5SOS one shots (boys x Reader)


79. Aftermath

He feels nothing but anger, is the thing. Anger and frustration and annoyance and every other emotion in that category. His vision is blurred by a red haze that makes everything blurry.


But when the door slams— his vision clears. His eyes dart around the room. Nothing’s damaged. Nothing’s been thrown in anger. Nothing’s broken.


Except— there is something that’s broken, isn’t there?


His goddamn relationship. Because the door had slammed, and Calum barely even noticed until that moment that the door slamming was Y/N storming out the door, letting the door slam louder than he thought possible behind her.


What’s fucked up is that he doesn’t even remember what they were arguing about. He knows how it ended. A tremendously asshole-ish thing for him to say, something that he’d thought about maybe once before the fight, only to dismiss aforementioned thought because he trusted her.


But he’d said it anyway. He said that she could damn well be cheating on him with a different person every time he left on tour, and he would never find out because he’s never in the same fucking place as her for longer than a few months.


The only other things he knows for sure about the argument that they’d had was that it stemmed from something small, and then it was just accusations being thrown left and right and then— she walked out.


And she’s never walked out after an argument before, because they’ve never actually had an argument before. They’ve never fought. Not once, in the entire duration of their relationship.


Calum knew it was coming. The Big Fight. He hasn’t been in a serious relationship before—this one with Y/N being his actual first—but he knows that fights are a thing. They will happen, no matter how much he loves her, and how much (he hopes) she loves him.


Because the fights are actually what make the relationship stronger. Or so he’s heard.


Personally, Calum thinks it’s fucking bullshit. Because— now that they’ve had their first fight and Y/N’s walked out with tears in her eyes, what the fuck is he supposed to do?


There was no fucking way she’d pick up any calls from him, let alone answer a text from him. He hadn’t a clue where she’d go; because she might’ve gone to a safe space for herself, or she might’ve gone to a friend’s place. He wouldn’t know where to look.


She could be anywhere. She could be with a friend, crying, and ranting about him. And aforementioned friend could damn well be telling her that their relationship wasn’t worth it because of how the whole fucking fight started from something so petty and insignificant that Calum doesn’t even remember it.


She could be alone— thinking of ways to leave him.


His insides clenches at that. Just the thought of it is making him nauseous. Because— he can’t lose her. Not Y/N. Not her. She’s the only thing that manages to keep him afloat when he feels like he’s drowning, the only type of air he wants to ever breathe in.


She’s the moon and the sun and the stars and he is nothing but an insignificant speck of dirt compared to what she is, and she deserves someone who isn’t him, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to pull through a single day, knowing that his stupidity was the reason behind her not being his anymore.


Because the fact of it is simple— he loves her. He loves Y/N so fucking much that it’s inconceivable and probably unhealthy, but he loves her so goddamn much that if she leaves him, after this one fight that ended in her storming away with tears in her eyes, he doesn’t think he would ever be able to forgive himself— let alone would he be able to even try to get over her; especially after he knows that he’d made the most important person in his life cry with the harsh venom of whatever words he’d thrown at her.


He’s an idiot. He’s a fucking idiot.


He’s going to lose her. She’s going to leave him because of how Calum’s so fucking stupid. She’s going to leave because she’ll realise that she doesn’t need to wait around for him. That she shouldn’t need to wait around for him. She’ll realise that she could have anyone that she wanted, and that their relationship which was really just him being gone for three-fourths of it was nothing and that she deserves so much better.


And Calum’s going to be alone— with a broken heart and a shattered mind because he won’t be able to comprehend anything properly afterwards because  she’s the only other person who can help him settle his mind when he drifts off and has his bad days and—


Calum’s vision has gone blurry. His chest hurts. God his chest hurts. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe— can’t inhale properly. His mind’s racing and he’s trying so hard to get air into his lungs but he can’t, goddammit.


His hands go to clutch at his t-shirt; like that’ll help. Maybe he can claw through his skin. Manually put the oxygen into his lungs. Is that how breathing even works? Fuck— he doesn’t even know because he cannot breathe.


His mind vaguely registers the sound of the door opening, and he thinks he makes a sound, but— he might’ve just whimpered, or made an equally pathetic sound.


Then there are hands on him. Hands on his upper arms, a voice telling him to breathe, to take in deep breathes and exhale slowly. I’m trying, he tries to say, but nothing comes out. Everything is still blurred and his cheeks are wet but he can’t stop crying, can’t start breathing properly.


Whoever it is starts to move him. He doesn’t even know when he got on the floor. But now he’s half leaning against a wall, until they position his legs so that his knees are bent and then they’re gently pushing his head between them. His arms go to hug his knees by instinct. He listens to the voice telling him to breathe, to slowly count to ten, to breathe, goddammit, but his mind doesn’t want to listen because— in amongst all the fuzziness, Y/N is still so fucking prominent in his thoughts and the only thing he can think about is how she’s going to leave him and he’s going to have to watch the girl that he’s so fucking in love with walk away from him because he knows that that’s what’s best and—


“Calum. Calum, please. I need you to listen to me. You’re okay. Or— you will be okay, I swear. You will. Just—breathe. Please, Cal. I’m gonna count to ten, alright? Think you can count with me?”


Calum thinks he manages a jerky nod, not once lifting his head. He still doesn’t know who it is that’s talking to him. Could be his sister, could be one of his band mates, could be either one of his parents. He doesn’t know.


They start counting, slowly. Calum forces himself to focus on their voice, and not the demons in his head.


Things settle in his mind and his heart starts to slow down in his chest by the time whoever it is that’s in front of reaches five. By six, he can breathe like he normally would. By seven, he thinks the world stops spinning. By eight, he registers that it’s a male voice that’s talking to him. By nine, he looks up, eyes clenched shut as he tilts his head back to rest against the wall behind him before peering them open.


Michael looks back at him— wide eyes trained right on him, terrified beyond belief, lips parted. He looks like he doesn’t dare blink as he just looks at Calum— like he’s afraid that if he blinks, Calum will start freaking out again.


Truth is— Calum’s still freaking out. Because the only thing he can think about is how Y/N’s going to leave him, how she’s probably actually already broken up with him because of how she’d walked out, and how he’s going to have to pick up the million different shards of his heart but still love her with every tiny piece because she’sY/N and he doesn’t think he will ever tire of her, nor will he ever stop loving her.


“Okay?” Michael asks, softly, like he’s afraid that he might spook Calum if he speaks any louder. Like Calum’s a scared animal in the zoo and Michael’s trying to keep him calm.


Calum peers back at him, lips parted. I’m fine, he wants to force himself to say, because he’s never been one to talk about feelings and shite. But— this is Michael.


So he shakes his head, and with a croaky voice that he doesn’t even recognise to be his own; he says— “I fucked up, Mikey. I fucked up.”

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