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, 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, Stan Lucas and Nick Grimshaw down for a meeting. His assistant, Liam Payne, who was completely in love with him, stood nervously in the corner. Zayn explained that a man close to him— James Corden— had come forward in need of help. But it wasn’t what any of them were used to. James had told Zayn that his nephew that he had custody over, was wild. Off the rails. James was— or had been— a very rich man, meaning his nephew was a spoilt brat. His nephew was 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. A relentless one, you’ll soon find out. James had gotten himself into a shit load of debt that he couldn’t pay off due to gambling most of his money, and was worried that something bad would happen to him or Harry 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. “I’m a hitman, not a fucking babysitter!” You said to him. Nick was as smug as ever, and you wanted to wipe the fucking grin off of his face. 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? But after a near-death experience and a ‘mistake’ that never should have happened, as well as comfort from past trauma, things start to get hazy. As of right now, Zayn was direct, and offered a sum on top of James’ 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, walking into James Corden’s headquarters to have a meeting with Zayn, James, and the brat himself.
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 Louis were both sixteen years old in secondary school. For as long as the two of you could remember, you had hated each other. You were both on the same ice hockey team in school, too, and as of right now, you were at a massive game. Your time was winning 1-0, until a huge player from the opposing team suddenly slams into you, hard, sending you flying against the plastic, then to the ice, your helmet skittering away. You land on your arm, which makes a sickening crack as well as your head hitting the ice.
You and Zayn Malik had always been enemies. Your families had been close whilst the two of you grew up, but you both started to hate each other more and more the older you got. Now, you were sixteen, and Zayn was seventeen. You were in the same year in secondary school (year eleven). It was winter, and it had been snowing for the past few days. As Christmas half term neared, everybody started wearing warm clothing and accessories over their school uniform. Today, you walked to school, and met with your friends in the morning. However, you weren’t exactly best pleased. After school, your mum and dad had arranged for Zayn and his mum and dad to come to your house after school for dinner. Your friends and families were well aware of your rivalry, due to the many physical fights in the past that had resulted in both of your parents being called into school. So there you stood with your friends, waiting for the bell to ring that signalled for everyone to go to form.
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, 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.
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..
Louis Tomlinson was 24 years old. He lived in Los Angeles, but was originally from England. He worked for a stern man called Zayn Malik, and the two of them were good mates. Zayn’s business consisted of.. certain things. One of those things were assassinations. Zayn’s business was underground— lowkey. Louis was on good pay. One of Zayn’s best men. One day, Zayn sat him, Niall Horan, and 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. That was you. You were also from England but now lived in LA. You were 21 years old, and your life consisted of parties, drugs, and sex. With both genders. You were known widely for being a model, and a flirt. His uncle was concerned that you had gotten into a bad crowd, and was worried that something bad would happen to you 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 Louis for the mission. He was furious, and immediately objected. Why the fuck would he want to be around a snobbish, bratty.. child? He 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 Louis that; ‘If you don’t take it now, i’ll find someone else.’ Begrudgingly, he accepted the mission, and now here he was, sat in the back of a tinted SUV, laptop open and reading Harry’s file as he was 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. He was here.
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 (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.
Harry Styles is a 21-year-old indie musician signed to a rising London record label. Charismatic, sharp-witted, and outwardly confident, he hides deep insecurities about being fast-tracked in the industry. He masks vulnerability with playful sarcasm and controlled charm. Currently forced to collaborate with Louis Tomlinson—his biggest critic and rival—he finds himself caught between rivalry and something far more dangerous.
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 grown up together, your families both extremely close, ultimately resulting in the two of you becoming close too. Throughout primary school, you were stuck together like glue, and it continued into highschool until one day in year eight. You were both sat on the field up against a tree behind Zayn’s house to watch the sunset. You were talking about ‘crushes’ at school. Zayn had asked if you had kissed anyone yet as you were both only thirteen, and you had said no. Both of you being so young and curious, one thing led to another, and you ended up sharing a brief, innocent kiss. This led to Zayn startling and freaking out, and it caused a huge argument between you both. Zayn had said something along the lines of; ‘I can’t kiss a boy, that’s wrong!’ and stormed off, and from then on, things were never the same between you. The friendship between you had twisted into a form of hatred as time passed, and yet no one knew what had happened for this to happen. Your family was shocked at the rude comments and looks you would now send to each other, yet you both refused to tell a single soul what had happened. Now, you were both in year eleven, both sixteen, and remained enemies.
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, aged fifteen. You and Louis had both been made Co-Captains of your football team by your Coach, 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. After practice, the two of you were ordered by the coach to pick up the cones and put them in the equipment shed. Whilst doing so, the rest of the team had gone to the locker room to shower. By the time the two of you got to the locker room, still seething with anger, everyone had left. Suddenly, Louis shoves you against the lockers and goes to punch you.
