a/n: my first time writing smut adjacent things in a while (I’m so sorry if this is shit I did my best okay 😔) enjoy!
summary: a fight with Ashton turns into something softer.
cw: fighting, slight make out sesh
minors do not interact, all fics are 18+.
***
it was a dumb thing to say. idiotic even.
yes. definitely idiotic.
it started off with one question about his tour schedule and somehow ended like a car wreck that did about a thousands flips in the two minutes that already passed.
“why don’t you say anything, ash? you hate it as much as the other guys do!”
“it’s a decision we all make, Y/N. I can’t keep telling you that!”
“oh so so now it’s my fault that you’ve been gone for half the year?”
“wow.”
***
guilt leans your body against the wall, head meeting the wall with a light thump, and a flood of emotions rolls into your stomach when you see him.
ashton’s humming softly to himself, hunched over his guitar, clearly exhausted. his fingers fidget with the strings, their usual familiarity with the instrument far gone.
he’d fled the room earlier in a quiet disbelief, your words pushing him at an alarming rate. you’d had your fair share of fights as a couple, but this one felt like the worst.
you tap on the door. “hey.”
“hi.”
you gesture to the empty space next to him, “can i-?”
he shifts slightly, eyes distracted. “yeah.”
you note his one word answers: not good.
“heard you playing earlier.”
any word you said felt like a scar to his body, bloody and painful.
his focus returns back to the instrument.
“hmm.”
your hand meets his before he starts nervously playing like he was.
“I’m sorry.”
ashton’s breath hitched like you’ve said it again. tears prick at his wyes, threatening to escape. he reaches and places the guitar on its stand as you search for explanation for him. an answer. anything, really.
he stops you before you could start.
“you think I want to be away from home? from my family, and-”
you swallow hard.
“that i-… i like being so far from you? no. it fucking sucks. and I hate that when I call you there’s that crack in your voice when i ask if you’re okay. i-”
his hazel eyes meets yours, and you feel like your skin is on fire. the guilt in your body is replaced with something warmer.
he sighs and you feel his breath close to you, “i would never go on tour again if it mean that you were always with me.”
his lips are on yours and it feels like you both can breathe again. ashton’s hand press against your face, caring and secure as his tongue clashes with yours.
the hurt has faded, but your stomach twists at the guilt that still aches. your hands tangle in his hair as he pulls back as you ramble,
“I’m so sorry, ash. I was being a complete asshole and I didn’t-”
“hey,” he lightly shushes you, “none of that sweetheart.”
you nod, his lips biting and sucking as they travel down your neck to your chests. your eyes shut at the feeling, ashton’s actions making your grind against him.
his lips leave a small trail of red on your chest as he looks at you.
Summary: You step in the best way you know how when Ashton’s insecurities get the best of him
Warnings: Talks of body image, brief mention of not eating - Explicit content - unprotected sex (don’t do that), oral sex (male receiving), riding, slight Dom!reader, sexy massage
— Be responsible — 18+ ONLY —
Word count: 3k
5/9/26
It was happening again.
You could tell.
You knew exactly what to look for.
You knew because it happened to yourself quite often. He would distance himself from you. He had traded indulging in your lingering touch for long judging looks at himself in the mirror. He would dress different. Smile different. The light didn’t quite reach his eyes when he smiled or took pictures with fans. You could see the hard shell of insecurity building it’s way around him piece by piece. Day by day.
But he couldn’t help but read the hate. Not when it was thrown at him from every angle every day. People knew him as the strong one. The ‘dad’ of the band. The one to look after others and to make sure everyone else was okay before even beginning to think about himself. But as hard as he tried to keep it up, it was hard. Sometimes it was too much, yet just enough to pull his thoughts and self esteem straight down into the ocean of his own judgement. He was drowning, and it was up to you to pull him out, just like he had done for you countless times before.
You had observed his eating habits over the past couple days noticing that instead of eating a supple amount to remain healthy, he had been cutting meals. His appetite depleting with his mood. When you had expressed your concern, he had argued that he was too busy and had just forgotten to eat. Prioritizing taking his frustration concerning his own self hatred and the numerous disgusting comments left on his social media posts out on his drums, rather than feeding his body and mind the proper nutrients they needed.
So when Ashton had texted you that he was on his way home, you quickly got started on making one of his favorite meals for dinner. You thought that maybe he would choose to eat more than a few quick bites if it was a food he actually enjoyed. If it was a food that had been seasoned with extra love. You had a doubt that he would eat it, but you forced yourself to hope.
You were dishing the meal onto the plates when Ashton walked through the door. You turned to look back at him as you placed the plates on the table. “Hey Ash,” you greeted. He hummed in return as he walked over to where you stood at the table and placed a placed a firm kiss on your lips. You quickly turned to wrap your arms around him in a tight hug which he then returned.
“Thank you love I appreciate it.” He said with small smile. “But the boys and I had a big lunch at the studio and I’m still full,” he spoke as he accentuated his excuse with a pat to his stomach as if that would convince you.
Any small hope that you had was shot down with his rejection. You know there was no way he wasn’t at least a little hungry. Even if he did have a big lunch, that was hours ago. You wanted him to eat but you also didn’t want him to feel like you were coming at him. So, you accepted his excuse.
“Oh ok. We can have it tomorrow then for lunch.”
“Sounds great,” he said and kissed your forehead. “I’m gonna head down to the basement for a bit then take a shower. I love you.”
You reciprocated his words as he pulled away. You watched his broad back withdraw from you and retreat to the basement door.
As you heard him take his feelings out on his drums, you cleaned up dinner. When you were done you sat at the kitchen table lost in your thoughts. You wanted to help him, you just didn’t know how. You believed communication was the key to any relationship. You wanted to talk to him about it but you knew better than to poke and prod into his thoughts when he wasn’t ready to talk. The last thing you wanted was to make him feel cornered. You knew he would come to you eventually, he just needed to process it himself first. You just didn’t know how long you could wait knowing he was hurting.
Two hours later and he was out of the shower. You poked your head in through the crack of the bedroom door just as he came out of the en suite bathroom. His curls were wet. Water dripping down his strong chest, traveling down his toned stomach to the towel wrapped around his waist. You knew he looked like sex on legs. But the look he gave himself in the mirror reminded you he didn’t see what you saw.
You gave him a minute to dry off and get semi-decent. You entered the room, his head turning to you at the creak of the door.
“Hey sweetheart. I think I’m gonna turn in early. It’s been a long day,” he said with defeat. He didn’t want to handle the weight of your gaze on his naked chest so he looked away and sat on the edge of the bed. You wanted to get him to a point of vulnerability where he wasn’t pressured to talk, but you could make him feel loved. So you thought of his favorite thing, a massage.
You walked to his spot on the bed and lightly traced your hand along the curls at the nape of his neck and down across his broad shoulders.
“Im sorry it was such a long day baby. How about I give you a massage so you’re not so tense?”
After a long beat of silence he gives a slight nod with a light, “ok.”
He turns on the bed to lay on his stomach as he cuddles his pillow under his chin. After you go to the bedside table to grab the lotion, you move to straddle his lower back. Once you’re settled, your hands slick with lotion drop down to rub the smooth skin of his back.
“Feel good baby?” You ask in low volume. His high pitched “uh huh” trailed off to low moans at the relief.
You work the pressure up to his upper shoulders applying a rougher touch when needed. Once the lotion is fully spread, you lightly run your nails from the tattoo at the nape of his neck, and down to his lower back where you reside.
While he may be insecure, his body still reacts to having your hands on him. The more you rub and scratch, the more he subtly grounds his hips into the sheets below him. His movements may be slight, but you still take notice.
“Flip over for me love,” you murmur. At this, his relaxation and pleasure induced stupor was broken and his eyes open. You could tell he was trying to work out in his head a way to say no, leaving your question to float in the air. After a short second of his silence, you work to persuade him.
You move to his side, lean down to his ear and whisper, “please flip over sweet heart.” You place a small kiss to the back of his shoulder. “Please turn over for me so I can tell you how beautiful you are. Let me show you how much I love you please. I’ll make you feel good I promise.” Your words are accompanied by your motions of slowly rubbing the hair at the back of his head.
You know that more often than not, insecurities have to be fixed by the power of the beholder. You know this. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try to help him in any way you can. Even if that means providing pleasure along with your love and support. He may take a while to work his feelings into words, but he will always understand physical touch. And you were going to make him feel it.
His eyes meet yours in a bashful look. With slight reluctance he flips over on his back showing you his beautiful strong chest and torso. He places his arms at his sides. His hands lightly gripping the blanket below him. His chest rises and falls with his breaths which happen to be labored due to the pleasure coursing through his veins.
He meets your gaze when you move to straddle his hips. His eyes flutter once you lightly grind yourself down onto the tent in his shorts. He sucks in a breath of air through his teeth and drops his head further back. The friction causing his hands to fly to your hips in a tight grip.
“Sh it’s ok baby. Just relax. I’m gonna show you just how much I love you.”
You follow your words by placing your hands at the sides of his head and lowering your lips to his. Your lips molded and reformed together like soft clay. The passion flowed from your mouth to his bringing love with it. His eyes met yours when your lips pulled away with a soft and wet click. Your hands lightly traced lines down his forehead and down over his cheeks.
“You have such beautiful eyes. A beautiful hazel that exudes warmth. Eyes that have seen the whole world.”
“And a perfect little nose. And a beautiful smile that can light up any room.” Your words were accompanied by your thumbs moving lightly over his nose and smile lines until they met his lips.
“And perfect lips. The perfect shape and shade of pink. It feels so good when they’re on mine.”
You placed light kisses from his forehead, down his nose, and to the corner of his mouth. Your right thumb lightly traced over his bottom lip, pulling it down til you can feel his breath on your skin. Your pulled your hand away to be replaced by your lips which molded to his in a needy embrace. A quick buck of your hips over his has him breaking the kiss and moaning into your mouth. Placing kisses down his chin to his neck, you continue your praise.
“You have an amazing voice. Your voice has saved so many people. A voice that sounds like home.”
Each string of worship came with a touch. With the feeling of your lips sucking and biting marks into his neck he leans his head further back into the pillow with a whimper. With more of his neck exposed you keep on with your oral attack on his skin.
“Such broad shoulders. Shoulders that carry the weight of the world. You’re so strong and brave.”
Your hands come up to rub the front of his shoulders, occasionally leaving a light touch to the marks you made on his neck. You then travel down to his arms that lay at his side.
“Such strong arms with that grow with your passion of music. Arms that make anyone feel safe.”
You lightly scratch your nails back up his arms til they land on his chest. The teasing touch causing him to raise his hips into you hoping to find friction and relief.
“Such a strong chest that makes me feel so safe. The chest you cuddle me into that gives me the sense of home.”
You rub your hands over his chest and down to his torso. Once your fingers pass over his nipples he lets out a whine and again thrusts his hips upward.
“Should I keep going?” You question with a grind of your hips over his, letting him know exactly what would happen if he said yes. You knew he would approve, but you wanted him to say it.
“Yes please. Fuck baby please,” he whimpered with a persistent nod of his head. The emotions and lust running through his veins causing him to be more whiny and sensitive compared to the more dominant persona he usually carried in the bedroom.
You scoot back on his legs and leave a long trail of kisses down to the band of his shorts. You slowly pull the item of clothing down his strong thighs, though you get slightly distracted when his hard cock pops from his shorts to softly slap against his lower abdomen.
You lightly graze your nails up his thighs causing causing his cock to jump, leaving a dribble of clear liquid connecting his tip to his tummy. The sight made your mouth water.
You brought your tongue down to break the connection, trailing it back to the hard source. Letting out a soft moan at the unique taste of him, your tongue grazed his pulsing tip, his hands fisted into your hair. His large hands slightly tugging it with a deep groan.
After about a minute of you suckling on him, he pulled you off. “I won’t last I need you now honey please,” he begged.
“If you insist,” you teased while crawling back up to his mouth.
You began to engage in a short make out session in which you lost your clothes, while you passed the small taste you’d gathered from your tongue to his. The short lived session ended with your soaking wet pussy grinding over his length while you panted into each other’s mouths, feeding each other your tainted moans.
Please baby please. Don’t make me wait any longer please.” He accompanied his plea with the action of pulling your hips down harder onto his.
While you suckled his bottom lip into your mouth, you reached down to put his tip at your wet entrance. The minute you lowered your hips onto him, your lips pulled apart and your forehead pressed against his in a shared pleasure filled expression.
“You feel so fucking good,” he breathed into your mouth with a slight lift of his hips into yours, pushing his cock further into you.
You may be filled with pleasure, but you still remember what the purpose of this interaction was: to make him feel loved and beautiful. Your pleasure was just an added bonus.
You started to slowly ride his shaft, lifting up to the tip, and dropping back down to the base. You brought your lips to the shell of his ear to start softly whispering praises.
“You feel so good inside me.”
“You’re so perfect, you were fucking made for me baby.”
“You’re doing so good for me Ash.”
“The most beautiful man with the most beautiful cock fucking me so deep.”
You ground yourself onto his pelvis after each comment leading to a whiny groan leaving his lips each time.
You pulled back to look at his lidded honey eyes. You softly gripped his jaw in one hand and reached down to your clit with the other. The minute your finger circled your clit, you clenched harder around his throbbing cock rubbing up right against the most sensitive spot in your walls.
“Be a good boy Ash give me your cum. I need it sweetheart please.” Your plea causing him to push his hips up to thrust into yours meeting each bounce of your pussy over him.
Your orgasm washed through you head to toe pushing your beautiful man over his own precipice of sexual pleasure. You stilled your hips feeling his cum spill into the deepest part of your pussy.
“You did so good for me Ash,” you whispered before placing soft kisses on his chest while he fell down from his high. Though, your words were just barely audible over his labored breath dripping with the aftermath of euphoria.
He softly pulled your hips over up above his. A sharp gasp pulls between his clenched teeth as he is softening cock falls from your pussy. You lay softly on his chest preparing to get something off of yours.
“I see the way you look at yourself. I know the hate is hard. It’s brutal and unfair. But most of all it’s undeserving and untrue. You are amazing inside and out. You’ve helped so many people and you are so beautiful. The comments from people who don’t know you are just comments. They are not who you are. I know it’s hard for you to ask for help and I understand. But just know you will never be alone.”
Your speech wasn’t long, but it did hold weight. The kind of weight that drew heavy tears from his eyes.
He turned to you, his tears trailing down to his temple.
“Thank you.” It was a small expression of gratitude, but the kiss that followed was much more of a substantial display.
You would always be there for him, just as he would always be there for you.
First work of mine! I’m proud of myself ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐
Hope you enjoyed!
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(Pictures / dividers found on Pinterest- NOT mine - All I did was collage + crop)
- Do NOT steal or plagiarize my work. I wrote this myself. I do NOT consent to my work being taken, ESPECIALLY to any other platform -
Welcome to the end of the saga, thoughts, questions and comments are appreciated and encouraged. Much love to everyone who took the time to read !!
Part One || Part Two
You wake to a vanilla latte in the passenger seat cup holder and an empty seat next to you as Ashton pumps gas outside. You’ve been asleep for a couple of hours, Sydney sits just three hours away from you and you can’t decide whether you want to get out of this fucking car as soon as possible or keep driving with him. Because what if it’s the last time, when you reach the stadium and part ways, what if it’s the last time you’ll ever be together like this again. What then.
