One Direction One Shots

It was a crisp Autumn day. The calm before the storm, as most people would call it; but, today no one would expect it to be meant so literal. The air was wonderfully cool with a sweet twist of heat. The kind of air that just felt…fresh. The sky held a grey that made birds as equally excited as the fans waiting outside of the one and only One Direction’s hotel. The five boys inside the hotel sat in separate rooms, enjoying their day off. Theirdeadlyday off.
In room 409, Niall was playing a sweet tune on his guitar. He hummed along while watching the game, when he was interrupted by a knock at his door. He hoped up and danced over to it. He opened the door to reveal one of his band mates standing in-front of him, a smile plastered on his face. “Hey man!” Niall said moving aside to let his friend in. “Hey! What’s up?”
“Nothing much. Just catching the game, playing some tunes.” The blonde replied. He watched as his mate casually walked over to the window and shut the blind. Before Niall could question this, his friend said, “Yeah, sorry. It’s just so bright in here. Don’t you think?” Niall cocked an eyebrow then nudged his head to the side. “Whatever. Hey, did ya hear that song by Ne-yo? Mate, why don’t ya sit down. You’re making me nervous standing.” Niall muttered flopping back on his bed, picking up his guitar. The band member insouciantly walked over to Niall and gave him an icy smile. “Niall.” Niall’s eyes were locked on the flashing T.V. screen, hypnotized by the hefty players running across the screen. “Niall.” his friend repeated calmly. But Niall was still entombed with the game. His friend grew impatient. “Niall!” He growled loudly. There was an unrecognized hardness to his voice. Niall snapped his eyes to his friend’s face. “Yeah? Why are you still standing. Take a seat. You’re making me feel funny.” Niall said uneasily. “Niall, who do you think least belongs in the band?” Niall scrunched his eyebrows.
“What? That’s a stupid question. We all do.” He turned his attention to his guitar. His, now frowning, band mate stalked closer to him. “But you have tohavea least favorite member.” Niall stood up and headed to the mini fridge. “Dude, I don’t-”
“Is it me?” His buddy walked closer to him.
“What? No! I love you, man. You know that.” Niall laughed. He laughed, but on the inside he felt uneasy. Something about the guy he thought he knew so well, was off. Very off. He hadn’t noticed himself backing away. “Itisme. You hate me.” Niall continued to back away. Fear was growing in him with every step. Normally his buddy’s attitude was so calm and funny. However, he noticed his eyes were darker, and his smile was a crooked, evil kind of smile.
“No!” His voice was now quivering. Something was about to happen. Something bad. He could feel it in his gut. “No? Or maybe it’s everyone. Maybe you thinkyou’rethe best.”
“No! No, man, I don’t. Where are ya getting this?” He suddenly found himself backed into a wall. “Please.” He begged. “Please!” His friend didn’t seem to hear him though. He was lost in some meandering trance, just starring at Niall.
“News flash!.” The brown headed boy pulled out a knife from his back pocket, and Niall whimpered. Before Niall could get a chance to even defend himself, the knife was shoved deeply into his chest. “You’re not.” his mate continued. The blonde gasped. His friend smiled and watched Niall’s eyes dead over. “Infact.” he said pushing the knife further into Niall’s chest, “I thinkyou’remy least favorite.” He pulled the knife out watching the blood dribble to the floor. He frowned. “Messy.” Stepping over the, now dead, body he stepped into the bathroom to wash off his murder weapon. He then replaced it in his back pocket and left the room as if nothing happened.
Walking the cool, air conditioned halls felt empowering for the boy. He had just completed step 1 of his plan. As he knocked on the door of room 411, then began step 2.
“Hey!” the Doncaster boy said letting his friend in. “I was just on my way out.”
“Were you? Where ya going” He asked.
“Eleanor‘s.” He replied heedlessly, smirking. “There something you need?”
“Yeah. Can I borrow your jacket? It‘s a bit chilly outside, and I can‘t fine mine” Louis nodded. “You silly boy, always losing your damn things. Which one?” He walked over to his suitcase and his friend imperceptibly pulled the room blinds closed. “This one?” Louis asked turning around with a blue jean jacket grasped in his hand.
“Um…no, no the other one.” The boy shook his head. Louis searched through the suitcase once again. He wasn’t so sure what he was looking for. For he and his friend had no similar style at all. His friend never borrowed clothing from him. So why now? Plus, why had he closed the blinds? Louis thought for a moment. He faced scrunched in confusion as he searched his bag. “Mate, I don’t have many other jumpers. Especially one that would match your outfit.” Then suddenly he felt a tight, thin rope around his neck pulling tightly. His hands instantly moved to his neck to free himself. Breathing was becoming hard to do, and his throat hurt from the thin wire cutting into him. He desperately tried to kick behind him, punch, anything that would set him free, but all failed. Right when he was leaving consciousness, he heard his friend say, “I’m sorry, but I guess your style in clothing is a bit…deadly.” Louis’ body fell to the ground. Dead. His friend laughed at his joke and stepped over the body. “I liked you. Hhm. Too bad.”
