart died from a collison with a drunk driver, as she left Liam Payne's flat just yesterday evening, on her way to tell Harry Styles that she loved him. But she never got the chance. She had left them.

And all they had left were a string of moments that would fade with time, but they'd give anything, even their very own lives to have back.

End.