You rub your eyes, try to calm your heart as Ashton gets back into the car. You give him a small smile, have to, can’t stand this fucking silence anymore. “You okay?” He asks.
You nod, “Just tired.”
He raises an eyebrow and you laugh and you fucking love how it echoes through you, how he mirrors you with a grin. “Kidding.”
“Are you?”
“Kind of.” Silence again, but it’s warmer. “So you kept it.”
You frown, “Kept what?”
“My hat.” His eyes flick up, “Last time I checked you weren’t a Manchester fan.”
You don’t move, can’t really breath around the idea. “I guess I did.” You say finally.
He tilts his head, ignores whatever look is plastered across your face, “Well, it’s fucking sideways.”
You frown at him, “It moved when I was asleep.”
“Yeah I heard you.” He says with a smirk.
“What? I don’t snore.”
“Listen, I had to turn the radio up.”
“Hey!” You reach up to try and twist the hat back around and watch as he laughs. “What?” You snap.
“You’re turning it the wrong fucking way.” And he reaches up, twists the hat back into place and gently untucks the strands of your hair that have gotten caught. His hand hovers, hesitates, just for a moment, on the side of your face before he pulls away and swallows thickly. “There,” he says “all fixed.”
You nod, “Thank you.” But really you want to grab his hand and pull him back to you. Instead you reach for the coffee.
“I checked.” He murmurs.
And you meet his eyes as you say, “I know.”
You turn away again, resting your head as you resume your stare out of the window. Silence as the road stretches on forever, the car grumbles beneath you and another hour ticks by.
“What’s wrong?” You like how his voice fills the space, like how it makes you feel to know he’s still there and you’re sitting shoulder to shoulder after everything.
You stare out of the window, don’t turn to him, can’t. “What?”
“You’ve been staring out of that window for fucking hours. What’s wrong.”
You shake your head softly and almost consider telling him the truth because he’ll know the second you lie, he knows now. You both know what hangs between you, what stole your hand away from his earlier but still you find yourself lying, taking the cowardly way out, “Nothing.” Because if you’ve opened yourself to him again, showed him that little piece of your soul that is still held by him, that’s never not been, and he walks away again you’re not sure you can survive it. You’re not sure you’ll want to.
“I’m Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Liar.”
You frown to yourself even though you knew it was coming, “Am not.”
Ashton sighs, “I know when you’re lying. You know that I know you’re lying.”
And he’s got you, wasn’t ever a question that he wouldn’t but still you can’t turn to him, can’t tell him what you think because the fear that’s wrapped itself around you just tightens and tightens and it won’t let you go. And you like it, the familiar pain and how it makes you feel safe.
“Well?” His voice cuts through you and you know in that moment you can’t stay hostage to this fear any longer.
You shake your head and twist just a little so you can glance at him as he drives. The setting sun bathes him in a golden light, a glow across his face and the brown curls that fall across his forehead. You take him in, can’t help yourself as he’s illuminated beside you and all you want is to just reach for him. Slowly, you take the hat from your head and rest it gently on your lap.
“Just thinking.” You say quietly, finally shifting a little bit more and watching as he risks a glance at you, feel as you meet his eyes before he looks quickly back to the road and you fight back the waves of fear and grief and everything in between that’s weighed you down for so long. If you were braver, you’d say what you thought, that you’ve never loved anyone like him, and if you’re being honest, looking deep into the ties that bind you, you’d say you probably won’t love anyone like that again.
But the words don’t come and you don’t make them and it turns out you’re not braver.
Ashton sighs again, trying to move around the silence and asks, “Thinking about what?” Like maybe if he asks the questions gently he’ll coax the truth from you, because if he can’t do it then who can.
You try to breath around the emotion stuck in your throat and finally answer him, “A lot.”
“A lot?” And he’s so careful, so scared and you can feel it radiating from him as his knuckles turn white around the steering wheel.
You let yourself give a small smile, “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
You see his brow raise just slightly as he says, “Oh yeah?”
You nod, “Yeah.”
And again the silence, taking you both by the hands trying to guide you toward each other like everything you need to say and everything you feel is sitting in that quiet just waiting for a voice.
Several heartbeats pass, each one thundering and weighed down and then Ashton asks, says into the open like he can’t quite ask you himself, “So you don’t regret it then?”
And maybe it’s the implication that you would ever regret being with him like that, or maybe it’s the idea that he doesn’t know you enough now to be sure you’d never feel like that towards him, but it sends a bolt of grief so sharp right through you that you’re sure it’s split you in half. You can’t help it then, turn to him with horror and grief warring on your face, “Ashton, no. No I don’t regret it.”
He doesn’t say anything and it’s relief you feel in the silence then because you don’t know what you want him to say, what he can say to the idea that the night you shared was a mistake.
The car growls on beneath you and silence takes hold again, heavy and painful as you begin to approach the city lights of Sydney. You can’t help but look at the glow they cast across Ashton’s face, at how they illuminate him like a sign sent from god, like the bond that holds the pieces of you together.
He clears his throat then and you only have a second to brace yourself before he says quietly, “I thought - I thought it was too fast, that I was too fast.”
Your brows knit together but you stare straight ahead, focusing on those city lights willing yourself not to cry. “What?” And it’s barely a whisper, barely a murmur because you don’t really want the answer, you don’t really want him to count the ways he regrets that night.
“After I saw the scars—” he clears his throat suddenly and you let him because you can hear his voice about to break and selfishly don’t want to hear it, want one of you to feel strong in this moment where everything seems to be breaking apart. “I didn’t say anything… I didn’t say the right thing I just-“
“Ashton,” you shake your head and before you can really think about it you’re reaching for his hand. “Ashton, it’s okay.”
He shakes his head but doesn’t move his hand and doesn’t move yours either, “It’s not, though, it’s not. You fucking -“ and his voice does crack then. “I should’ve been there.” he says finally, voice hoarse, “And I shouldn’t have kissed you like that, it wasn’t…” he cuts himself off again but you know what he’s trying to say, what he means, and you also know there’s not an ounce of regret in his words. Just sadness, just wrecked devastation at the thought he had you and lost you again.
And so now is the time to say it, say what you’re thinking and what you want him to finally hear and maybe you stand a chance of piecing the fragments of this back together. You know that now and you know you can’t keep running forever, can’t hide behind his confession and his pain, know you have to face up to it. So you leave your hand where it is and you don’t pull away, don’t run. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Ash.” You whisper, “I wanted you.”
You wait for it then, some sort of explosion or crash or anything to explain the weight you feel from those words but nothing changes and no catastrophe happens and the city lights just keep passing you by.
“I’m Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
And your words, they echo around your head and you’re not sure they’ll ever stop, sure you’ll never have another moment of silence until Ashton murmurs, “I wanted you too.”
It’s nothing you don’t know, nothing new after that night in the motel or in the hazy golden light the morning afterwards, but it unravels you.
And maybe that’s why you don’t say anything as the car pulls into the private stadium parking garage, or maybe it’s because the way Ashton just looked at you tears your world apart. Whatever it is, whatever stops you from responding, the car stays silent and when the engine turns off you’re surrounded by it, consumed by it.
And it hits you, too hard and all at once, that this is the end of the line, that the road trip and everything it holds for you is over. And you feel it even more then, the tear of your heart, the pieces of it shattering because you’ll never be together like this again, you can’t be. The love and the hate and everything in between the two is right here in this car and you’re about to leave it. You’re about to leave the space that let you love him all over again, that forced your hand and made you see everything in that clear blinding light. You’re about to leave him.
“I’m Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
You risk a glance to him, hoping in this moment where everything is still he might tell you he’s feeling the same, beg you not to get out of the car and the two of you will drive away where there’s space for everything, where you can talk about it properly, where you don’t have to walk in opposite directions the second the car door shuts.
And it’s now or never, isn’t it? Because you’ve spent this whole fucking trip dancing around what you want, cowering away from the idea of sharing a life again and you’re so fucking scared but you’re one of the bravest people you know and you’ve proven that over and fucking over.
“Ash-“
The car door opens, though, and everything shatters.
Calum stands outside, a passive expression plastered to his face but his arms are crossed and one eyebrow is quirked upwards just a touch as he watches Ashton get out of the car.
And you want to scream at him to get back in, to sit with you again shoulder to shoulder like you have been for the last two days, want to scream and tell him nothing has to change even though you can feel everything changing already, that its all too soon and you need more time. That you need more time with him.
You can barely get the car door open, clamy hands trembling as you push it open with whatever force you have left.
‘Everything okay?” And if getting out of the car didn’t slash the bubble you’d been in, hearing a voice other than Ashton’s does it.
You find Calum’s eyes, watching your every move carefully like he’s worried you’re hurt, like he’s trying to find the wound. But no amount of looking or questioning will ever have him know how hurt you really are, what you’re wrestling with to keep yourself standing.
So you go to him, embrace him and let him bask in the reunion with an old friend as Ashton pulls him into a hug too. The shock on Calum’s face rocks you and does the same to Ashton, you can see the guilt and the hurt in his eyes as he pulls away.
“Everything’s good.” You finally say back when you can find a way to speak around everything that’s breaking around you. “Everything’s totally fine.”
Calum looks to Ashton who grins back and you force yourself to find a way to be happy for two long lost brothers, for Calum who just got Ashton back and for Ashton who got himself back. It’s better, being happy for them instead of looking at yourself and everything you’ve just lost.
The car chirps as Ashton locks it and pockets the keys and it’s over. Just like that, the bubble that you and Ashton have been existing in has burst and you’re left standing there, looking at the car with the empty coffee cups and Ashton’s jacket on your seat and the weight of that motel room and lingering golden light.
“You okay?” Calum tucks an arm around your shoulders and you’re sure your face and your eyes and your silence have given away your devastation. You’re wrecked, you know you are. This has destroyed you in a whole different way, has opened your eyes to a world of pain you were clueless to because you had everything you wanted in the palm of your fucking hand, had him again just to loose it. Just to loose.
You wonder if your heart might just stop beating when Ashton finally walks away from you.
You look up at Calum and smile, “I’m good.”
He knows you’re lying, Ashton knows you’re lying and as soon as you see Micheal and Luke they’ll know too, but there’s nothing left for you to do but exist in this pain, in this haunted memory, in this fucking parking garage where everything has reached its end.
Calum raises and eyebrow but says nothing and you don’t want him to, you just want to get as far away from that car as possible and not look back, pretend it didn’t happen happen or convince yourself you don’t care and you never did and you were only getting Ashton here for the boys, for everything you used to have and used to be.
“Okay then,” Calum claps Ashton’s shoulders and sparks to life, “We’ve got to go!” And it’s unmistakable, the joy on his face.
You smile despite yourself, when you see joy cross Ashton’s face, when you see it alight in his eyes and you decide in that moment that him getting the boys back, getting himself back is enough. It’s enough.
Ashton turns and looks at you but Calum is already pulling him away, too wrapped up in his own joy to notice how everything is crumbling around you and you can’t find it in yourself to blame him for it. So you just stand there and you watch as Ashton glances at you one last time, his face flooded with something you can’t understand and then Calum is swinging his arm around Ashton’s shoulders and they’re disappearing through the doors into the heart of the stadium.
“I’m Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.’
You can’t breathe. Standing there alone, in the shadow of the trip, you can’t fucking breathe.
Numb, you think, that’s the best way to describe it, the best way for you to understand why you can’t feel yourself anymore, why you can’t feel your heart beating anymore, why the silence that crashes into you is like a loaded gun.
You take a sharp breath, push the cold out of your lungs and ignore the tears streaming down your cheeks, ignore how precise the marks along your heart are, how deep. You force out another, have to brace yourself against the wall of the parking garage as you do because your world is falling apart beneath your feet and you just don’t know how to stop it.
Something in your soul calls out to him, can’t handle the distance that grows between you with every second that passes but you let it build and build as you stare at the doors that haven’t opened again and feel yourself just crack wide open.
It’s different, this grief, it’s unique and it swirls in the pit of your stomach, it snakes across your skin, it lodges itself in your throat until it’s all you can feel, until you can’t exist without it. Until it’s all you know and all you have ever known and the car and the motel are distant, plagued memories.
“I’m Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
You force yourself to move, you have to, because life exists outside of that car and away from the road and you have to remember that, have to make yourself remember that. Lola is inside that stadium somewhere, waiting for you and lugging your cameras around and you have to be there for her, have to put this out of your mind like it never happened because it never did and move on. Just move on.
“I’m Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
One foot in front of the other and your passing through the same doors that took Ashton from you. A cool breeze runs a hand along your face as you walk into the stadium and you want so badly to be okay, to let this all go without another thought, to act like this hadn’t rearranged the order of your world.
The buzz of the stadium hits you all at once, the people and the laughter and the faint thumping of music coming from the supporting artists on the stage. Somewhere in here, is Lola and your equipment and the Jon that you’re meant to do, all waiting for you as if the last two days hadn’t happened, waiting for you like you haven’t been broken apart.
You walk and walk, one foot in front of the other because its the only thing you know how to do, the o lay thing you can do until you eventually stumble across Lola, bright smile on her face.
“Hey boss I—“ but she stops short and she must see it, the devastation written across your face, the wreckage in your eyes. “You okay?” But her question is answered before she’s finished asking it as tears spring to your eyes. Lola moves quickly to your side, drapes an arm around your shoulder and whispers, “Come on.” As she leads you to an empty room.
“I’m fine.” You say before she can even shut the door, and you’re furiously wiping your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, furious with yourself for letting this show, overwhelmed with grief that this is happening to you again.But you can’t stop it and it crashes into you, the last two days, the memories and the fractures, frozen in that motel room, bathed in that light until you weren’t anymore. Until you aren’t. Until you’re nothing. “I’m fine.” You repeat as your voice cracks and tears spill down your cheeks.
“Don’t lie to me.” Lola murmurs, arms crossed over her chest. “Is it Ashton?”
You nod because there’s no point in lying, there’s no world that exists where you can convince her that you’re fine, that you were ready for anything that happened, that you can stand on your two shaking feet. And she knows, she knows the history, why she photographs him and not you, why being in these stadiums night father night just rips you open. Maybe thats why you tell her, as she stands there with bright eyes or maybe it because you can’t talk to yourself about this anymore, have gone around and around in circles trying to convince yourself that the splinters you see don’t exist, that you can move on from this.
You know you can’t.
“I still love him.” You choke out and it’s relief that holds you when you see she’s not surprised. “I don’t think i ever stopped.” And then, what you’ve been afraid to say, what you’ve feared this entire time, “I don’t know if I can let him back in.” You finally meet Lola’s eyes, “I was so in love with him and it completely, it just fucking tore me apart.” You don’t tell her about the scars on your wrist, about the ones in your head, “I can’t do that again.”
She nods and takes a seat beside you, “Have you told him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me he loved me.”
Lola takes a breath and leans back in her chair. “Can I be honest?”
You give her a small smile then, because never in all the time you’ve known her has she ever held back. “Of course.”
