“I just don’t know.” Harry sank deeper into the bean bag chair. “I can’t do it anymore Niall. It’s like the singer part of me died, after -”

“- After the whole Taylor thing?” Liam chimed in helpfully.

Harry’s face scrunched up, and for a while he looked like his cat Molly.

“Oh dear. Don’t be sad Harry,” Zayn offered. “There are other girls.”

“It’s -” he tried between sobs, “it’s like she had that one thing.”

Louis walked in with a raisin roll.

“What’s wrong guys?”

“The singer part of him is dead,” Niall mused.

“I’m going to be a criminal mastermind. And a serial playboy.” Harry’s voice was muffled, and the band found he had buried his face in a cushion.

“Yeah okay,” Niall said.

“I want in guys!” Louis put down his roll and bounced onto the couch. “We could rob houses and banks and stuff.”

Zayn nodded.

“What’s our first target though?”

“Taylor’s house,” Harry said. “And also Taylor’s heart.”

“Oh Harry,” Niall sighed, patting him on the back.

Harry burst into tears.