You and Louis Tomlinson had always been enemies. Ever since year seven on the first day of football tryouts. You had been given the jersey of the number he so desperately wanted, number 28, and he had yours, number 17. You both blamed each other, and your hatred for each other only grew deeper. Now, You’re both in year eleven in your final year of high school. You and Louis had both been made Co-Captains of your football team by Coach Abrahams, and you were both furious. Practice was during after school hours, and throughout the whole thing, you and Louis kept throwing insults at each other with every chance you got. Suddenly, you said something that just flicked a switch in him, and he tackled you to the ground.
It was Christmas Eve, around eleven o’clock at night, and Harry Styles’ family was over at your house for the next two nights, as your family’s would be spending christmas together, as well as boxing day. You and Harry, however, both hated each other. You were both sixteen years old. Harry’s parents were sleeping in the spare room, and Harry was on the couch downstairs. As of now, everyone was laughing, and telling jokes. the adults had clearly had a little too much to drink, so you and Harry were awkwardly stood there, unsure of what to do.
At 19, you and Harry Styles had been best friends. You were in love with him, and you were quite sure he felt the same. Life was good for the two of you. You wanted to both become surgeons. It was a dream that you had both dedicated everything to. However, during the exam which results lay out your futures, Harry panicked. He fumbled, and forgot the answer. With a panicked glance to you for help, you froze too. He failed. You didn’t. You became a surgeon, and Harry didn’t. He cut all ties with you. You tried everything to talk to him, but he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. You had heard from friends and family that he had gone to work in the psychiatric part of the hospital. Fast forwards four and a half years— you’re thriving. You’re the best of the best. One day, you get paged for a brain surgery that would be for blunt force trauma from an attack. You walk into the operating room, adjusting your scrubs and expect just another patient, but it wasn’t. It was him. Harry. He had been attacked at his job by one of the psychiatric patients, who had lashed out and hit him over the head with an unknown object repeatedly. You felt sick. You performed the best you ever had, but you felt as though it wasn’t good enough. Harry had survived, but he was in a coma. And if he were to wake, it was likely he wouldn’t remember anything, or anyone. A couple months later, you get an emergency alert that he had woken up. You rushed to his room. He didn’t remember a thing. Not his family, his past, nothing. You were crushed, but at the same time, you weren’t. Harry couldn’t remember. You could fix things. Another couple months pass, Harry was remembering very faint details, and it was clear to Harry’s family that he had a very obvious ‘crush’ on the ‘cute surgeon’ who had been taking care of him. That was clearly Louis. It felt wrong, not telling him anything. But how could he? How could Louis tell Harry that he actually hated him? Harry’s family casted uncertain glances whenever they would interact, and a few had told Louis to tell him, but he just shrugged them off. Not yet. Not while things were good. But what will happen when Harry finally starts to remember?
You and Zayn Malik had been enemies ever since you could remember, but unluckily for the both of you, your families were both really close. You were both fifteen years old. Your mum and dad and Zayn’s mum and dad had the idea to book a holiday for the both of your families, and you weren’t too pleased, to say the least. After leaving the airport and arriving at the hotel from a long day of flying, Your mum says; “Why don’t you and Zayn go and get some rest in your room, Love? It’s been a long day.” You were confused, and replied; “Room? You mean ***rooms***, right?” But she just gave a sheepish smile, and rubbed the back of her neck. “Surprise..?”
You, Louis Tomlinson, were 24 years old. You lived in Los Angeles, but were originally from England. You worked for a stern man called Zayn Malik, and the two of you were good mates. Zayn’s business consisted of.. certain things. One of those things were assassinations. Zayn’s business was underground— lowkey. You were on good pay. One of Zayn’s best men. One day, Zayn sat you, Niall Horan, and Stanley (Stan) Lucas down for a meeting. His assistant, Liam Payne, stood nervously in the corner. Zayn explained that a man close to him— Raymond Styles— had come forward in need of help. But it wasn’t what any of them were used to. Raymond had told Zayn that his nephew that he had custody over, was wild. Off the rails. Raymond was a very rich man, meaning his nephew was a spoilt brat. His nephew was called Harry Styles. He was also from England but now lived in LA. He was 21 years old, and his life consisted of parties, drugs, and sex. With both genders. He was known widely for being a model, and a flirt. His uncle was concerned that Harry had gotten into a bad crowd, and was worried that something bad would happen to him due to his fame, and was willing to pay a large sum for someone to bodyguard him 24/7, meaning they would have to live in Harry’s own penthouse with him at all times. Zayn had picked you for the mission. You were furious, and immediately objected. Why the fuck would you want to be around a snobbish, bratty.. child? You couldn’t stand people like Harry. And where the fuck was this kids parents? Zayn was direct, and offered a sum on top of Raymond Styles’, and he said to you that; ‘If you don’t take it now, i’ll find someone else.’ Begrudgingly, you accepted the mission, and now here you were, sat in the back of a tinted SUV, laptop open and reading Harry’s file as you were driven to his penthouse. Harry was famous— very much so. And what he was doing was bad for his reputation, as said by his uncle. The SUV pulled into a posh car park. You were here.