“I saw you when you were with him, back last year and I’ve seen you this year, watched you work you know?” She sighs and you mirror her, can’t decide if she’s going to tell you something you don’t want to hear, that you can’t hear. Still, you wait and you listen and she meets your eyes and says, “I watched your light just absolutely go out, i watched it like someone flicked a switch in you. You were so fucking happy, before, loved the work and the travel and I know you still love it, i know you do, but it’s not the same.” Lola reaches out and takes your hand and you wonder what she had to go through to become this wise. “I’ve never seen you happier than when you were with him and I haven’t seen you light up like that since. And I know, I know, you’re not supposed to centre your happiness on a man and i getthat. But it’s not just about that. You know how he made you feel, how he made you want to be alive, to feel it all. And right now i think you’re just existing and if you really want my opinion or my advice or whatever, someone that makes you want to jump into life and feel fucking all of it just isn’t worth loosing.”
You stare at her and silence settles over the two of you but she doesn’t move her hand and you don’t either. “Shit.” You murmur and Lola laughs.
“That’s just how I see it, you know? You’re obviously supposed to be in each other’s lives. You just have to decide how you want that to look.”
“I’m so fucking scared of letting him back in,” your shake your head, “I don’t know what I would do if it all happened again.”
Lola shrugs, “You ever think he’s scared of the same thing? He got his heart broken too.” She raises an eyebrow, “this isn’t about a relationship or how much you loved each other before or what you sacrificed for each other. It’s about what you’d do for him now, knowing how you both feel. I think it’s kind of about realising you were never supposed to be apart and the only reason you were is because you loved each other so much.”
“It feels like we’re strangers.” You whisper but Lola quirks her eyebrow and you know she’s right, that you’ve lived in the back of each other’s minds for months, that you never really forgot anything.
Lola smiles then, “You were never really strangers.”
And the weight of that settles on your shoulders, the weight of the hat and the coffee order and the jacket and the night in the motel and every single second between, proving that he never forgot you either.
“Let you go? Not even if i fucking tried.”
“I’m Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Thank you.” You murmur, “Really.”
Lola grins and you both get to your feet, “For what it’s worth, I can see that light coming back. Slowly, but it’s there.” And she’s right because you’ve never felt more alive than in that car, shoulder to shoulder with someone you were never supposed to loose, feeling those sparks across your skin like the very first time you met.
“I think I do too.”
Lola gives you a lopsided grin, “So what are you going to do about it?” Challenge dances in her eyes but you shrink at the sight of it.
“I’m going to do my job first.” You say, “We’ve got a show to shoot, remember?” Because it’s too much right now, too much to take her up on her challenge when you’ve just lost him for the second time and can’t breath around the weight of it. “Then we‘ll see.”
Lola fixes you with a pointed stare but relents after a moment, “Okay.” She sighs but then gently, “just…don’t scare yourself out of this, okay? Promise?”
“Promise.” You nod back and you know you mean it, can feel the conviction in your bones because letting him walk away from you once was the start of one of the biggest mistakes of your life and you’ll be damned if you do that to yourself again. And because she’s right, the sparks across your skin, the lighting bolts and butterflies and everything in between is because of Ashton, because he makes you want to live, to take everything life has to offer and run with it.
And because you were never really strangers. Not even after the bench and the empty parking lot or the miles travelled on the road. Not after any of it.
You get to your feet, surprised to find yourself steady and shoot Lola a grin. “Ready?” You run a hand through your hair and let out a slow, deep breath.
“I’m Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Hell yeah.” You follow her from the room, making your way to the Greenroom where your equipment is stored. Music thumps through the stadium and cheers rise from the audience as the opener finishes their final act. Butterflies, thousands of them, take flight in your stomach and you welcome the flutter of their wings, how it feels as light sparks inside you and runs across your skin. “Here we go, boss.” Lola hoists the camera bag over her shoulder and you do the same, walking through the tunnels towards the pit where you photograph the boys. You can feel the swell of anticipation from the crowd as the lights dim, can feel it in yourself as you take your first step out into the stadium.
It takes your fucking breath away.
It always has, those first few seconds where it’s just you and the crowd waiting for the boys to make their appearance on stage but this is different, it’s the first time in a long time you’ve felt excited, alive with the anticipation, like its living and breathing right next to, watching with a grin as your breath catches.
The bowl of the stadium is massive and the standing crowd screams as you and Lola approach, knowing it’s almost time for the boys to take the stage. Tiers of fans rise to the ceiling, thousands of eyes locked on the stage, thousands of people waiting for them.
You’re so fucking proud of him, you realise as the life from the crowd makes your hair stand on end, so fucking proud of him.
Lola has positioned herself to the left of the stage, your usual spot, where she’ll photograph Luke and Micheal. She’s done it on the purpose, the little shit, but you can’t help but throw her a broad smile as she sends back a wink.
“Thought you’d want that spot this time.” She calls over, and you know why she reminds you so much of yourself then, it’s the life in her, the passion and the challenge and the spark and it dances all over her. You remember a time when you were just like that, bold and unapologetic and bathed in it and you can feel it again, deep within you just like Lola said.
“I did.” You grin back and plant your feet because you’re so tired of being scared of this, of running from the life that keeps trying to catch up with you. Your face softens as you say, “Thank you.”
“No problem boss, I do what I can for the people.” She winks at you again and you throw your head back and laugh and it feels so fucking good.
The lights go off then and the screen above the stage sparks to life. You take your camera, hold it in steady hands and wait for them to appear. Your heart thrums in your throat, in your stomach and turns over and over again as music begins to swell. He’ll know you’ve moved, have chosen to stand here and photograph him after months of doing everything possible to avoid it and you want him to, want him to know you did this on purpose and want to see him, never didn’t want to.
The walkie talkie clipped to the hem of your skirt crackles, “Coming out now.” And you have to steel yourself against the wave that crashes over you.
You glance quickly over to Lola who meets your eyes immediately and gives you a thumbs up, knowing why you’re searching for her, knowing what’s happening beneath your skin. “You’re good.” She mouths and then holds up her pinky, “Promise.”
You nod and hold your trembling pinky up and then the fans behind you begin the scream and the boys appear on stage.
Your breath stops itself in your throat as you see Ashton standing between Calum and Luke, grinning as he holds his drumsticks up to the crowd. His hair sticks up across his forehead, curls escaping all over and his eyes gleam, you can see it from here, he’s alive on it, drunk on it, and for the first time in a long time all four boys are smiling wildly on that stage.
They take their positions, Ashton settling at his drum kit and he lifts his drumsticks above his head and falters, stops, like the sight of you in front of him has frozen him in place, like he’s trying to decide if it’s in his head.
You raise an eyebrow so he knows it’s not.
Calum comes to the front of the stage, standing just above you and when you meet his eyes they’re gleaming and he winks at you. You can’t help the grin plastered to your face, can’t help the way the joy bubbles inside you, threatens to take over because you’re here and Ashton knows you’re here and for the first time in a long time you’re not running, you’re planting your feet and standing your ground because this isn’t meant to be run from. Not this time.
You lift your camera and focus on Ashton, on the drum kit, on the way he moves through the music and the smile on his face and you’re capture by it, immovable as you watch him and find tears pricking at your eyes at the joy on his face, at the joy on all of their faces, united through their music just like it should be.
“I’m Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
When you take Ashton’s photo you find his eyes on the lens, on you and it burns through you, ignites you, and now you know what it was all for.
And his eyes on yours, they don’t falter, not once when he realises you’re in front of him and not something that’s living in his head, that he’s conjured up to combat the pain and the grief that has held him for so long.
When the encore finishes and the crowd is raw from screaming, the four of them come centre stage and take a bow, throwing guitar picks and drumsticks into the crowd. Ashton looks out across the crowd, but only for a second before he finds his way back to you, eyes on yours and the smile he gives you melts any doubt you had left.
Alive, you feel so fucking alive with it all and it thrums through your veins, sparks across your skin and you can feel it like lightning cracking in your bones. Never, you know, never have you felt like this with anyone else, never have you felt life course through you like this.
And you know.
“I’m Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
You don’t notice the course of the next few minutes, can’t really remember the fans beginning to file out of the stadium after the boys have made their exit, don’t completely understand when you and Lola made it back to the Greenroom with your cameras and footage from the show.
Can’t really remember a time when you weren’t on fire with this.
“You okay boss?” Lola’s grin comes into view as you unload your equipment. “You ready to head back?” Her smile says it all, she can see it in you, can see that you’ve come alive with it.
You nod, “That was a good one, huh?”
Lola nods in agreement, “Yeah, I haven’t seen Ashton play like that in a long time.” She raises her eyebrow, “Have you?”
“No.” You bite your lip because all you can see is Ashton’s smile and his laugh and the way his hair falls over his eyes and the passion on his face as he played. “No I haven’t.”
Lola shrugs and turns back to her camera but she’s said everything she needs to and her final message is clear, it’s up to you now.
“Did you want to go through the footage now?” Lola’s voice rips you from Ashton’s eyes. She scans your face and ducks back down with a grin, “Or maybe tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.” You say without a thought. “Please.” You add but your hands are trembling and you’re not thinking of anything else.
It’s wild, this feeling, unyielding and you can’t remember a time you felt a need like this, can’t think of a time you’ve wanted to be with someone more than this and panic stabs at you, painful and scared that this isn’t right, that oit’s going to blow up in your face but the damage will be so much worse and the blast will take you out for good.
The hand on your shoulder makes you jolt in panic but you meet Lola’s eyes, softened with kindness. “This is the right thing to do.” She murmurs and your galloping heart slows just slightly. “I promise you. I’ve never seen either of you look at anyone the way you were looking at each other tonight.”
You nod, trying to breath around the words stuck in your throat. “I know.” You breath but doubt casts clouds across your mind and turns your eyes to the ground. “I know.”
Lola fusses around the equipment as you stand numbly, staring at the wall and wondering how you didn’t notice these waves of grief and loss and fear until they were already crashing over you.
‘I’m going to go, okay boss? Busy day tomorrow.” You lift your gaze, meeting her cloudy blue eyes and let yourself smile.
“No problem.” And then, “Thank you for today. Really.”
Lola nods solemnly but there’s a grin tugging at the edge of her lips, “You can’t be the grown up all the time, it was my turn to dish out some life advice.”
“Some role model i am, huh?” You chuckle.
“We’re all entitled to a cheeky little breakdown at some point.” Lola raises an eyebrow, “Nice to see it be you for a change.”
You laugh then and let it rip from you, let the joy push back those waves. “Very true. God, do you remember in that July show when you—“
Lola holds up her hand and you press your lips together in a giggle, “Never speak of it. I mean it boss, that was a low point for both of us.”
“If we’re being fair, it was more of a low point for you but—“ You cut yourself off with a laugh at the look on Lola’s face.
“I’ll take back my life advice if you’re not careful.” You shake your head and she raises a satisfied eyebrow, “That’s what i thought.”
“You’re right I should have more respect for someone that so gracefully fell into a bin because they weren’t watching where they were going.”
Lola throws her hands up dramatically, “I’m leaving, you’ve crossed the line.” But the spark in her eyes tells you she’s happy to have her old partner back. She hoists her bags over her shoulder and throws you a smile, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You raises your brows at her but she just winks, “see you tomorrow.’
Joy pulls at you as you watch Lola leave, and those waves of grief lap against the shore as you steady yourself. She’s right, never in your life have you looked at someone like that, watched their every move like they hung the moon just for you. Never have your had your blood set on fire by just a look, by just the thought of a touch. Never have you found yourself to be better because of it. Until now, until Ashton, until everything.
“I’m Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
You fish for your phone inside your pocket and joy rears inside of you even though your hands tremble as you find his name and the thread, left hanging and preserved the last time you spoke.
You think you can feel it crack you open a little as you scroll through the past messages, can’t help yourself when you sweep over promises and dates and I love you’s until the messages get shorter and shorter and the chasam between you gets wider and then it just stops.
Just stops.
You feel like you’ve run a marathon through the past, heavy breaths and trembling hands as you stare at the last messages between the two of you, as your look silently to the field of battle and the horror there, how you can see the light go out, can see where it all goes dark with a whimper.
“Why did you do that?” Your best friend sits gently on the bed beside you, handing you a tissue as tears track marks of mascara down your cheeks.
“I don’t know.” Your devastated voice is barely above a whisper, “I wanted to talk to him.” You stare down at your phone where you last message has been delivered and left, mocking you as you will the bubbles of text to appear on Ashton’s side of the screen, as you pray for a reply. ”I miss him.” You sob.
“I know,” Allie takes the tissue back from you, can tell you don’t have the strength to lift your arm amidst your heart that just keeps shattering, and dabs gently at your face. “But he left you sweetie. He isn ‘t going to text you back.”
It stings like a sharp slap to the face but you know she’s right, know there’s no reason on earth Ashton would talk to you now, not after the bench in Germany, not after everything you said, after you let him walk away.
Devastation coils its way around your gut, “Everything hurts.” You cry as your shoulders collapse forward and you heave a sob. “Make it stop hurting.”
Allie quickly swipes at her cheek and lets your head fall into her lap. “Try to get some sleep sweetie, okay?” Her voice is thick and tired. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” She eases your phone out of your hand and you crane your neck to look, to see if you’re prayer has been answer and if in the last second Ashton has sensed that it’s not really over, knows just like you do that you’re not meant to be apart and a text will appear to tell you everything will be okay.
But there’s not. It’s empty and you sink into silent oblivion.
Your thumb hovers over the last message from over a year ago and you wipe at your cheek, furious at the tears you find there. You slam your phone face down onto the table and pace to the other end of the room, twisting your fingers together and letting the stomp of your boots steady the way your heart is racing.
“I’m Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
You storm back toward the table and snatch your phone up and then stop dead.
Under the last text you sent is a new one, right where you begged it to be over a year ago asking you to come to his room.
You think then that maybe prayers are answered, just answered when they’re supposed to be.
You shoulder your bags and leave the door of the Greenroom open as you nod goodbye to the lingering staff of the stadium. You follow the tunnels out of the stadium and up toward the elevators which connects to the plaza next door and you’re shocked your foot doesn’t fall off for how you’re tapping it on the floor as you wait.
And you think you’ll falter when the elevator does make it down, think you’ll stare into the empty space and wonder what you’re doing but that moment doesn’t come for you, not this time, and you press the button to take you up to the plaza suites.
You wipe your palms on your skirt over and over again and you’re stepping out at the top of the plaza beforre yoiu know it, casting a glance out of the window to the world below. But it doesn’t compare, the grandeur and the height, not when you’re about to see Ashton, not when he’s behind the door waiting for you.
You raise your hand to knock but he’s there before you can and you’re standing face to faced for the first time in hours. In days. In years.
And you wait for it, the explosion of rage or the tears you can’t keep back or a door to slam in your face because a moment this big has to have a dramatic start or at the very little a dramatic end and the pressured builds and builds, holding you so tightly you struggle to breath because Ashton is standing there with a blank expression , eyes flitting up and down your body.
“Hi.” You’re shocked to hear the sound of your own voice fill the empty space.
“Hi.” He replies.
“Um… Hi.” Stupid, but your mind is an empty fucking slate and you can’t think of anything else to say.
Ashtons sweeps another glance over you and his green eyes are bright. “Do you want to come in?”
Wordless you nod and he leads you through to main room of the suite. Floor to ceiling windows cover the south wall, leaving Sydney spread out below you and hazy golden light from the lamp in the corner bathes the room in a soft golden glow. Two couches face opposite ones another in the middle of the room, a large coffee table between them with three coffee cups and an ashtray left on it. A large door is ajar at the far end of the room and you can make out the bed and mussed sheets from where Ashton slept last night.