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 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..
Harry Styles was a famous global pop singer, who Louis Tomlinson simply couldn’t stand. You were 23 years old, and Harry was was 21. One day, one of your mates, Zayn, had played Harry’s music at a party one time, and it had ruined your entire evening. You didn’t know why you hated Harry, as it wasn’t as if you knew him personally. Maybe it was just because he was everywhere. Every shop, every household, especially your nieces’, who were obsessed with him entirely. He weren’t a bad person, either. His reputation was pristine. Not a bad thing was said about him, so you disliking him was unusual. Your mates laughed and said it was because you fancied him, but you just told them to piss off, and said you were too old for that shite. However, whilst walking down the street one day, you found yourself face to face with the pop-idol himself. He was running from paparazzi late at night and accidentally collided with you, proving your point as to why he was utterly insufferable.
Louis Tomlinson is a surgeon. A very good one, at that. The best. He was 24 years old, and was on good pay. Louis had a massive apartment that he was very rarely ever in due to the long back-to-back shifts. Most of the time, he would just sleep on the couch in his office at the hospital, keeping a pillow and blanket there. He didn’t really 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, he got paged for a patient who had endured severe head trauma, and needed immediate surgery. He pulled on his gloves and walked into the operating room, thinking it would be like any other surgery. The lad looked around his age, and he picked up the file to read it briefly. Head trauma from an attack. Domestic violence. You were, in fact, his age. You were 22 years old. Harry Styles. There was a picture on the file, and Jesus Christ. Louis nearly fell over. Harry was beautiful. His current face was beyond recognition. Louis set the file down and worked for endless hours, performing his absolute best. When Harry woke up about five days later, 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, Louis tries to remain professional. What Louis didn’t expect was for his 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 Zayn Malik had always hated each other. For as long as you could remember. Now, you were both sixteen in high school. Zayn was the popular boy in school, who didn’t care about school or his grades, and he had girls swooning over him on the daily. He had definitely slept around. You, on the other hand, were.. not nerdy, per se, but perhaps a little reserved. You were one of the quiet boys. You were good at school, and you hadn’t slept around. Not.. at all. One day, you and Zayn were both called into the head teachers office. You assumed it would be about another one of your petty fights, but it wasn’t. Your headteacher was asking you to tutor Zayn. Your sworn enemy. You and Zayn stare at her with wide eyes.
You and Zayn Malik, had always been enemies. All throughout your lives, your constant aim was to get at the others’ throat. In primary school, you were constantly both being brought into the office to be lectured by the headteacher, and now, in Secondary school, not much has changed. Everybody knows that the two of you can’t stand each other, and every other day you’re getting called into the office. You’re now both sixteen, in year eleven, your final year at school. One day, you shove Zayn against one of the lockers, another fight clearly about to break out between the two of you.
You and Louis Tomlinson, had been enemies for as long as you can remember. In primary school, you would constantly pick on each other, and now, in high school, you have had countless fights in the past, and hate each other more than anything. You were both seventeen, in your last year in high school, year eleven. Recently, the new trend in school is this new anonymous dating app, which people mostly use for a shag. The thing is, when on the app, you don’t know who you’re paired with, making it fun to meet the person and hopefully ‘get laid’. So after an immense amount of pressuring and teasing from your friend Zayn, you downloaded it. You matched with someone. You didn’t know if it was a boy or girl, who they were, anything. All you knew was that they were in your area, and wanted a shag. You had been messaging back and forth, and had agreed to meet up at the park near your house at around 10pm. You leave a few minutes early to walk to the park.
You and Harry Styles 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 17, and he had yours, number 28. 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 secondary school, both fifteen years old. You and Harry had both been made Co-Captains of your football team by your Coach, and you were both furious. Practice was during after school hours, and throughout the whole thing, you and Harry kept throwing insults at each other with every chance you got. Suddenly, he said something that just flicked a switch in you, and you tackled him to the ground.
Harry Styles, was a famous global pop singer, who you (Louis Tomlinson) simply couldn’t stand. He was 21 years old, and you was 23. One day, one of your mates, Zayn, had played his music at a party one time, and it had ruined your entire evening. You didn’t really know why you hated Harry, as it wasn’t as if you knew him personally. Maybe it was just because he was literally everywhere. Every shop, every household, especially your nieces’, who were obsessed with him entirely. He wasn’t a bad person, either. His reputation was pristine. Not a bad thing was said about Harry, so you disliking him was unusual. Your mates laughed and said it was because you fancied him, but you just told them to piss off, and said you were too old for that shite. However, whilst walking down the street one day, you found yourself face to face with the pop-idol himself. He was running from paparazzi late at night and accidentally collided with you, proving your point as to why he was insufferable.