You and Zayn had always hated each other, but unfortunately for the two of you, had grown up together. due to this, you both knew everything about each other, and you were the only person who knew about zayn and his family problems. he had told you a long long time ago when you weren’t ‘enemies’ as such, and after he told you, it was an unspoken rule to never tell anyone else, not even your own family. so you didn’t, you don’t know why, but you never told a soul. Now, you were both sixteen, in secondary school. It was a winters day, nearing Christmas. School ended in a few days, snow lightly covering the grounds. Everyone wore scarves, hats, gloves, coats. You were stood behind the school with a few of your mates, Niall, Louis, and Harry, smoking. You all wore your school uniform. You had a beanie on, as well as a hoodie. You had the hood pulled over the hat. With one hand shoved into the pocket of your hoodie over your uniform, you hold the cigarette in the other. Your eyes glance around the corner every few moments to look out for any teachers. You notice Zayn approaching, and groan. “For fucks sake.”
You (Liam Payne), and Zayn Malik were both sixteen, in year 11 in high school. You and Zayn were enemies, and also not gay in public, but in private? That was a whole other story. You and Zayn were each others ‘Fling’, or ‘No strings’. There were rules, though. RULE ONE - No feelings whatsoever. RULE TWO - Nobody else can find out. RULE THREE - No dating other people unless we call off the ‘Fling’. You were supposedly what others would call ‘Friends with Benefits’, minus the friends part. Everyone knew the two of you hated each other, or so they thought. Due to this, many people would try to date the two of you, and despite the obvious jealousy between both of you when this would happen, you just had to ignore them.
You were currently eighteen years old, and were in the band One Direction. The year was 2011, and the band had been together for just over a year now. After your sudden surge in fame, and getting used to not just being a normal kid anymore, things were good. You were in the band with Liam Payne, Niall Horan, Harry Styles, and Zayn Malik. You and Harry were in a secret relationship that the fans didn’t know about due to your strict management not allowing it. The only people who knew were Niall, Liam, and Zayn.
You and Zayn Malik, were both sixteen years old, and had been enemies for as long as you could both remember. You hated each other, and that was that. One day, you were walking down the hall, when you turned to walk down one of the quiet corridors, when you see Zayn curled up in a ball on the floor, leaning against the wall, clutching his stomach. He was covered in blood and had clearly been in a fight. His eyes were shut tight.
You and Draco Malfoy had been enemies ever since first year. You were the brightest witch of your age, but Draco was also very clever. You, Harry, and Ron had collectively loathed him. You were now both in sixth year, both sixteen years old, and still hated each other. Today, you and draco had been put on detention for bickering during potions, which was very unlikely for you to ever get a detention, and Professor Snape left you two alone together, but not before confiscating your wands. All of a sudden, there was a severe thunderstorm, and your closest shelter was in hagrids hut, which was empty due to hagrid himself being away for ‘special business.’ You both sprinted towards it, and ran inside, completely soaked and breathing heavily.
You and Louis Tomlinson had always been enemies. Ever since year seven on the first day of football tryouts. You had been given the jersey of the number he so desperately wanted, number 28, and he had yours, number 17. You both blamed each other, and your hatred for each other only grew deeper. You had both had that many fights, that everyone around you was used to it. Now, You’re both in year eleven, 16 years old in your final year of high school. You and Louis had both been made Co-Captains of your football team by your Coach Abrahams, and you were both furious. You both couldn’t believe it. Practice was during after school hours, and throughout the whole thing, you and Louis kept throwing insults at each other with every chance you got. You had gotten into a heated fight during practice, in which both of you were now covered in blood, and the coach had sent the rest of the team to the showers whilst he lectured the two of you on the pitch.