You take a seat on one couch and Ashton sits on the other, the two of you facing each other over the coffee table. He sits in an old nirvana T-shirt and black sweat pants, brown hair tousled and ends wet from the shower. He almost takes your breath away.
You ease the camera bags off your shoulder and let them sit at the side of the couch, smoothing your short denim skirt as you shift.
“So…” Ashton starts but your shake your head.
“Please don’t say hi again.”
He gives a low chuckle and it sets shivers off against your skin, “Deal.” But his promise plunges you both back into silence and the awkwardness suffocates you.
So you finally say, finally fill the space, “So what now?” Because someone has to say it’s, someone has to ask, someone has to fucking face it after all this time.
Ashton gives you a small, lopsided grin and you let your shoulders drop just slightly, give your heart a break from careening agaisnt your ribs. “Did you enjoy the show?”
You raise a brow but answer honestly, “It’s the best one I’ve been to in a while.” You shrug, “Might’ve been because you looked like you were having fun for once.”
It’s his turn to raise his eyebrows then, to give you a look that sets your skin on fire. “For once?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?”
“You looked like the music brought you to life again,” you say with a sigh and then because you’re being honest, because it’s the only way through this, “I haven’t seen you look like that in a long time.”
And still his eyes blaze but he says quietly, “It wasn’t just the music.”
“Me?” You whisper, choke it out, can’t believe you’re finally saying everything that needs to be said, can’t really believe he’s sat in front of you again with his tousled hair and gleaming eyes.
Ashton holds your gaze and replies, “Always.”
And it would be so easy to get suck in, to let this joy and thos adrenaline take hold and whisk you away but you have to plant your feet, have to steady yourself. “A lot has happened though Ash.” You murmur but you feel higher than you’ve been in weeks, in months.
“I know. I want to talk about. I want to get it all out in the open. It’s the only way we’ll be able to move forward.”
“So you want to move forward then?”
“Well I didn’t ask you up here to drag all this painful shit up for no reason.” He smirks but something else shadows his face, clouds his eyes. “And you didn’t come here for that.”
“No,” You murmur, “I didn’t.” And then a breath later when he doesn’t drop your gaze, when he doesn’t move you say, “I came for you.”
“I know.”
You sigh and settle against the couch cushions but all you want is for Ashton to draw you into his arms, to hold you and stroke his fingers along your hair, your cheeks, your lips. But you can’t, not yet, not when this chasm still stretches between you full of pain and grief and loss. “Where do you want to start?” Because that’s the best way to go about it, isn’t it? Fan your cards on the table and hope neither of you pick up the wrong ones.
Ashton leans forward and nods and you feel the air tense, like lightning before it strikes. “Let’s start simple.” And you love him and his playful green eyes as he says with a shrug, “How have you been?”
“I’ve been good.”
“Bullshit.”
“Excuse me?”
Ashton’s eyes glimmer, “Did i not mention? We reserve the right to call bullshit at any time.” You come alive with the challenge that sparks on his face. “We owe each other an honest conversation, sweetheart.”
Your breath catches in your throat but you say lightly, “We’ve never lied to each other. Why start now?”
“Exactly.”
And it’s casual, the taunt and the challenge but the promise runs deep beneath and you know with certainty in that moment that neither of you will lie, no matter how painful it might become.
You swallow thickly and echo his question. “How have you been?”
“Fucking awful.”
“Why?”
“Because I lost you.”
You blood lights, skin sparks and Ashton sits with a straight face waiting for your the bell to ring to signal the next round.
“Is that why you were drinking? Why you weren’t speaking to the boys?”
Your question finds it mark and Ashton flinches, the taunt gone from his face and you know you’ve crossed the line into brutal honesty, that his eyes have darkened with it. “Yes.” He grits out and then, “Why didn’t you call me?”
“What?”
“Let me re-phrase.” And there’s no mistaking the flicker in Ashton’s eyes. “Why didn’t you call me when that piece of shit was burning you with cigarettes?” The air turns heavy with his rage.
You can hear your shallow breaths but your lungs burn as you try to answer him, “I told you.”
“Bull.Shit.” His chest rises steadily as he leans forward and murmurs, “Tell me the truth.”
“Okay, I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me. Wanted me.” And the admission leaves blood on your tongue.
Ashton glares at you, “So you didn’t call me.”
“No I didn’t fucking call you.” You cross your arms and glare at him and then because rage is stinging your skin you snap, “How many people have you slept with since we broke up then?”
“None.”
You bark a laugh, “Bullshit.”
“You’re calling bullshit? Really?”
You laugh again but you don’t recognise it and you wish this coldness that’s swept across you would vanish. “Yeah I’m calling bullshit I don’t fucking buy it.”
“Why?”
“What?”
It’s Ashton’s turn to cross his arms, “Why don’t you believe me?”
“I saw the state of your hotel room, remember? I doubt you’ve been doing that alone.” You’re so angry and sop sad and it’s not how you wanted this conversation to go at all but you’re sat opposite each other, glowering, watching everything fall apart again.
“You think that to get over the pain of loosing you i started bringing other girls back to my room? That’s pretty fucking stupid don’t you think?” And it is, you know it is but you can’t stop yourself now, can’t make yourself recognise the destruction you’re causing, the way Ashton’s eyes flash with pain when he looks at you. You shake your head and will the burning in your eyes to stop when you hear him say, “Come here.”
“What?”
“Come here.” His voice is low with the command and it sets fresh shivers across your spine.
“No I -“ But he’s at your side, has crossed into enemy lines before you have time to say anything else and he does draw you into his arms then, lets your head rest against his chest as you melt into him, don’t stop yourself, can’t. And then he dips his head to meet your lips and kisses you.
And god, it just ignites you.
It’s slow, tender, and he brushes your hair over your ear as he kisses you, strokes his hand across your cheek as he pulls away and plants a small kiss on your nose. “I haven’t been with anyone since you.” He murmurs against your skin and he’s still holding you, running his thumb across your jaw, “But you have, and I want to hear about it.” His tone is gently and you know he’s not picking a fight, he’s trying to understand, he’s trying to find a way through this together. And then, as if he can sense it in you, the hesitation and the grief he whispers, “I love you.”
And your answer is instant as you reply, “I love you too.”
Something shifts then, in the air, in the two of you and you cast a glance to Ashton’s abandoned couch and then to him as you settle back between his legs, resting your head on his chest and listening to the heart beat there. You stare up at the ceiling, at the swirls of paint and the textured wallpaper and then say, “You really want to hear it?”
His thumb is still brushing across your jaw, his other hand rests in your hair and he replies as an answer, “Of course i do. It’s you.”
So you tell him, staring up at the ceiling with the intricate patterns and letting yourself feel Ashton’s heartbeat beneath you, feel his skin on yours you say with trembling breath, “I wanted to call you but he — but I - it was complicated, really and I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me after everything that happened in Germany and the way we left things and you already looked so miserable and the boys did too so I just —“
“Took it.” Ashton’s chest rumbles as he speaks.
You blink back tears, “I wish we had just talked to each other, Ash. I wish it hadn’t gone down like that and I could’ve come to you —“
“You could have,” he says sharply, “You always could.”
“But I didn’t think I could.” You whisper, and the ceiling blurs, “I wish I had, Ash, please believe me but I just - I just couldn’t.” Ashton sighs and falls silent, hand stroking through your hair. “It was only for a few months.” You mumble, and then because you can’t stop yourself, because he deserves the truth from you, you say, “but i thought about you every single day.”
He looks down then, can’t meet your eyes as he says, “I drank to forget you. I couldn’t have you in my head everyday. I wrote a hundred texts to you but I just couldn’t do it. Cal had to take my phone away.
You grin, “I think we need to foot Cal’s therapy bill.”
Ashton nods and then breaths out, “He almost kicked me out.”
“What?” “He almost kicked me out of the band. I was a fucking wreck,” he rubs a hand over his face, “I was drunk all time, could barely play, all I could think about was you.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Same reason you didn’t call me. I didn’t think you wanted me.” He takes a deep breath and you’re grateful for the second he’s given you to wade through everything he’s saying. “I thought you were happy.” That rips through you and you close your eyes to it. “I didn’t want to ruin it even if it meant I was…” he trails off but you know then that he would’ve let himself be kicked out of the band if it meant you stayed happy.
“The boys talked to me.” You murmur, “They asked me to help you.”
And you expect Ashton to be shocked, to be furious that the band went behind his back like that but he just nods sadly, “Cal must’ve been desperate.”
“It was Luke.”
Ashton inhales like he’s been slapped but doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t matter, you know the pain that holds for him, the disappointment he’s been fighting upstream for months. “Oh.”
“They wanted to help.” You say softly, “ I wanted to help.”
Ashton nods again, “I wanted that too.” He dips down and kisses you again, brushes his face against you. “Fuck I missed you.”
“I’m Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
You know then that this is where you’re supposed to be.
“I want to fix this.” You breath. “I want to talk about it.”
“I do too sweetheart.” Ashton plants kisses across your forehead and tensions tightens like a coil.
“Why did you leave me?” Your voice cracks and you sweep your eyes back to the swirls of the ceiling.
Ashton doesn’t stop touching your hair, stroking your face. “I didn’t want to hold you back. I didn’t want to be the reason you don’t get to do what you love. I didn’t know what to do, i just wanted you to be happy.” You think he swipes across his face but you can’t be sure, only know his voice is heavy when he speaks again, “But I don’t want to go another year without knowing you.”
“I’m scared.” You whisper because it’s the truth, raw and honest, and a tear slips from the corner of you eye, “I can’t do all of that again, can’t find the person that makes me feel alive and have them leave.”
Ashton falls silent again and you know you should move, should pace the length of the room or rake your hands through your hair or throw a vase at the wall but you don’t, you bathe in the peace lying in Ashton’s lap and wait for him to say something that fills the cracks in the trust between you.
“We don’t have to go backwards.” When he finally speaks again his voice is rough. “We can’t go back to what we had, okay? But we can go forward and do it together. And I know—“ he says as you open your mouth to say something, to point out the waves of grief you both drowned under, “I know so much has happened and it was awful but sweetheart, I just can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
You shift and sit up against the cushions, “What were you thinking that day? You know in Germany?”
His lips turn down, a stricken kind of smile on his face. “I was thinking about how much I didn’t want to let you go. And I was fucking crushed when you didn’t come after me, when you stayed on the bench and then hearing you when I was walking away was the worst I’ve felt in my entire fucking life.” He runs a hand through his hair, “It’s why I was drinking so much, you know? Why I couldn’t face it.” He shakes his head. “You have no idea how much I wanted to call you when I got back to my room that night, how much I wanted to talk to you but I let you go and I let you down so I didn’t. Hearing youwhen i was walking away was the worst I’ve ever felt.” He runs a hand through his hair, “It’s why I was drinking so much, you know? Why I couldn’t talk the boys because everything just reminded me of you and I couldn’t face it.” He shakes his head, “You have no idea how much I wanted to call you afterwards, how much I wanted to talk to you but I let you go and i let you down so i didn’t.t”
“You wanted to call me?” Your voice is small and devastated. “Why didn’t you?”
“Same reason I let you go,” His eyes are shining now, lined with silver, “I was getting in the way and I couldn’t do that to you, couldn’t be the reason you weren’t happy.” His voice cracks, “I love you too much to do that.”
“I was happy, Ash, with you.” you murmur, “I didn’t want it to end like that.”
“I didn’t want it to end.”
You both stare at each other, sitting in the weight of the realisation that neither of you wanted it, that you sacrificed yourself so that other could be happy, could fulfil their dreams, could get everything they wanted. And neither of you did because you weren’t together when it happened, so it wasn’t fucking worth it, drowning in misery for over a year without each other.
“It’s why I was such an asshole,” he admits, “When you first showed up at my hotel room? I didn’t want to face it but you made me.” He swipes his thumb over your lips, down to your jaw, “thank you.”
You smile softly, “Anytime.”
Two heartbeats pass and Ashton grins, “So I heard Lola fell into a bin?”
You laugh out loud and it feels so fucking good, “Yeah, just like in mean girls. Her legs were up and everything.“
“Shit, you know what that reminds me of?”
You’re still smiling, still grinning like an idiot, “Michael at that fucking amusement park back in the states?”
“Yeah,” Ashton shakes his head but he’s laughing too and the joy radiating between the two of you is one of the best things you’ve ever seen, “We didn’t stop laughing for hours.”
“I know, but we did buy him an ice cream cone to make up for it so…”
“Alls well that ends well.”
And again you stare at each other and again you’re lost in grief in spite of the smile plastered to your face thinking about everything you used to have before it all went so wrong but Ashton beats you to your punchline and murmurs, “I really fucking miss you.”
“I really miss you top,” you whisper back, “but I’m still really fucking mad at you.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“I thought you hated me,” you admit into the silence, “I thought I hated you.”
Ashton meets your sad eyes, “Never,” his voice rumbles, “never would I have hate you.” He pauses like he’s considering if he can take this further, if he’s going to stick with the theme of brutal honesty, “I was fucking terrified of you though. When you showed up my door, yeah I was an asshole for not wanting to face it but I was terrified to.”
He swallows thickly around words stuck in his throat and you cock your head as you ask, “Why?”
“I thought you were going to tell me you moved on.”
That knocks you back, but then again what words from him haven’t, “Oh.”
“Didn’t know if i could deal with it so I kind of preempted it,” he gives you a weak smile, “I checked my phone every fucking day and I hated that I never heard from you. I thought maybe - i thought you’d reach out after Germany.”
“Why would I have done that? You left me, Ash. I thought you never wanted to hear from me again.” Pain strikes you in the gut at the memory.
“I thought you knew I was doing what was best for you.”
And you’re cold now and numb and the radiant joy has disappeared as you coil away from him and glare at him, wondering how yo’ve managed to circle back to this topic of conversation when you’ve already said everything there is to say, when you’re raw with it. “How could I have known that? Two days before that happened we were sightseeing through Munich and then all of a sudden it’s over? How could I know you were thinking you were helping me? Do you know how much it fucking destroyed me?”
“About as much as it destroyed me.”
You glare at him and brush a finger across the scar on your wrist, “Yeah or maybe a little bit more.”
“We talked about it though, didn’t we?” Ashton springs to defend himself but you’re away now, whisked into that memory of fire across your skin, “We both said we wanted what was best for each other. You told me you didn’t want to hold me back and I told you the same fucking thing.” He says desperately, “Germany was just the fall out of all those conversations, wasn’t it?” Panic clouds his face as he remembers and rage rolls in and pushes it away, “Or what you were just going to let me walk away?”
You scoff, “let you? Ashton we both know how you are when you make your mind up about something. Wild fucking horse couldn’t stop you.”
“Yeah but you could’ve. I would’ve done fucking anything for you.”
“Would’ve?”
He glares at you harshly, “Still would.”
“Then tell me why we had to spend any of that fucking time apart but you still remember my coffee order and the music I like and kept fucking tabs on me?”
“I don’t know, tell me why you kept my hat and remembered the first song i ever played you but i didn’t hear from you for over a fucking year?”
“Because I fucking love you!” Your chest rises raggedly and then suddenly, like the fight has just drained right out of you, you slump back against the couch, “and you’re right, i thought i was doing what was best for you too.”
And there it is really, the soul of the pain, the root of it. Ashton looks at you helplessly, like he’s realising the same thing, like everything has been leading up to admitting hope much you love each other, leading up to knowing it’s why you spent time apart, went through all of it in the first place.