As he stepped out into the hall again, he smiled. This was going by way faster than he expected. In the pit of his stomach he felt a bit of guilt. These were the guys he had spent most of his time with. The guys who he turned to when he had a problem, the guys that made him laugh, and feel complete. Yet, in his mind, the prize at the end was much better than any type of friendship. Even if it did last for four years. He had to forget about everything he’s been through, and keep his eye on the prize.
He knocked on another door. The door to room 408. “Yo!” Zayn greeted, opening it immediately. He was wearing a bath robe. “Hey!” The boy replied, flashing a killer smile.
“Come in!” The Bradford boy said, leaving the door open for his friend to follow him inside his chilly hotel room. As his buddy walked in, he admired the room. It wasn’t as messy as the bother boys’ rooms. In the bathroom he could hear water running. “You drawing a bath?” He asked, motioning toward the bathroom. Zayn nodded. “Yeah, Yeah. Just need to chill.” His band mate nodded in response. “What you been up to?” He took a seat on the counter by the mini fridge. Zayn sighed dramatically.
“Arguing.” He opened the mini fridge, then handed his friend a drink. But he refused. “You don’t want?” Zayn asked, baffled. His friend shook his head. “No…” That’s odd. It was rare of his buddy to ever refuse a drink, or to get wasted…ever. “You sure?”
“I said I don’t want a damn pint!” His friend said loudly. His voice was rough and unusual. His friend jumped. “All right.” He held his hands up in defense, replacing the pint back in the mini fridge. His friend blinked a few times. “Yeah…um fights? Girlfriend problems?” Zayn nodded.
“She wants to get married and have a baby soon. I don’t. So now she’s mad at me.”
‘Woman.” His friend muttered.
“Tell me bout it.” Zayn laughed. “Gotta go turn that water off.” He said walking into the bathroom. His friend watched as Zayn disappeared behind the bathroom door. A smirk started to creep onto his face. He went over and closed the blind. For reasons. Slyly walking over to the bathroom, he pushed the door open. Zayn’s head snapped towards the door when he heard a soft creak. “Sorry, mate. Just adding this bath salt.” he said, leaning over the tub. But his friend didn’t reply. Instead, he just silently creeped over to Zayn. “People have these things about bath salts. Apparently, they’re a girl thing. But I like em. Even though I pamper myself, I’m still a Bradford Bad boy.” He chuckled at his joke. He didn’t even notice his friend’s close presence behind him. “Are you?” His friend whispered in his ear, sending chilling shivers down Zayn’s spine. “Why are you so clo-” Suddenly, Zayn’s face was shoved into the water. He moved his hands to the side of the tub to lift himself out of the water. But it failed. His lungs were filled with cold air as he was yanked by his hair out of the water. “Dude, what the f-” Shoved, again, under the water. Zayn flailed his arms, struggling to breathe. But instead of air, he inhaled water. Drowning. When his “friend” was sure he was dead, he let go, and took a deep breathe, That took a lot more effort than he thought. He wiped the sweat off his brow then stood, satisfied. “Not such a ‘Bradford bad boy’ now? Are you now?” He chuckled. Only one more spot to go. Room 410.
He knocked on the door. While he waited, he fixed his clothing. He didn’t want anything to look out of place. When the door opened Liam smiled cheerfully. “Hey!!” He smiled opening his arms for a hug. Liam moved in and hugged his friend tightly. “Come in!” He said when they finished hugging. His band mate walked into the hotel room, following Liam. “You watch the game?” He asked flopping down on Liam’s bed. Liam chuckled. “You know it. Did you?” His friend chuckled. “Maybe.” He smirked. “Yeah, so whatcha been up to?” Liam asked. His friend smirked, then licked his lips. He couldn’t hide the pleasure he had with deeds he had just done. “…I’m guessing that’s a good thing.” His friend replied, winking. The smirk on his friend’s face grew bigger. “A very good thing.” Liam chuckled. “Was it easy?” He asked. “Somewhat.” The all-too-familiar dimple in his band mates cheek began to grow prominent. “Harry, are you sure they’re dead?” Liam asked. Harry chuckled. “I made sure of it, Liam.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“No, I closed the blinds.” Liam sighed a sigh of relief, then walked over to Harry. He placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders and smiled. “It’s just us now. We will have it all. Finally.” He ruffled Harry’s hair. “It’s just me and you, dude.” Harry mumbled. Liam smiled again then turned to grab some drinks. “I’m proud of you, you know. You’ve done a great thing.” When Liam turned he felt a hard knock to his jaw. “Ouch! What the hell!” Liam yelled grabbing his face. A sharp pain was spreading fast. When he finally looked where the blow came from he saw Harry standing two feet away with a knife in his hand. “Harry…” Liam said. His hands flew up in defense, dropping the unopened drinks. They made a loud thud as they hit the carpet. “I’m not dumb, Liam.”