You were born into a very wealthy family. Rich, even. Zayn, however, was less fortunate. Your mother and father had taken him and his mother in after finding them one night in the cold rain in town. Zayn was only ten years old at the time, the same age as you. In return, Zayn’s mother was to work as a maid. Zayn’s father was noticeably absent. He was quiet. Reserved. He didn’t say much to you at first, just watched. After a few weeks, he would say the odd word to you. You treated him with kindness nonetheless. A year passes, and the two of you were very close. Inseparable. He still didn’t say much, but you didn’t mind. It was very clear to those in the manor that you and Zayn liked each other more than friends, despite being only eleven years old. The maids, butlers, cleaners, they could all tell. Everybody except from your parents. In their eyes, you were to marry another boy from a wealthy family once you have turned eighteen. It never, ever crossed their mind that you and Zayn could happen. It was.. unnatural. He was poor. The rich and the poor did not mix, and that was that. But in secret..
You and Zayn Malik were both sixteen, in year eleven at school, and had hated each other since little children. Zayn was popular, and was known as the schools ‘bad boy’. You were a popular boy, too. You got into a fight every other day. But today, some lad in your year had cornered you in a quiet corridor, and punched you. He then got his other mates to jump you, and you did well fighting back, but you were really bloodied up. You sat with your eyes shut as you leaned against the wall on the floor, clothes and face covered in blood. You could barely move without it feeling like your ribs were going to impale you, so you didn’t.
You and Draco Malfoy had been enemies for as long as you could remember. You met on the first day of first year, and you instantly clashed. Now, you were both sixteen in sixth year, and it was winter time at Hogwarts, and you were at Hogsmeade on a Saturday with your friends, Pansy, Astoria, and Daphne, doing some Christmas shopping, when you spot Draco and his friends as you’re all walking down the snowed over path.
You and Harry were both fourteen years old in year 10 in secondary school. Harry was tall-ish for his age, with poofy, fluffy curly hair that made all the girls in your year like him. He was a joker, always making people laugh. Except you. The two of you hated each other. You were shorter than Harry, but not small. Your hair was straight, and it rested as a fringe over your forehead. You had blue eyes. They stuck out. Many of the girls liked that, too. You and Harry just clashed. He’d wind you up in lessons, and you’d play pranks on him. The two of you would end up with a detention nearly every day. Just childishness.
You, Harry Styles, were a famous global pop singer, who Louis Tomlinson simply couldn’t stand. You were 21 years old, and Louis was 23. One day, one of Louis’ mates, Zayn, had played your music at a party one time, and it had ruined Louis’ entire evening. Louis didn’t know why he hated you, as it wasn’t as if he knew you personally. Maybe it was just because you were everywhere. Every shop, every household, especially his nieces’, who were obsessed with you entirely. You weren’t a bad person, either. Your reputation was pristine. Not a bad thing was said about you, so Louis disliking you was unusual. His mates laughed and said it was because he fancied you, but he just told them to piss off, and said he was too old for that shite. However, whilst walking down the street one day, Louis found himself face to face with the pop-idol himself. You were running from paparazzi late at night and accidentally collided with him, proving his point as to why you were insufferable.
In secondary school, you and Louis had always hated each other, always. Always fighting. But when your mutual friend Perrie said she wanted to go to the beach with the two of you and a couple of your other friends for her sixteenth birthday, you couldn’t exactly say no. You sat, shirtless on your towel on the sand, next to Louis, also shirtless. The two of you were pointedly ignoring each other, a scowl plastered onto your faces. Perrie, Zayn, Liam, Niall, Sophie, and Eleanor were all in the sea, laughing and splashing water at each other, and you two were sat up on the shore.
You and Louis were eighteen years old. You had been dating for a few months, but nobody else knew. Tonight, you slipped into his house through his window to not alert his parents, and found him waiting on the bed for you.
You (Harry Styles) are a 22 year old musician and singer. You’re originally from England, but now live in Los Angeles. You’re worldwide famous, and everyone knows your name. Also in the industry is Louis Tomlinson. He’s also English, He’s 24 years old, and was also very famous. The two of you knew little about each other before you were paired for an interview together on music. After the video was uploaded, fans were obsessed with the two of you together. However, the two of you couldn’t stand each other. You saw Louis as a snobbish brat, and he saw you as an arrogant dickhead. From then on, your managers both decided on interviews, radio stations, photoshoots, and everything to make the fans happy, whilst the two of you hated each other. But after an insufferable six months of forced proximity, after a stolen kiss after an argument which turned into more, and late nights at the studio after being made to collab and produce a song together, things start to get hazy. However, your managers sense a shift in the previous dynamic, and don’t allow you to date.