“Fuck.” It sums it up nicely, you think, kind of poetic that one word can wrap the last year into a bow for you.
“I’m Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
You shake your head, “What do we do now?”
“I don’t know.” Silence pulses between you, “You hungry?”
You nod and your stomach rumbles in agreement. “Please.” Anything to have a break from this unrelenting nausea.
“Caesar salad, fries, Diet Coke.” You blink as Ashton smiles and says, “I remember.”
“I had no doubt.”
The food takes twenty minutes to be delivered and you’re perched on the edge of the bed by the time Ashton wheels the cart in.
“Finally!” You grin as he puts the silver trays down on the end of the bed and unveils them.
Ashton takes a seat on the bed beside you and you both pull the plates towards you, nestling against the mountain of pillows propped up against the head of the bed. You steal and glance at him and smile, can’t help yourself when you look at him and see every version of him that you’ve known, every lifetime you’ve shared sitting right next to you.
“I love you.” You murmur in the quiet and Ashton blinks once and then smiles at you.
“I love you too sweetheart.”
And maybe this is it, maybe this is how you start over, how you put all of that haunted horrid past behind you. There’s nothing you can do about it now, nothing to change the ache that’s lived in your bones, the grief that’s lived in your mind and your body and your blood but you can choose to move forward, choose to do it together after all of this because of all of this.
And so again you breath into the silence as your gut clenches, “I forgive you, Ash.”
He meets your eyes like he’s done a hundred times before but they glitter and spark and dance with life again and he whispers, “I forgive you too.”
And that’s how you do it.
“I’m Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
He reaches over and swipes a fry from your plate and you yelp in outrage, “Hey!”
“What?”
“There’s a perfect fry to salad ratio here,” you take a sip of your drink, “don’t upset that balance.”
“Oh my god,” he rolls his eyes but his smile is as wide as you’ve ever seen it, “Please, not this again.”
“I’m a proportional eater, Ashton. You know this.”
“I know I do but come on,” he steals another fry and laughs at you even as you slap his hand, even as you try to glare at him through the joy that bubbles within you, through that hazy golden light that drapes across the room, “see the worlds has not exploded.”
“Yes it has.” You try and snatch it back but he shoves it into his mouth before you can but you’re both laughing, both sitting in bright happiness and it’s the first time you’ve heard yourself laugh like that in a long time.
He winds some spaghetti around his fork and lifts it to you, “Here let me make it up to you.”
You shake your head but your grin betrays you and you open your mouth, “Shit that’s good.”
“I know, I’ve been living off this stuff.”
You chuckle, “Me too.”
“Well that’s not surprising you didn’t do the cooking.”
“I did!” You protest, “there was the time i made risotto.”
“Hold on,” Ashton shakes his head and he presses his lips together to hid his laugh, “You mean when you burnt risotto.”
“It was not that bad.”
“We had to throw the pan away!”
“Fine,” you cross your arms and pout as Ashton moves the plates to the bedside table and tugs you toward him. You don’t put up a fight, not a thing in you would now, and you settle into his arms as he shifts so you can rest your head on his chest. “I’ll never cook again.”
“Deal, sweetheart, I’ll do all the cooking for us.”
“Deal.” You mutter. “No risotto though.”
“I can live with that.”
“Maybe burgers instead or a nice stone baked pizza.”
Ashton raises an eyebrow, “You want me to make you a stone baked pizza? In what pizza oven?”
“I don’t know, maybe we’ll buy one?”
Ashton chuckles and it shakes through you and you’ve never loved anything more, “Anything for you.”
He brushes a kiss across your forehead and you burrow deeper into his chest, breath him in and let him run an idle hand across your hair. “What did you think when you first met me?”
His hand stops just for a second marking his surprise, “Why do you ask?”
You lift your shoulders in a little shrug, “Spirit of honesty got to me I guess.”
“Okay,” he murmurs and tucks stray strands of hair behind your ears, “I thought I’d be lucky if you looked my way. Even once.”
You raise your brows as you look up to him, “really?”
“Mhmm.” Ashton kisses softly across your brow, “You were so excited and so alive and I don’t know, it kind of just woke me up.”
“Shit.” You giggle,
“Well you asked.”
“I know,” you grin, “I thought you were hot, by the way.”
Ashton laughs, “oh thanks.”
“I did!” And then you murmured sheepishly, “I also thought you were the funniest person I’d ever met.”
He shifts and meets your eyes, “really?”
“Yeah.” You nod, “and then when I knew you, I thought you were the best person I’d ever met.”
He leans down to kiss you again and you’re drunk on it, “I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. You make me feel alive, you know?”
You nod and your grinning and you can’t stop and you don think you’ll ever stop now you’re this happy, now you’ve made your way through the flames, “yeah, I do.”
“I’m Ashton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Through the window, the sun begins to rise over Sydney, deep orange and yellow shattering open across the skyline and rich light filters in the room, painting the floor.
Ashton murmurs against you hair as he still kisses you, still caress you and holds you and loves you, “You wanna watch the sunrise?”
You twist your head to face him and he’s already wearing a lopsided smile, already grinning like you hung the moon and sun and stars just for him. “Yes!” You move to wriggle out of his arms but he stops you, wraps his arms around you and carries you from the bed to sit in front of the window, Sydney splayed beneath you. Ashton drapes the comforter around your shoulders and you expect him to take you into his arms again, crave his warmth but he sits opposite and crosses his legs, looking out of the window to the city below and then back to you, back to your eyes.
And then he sticks out his hand.
“I’m Ashton.”
And he’s grinning and his eyes are gleaming at his hair falls across his face and you love him more than anything.
So you take his hand, shake it firmly, meet his eyes as you spark to life, as that light pours in.
Nickname(s): Adie, Ads, Dee, DeeDee, Anna, Annita (by her family), 'Drianna, Tiny (by the boys), Florida, (by the boys and John Feldman) Girlie, Mouse/Mousey (by the boys), Twinkle Toes (by the boys) G-Money
Born: (October 22nd, 1996)
Birthplace: Miami Florida, USA
Ethnicity: Latina
Gender / Pronouns: Cis Female (She/Her)
Sexuality: Bisexual (officially came out in the summer of 2016)
Languages / Accent: Fluent in English and Spanish, she speaks with a bit of a hybrid American/Australian accent
Zodiac Sign: Libra (Libra Sun, Aries Moon, Cancer Rising)
🎶 Career
Role in Band: Keyboardist, Vocalist, Songwriter, and is known to arrange melodies and harmonies in a lot of the songs. She is a mezzo-soprano
Stage Persona: She enjoys channeling a strong feminine energy reminiscent of that of all the female pop stars and rockers she admires
Off-Stage Personality: She's a bubbly, funny, sarcastic, and warm presence and is known to treat fans like shes they've been friends for years
Musical Influences: Stevie Nicks, Fleetwood Mac, Paramore, Hayley Williams, ABBA, Taylor Swift, Coldplay, My Chemical Romance, Britney Spears, Sara Bareilles, Avril Lavigne, Greenday, Shakira, Prince
Favorite Part of Performing: Getting lost in the music, seeing the fans excited faces, hearing them scream the lyrics during the call-and-response parts
First Appearance: Their Blink-182 "I Miss You" cover in June of 2011
Social Media: @/Adrianna5SOS on Twitter, @/adiegarciaofficial on Instagram, @/AdieGarcia on TikTok, @/AdriannaGarcia on YouTube
(click below to read more)
👁️ Appearance
Height: 5'4 (making her the shortest member in the band by far)
Hair Color / Style: She's naturally a brunette but she's dyed her hair multiple times in several different colors and notably she has multiple different colored wigs that she's worn to let her hair rest from the dye. She's had long hair, a medium bob, and usually she mentions wearing extensions. In the past she's matched the color of the streaks in her hair with whatever color Mike had at the time
Eye Color: Hazel
Piercings: She had her bellybutton pierced when she was 19 in mid-2016, she has both her ears pierced including three piercings on each lobe, both conches pierced, both helixes pierced, and an industrial piercing on her right ear
Tattoos: She's gotten many little ones over the years and some more notable pieces. Her first tattoo was that of two detailed butterflies on the lower half of the inside of her left arm after her 18th birthday. In the gallery section of this article there will be images attached displaying each piece as far as the public knows
Scars / Distinguishing Features: She has some faint freckles on her face and a scar on the back of her left shin from breaking her leg when she was a child, which is partially covered now by a tattoo of marigolds, her birth flower
Fashion Style: Stylish, and comfortable. She's been known to blend the traditionally feminine the with traditionally masculine at times while also not being afraid to show some skin
Stage Aesthetic: It's an inside joke in the fandom that she can't stand still, thus explaining her consistent use of a headset microphone and her keytar (that always rests right next to her keyboard), which lets her move about the stage freely for about half of the shows, dance, rile up the crowd, and flip flop between sensual confidence and pure goofiness annoying her bandmates
Philosophy / Motto: "Just keep moving. Even if it feels like the world is against you, you have to keep moving."
Inner Conflict: She's constantly vigilant and aware of how society might view her. Being in a band with four men she's had to deal with a fair share of sexism and and slut shaming by the public and even in the industry, so she tries to present herself as the best role model she can be to breakdown all of those misogynistic stereotypes and even the erasure placed upon her and her role in the group
Flaws: Impulsive at times, overprotective, outspoken, a people pleaser
Biggest Fear: Disappointing people, large spiders, heights, deep ocean
Love Language: Being heard and understood
🌙 Background
Family / Upbringing: Born to her Colombian mother, Emilia, and Cuban father, Jose Luis, in Miami Florida, she also has a younger brother, David. Her parents divorced when she was 13 and her dad was briefly remarried for a year, and when she was 15 and her brother 12, her half-sister, Celeste, was born
How They Got Into Music: Her dad had been an aspiring musician in his youth and when she was young she recalls her home being very musical
Early Life Facts: Her family relocated to Sydney, Australia when she was 7 after her dad found better work opportunities there. She met Michael, Calum and Luke in in science class in year 9
Hobbies: She took dance classes from ages 4 to 15 and only stopped when the band became more serious in their craft. She did theater in high school which kickstarted her love for acting, she likes to paint and draw, she loves to read, and still occasionally posts on her own YouTube channel that's been active since 2011
Pet Peeves: Rude people, when people rearrange her things, the boys being loud when it's late, stupid questions
Hidden Talent: She can absolutely cry on command and she can do some pretty good impressions of certain characters and celebrities
View on Fame: It's a blessing and a curse. "What is privacy?"
View on Love: It's "perpetually complicated" but she's "unfortunately a huge hopeless romantic"
🫶 Adie's Relationship & Social Dynamics:
• Current relationship status:...She's happy.
• Crush / love interest: I plead the fifth for now...
• Most significant ex: Again...you'll see soon enough.
• Relationship with mother: They're each other’s everything.
• Relationship with father: ...Complicated but they do have a lot of love for each other.
• Relationship with siblings/s: She's very close to her younger brother, given that their age gap is a reasonable almost 4 years, and she loves her little half-sister, even though they have a more considerable age gap.
• Ride-or-die person: Her mom and and the boys.
• Mentor / guide: John Feldman.
• Person they trust most: The boys, Crystal, and her mom.
• Person they dislike/hate the most: S*mon Cowell, Arz*lea, Mitchie, M*tty Healy...(that one's a long story)
• Person they’re protective over: Luke, the other boys, her family, Crystal and Sierra.
• Person who’s protective over them: The boys, the fans, John Feldman.
• Theme song that would play if they were in movie: "Greek Tragedy" by The Wombats, "Delicate" by Taylor Swift, or "Talk Fast" by 5sos.
• Role in friend group: Depending on how she's with, she's either the mom-friend or the agent of chaos.
• Chosen Family: The Cliffords, Hoods, Irwin-Dawkins, Hemmings, and their team.
• Close Friends: Jade Thirwhall, Leigh-Anne Pinnock, Perrie Edwards, Niall Horan, Ryan Fleming, Andy Deluca, Sarah Eisemen, John Feldman, her old best friend Emilia...
• Fremenies: The Chainsmokers.
• Casual Friends: Brandy, Kaykay, Bryanna Holly, Ryan Tedder, Jack Antonoff, Taylor Swift, Selena Gomez, Benny Blanco, Julia Michaels, Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Jesy Nelson, Sabrina Carpenter, Sebastian Stan, Zach Sang...
• Acquaintances: Ariana Grande, Rhett and Link, Lilly Singh, Travis Kelce, Gigi Hadid, Barbara Palvin...
✨ Trivia
Most Used Phrases / Words: "Bro, shut up.", "Wait, really?", "Oh my god, I love that!", "I have an idea!", "Can we, like, not?"
Band Dynamic: She's stated before that Michael is her best friend, Calum is like her big brother, Luke she sees as a little brother, and she says that her and Ashton "are the literal same person sometimes"
Favorite City to Perform In: Miami- her hometown gigs are always something she looks forward to
Personal Goal: She once jokingly stated she wants an EGOT, to write music for either a musical or a soundtrack for a movie, and she wants to start a family one day
Fun Fact: She's the only member of the band to act professionally so far. She featured on Little Mix's track "Touch" and was heavily encouraged by the boys to do this solo endeavor. She co-directed their "Lie To Me" music video. She claims to know Calum’s solos better than he does and has taken over during some shows when he's needed her to. She usually always does her own makeup before a show because it helps her center herself. She's written songs for multiple other artists, sometimes reportedly under a pseudonym
Gallery:
Tattoos:
This viral cover they did for the BBC Live Lounge that prominently showcased her vocals and Michael’s screaming technique, along with the entire bands harmonies, became famous within the fandom:
If someone told me 12 years ago that I would be about two feet away from @5sos I would not believe them. One of the best nights of my entire existence! 🖤 #Everyone’s A Star Tour
Sitting on the picnic blanket next to Ashton, you fidgeted with a blade of grass that you had plucked from the ground beside you. Your nerves were getting to you as you sat there, looking at Ashton and struggling to fight the urge to kiss him right then and there. He was talking about his music, and every time he did so, his face would light up brighter than ever, making it obvious that his relationship with music wasn’t just a job; it was an integral part of his life.
The only thing stopping you from kissing him was the fact that this was only the second date, and you had never been the one to initiate the first kiss. But the longer he went on talking, the more you wondered if maybe you had the confidence to ask.
“What’s on your mind?” Ashton asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.
“Oh, ugh, nothing really,” you responded, shaking your head slightly, embarrassed that he realized your mind was elsewhere. “I just can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”
Your cheeks turned a rosy hue, and one of his eyebrows raised as a smile played on his lips.
“Is that so?” He asked, leaning closer to you as one of his hands gently cupped your cheek.
“Uh-huh,” you nodded, fighting back the huge smile that was threatening to take over your features.
With that, Ashton’s mouth quickly connected with yours, and it only took about half a second to feel as if they were totally in sync with each other. His lips were softer than you imagined, and your heart raced so fast within your chest that you were almost certain that he could feel your pulse. Ashton, on the other hand, couldn’t feel anything but pure adrenaline coursing through his veins because he was so completely and utterly enthralled by the woman in front of him. He loved the way you tasted, the way your lips fit perfectly with his, and the way you weren’t entirely shy about what you wanted from him.
