"Oh, why you wearing that to walk out of my life? / Oh, even though it's over you should stay tonight" - Harry's POV

It came too soon.

We had agreed that the hiatus would start the first of the year. It had sounded reasonable at the time. Do some promo for the new album, and then take a break.

But now it's New Years Eve, and I'm rethinking everything.

It doesn't feel like a proper New Year's Eve. I've been packing for weeks, and my flat is pretty threadbare by now. I could've done it in a couple days, but I kept find all these little things that would send me down a rabbit hole: notes from X-Factor, the 1D book, a whole box of pictures I nicked from the "Story of My Life" set, little versions of me, Liam, Niall, Louis, and even Zayn looking up at me.

The kids in those pictures had no idea what was coming. I sure as hell didn't. All the joy. All the heartbreak. I'd be lying if I said there weren't things I'd want to change, but the fact that the end hurts must mean it was good, right?

I couldn't bring myself to get rid of those pictures, so they went back in the box. I taped it up and labeled it "L.A." If the lads couldn't come with me, I'd still have them there in some way.

We're all still getting together tonight, just like any other year. We're going to Louis' place, and we even invited Zayn, but he didn't respond to our texts…or emails. I thought we might all get a little closure if he came. Maybe he already has closure; maybe we never will. I don't know.

Louis' flat is still furnished, with everything in its (messy, disorganized) place. He's said he's splitting time between London and Doncaster for the foreseeable future. I don't know how he's doing it. Part of the reason I'm going to L.A. is because London feels too much like the lads right now. Every corner reminds me of them, and I don't want their ghosts with me every day. I know we said this hiatus isn't forever, but it's hard to stare uncertainty in the face, so it kind of feels like forever.

As, I climb the steps to Louis' door, I keep telling myself that this break will be good. There's so much I want to experiment with that I couldn't do with the band—my sound, my fashion, myself. I want horns and choirs and sequins and some killer ballads. I know Liam'll come out with wicked hip-hop beats like he's always blasting backstage. Niall will get the chance to showcase his guitar skills. Louis' been on the fence about what he wants to do, but I know he has to come back to music. He's probably the most pop of us, but I'd love to see him pull in some of his punk roots. I want us all to make the music we want to make, the kind that expresses who we are as individuals. We made some fucking great stuff together, but I know we have the potential to do more apart.

I just don't like the "apart" part much.

But I slick on a smile as I knock, because, hey, this might be our last NYE together as a band for a while. Might as well have fun.

Louis, already tipsy at 4 o'clock in the afternoon, greets me wearing a cheap plastic hat and glasses and the usual "Louis grin" that I've come to know so well over the last few years. I know it so well, in fact, that I can see it's tinged with sadness today. I imagine mine looks the same, but we both choose to ignore it for the sake of living in the moment.

"Hazza!" Louis cheers. "You're late, love!"

I shoulder past him with a playful shove and a lighthearted "Fuck off." He's right, though. Liam and Niall are in the living room, playing—and losing—a game of Twister with two of Louis' younger sisters. From the kitchen, I hear Louis' mum, Jay, talking to the babies. I assume laughter must be coming from Liam's parents, Geoff and Karen, because I just saw Liam's youngest sister dash down the hall, presumably going off to meet up with the middle Tomlinson girls, Daisy and Phoebe.

But there's something about the laughter that doesn't feel entirely like Liam's Wolverhampton quip. And there are too many voices layered together.

I'm only slightly caught off guard when I'm grabbed from behind by a squealing mass. At first, I think it's one of the younger girls, but when a hand unceremoniously musses my hair, I know who it is:

"Gemma," I grin. "What are you doing here?"

She lets go of me and beams. "Surprise! Lou invited me and mum down! Robin would have come, but he has business tomorrow. He sends his love, of course." I shoot a glance at Louis who's lounging in the doorway. He shrugs. Of course he invited my family. And his family. And Liam's family. He probably invited Niall's parents, too. So maybe this wouldn't be like every other New Year's spent with the lads, but I have to admit that the chaos and bustle of screaming children is a somewhat welcomed change from the usual screaming of drunk men.

"Maybe this is what the hiatus will be like," I think. "Different, but not bad."

The evening is good—great even. We drink and laugh and visit and remember. It's been a hell of a year for everyone. Only the babies fall asleep before midnight. As the ball drops, Louis kisses each of his sisters on the cheek; Liam plants a particularly wet kiss on a protesting Ruth; even Gemma relents and lets me kiss her; I'm pretty sure Niall kissed my mum's cheek. I'll let it slide this time. God knows he's fancied her since the beginning. It's weird.

And then Jay is sending the girls to bed, and the Paynes are corralling Ruth, and Gemma has an "after-party" to get to—and pretty soon it's just the lads in Louis' more-disheveled-than-usual living room, and, in the silence, I'm even more thankful for the distraction that our families provided tonight.

"Happy 2016," Niall says meekly, and we all know what he really means: happy hiatus.

"Hey, well, thanks for hosting, Tommo," Liam smiles, clapping Louis on the shoulder. "It was brilliant of you getting our families down here." He starts searching the room for his jacket and shoes. "I reckon I better get going. Don't want my parents to forget me when they head home in the morning."

Niall yawns, and I can't help but thinks it's a little forced. He's not that drunk, and it's not that late. "Ditto with that," he agrees. "I'm flying home in about seven hours, and I haven't packed a thing."

I don't want to say what I do, but I say it anyway: "I better make sure my things are ready, too. Flying out to L.A. first thing tomorrow."

"Mates!" Louis cries incredulously. "You're really leaving? On this, our last night together in who knows how long?"

Liam shuffles.

Niall avoids eye contact.

I just stutter.

"Stay," Louis says. He's pleading, more than a little but less than full-on begging. "One more night. For old time's sake."

After a pause that could have been a second or an hour, Liam takes his shoes off. Instantly, Niall collapses back onto the couch…and I breathe again.

I guess we didn't need that much convincing.

We drag mattresses, pillows, blankets, and cushions into the living room. We fill up on drink and snacks and laugh about the last five years. I wish I had brought the old photos I found before I left, but it turns out that Louis has a stack of his own, and we relive the past, focusing on the good times and only throwing veiled jabs at the bad times. Tonight wasn't a night for reopening wounds.

It only prolonged the inevitable, but we needed one more night.

The sun comes up too soon. Bleary-eyed and sleep-deprived, Liam, Niall, and I stumbled to Louis' front door where there are three separate drivers waiting for us. For once, we aren't all going back to the same place.

I try to remember them exactly as they are: Niall's t-shirt and too-loud laugh; Liam's crumpled, untucked button-up and jeans' Louis' perpetually messy hair and gray tracksuit. We'll always be brothers. We were part of each other growing up.

I hope they know.

I hope they remember.

I always will.