“Harry what are you talking…about.” Liam asked cautiously.
“You think I’m stupid? I know you’re planning on killing me. You don’t wanna share the money, or the fame, or anything!”
“Harry, buddy, you know that’s not true.”
‘Bullshit!” Harry yelled. Suddenly, it hit Harry. Hard. The guilt of what he just did to the people who he cared the most about came crashing down on him like the waves of a tsunami. Flooding him with pain and grief. “Oh God! What did I just do?” Harry sobbed. “What did I do?!” His shoulder’s shook, and he was losing breath from crying so hard. And just like that the knife was snatched from his hands. “Oh get the hell over yourself! You killed people. So what!!” Liam yelled. Harry looked up. His curly mop of curls covering one side of his eyes. “You did this. You made me do this.” He yelled tears streaming down his cheeks. “You know, Harry. You’re a lot smarter than you look…and, in-fact, sound. You’re right. I was planning on killing you. Shooting you, to be descriptive. You just did my dirty deeds for me, and I thank you for that.” Liam said. “But now it’s time for you to go, and the spotlight to be on me. Oh! What will the fans think when they find out that poor Harry went crazy and killed all of his band mates; and, poor Liam survived?” Harry gasped. “But that’s not true!” Liam smirked. “And who’s to say it isn’t? You? In about 30 seconds, you’ll be dead.” Harry stared as Liam laughed. Suddenly, Liam was pushed down and pinned to the floor. Hard fists pounded against his cheek over and over , until he flipped to where he was on-top of Harry. The dominate one again. “Just give up, murderer.” Liam snarled. Anger running through his veins. This was supposed to be easy. Harry wasn’t supposed to find out that, he too, would be dead. “No!” Harry yelled, spitting at Liam. Harry kicked and tried to bite at Liam’s wrists to get free, but just like the deceased victims he assassinated, he failed. Harry closed his eyes. It was over for him and he knew it. When he opened them he spotted a gun on the night-stand. Maybe it wouldn’t be over. All he had to do was get to the gun and shoot his foe. The only thing was, did he want to live?Couldhe live with the guilt of knowing he killed his best friends over something so petty? He scrambled his arms around Liam’s neck and choked him. Liam was turning red. Right before he could lose consciousness, Harry pushed him aside and crawled for the gun. It was so close, so close to him, but suddenly, he felt his body falling to the ground. For Liam had grabbed his ankle and dragged him down. “No!” Liam yelled. He crawled on-top of Harry and grabbed the gun, holding it up to Harry’s head. Struggling grunts filled the room. “It was nice working with you man.” He said. Un-expectantly, Harry grabbed Liam’s wrists and moved the gun away from his head. He used all of his might to push Liam away. Liam’s hold on the gun loosened and it fell to the ground. Both Harry and Liam’s eyes snapped to the weapon only a foot away from them. “I’m sorry.” Harry whispered, letting a tear fall down his cheek. They both grabbed for it, when, precipitously, a loud shot fired through the air, leaving one of the two villainsdead.
Two Weeks Later
“It’s an everyday struggle knowing what happened to my closest friends.” The boy said to the interviewer, holding back tears. She wiped away a few tears of her own. “It must be so hard.” She said. “It is. I miss them all very much. I feel guilty sometimes. I always wonder what would have happened if I would have found out sooner.” This was the former One Direction member’s forty- fifth interview about his band mates deaths in two weeks. He had his speech memorized since they were living. He has waited for this moment for so long, and the fact that it was actually happening to him, made him…proud. “Well thank you for coming in today.” The interviewer said. The boy sniffled and smiled weakly. She turned to the camera and smiled. “Thanks everybody for tuning in to our show featuring Liam Payne: Victim, and only survivor, from the brutal murder of One Direction.” Liam smiled and waved goodbye to the camera.
Later that day, he sat in his hotel room, satisfied. Of course, it was hard explaining to the cops what happened. It was hard saying: “My best friend snapped, probably from pressure, and killed all of One Direction. One morning he knocked on my door and charged into my room to shoot me, but I defended myself….and he ended up…well…dead.” Believable right? Of course, he added a sniffle and a sob wherever he could, because he was supposed to be destroyed. But he wasn’t. He was no where near destroyed. The fans and media believed him. Why wouldn’t they? Poor, innocent Liam. He smirked. Some of the staff even confessed to seeing a “Crazed Harry” running through the halls with a gun. Liam had the power to make everyone feel sorry for him, and believe everything he fabricated.Some things are never what you think. Outside, fans were screaming and singing songs to him. He stood and went over to the balcony. He finally got what he wanted. He stepped outside and was greeted by cheers. A sea of people there just for him. Poor, innocent Liam. He bowed. Now he was the star, the one and only. No body would ever know the truth behind the “brutal murders of One Direction” except him. The king. The one and only star.