When you mentioned that you couldn’t stop thinking about kissing him, he was mildly shocked, because you weren’t necessarily the quiet type, but you were a tad bit shy, and he liked that about you. It balanced his energy out, and it was refreshing because most aspects of his life were so loud and in your face.
Plus, he couldn’t help but find the way that you said was one of the cutest things he had ever heard, especially when your face lit up with a blush, and it was obvious that you were incredibly flustered, even though you were the one who brought it up.
When your lips disconnected after a couple of minutes, in need of breath, you couldn’t stop a bright smile from appearing on your face. It was infectious because the second he saw your smile, he couldn’t help but do the same.
“You’re gorgeous,” Ashton said breathlessly, tilting his head to the side before his eyes began tracing every feature of your face.
“And you’re so hot,” you giggled, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, as butterflies erupted within your stomach.
“So, I take it you’d want to go on another date with me,” he spoke, leaning back on his hands, feeling the soft material of the picnic blanket against his skin.
“Uh, yeah, absolutely,” you responded playfully, this time making Ashton blush by planting a kiss on the side of his cheek.
summary: he was just a silly little crush that you had in high school, and you were sure that after graduating, you would be over it. so why is your heart beating fast as he sits next to you in your first class on your first day of college?
chapter summary: calum finally gets the chance to talk to you, but he thinks it may be too late.
pairing: calum hood x reader (gender-neutral)
genre: fluff, angst, classmates to friends to lovers au, college au
warning(s): cursing but what else would you expect from me, feelings, stubbornness oof, uhh small time skip that may or may not be mentioned, not beta read because i refuse to read--there will be mistakes but i really want to post this, jealousy, mentions of past toxic relationship, that's all i believe
word count: 9.6k 🧍♀️
a/n: after 4 (5? idk i can't count) years, the rejected rewrite is finally done! it should not have taken this long but uhh it did and i do not like that. this was definitely a journey and it wasn't exactly a fun one, but it was a journey nonetheless. honestly i found myself disliking what i wrote and wanting to scrap a chapter more than usual. i kept pushing through, however i realize that doing that isn't healthy and greatly hindered my writing process. life factors also prohibited me from writing freely, but what can ya do? now that this series is done, i'm looking forward to writing new things and maybe even expanding on who i write for. RPF is becoming more uncomfortable for me to write, but picturing said real person as a character and using their name and face as a placeholder is how i've been able to write then and now.
all in all, i am finally happy that this series is done. i don't see myself rewriting any other fics i've done in the past, however i may expand on some. i have lots of ideas written down that i want to turn into a story so we'll see where that goes. for now, enjoy!
happy new year to all, i hope 2026 brings you what you need along with good health, success, joy, and love. stay safe!
series masterlist! | main masterlist! | previous part!
You did not mean to open the text. You were trying to swipe out of a page on one of your shopping apps, coincidentally touching the upper left corner as the notification appeared. Now, you’re staring wide-eyed at the new text from Calum.
we should talk. face to face. there are things i need to say, specifically what i've been needing to tell you for a while. before the break. 10:49pm
You regret keeping your read receipts on for the sake of your family (because that was all they needed instead of a response sometimes). He knows you’re awake. He knows you read his message. Leaving him on read isn’t going to do any good, so you should reply.
But what do you even say? After barely speaking ten words to the guy, what do you do? And he wants to talk about the incident, too?
Seconds tick by and your nerves are all you’re focused on. A cold sweat breaking out down your back while your thoughts race with the possible outcomes of the upcoming interaction. But you don’t get the chance to dive in.
Your phone vibrates again as another message comes through.
i understand that this is unexpected but i need to get things off my chest. 10:51pm
sorry if this woke you up. if u don’t want to i understand. goodnight 10:52pm
You mull over his words, still trying to find the courage to respond, let alone the words. It’s pathetic that you can’t even give him a simple reply, letting your nerves get the best of you.
In the end, you leave him on read.
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When the three of you meet up again, Calum makes no effort to mention the texts. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t even look at you, nor does he talk to you. if Ashton noticed, he didn’t say a thing.
The ball is now in your court, it’s your turn to make the next move, but you struggle to do so. Rather, you’re embarrassed.
Not in the sense that he reached out or necessarily be the first to do so because honestly, deep down, you were hoping he would.
The issue, however, is that you never truly prepared yourself for what you were going to say. You knew how you felt about him and how his words made you feel. You know how you felt about the aftermath too. How you feel about Calum now though...the feelings have lingered. And they have only grown more during this project.
Ashton has done most of the talking, being the middleman in a tense-but-not-really situation. He brings both of you into a conversation, but Calum is the first to dip out.
Once the session ends, Ashton watched Calum saunter off, bidding a small ‘bye’ to what seems like no one as he fails to make eye contact with either of you.
You can feel Ashton’s eyes on you, and you know you’re going to answer some hard-hitting questions. You sigh, preparing yourself for the conversation, “What?”
“I think you know what.”
He hasn’t even packed his stuff, opting to essentially guilt you into staying and having a (hopefully good) chat. Usually, you’d all walk out together, ensuring everyone has a ride home and makes it safely to said ride.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You shrug, trying to be nonchalant. Ashton’s not buying it though. You sigh again, turning to face him fully, “Calum sent me texts last night.”
Ashton’s eyes widen slightly before returning to their normal size. He nods once, “What did he say?”
You pull your phone out from under your notebook, showing him the messages. Ashton is kind enough to not scroll through the thread (even though he so badly wants to, just to see what Calum’s been telling you – he's nosy when it comes to his friend’s love life). His eyes widen once more as he looks back up at you.
You gulp, already dreading staying to have this talk.
“You left him on read?” He asks incredulously, like it was the most sinister thing you’ve done.
“I know,” you groan, wincing when you remember that you’re still in the library. You lean back in your seat, arms crossed on your chest, “I just...I didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to say.”
Ashton nods knowingly. He’s sort of enjoyed this shy back and forth between you and Calum, but once he saw just how much it was affecting you both, it stopped being fun.
“What should I do?” You ask, moving your crossed arms to the table and leaning forward, tone soft with hints of doubt.
“Well, what do you want?” Your gaze shifts to him, confusion distorting your features.
You haven’t really thought about that, what you want exactly. What do you expect to come out of a rekindling with Calum? A friendship? Relationship? Maybe nothing at all?
All of the times spent thinking of Calum and what went down, you’re surprised to learn you really haven’t thought about that. Has he thought about that?
“Look,” Ashton says your name, placing a comforting hand atop yours, “both of you are clearly struggling. He’s trying to extend an olive branch, but knowing him, he’s not the best with his feelings. Sometimes he’ll read into something too much, while other times he’ll be oblivious.”
You raise an eyebrow – is Calum taking your lack of response as you not wanting to talk to him at all? That’s not what you intended, but looking at the big picture, that’s definitely what it looks like.
You want to talk to Calum, at least to get closure. You want a mutual understanding of the situation. You want to be friends with him. You at least want to go back to how it used to be. If the feeling is mutual, then you at least want to try, feel it out with him and see what it could be (and maybe all this will be worth it).
“Either respond,” Ashton’s voice shakes you out of our thoughts, “or talk in person. The longer this drags on, the worse it’ll get. You guys can’t keep beating around the bush day and and day out.”
You bite the inside of your cheeks. It feels like you’re being scolded by your parent for something you knew you shouldn’t have done but did it anyway.
You only offer a nod, making sure you’ve packed your stuff before standing up with him.
Walking out of the library together, Ashton pats your back reassuringly, giving you a gentle smile, “I’m your friend, too. Okay? If you need anything, let me know.”
“Okay.”
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You needed to sit yourself down and really think about what you wanted to say to Calum. That was the first step. You need to clearly and concisely get your thoughts out and your feelings in control. Emotions as well. Once you can do that, then you can seek Calum out for the talk.
It seemed easier in your head. It felt easier. Yet the second you saw him on campus, all the courage you built up was gone. Your brain shut down and went directly into fight or flight mode. Fight being to suck it up and go for it, disregarding any embarrassing consequences from not being fully pr4epared, whereas the flight aspect was to continue on with your day and avoid him at all costs (to you, it was the safest option, even if it’s in the short run).
Every time you saw him, it was flight mode. It got to the point that at the group session, Ashton took it upon himself to excuse himself so the two of you can finally talk. But you were unprepared.
Silence washed over the table. It was unnerving; the library was always quiet, as it should be, but it felt like there was a distant buzz, your ears straining to find any noise. Anything to help calm your nerves, to help occupy your mind.
But there’s nothing other than Calum’s soft breathing and his pen scribbling in his notebook.
“Hey, Calum?” You try, gently tapping your finger on the table next to his notebook to get his attention.
It doesn’t work.
You call his name again, albeit a bit louder, and you notice his hand freeze. “Can we talk?”
He keeps his head facing down, eyes stuck to where he was writing. Leaning back in his chair, he puts his pen down, “About?”
He’s being short with you. You understand why, and you admit it’s deserved. It doesn’t make it easier for you, though. As a matter of fact, it makes it harder for you to say what you want. Regardless, you have his attention now (at least, you think he’s paying attention), so there’s now going back.
You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you beg a higher power to help you, before slowly exhaling.
“I’m sorry,” you start, opening his eyes to watch his reaction, “I didn’t mean to leave you on read—”
“But you did.”
You falter at his interruption, nodding, “I did.”
Another uncomfortable silence forms, however this time, it carries a heavy weight. The shelves filled with books surrounding you two suddenly feel closer, bigger.
“I intended to reply,” you try again, swallowing before trudging on, “I really did. I just...” The words escape you and now you’re stuck.
Calum’s eyes finally move to meet yours. There’s a hint of indifference on his features that’s throwing a wrench into whatever you conjured up. He breathes out your name and now everything around you feels bigger. He leans forward, arms now crossed on the table with his focus completely on you. You’re shrinking.
“If you don’t want to talk, just tell me. Alright? I know what I did was bad. I was out of line and I didn’t pay attention to your feelings. And I want to apologize—actually apologize for it. But how can I when you’re doing this?” Calum gestures between the both of you, pausing to take another breath. “I get that I was an ass, okay? I do, fully understand. But I want to make an effort to fix it, to at least repair some of it if not all.”
“I told you, I meant to reply.”
“Yes, but we go to the same school. We’re classmates. We cross paths almost daily though you have been avoiding me any chance you get.”
So he’s noticed. Of course he’s noticed. Everyone could see it, honestly.
You sigh, feeling defeated. This is not how either of you wanted this conversation to go. It’s become rough, almost harsh; it feels too adult. Something you should be able to handle now that you’re in college, but even then, is anyone really ready for them?
“Calum,” you get out, putting your discomfort aside and hoping the space closing in on you opens back up. “I was embarrassed. You know? I opened myself up to you and told you how I felt. I’ve never done that before – it was so brand new to me. But I was so embarrassed when you did that.”
His eyes soften, and you can see a glimpse of the guy you had feelings for back in high school. It’s gone as quick as it appears.
“What I said was out of line. I know it was then and I still know it was now. I didn’t mean what I said.”
“But you still said it,” you mumble, knowing this conversation is going nowhere.
Calum mutters out your name in agitation, hands coming up to rub at his eyes before sliding down his cheeks.
He wants to apologize, but with the way this conversation turned, he cannot bring himself to do it. Both of you are emotional, there’s tension, both of you are too stubborn to say any form of an apology first.
It’s silent again. Neither of you are looking at each other. The murmurs of the other students fill in the gaps as you try to put together a sentence to bring the conversation back and under control.
A beat passes, “What is it that you wanted to tell me?” You finally look up at him, waiting for his eyes to meet yours before continuing. They drift to yours briefly before falling again, finding the patterns on the wooden table to be of interest. You swallow before pushing forward, “You said there were things you’ve been needing to tell me for a while. What is it?”
His eyes meet yours again, but this time they stay. You see an unfamiliar look in them, something you’re not used to with him at least. His eyebrows are creased slightly, eyes dancing between yours.
He’s trying to anchor himself; preparation to finally open up to you and share something he never thought he’d be able to do, specifically to someone he’s caught feelings for. He can feel it bubbling up, words tiptoeing on his tongue trying to sneak out before he can stop them.
And he doesn’t stop them. An inhale, mouth opening with his back straightening, “I wanted—.”
Calum is interrupted. The words quickly die on his tongue, eyebrows move to shoot up, mouth closing as he exhales.
“Hey Calum,” a girl, both familiar and unfamiliar to you, with her hand placed on his shoulder to get his attention, smiles down at him in greeting.
You feel like you’ve seen her before. Somewhat ringing a bell but the bell is broken. You see Calum’s eyes again, brief, before he turns to look at the girl.
“Sorry to bother you, but do you have the notes from two classes ago? I think I missed something important.”
Calum nods, taking out a notebook and flipping through the pages.
You can only sit in silence as their interaction unfolds. As you observe, though, realization hits you. It’s a vague recognition, but once she turns to look behind her at another group studying nearby (which you assume are her friends, noting how they all exchange smiles with each other as they watch her), you understand where you’ve seen her.
The girl you saw about to confess to Calum. The same girl he rejected. The one he asked for your help with.
She finally acknowledges you, but her expression is nothing but indifference. No friendly smile, no grimace, barely even neutral.
But you know, you know, that she’s still hurt from that rejection. You’re in her shoes, too. But unlike you she’s able to gain the confidence to talk to Calum despite the negative feelings that linger. She’s the bigger person between you two.
“Here,” Calum’s voice breaks the weird moment, “is this what you need?”
The girl skims over the notes, a sigh of relief falling from her lips with a smile, “Thanks. I’ll just get a quick picture and I’ll be on my way.”
Calum nods, sliding the notebook closer to her.
The chair besides you slides out before a body settles in. “Hey, what’d I miss?” Ashton whispers into your ear, noticing the guest next to Calum.
You shake your head, “Nothing important.”
Ashton notices the shift in demeanor between you and Calum but he doesn’t push it. Instead he settles on getting back to work, letting Calum finish up what he’s doing.
Calum, however, notices the shift. Heaviness settles in his chest; another opportunity gone to waste. At least this time he was able to make some progress, even if it didn’t get too far.
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Calum corners you the next day.
It’s cold and rainy outside, the wind making your nose cold to the touch and you so badly want to bring your sweatshirt’s collar up to the bridge of your nose. The desire to preserve any heat your body is creating to prevent it from getting sick is big, but not as big as the desire to find an escape route.
He catches you just outside of the library. It’s the middle of the day and you have one more class, so you hid out in the library to avoid the weather until it was time to get to your class. On your way out to make a dash for the building next door, he pops into view and immediately halts your attempt.
“Hey,” he addresses you, positioning his body to block you from getting away. His eyes keep you in place, not letting you look away. “We really need to talk. Honestly talk.”
The tone of his voice is enough to make you want to run, to bolt and go as far as your legs will let you. He’s not physically keeping you from doing it but the look on his face is telling you that the entire situation is bothering him as much as it’s bothering you.
So in response, you nod. Just a simple nod is enough for him as he mimics your nod before tilting his head to the side, referencing a building nearby. The weather is getting to him too, and he’s scolding himself for waiting outside to finally get you alone. (He won’t admit how long he was outside if you were to ask him, and he hopes you don’t ask how he knew where you were [it was 30 minutes with Ashton’s help].)