You (Louis Tomlinson) are a surgeon. A very good one, at that. The best. You were 24 years old, and were on good pay. You had a massive apartment that you were very rarely ever in due to the long back-to-back shifts. Most of the time, you would just sleep on the couch in your office at the hospital, keeping a pillow and blanket there. You didn’t mind, though. The apartment was.. lonely. Empty. Due to being so busy all the time with work, that meant relationships were extremely hard to find or maintain. One day, you got paged for a patient who had endured severe head trauma, and needed immediate surgery. You pulled on your gloves and walked into the operating room, thinking it would be like any other surgery. The lad looked around your age, and you picked up the file to read it briefly. Head trauma from an attack. Domestic violence. He was, in fact, your age. He was 22 years old. Harry Styles. There was a picture on the file, and Jesus Christ. He was beautiful. His current face was beyond recognition. You set the file down and work for endless hours, performing your absolute best. When he wakes up, it’s clear to all that the lad with curly hair and beautifully green eyes fancies his surgeon. But due to past failed relationships and not wanting to be hurt again, you try to remain professional. You didn’t expect for your life to change completely after late night conversations and physio talks. For the better. Maybe you were exactly what you both needed for each other.
You and Harry Styles were in the same year (year 11) in Secondary school. You were both sixteen, and had always known of each other, as you went to the same Primary school. You had talked occasionally over the years, but were never close mates. You were shorter, 5’8. Harry was taller, about 6’0. He was thinner, but not sickly. He was on the football team. You weren’t. You were both popular.
You and Zayn Malik had been enemies ever since you were in primary school. You were both popular boys in your school, and everyone knew that the two of you were enemies. You were in year eleven, both sixteen years old. One day, you were walking home from school, when you saw a group of lads with different school uniform on from another school. You narrow your eyes slightly, and noticed that they were backing someone up against a tree, shoving him. It was a boy, you could see. You debated on just going home, but decided against it as you knew you’d feel guilty if you did, so you decided to help. Luckily, you were quite strong, which was an advantage. Maybe you’d be able to get them to leave the boy alone, and be on your way. You crossed the road and walked onto the grass into the park. As you get closer, you see that the boy who was being backed up and crowded around, was in fact your enemy, Zayn Malik.
You and Zayn were both sixteen years old, in year eleven in high school. You were both sworn enemies, ever since you were children. Your families were both close, therefore you were both basically forced into always seeing each other, but this only developed the mutual hatred further. One day, you had both gotten into a physical fight at school, and you were both sat in the Head Teachers office, after being fixed up by the nurse. Zayn sat with a tissue to his nose that was bleeding, and you sat with an ice pack held against your head, the two of you shooting glares at the other whilst waiting for the head teacher to walk in.
You and Louis had been childhood friends for your entire youth lives, but Louis suddenly left one day without a word. You were both only eleven years old. There might have been something. No, there was something. You had both shared a brief, innocent kiss a few months before he left, but neither of you knew what it meant. As you grew older, you started to understand. You were now sixteen in year eleven, in secondary school. You hadn’t kissed anyone since that brief kiss with Louis. Not because you couldn’t, but because… well, you didn’t know. You had had plenty of opportunities to. But you hadn’t. One day, he came back.
You were born into a very wealthy family. Rich, even. Zayn, however, was less fortunate. Your mother and father had taken him and his mother in after finding them one night in the cold rain in town. Zayn was only ten years old, the same age as you. In return, Zayn’s mother was to work as a maid, and when Zayn turned sixteen, he was to become a knight for the manor. Zayn’s father was noticeably absent. He was quiet. Reserved. He didn’t say much to you at first, just watched. After a few weeks, he would say the odd word to you. You treated him with kindness nonetheless. A year passes, and the two of you were very close. Inseparable. He still didn’t say much, but you didn’t mind. It was very clear to those in the manor that you and Zayn liked each other more than friends, despite being only eleven years old. The maids, butlers, cleaners, they could all tell. Everybody except from your parents. In their eyes, you were to marry another boy from a wealthy family once you have turned eighteen. It never, ever crossed their mind that you and Zayn could happen. It was.. unnatural. He was poor. He was the soon to be knight. The rich and the poor did not mix, and that was that. But in secret..