Louis POV: "It's impossible to know if after this we can still be friends, yeah / I know you're saying you don't wanna hurt me, well maybe you should show a little mercy"

I'm not an idiot, but it still takes me a minute to process the word I just heard: hiatus. Maybe I'm too shocked. The word was never on our radar. "Hiatus," whatever that damn dictionary says, is just code for "break up."

"Lou?" Niall whispers. I can hear his voice crack, and it's about half an octave higher than normal. We're fucked, so the walls go up.

"'M fine," I mumble.

We've got an album coming out in November that we still need to finish writing for. We should be planning a tour, selling tickets, tweeting, posting, teasing singles and songs. No, no, no. There's too much to do. We can't be seriously talking about taking a break.

I knew this is how the conversation would go as soon as we sat down in Harry's living room, though. You could cut the tension with a knife. We all looked a right sight: bloodshot eyes and shaky hands and Niall even paler than usual. Harry kept running his hands through his stupid hair that I don't think he's brushed in a week.

So I knew it was bad.

Have known it, for a while, I guess.

But, dammit, am I mad!

I was just hitting my stride with the group. I finally felt good performing. I banged out some killer songs for this album! And I've really taken a shine to producing, too! And now they say they want to "take a break." Well, I know what "take a break" means. I "took a break" with Eleanor. And that ended.

End.

The band was over.

Or it would be.

Like Zayn said months ago, it was inevitable.

How could they do this to me?

Oh, I know they'll be fine. Harry's a fucking superstar already. Niall has America in his back pocket, and Liam is a bear; he'll get whatever he wants. But me? I don't have Niall's puppy-dog disposition or Liam's eloquence or Harry's sex appeal. I'm funny, I guess, but only when there's someone to laugh at me. I don't have the voice that the others do—Liam's falsetto or Harry's growl or Niall's range.

I can't go solo.

I can't be without them.

The band.

My brothers.

"Why?" I finally choke out, my voice already failing.

They all exchange looks. Clearly, I'm the odd man out. They want this, and I don't.

"I'm tired, mate," Liam says, eyes dripping with sympathy. Or maybe it's pity. I can't tell. I don't care. "We've going at this for 5 years. We haven't stopped. Haven't taken a proper break. I can feel it getting to me."

Niall nods. "We're fighting now."

"Fighting?" I think and wrack my brain. The truth of his words hit me. Liam and me rowing about the mix of one of the songs. Harry making a piss when we had to catch a redeye flight last week. Even Niall had snapped at me about my mess.

"It's all stupid shit, yeah, but what about when it's not?" Niall continues. "We're going to kill each other. And we deserve better than that."

"I think—" Harry starts slowly. Silently, I beg him to stop. Not Harry, too. Not my best mate. Not the one person I'd confide it all in. But he doesn't stop. "—if we could make ourselves love it again…we would. But we're human, ya know? And we've done so much. It's like we left home for X-Factor auditions and didn't stop for five years. None of us were ready for that. For this."

I'm silent for too long, taking it all in.

"It's just a break, Lou," Harry adds, almost too quiet for me to hear—but I do. "It's not forever."

I agree with them, with everything they've said, but that doesn't stop me from wanting to scream. And I've never been one to hold my tongue.

"FUCK THIS! Let's just take a holiday, then! Bring our families! How can you just throw in the towel and call it quits?! How can you give up on everything we've built?! On us?! On me?!" I'm pleading now, I know it. I can taste the tears in the back of my throat as I aim a kick at the nearest wall. "Fuckin' shit, mate. Fuckin' shit."

Now they're too silent.

"I don't want it," Harry says, shocking me a little. But the surprise instantly turns to rage, like water hitting a hot stove.

"Then don't do it!" I hiss back.

"I don't want it, but we need it," Harry continues. I can see his eyes shining with tears.

I know I'm being a royal prat, but no one else is fighting for us, and I love the feeling of arguing—really arguing—with the lads. After months of buildup, this is the explosion we've been waiting for. It feels good to let it out.

"I need food!" I shoot back. "I need water! I need to blow off steam with a drink or a proper football match every once in a while!" I inhale sharply before adding, "I need you lot!"

I'm crying.

And Liam is crying.

And Niall has been crying.

And even Harry's crying.

And, in that moment, I know that we're all crying for the same reason: because I'm right, but being right isn't enough this time.

This was inevitable.