The building nearby thankfully has coverings between itself and the library so neither of you are greatly affected by the rain, and it’s also a good place to go to avoid the overzealous librarian (who doesn’t get many shifts, but when she does, most of the students avoid the library like the plague) and get some work done. It’s a student recreational building, but it’s mostly been used as a backup study area when the library gets too crowded. But now, it’s the place where you and Calum will have The Talk.
Once inside the building you realize how uncomfortable it’s become and how more uncomfortable it’s going to get. Despite that, though, you know you cannot keep backing out or putting off this much needed conversation. For the sake of both of your headspaces, along with Ashton’s and Jessie’s too, it is time for all of this to end and go back to normal. Or, at the very least, to have some normality.
“First,” he starts, gulping audibly, now struggling to keep his eyes trained on yours. At least the both of you are on the same boat. “I want to apologize for yesterday when Hannah interrupted us.”
Oh, that’s her name? At least now you can put a name to her face.
“I could’ve—no, should’ve—told her that I could send her a picture of the notes, or show them to her when we were done. I used that interaction to distract me, I guess. I’ve wanted to have this… ‘discussion’ with you since the break, but I could not bring myself to go up to you. It made things worse when you started avoiding me.”
You nod absentmindedly, feeling yourself clamming up but forcing any anxiety bubbling up to stay down. You can’t fault him for feeling like that, really. Someone needed to be the bigger person in this matter. While you wanted to hide under every pillow and blanket in your house to avoid this, Calum was working up the courage to get you alone to talk.
Confrontation has never been your strong suit.
He notes your silence. It doesn’t help him but it doesn’t stop him from continuing on either. He clears gus throat, nervously glancing around before locking eyes again. “So, after all that, we should stop beating around the bush and actually talk.”
You nod again, “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”
Calum grins but only for a moment. It’s fleeting, but it’s enough to make you feel butterflies—even after everything that’s happened, they’re still there.
He opens his mouth to speak again, but he stops himself, closing his mouth with a frown. His feet shift as his eyes drift to them. You can practically see the cogs turning in his head. He’s trying to form the next sentence, but his mind is jumping through different ideas. Only two choices come through clearly: apologize entirely, for everything from start to finish, or finally admit his feelings. He cannot decide which one would be the best option, but a voice of reason in the back of his head tells him the latter would be the worst.
Before he can spill the truth, you speak up.
“That day,” you should’ve cleared your throat, that sounded croaky, “that day, when I said all of that. I was open, Calum. I was vulnerable. And you threw it back in my face. You made me feel so…stupid.”
You see his jaw clench, knowing now you have full control of the conversation and most (if not, all) of your worries are slowly but surely fading. Now, it’s replaced by anger.
“I knew something was bothering you,” you continue, “and maybe the confession was poorly timed. But you had no right to put me down like that. That was humiliating.
“You could’ve done it gently. You could have simply told me that that was not the time nor place to do it. But now,” you scoff, feeling heat climbing up your back into your neck. Shaking your head, you look away from him, “I regret telling you how I felt. I regret even feeling like that.”
Oh, no. No, no, no.
Calum’s heartbeat increases, his eyes are shaking as he looks for any signs of you lying, or joing he hopes.
Do you not feel that way anymore? Did he take too long? Was he too late?
Fuck it.
“I like you!” he splutters out, surprising both you and him.
A long pause, a sniffle, then a mumble.
“Huh?”
Your eyes jump back to him, wide before narrowing. He’s mirroring your expression, though his cheeks and ears are reddened.
An audible gulp from Calum, “I—uh, I like you. Too, I like you, too, actually.”
Moments like this are when you miss Jess by your side. They’d nudge you, motioning you to say something and even drop a word or two to keep the conversation going to prevent it from getting awkward. Now, you’re silent; mouth open, eyes staring into his, confusion clouding your brain, possibly a slight ringing in your ears or maybe it’s the distant wind outside. Regardless, you have no words.
Calum once again takes in your silence, and once again he decides to continue talking.
“I know that this—” his hands come up to motion the space between you two, “—is all confusing and now my timing is probably bad, but I need to tell you that.”
You shake your head again, this time taking a step back. You need to leave, and you need to leave now. Not because you’re going to be late for your class—that’s no longer your priority—but because it feels like you’re being cornered. Overwhelmed as if a bomb was dropped and you have nowhere to hide.
Calum takes a step forward, panic in his voice, “I’m so sorry for how I handled your confession, and I’m so sorry for everything I said before it. I was just, in my head. I was so in my head to the point I was pushing away my feelings for everything; friends, family, love. I felt scared and I wasn’t winning the battle and I took it out on you when I should not have done that.
“I turned you down when I didn’t want to. I take full accountability for everything that lead up to this and I know I need to do better. And I will. But I want to try this. I want to try us.”
Still, you’re silent, but you don’t take another step back. You’ve dropped the eye contact, and your body language reads as if you were closed off, protecting yourself.
Another long pause, and he breaks it again.
“Say something…please.”
You can only shake your head, and it’s starting to break his heart.
“I’m,” you swallow, muttering, “I’m not interested.”
Now there’s a ringing in Calum’s ears. He’s frozen, watching you shrink seemingly shrink yourself before you turn on your heel, mumbling about how you can’t deal with this right now.
He can only watch you walk away and he’s beating himself up for it.
This was not how The Talk was supposed to go.
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You are a liar. A big liar. A big fat liar with your pants on fire.
At least that’s what Jessie is telling you on the phone.
Jess is loud, even after taking them off speaker and turning the volume down significantly.
You had immediately called your best friend as soon as you got home, as you should when your long-time crush confesses that they like you. As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted making the call.
“He finally said it!” They exclaim once more. “He finally reciprocated your feelings, so what’s the issue?”
You sucked in a breath, bracing yourself for another loud reaction. Closing your eyes with an exhale, pulling the upper part of your phone away from your ear just to mumble into the microphone (and save your eardrums), “I turned him down.”
You expected Jessie to yell, screech, scream—any other loud noise, really—but instead, you got the opposite. Complete and utter silence. You pull your phone away from your face to check the screen. The call was still going, neither of you hung up. You watched the seconds tick as the silence continued.
“Jess?” You question, checking your screen once more to see if you were muted.
“You’re joking,” they immediately respond, refusing to believe you rejected your own crush. “You have to be. This isn’t a big prank you’re playing on me, right?”
You sigh, bringing your free hand up to rub at your forehead. You were hoping they would be a little more understanding, all things considered. After telling them everything that went down with Calum from then to now, you presumed Jess would be on your side.
“Did you guys even talk? What happened with that?”
“We tried, or at least I tried, I guess.”
And you did try. The way the conversation took a turn was not necessarily unexpected, but you didn’t get to say what you wanted to say. What you needed to say.
“So?” They push further.
You sigh, again, “So, it just didn’t work. It was awkward and there was an interruption by this girl and it threw—”
Jess immediately cuts you off, “A girl? What girl?”
“Hannah was her name. She was the one who had this weird public confession to Calum. Reminded me of some cringe scene from a K-drama or something.”
“Someone’s trying to steal your man,” Jess snorts. But before you can criticize their remark they continue, “She saw you two talking and decided to butt in? Weirdo.”
You chuckle, “Jess,” you adjust your position in bed, laying down against your pillows. “But, yeah. The conversation was going somewhere, I don’t know where exactly though, and she comes along and just destroys the flow of things. Fast forward to today and he basically cornered me to talk. The talk was brief but I did get heated and he just..blurted it out.”
“And then you rejected him?”
You nod, closing your eyes as you replay the memory, “Yeah. I told him what he told me when I told him that I liked him.”
It’s Jess’s turn to chuckle now; this was not the same person they knew back in high school. Freshman-you would run from him as soon as he laid eyes on you. Sophomore-you would avoid him if he were to walk in your direction. Junior-you would stand frozen and silent when he confronted you, and senior-you would crumble and eat up what he said.
But this is college-you. You’re different now. You put your foot down, and in Jessie’s eyes, you got your pettiness from them. Still a little clueless at times but you’re getting there.
“But you’re lying, right? You still like him?”
This time, you’re silent, and it annoys you. After all of that, even before The Incident, you should not have feelings for him still. You were treated horribly, almost like an afterthought, but your heart still skipped a beat and your stomach fluttered with butterflies.
“So, you lied.” Jess bluntly states, and you can hear the smirk now.
“I guess so,” you mutter, followed by a groan, “but I had good reason!”
Jess hums, “Not really. I mean, you confessing to him was the catalyst right?”
“So this whole thing is my fault?”
“No, sweetie,” Jess’s tone shifts to a soft lilt. You recall hearing it when the conversations would turn serious, almost sympathetic. “I’m not pointing fingers at you alone. All of this culminated after things boiled over. Both of you are to blame and neither of you should keep this weird cat and mouse game going on.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, mulling over the silence as if finally dawns on you. This back-and-forth thing you and Calum have is childish. It’s not doing the two of you any good and it’s getting in the way of your school life as well. Avoiding him when possible even if it means you’d be late to class is regressing.
“You’re right,” You speak up, “you’re right and I hate it.”
“You can hate it all you want, but if you really want to prove me right, you need to act.”
“But how? How do I approach him and say what needs to be said?”
Jess hums again, “I’ll get back to you on that. For now, finish that project and get some rest. I can hear how tired you are.”
They sound reassuring, and you know they’re trying to steer any suspicions you may have of them. Jess knows that you know that they have something up their sleeve. But you’ve known Jess for years, you know when they’re plotting something. Usually you would sit back and enjoy whatever plan they had unfold. Now, however, you are nervous and you do not want anything to do with what they may or may not have concocted.
Regardless, you heed their advice and finish up the remainder of your project, sending the finished portion in an email to Ashton and Calum.
Laying in bed, you go over what you should say and what you could say. It’s gone as quickly as it comes as sleep overtakes you.
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You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. There’s a heat prickling in your lower back, trickling upwards towards your neck. You’re past nervous at this point. You’re one jab away from falling into a full blown panic.
Today was the due date for the group project, and your oh-so-lovely teacher decided it would be beneficial (“for all of us,” apparently, “would be easier to grade.”) to present the projects today as well. It only made things worse.
Today was also the day Jessie pushed you to have a Real Talk with Calum.
(“So help me, God, I will enroll myself and leash you two up and tie you to a pole if that’s what it takes,” they had said. Threatening? Yes. Helpful? Absolutely not. Plausible? To Jessie, no doubt about it.)
After you sent your finished portion of the project, you had expected Calum to not say anything. What you hadn’t expected was Ashton to be radio silent as well. It worried you.
What if they didn’t finish? What if they’re ignoring you (again)? What if they didn’t come today? This will surely affect your grade—.
A hand randomly appears in your face, waving before the face it belongs to comes into focus.
“Hey,” Ashton smiles once your eyes find his. “I was calling your name. You okay?”
You nod, feeling the heat travel to your face from your neck, “Yeah, I’m fine?”
Ashton continues smiling. If he notices your embarrassment, he says nothing. “Nervous?” A beat. “Same here, actually. I wish we didn’t have to present today. Kind of puts more pressure on us, huh?”
You offer a small smile. Does he know about what happened between you and Calum? He has to know by now, right? They’re best friends, extremely close so they must tell each other everything. It would be ridiculous—.
“I went over your portion, by the way.” He interrupts again. He knows when to stop your internal rambling, though you’re not sure if you’re grateful for that. “It was great. I’m sure you’ll get high marks. Better than mine, if I’m being honest.”
The air feels different. Good or bad, you can’t tell, but it’s definitely different.
And by the time the class rolls around, you’ve decided that the feeling was neither a good or bad thing. It was just plain odd.
Ashton had been finding you whenever he could. In the classes you shared, he would make it a mission to talk to you. When he saw you walking around campus, he’d cut whoever was talking to him off and head towards you. If you were talking to someone else, he’d interject, adding himself to the conversation (which no one found to be a problem; he was charming enough to do so).
You thought you were having a fever dream because no one else was seeing how odd this was. Ashton is a social butterfly, you know that, but he was really going out of his way to talk to you and you had no idea why.
Or, well, at least you think no one else is seeing it.
Calum was not a happy camper.
At first, he thought Ashton was being his usual self with how he floated around to talk to people. What struck him as odd was just how frequent it became and in such a short amount of time. He watched Ashton jog to the other side of a building just to chat with you. He watched him break a conversation to go and greet you. He noticed Ashton’s eyes bouncing around to find you, and when he did, he’d head to you and leave Calum alone.
Calum did not explicitly tell Ashton that he told you he liked you. He bounced around it when Ashton noticed his mood shift, not intending to be vague but doing so only to avoid the looks of pity. He didn’t want to drag Ashton further into the mess.
That doesn’t mean Ashton doesn’t know Calum likes you—he knows, he remembers the realization the both of them had. Ashton knows, and Calum feels like he’s being mocked. Ashton freely talking to you like there’s no issue, like his best friend isn’t having this internal conflict, like there’s nothing wrong.
He’s annoyed, frustrated. With whom, though, he’s not exactly sure. He’s frustrated with himself for all that’s happened and how he’s handled things. Every time he thinks it couldn’t get worse, it does, and he does nothing to prevent it. But he’s also not sitting well with how Ashton’s acting.
The thoughts come creeping in again. You don’t like Calum anymore, and now you’re going to fall for his best friend. You said you weren’t interested in Calum, is it because you have eyes for Ashton? Ashton’s friendlier than Calum, he has this air around him that make him approachable. Maybe that’s what you want?
The memories he worked so hard on to get rid of, the ones that held him in a stronghold for years and prevented him from what he really wanted, all of it was starting to resurface. Calum was doing so good, and now he thinks it’s gone to waste. Maybe Sheila was right.
Calum is on autopilot by the time he reaches English. He doesn’t look for you or Ashton as he takes a seat in his usual spot. Instead, his eyes are downcast, his bag placed in front of him as he fiddles with the dangling zipper.
He doesn’t notice when you come in, how you look in his direction before taking your seat away from him. He also doesn’t notice Ashton following in after you, setting his stuff down next to Calum before walking towards your seat. He also misses the mischievous glint in Ashton’s eyes.
When the professor announces that presentations will start after making sure everyone is accounted for, Calum doesn’t move. He doesn’t flinch when Ashton comes back, guiding you to the empty seat on the other side of Calum before occupying the seat where his stuff lay.
“I hope we’re not first,” You mumble low enough for the other two to hear before taking a sip of water from your tumbler.
Ashton responds quickly, “I’m sure we’ll be fine. If we go first, we won’t have to worry about topping the previous presentation. Besides, we’ll also be able to sit back and relax once we’re done. Right, Cal?”
Calum is still silent, eyes focused on a new part of his bag. Ashton nudges his side to get his attention.
It’s a late reaction. A reaction that furrows your eyebrows but makes Ashton smirk.
“Huh? What’d you ask?” Calum finally speaks, his eyes leaving his bag to look to his right where Ashton sits, leaning to his side on the table.
“Ignore what I asked,” Ashton readjusts, smirk gone, “are you feeling alright?”
Calum nods, sparing a glance at you (who seemed as concerned as Ashton—of course you’re picking up each other’s mannerisms—but unlike Ashton, you look away at the eye contact) before he clears his throat. A sniff, “I’m fine. Just, um, nervous about the, uh, project and stuff.”
“Well,” Ashton smiles, patting Calum’s shoulder, “no need to be worried. The writing portion is fantastic, thanks to you—” Ashton nods at you, “so that should save us from the worst of it.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Calum can see you smile sheepishly.
Is he…Is Ashton flirting? With you? Right in front of him?
Ashton is brave, he’ll give him that for sure, but dammit, right now? The memories try to claw their way through, but a newfound anger prevents it from reaching the surface. He doesn’t let the anger show, instead he broods.
The three of you end up presenting first, at Ashton’s insistence of course. Ashton kept true to his word and let you do minimal talking while he and Calum did the most. You spoke up when needed and by the end felt relief with the look on your professor’s face.
“I told you!” Ashton’s smile is infectious, “We did great, and going first takes the weight off of our shoulders.”
You smile back, feeling lighter and less stressed than you were when you woke up. Calum, though, remains the same: brooding, the corner of his lips slightly tilted downward.
It was starting to eat at you. You know it has something (really, everything) to do with you and it makes you feel worse. You wanted to talk to him about everything but you can feel his emotions oozing out of him. It makes you nervous and you don’t want to talk to him at all.
Another group presents after you. The three of you follow along through the end, and once they finish Calum asks to go to the bathroom. Once given the OK he leaves without a word to either of you. You move to the new empty seat, offering a closed lip smile as an opener.
“Is he okay?”
“Cal?” Ashton responds, “I’m sure he’s fine.”
You bit the inside of your left cheek, looking at the door Calum left through.
“You concerned, huh?” Ashton nudges your side like he did to Calum earlier.
You shake your head quickly, stopping when you see his eyebrow lift. You sigh then, “I mean, he’s been a little off today. Seems moody, like one wrong move and he’s pissed.”
Ashton only shrugs, turning his attention to the front as the next group is called.
It starts eating at you as the group presents. Your focus shifts from them to the door. You’re not listening to what they’re saying, probably something about the issue with modernized publications of old books, you just know they’re talking while your ears are trained on the sound of the door potentially opening.
You tap Ashton’s arm, leaning towards him to whisper, “Do you think it’s because of me?”
“I’m not sure,” he whispers back, “did you do something?”
You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out. You see Ashton turn his head to look at you before turning back to the group.
“I—maybe, I don’t know.”
You do not sound confident, and with the way Ashton shifted in his seat you can tell he also knows that. When the group finishes with their presentation, he turns back to you.
“You can tell me, you know. We’re friends.”
So he doesn’t know what happened. Calum didn’t tell him. This was not a fitting topic to discuss during class.
“Listen, Jessie told me what happened,” Ashton starts.
You blink once, twice, trying to put pieces together. Your eyes jump to your professor, then to the door, back to the professor, and finally back at Ashton.
“They told me what you said—”
“Jess told you?” You interrupt.
“Yeah, even though we dated briefly we still keep in touch. They’re a good friend, promised to help me out with some outfits.”
You’re silent, finally putting the pieces together. Jessie’s little plan you thought was suspicious may be in play now. With how Ashton has been acting, their connection; there’s no doubt they’ve started working together. When exactly, you’re not sure.
“Look,” he lowers his voice, “I understand why you said what you said. I’d do it too if I was in your shoes. But, I need you to really, really sit down and talk to Calum. If you don’t have feelings for him anymore, then fine, it is what it is. If you do still have feelings for him, for our sake, fix this.
“He likes you more than he’d like to admit. He was beating himself up over that day, he was sulking and I wouldn’t doubt that he was calling himself every name in the book. He doesn’t always go for what he wants because of what happened in high school. He’s trying now. He’s still burdened but he’s trying.”
You clench your jaw, heat forming around your eyes before they start feeling wet. You’re not going to cry, not now, not in front of Ashton, not in class. But you can feel the tears forming before you can blink them away.
“Don’t tell him I told you this,” Ashton continues, “but back in high school, he spoke highly of you. During your projects he’d boast about having a ‘smart and competent’ partner. Few of the guys would tease him about it, say he’s developing a crush. He’d turn so red, but I don’t think he ever denied it. Just tried changing the topic, bounce around it if we kept pushing it. I don’t think he realized he actually liked you until recently, but I think he’s liked you longer than that.”
The heat travels from your eyes to your face and down your neck. Before you can respond, or attempt to really, another group is called to present.
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Calum doesn’t return until class lets out. He’s quick to get his stuff and walk back out, ignoring you and Ashton. Ashton could only sigh and offer a reassuring pat on the back.
For the rest of the day, you tried to think about you can get Calum alone to have The Real Talk, For Real This Time. He was seemingly avoiding you, not so much Ashton since he stuck to Calum like a tick. When you tried to get his attention, it only worked on Ashton.
Ashton thought he needed to step in. It was dumb, and probably will make things worse, but it needed to be done.
He convinced Calum to sit in the backseat of his car, saying they were going to have a chat about what’s gone down. He led him to the car, told him to wait inside while he acted like he forgot his phone somewhere before heading back towards campus.
When the other door opened up, Calum was shocked to see you take the seat next to him. You mirrored his expression, having no time to hop back out as the door is closed.
“You guys are talking this out now,” Ashton’s voice is muffled as he speaks, “I’m not going to sit around and watch you two look like kicked dogs. Talk.”
You and Calum say nothing. He reaches for the door handle, but nothing happens.
“I enabled child lock on the doors. So, talk. I’ll be here.”
Calum groans loud enough for Ashton to hear, and Ashton’s chuckle as a response makes him deflate.
“Son of a bitch actually tricked us,” he scoffs, “I can’t lie. I’m impressed.”
You laugh, “When I’m out of here, I’m giving him and Jess a stern talking to.”
“Jess? Jessie has something to do with this?”
You hum, nodding while playing with your phone case.
“Why am I not surprised.”
A silence grows, uncomfortable at first until it settles into something sad, soft.
“He’s right, though,” you start, keeping your eyes on your lap. You see Calum’s head turn to look at you. You continue, “All of this… it’s tiring. We’re adults now, and we’re acting like teenagers.”
Calum sighs, “You’re right. I almost feel bad for Ashton, having to be in the middle of all this.”
“I’m grateful for Jess, you know, for being around and listening to me groan on and on about problems I have. But I also feel bad that they had to sit there and watch, or listen I guess, to all this unfold.”
Another silence, not as uncomfortable but still sad.
“I’m sorry.”
You finally look up at Calum, his eyes staring into yours. Sadness swirls in them along with another emotion you aren’t quite familiar with. But the look he has, it sends you back to high school. The way he’d walk around with that look after more rumors went around about Sheila. Shoulders drooping, a crease in his brows, eyes downcast trying to avoid the looks that he was so used to.
“Cal—”
He holds a shaky hand up to cut you off, “No, I—fuck—I need to say this. I’m so, so sorry about everything. The way I was treating you before and after your confession was horrible. There’s no one to blame but me. Everything I said that day was terrible, and when my emotions get the best of me I can’t keep them in. I’ve kept my emotions in for so long and I hate it.
“What Sheila did to me was hard to manage and hard to fix. I had to dig deep just to feel any sort of positive emotion, especially when it came to crushes or, love in general. The negative thoughts would cloud my judgment and, in order to protect myself, I would try to force those thoughts onto others so I wouldn’t feel alone in it. It’s unhealthy and I’m trying to do better, trying to be better.
“After you left, I,” he takes in a deep breath, “I tried to figure out the exact moment where I went wrong. I thought back to when Hannah confessed, and all I could think…all I could think about was you. In that moment, what if it was you confessing to me instead of her? I mean, if that was you, I wouldn’t have turned you down in that moment, I don’t think. But, it made me realize that because it wasn’t you, I had to turn her down and at the same time, realize my own feelings. And I wasn’t ready for that.”
He feels a lump forming in his throat, his nose flaring.
His breath shudders as he continues, “I tried to push the feelings down, bottling up my emotions once again. When you confessed, it all just boiled over. I wanted that—I wanted you—but I didn’t have the courage to fight those thoughts. That night, I was beside myself. I thought back to how you looked and the tears and pain, and I tried to let my guard down and let the negative thoughts consume me, as punishment.
“But I kept finding light when it came to you. It was something I longed for, specifically back in high school when things started going dark. I found solace in the projects I did with you because you didn’t judge me, you didn’t throw how I felt about things back in my face—you were real, you were grounding. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I needed that, and I think I was too blind to realize it.
“I realize it now, though. I realize that, throughout everything, I want to have you near me. I want to make you happy and be the person I wanted when I was with Sheila. No more negative thoughts, no more bottling up my emotions and pushing them away.”
Calum’s voice is watery, any attempt at keeping his emotions in are gone. “I’m just—I just—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. I like you. A lot. I think I’ve been lying to myself lately. I want you, and I’m sorry.”
He finishes, and only now notices your teary eyes, along with the tear streaks cascading down your cheeks.
“I’m sorry for all the times I’ve made you cry, and if I could I would go back and turn your tears of sadness into joy, into laughter and just…just remove all of the negative emotions I gave you. I’m sorry.”
It’s his turn to cry, and he lets the tears fall. He does nothing to stop the flow, and for once, he finally feels normal. He’s wearing his heart on his sleeve for the first time in a long time. For once, he feels no shame, no guilt with his emotions.
You haven’t said anything. Wind, cars, the occasional settling of the car, the trees; everything but the one thing he wants. He sits firm, letting the silence between you two envelop the car. Letting you think over his words.
You remain silent, but your hand rises to cup his left cheek, thumb gently wiping at the tears.
He leans into it, bringing his hand up to hold your wrist. He swallows, “Please. Please tell me your feelings haven’t changed. Please tell me that you and Ashton don’t have feelings for each other. That you still like me as much as I like you.”
You laugh wetly, bringing your other hand up to wipe the other cheek. Calum closes his eyes, relishing in the newfound warmth. His heart beat increasing, weight starting to lift itself off of his shoulders. It’s a feeling that’s new, but familiar. It’s akin to seeing someone or something you didn’t realize you had been missing. He wants to hold onto this feeling forever.
“Yes, I still like you,” you breathe out, “No matter how hard I tried to get over those feelings, I still kept coming back to them.”
“Oh, thank God,” Calum sighs, bringing his free hand to your other wrist, lips ghosting over it.
The moment is shattered by a noise outside, forcing Calum’s eyes open and directly falling on Ashton’s face in the window behind you. A goofy smile graced his face, but dropped when he caught Calum’s eyes. Ashton quickly stands back up, stepping away from the car again to give you two some more privacy.
“We’ll never hear the end of this, will we?” Calum asks, his hands moving to cup your cheeks to wipe at your own tears.
“With the two of them in our lives? Never.”
Calum smiles, bringing your head forward to place a kiss on your forehead. An apology is whispered before another kiss is placed.
You break apart and turn around to knock on the window to get Ashton’s attention.
“All good?” He asks, giving a thumbs up as he approaches.
Calum returns the thumbs up, giving you a smile before the door is opened.
Once you’ve stepped out, Calum grabs your hand before giving Ashton a look.
“What else have you been planning?”
Ashton’s smile widens, “If this didn’t work out I was going to have Jessie come and lock you two in their work van. No AC and no light.”
“Stupid idea,” you shake your head.
“Agree,” Calum deadpans, “it would not have worked. Would’ve made things worse.”
“Okay,” Ashton spreads his arms before they slap on his thighs, “so we’re not great with planning. At least this worked, right?” He motions to your intertwined hands, “It’s good now.”
“Not quite,” Calum replies, looking at you once more, “we still have some more talking to do. Lots more, really. But, we know where we stand.”
You nod, squeezing his hand. You look back at Ashton, “Thanks for being an ear and shoulder. To the both of us.”
“Of course. Like I said, we’re friends now.”
“Speaking of,” Calum points his finger at Ashton, “what was with you doing everything you can to talk to—“
“All part of the plan, Cal,” Ashton happily interjects, smiling as he recalls how jealous Calum seemed to get when he’d run off to get your attention.
“So you don’t like them?”
Ashton scoffs, “No, man. Why would I want to steal your crush?”
You laugh, and Calum’s flushed red.
Ashton revels in his best friend’s embarrassment, “You’ve been pining for a while. I had to listen to and watch you mope around about this situation. If I didn’t act odd, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Thank you again, Ashton.”
Ashton nods in response, giving the both of you a small smile before getting in his car.
Calum leads you away towards his car. His palm is sweaty and he prays that you can’t feel it. And you don’t, because yours is starting to feel clammy as well. You pull away at the same time as him.
“Do you—um,” Calum clears his throat, “do you need a ride? We can go somewhere and talk about…all of this. Or at least, open the door and start talking about it.”
A new, vaguely familiar voice speaks up in Calum’s head when you smile back up at him. A voice he hasn’t heard since middle school, one that was comforting, that helped him make the right choices. It’s the same voice that was shut out entering high school. It’s older now, more experienced, but still gives Calum the same hope. Unlike his time with Sheila, however, he plans to have full control. No more bottling up his emotions, no more shutting people out, no more pretending. He pledges to be honest with himself. If he wants to be treated the way he wished he was treated with Sheila, he needs to be upfront.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
He grins, exhaling the breath he held onto when he asked.
“We can stop by the coffee shop, too. Luke says he made a new drink and needs customers to say they like it to put it on the menu.”
“Sounds concerning,” You pretend to think about it, finger on your chin as you look towards the sky. “Why not.”
Calum laughs, shaking his head as he unlocks the doors. He reaches for the door handle at the same time as you, “I’ve got it.”
You blush—eyes down, smile on your face before you can stop it, warmth in your cheeks. Calum takes great pride in knowing he’s now the cause for it and will be the cause for a while at least.
Before he shuts the door, Ashton pulls up with the window down. A quick honk and he calls out for Calum, “Be honest with each other. No secrets, no lying, just complete truths. You’ll go far like that.”
He gives Calum a look that you don’t understand, but between the two of them, it’s an unspoken promise.
Ashton waves before driving off. Calum turns back to you with a small smile, nodding once before shutting the door. He jogs to the driver side and gets in, a comfortable silence settling in as he starts the car.
“He’s right,” Calum speaks softly over the hum of the car, “and I owe him. I’ll tell you every single thing that happened with Sheila, even if it hurts.”
You shake your head, “Don’t force yourself. Move at your own pace. As long as your being honest, and as long as you’re trying, I’ll wait.”
“I’d rather not have you wait anymore,” he looks at you, waiting for his turn at the stop sign, “but I hear you. I appreciate that.”
There’s a lot to be said. Questions to be asked and answered, more apologies to be given, explanations needed. But this is a small start. Feelings are known, and need to be navigated to avoid any unnecessary pain like before.
It’s not an easy path and Calum knows that. But, he’d rather trek down that path than sit and wait for something to change. If he wants change, he has to act.
And so, he is. Searching for your hand as you two wait in line, caressing it as Luke babbles on about his “cool” concoction (it’s terrible), watching you match Luke’s energy. He takes the initiative in the first big conversation, prepared to lay it all out on the line.
You don’t shy away, either. You listen intently, eyes staying on his and his hand movements, squeezing his hand from across the table when he starts to falter.
This is what he needed back then. Now that he’s found it, he’s looking forward to love and relationships. Something that seemed like a dream, a fairytale, nonexistent—it finally exists. All thanks to you.
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a/n 2: this is the official end! i did not mean to have a gap of almost a year between part 8 and part 9. wish things were easier so this would've been done earlier but regardless, here we are! thank you for reading, i look forward to new writings! 🩵
