5SOS one shots (boys x Reader)


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43. Let Her Go

“Jesus Christ,” Luke mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes so hard that it almost looks comical. He shifts his narrowed gaze unto Y/N then, who’s just looking back at him, completely unimpressed and with a raised eyebrow. “You’re overreacting.”   

 

Y/N’s eyes widen and her eyebrows rise in disbelief, “I'm overreacting? Me? Your girlfriend – who just fucking sat there as you chatted some other girl up right in front of me?”   

 

Luke snorts, “I wasn't flirting with her, Y/N. Christ, you’re being so… so…”   

 

“So…?” She mocks, crossing her arms across her chest. “C'mon then. Enlighten me, yeah?”   

 

“You’re being so fucking stupid, and clingy, and fucking irritating,” Luke spits out, lips stretching into this smile that’s way too fucking sinister and humourless to even be considered a smile. “I was just talking to her, and, like. Fuck. You're my girlfriend. That’s enough, ‘innit?”   

 

Y/N chokes out a mirthless laugh, “So say if I did the exact same thing, you’d be alright with it, yeah? Wouldn’t get mad and shit if some bloke gave me his number and I took it and then paid more attention to him than to you?” She stares at Luke, expressionless. Luke’s silent, jaw clenching. “Because, you know, you’re my boyfriend. That’s enough, 'innit?” She mocks.    

 

“I didn’t take her number, mate,” is all he says, and Y/N laughs, shaking her head in amusement (also probably in disbelief he called her mate and the fuck kind of boyfriend calls their girl mate?).   

 

“I’m not blind, Luke. I saw her slip you her number. And when we left, you said you were going to the toilets?” She asks rhetorically. “Yeah, I saw you go up to her. Save her number in your phone and shite. S'not like I fuckin’ matter at all, yeah? All I ever was to you was a good chase, right? You only wanted me because I didn’t want you. And now that we’re together, you’re not bloody interested anymore. That’s just it, 'innit? And don’t even try to fuckin’ deny it because we’ve only been together for a few months and this isn’t the first bloody time you’ve hit on someone else whilst I’m right there.”   

 

Luke says nothing. Because there’s nothing he can say.    

 

“Go fuck yourself, mate,” Y/N says finally, shaking her head and blowing out a breath. Then she's walking out the door, slamming it shut behind her.    Something tells Luke that she’s not coming back.    

 

And he’s okay with that.   

 

Well you only need the light when it’s burning low

Only miss the sun when it starts to snow

Only know you love her when you let her go

 

He realises, with time, that he’s not okay. He realises that Y/N’s brought this constant light with her, into his life, and now that she’s… not there, the light’s gone. It’s just vanished – poof, gone – like a magic trick. Everything’s just. Dark. It’s dark. It’s always dark, even when the sun’s rays are seeping through the windows and landing on his sheets. And it’s only been a few months, a few months that he’s had with her and God. He never realised how much better she made him feel, all the time.    

 

And she said that all she ever was to him was a good chase, and in that moment of time, Luke actually agreed. That’s just the problem, 'innit? It started out like that, yeah, because he's Luke Hemmings from 5 Seconds of Summer and he should be able to get any girl he wants, but then comes this girl. She didn’t want him, and for fuck's sake, Luke wanted her so badly. So he chased, and chased, and didn’t give up until she was finally, finally, his. It stopped being about the chase at some point and he doesn’t even know when, but all he knows now is that he’s fucked up. All of it, he’s fucked up.    

 

It’s not a thing he realises over one night. Hell no. It took time, but he realised it in the end.    

 

It was the little things at first. Like the warm body he’d usually roll into, maybe accidentally kick, in the night. Like the way she’d groan in pain if he’d kicked her, proceed to try and clamber on top of him just so he’ll stop hitting her in his sleep (“I’m not doing it on purpose, I’ve got long limbs!” “You also talk a lot so please shhh, and go back to sleep, babe. And if you kick me again, I’m kicking you back.” “I’m not doing it on – ” “Luke.” “… I’ve got long legs, okay, goodnight.”) and stay cuddled up to him for the entirety of the night, leaving Luke to wake up with a slightly sore body but the sappiest of smiles on his face. Like the way he finally realised that whenever she smiled, whenever she laughed, his heart fucking fluttered in his chest, something hammered against his ribcage so hard that he’d get paranoid about people being able to hear it.

And then it was the big thing. The one big thing. Huge thing.    

 

The thing being that him realising that – Luke loves her.  That he’s so fucking in love with her, with Y/N,  and Luke’s probably been in love with her this whole time, though he’s not used to feeling so deeply over someone over such a short period of time that he just, sort of, ignored it. Shoved it aside, left to be dealt with later.    

 

It’s later. He’s only now uncovering the feelings he’d discovered/realised (what feels like) lightyears ago, and fuck, okay. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, because Luke’s realised that he’s completely, irrevocably, ridiculously, stupidly, some other word with the '– ly’ behind it, in love with Y/N and she’s gone because. Because he’s a right idiot. That’s the reason, 'innit? Because he’s an idiot who didn’t realise that he had this girl – this perfect, beautiful, intelligent, amazing, perfect girl – that he was so, so in love with, and he let her go.   

 

Staring at the bottom of your glass

Hoping one day you’ll make a dream last

But dreams come slow and they go so fast

 

You see her when you close your eyes

Maybe one day you’ll understand why

Everything you touch surely dies

 

“Alright?” Luke glances up, eyes landing on the bartender who’s eyeing him a bit warily. Maybe concerned, too. Fuck if Luke knows. He’s too distraught for this shit. “Mate?” He speaks again, and Luke gives him proper attention, humming in acknowledgement. “Alright?” He repeats.    

 

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” he mumbles, nodding idly. He’s not, though – alright. He’s not.    

 

“Right,” the bloke says slowly, nodding once. “Well, um. Sorry, yeah, but we’re closing. So. You’re gonna have to, – ” he trails off, gesturing towards the door.   

 

Luke startles. Closing? His glassy eyes finally land on the wall clock hanging behind the bar. It’s half four in the morning. Huh. He hadn’t even realised it. Hadn’t even drunk much, to be honest. Like, two shots, and then a beer, and he’s got a clear glass with clear liquid in his hand now; forgot what drink was it. And two bottles of water, which really just made the drinking a fruitless attempt at trying to feel better about himself.    

 

He stares at the bottom of the glass, as though something will tell him that things will eventually be, like, good again. Okay again. Fine again. But there’s nothing. So he downs the rest of the liquid, pulls out a couple of bills and with a nod towards the bartender, he’s out the doors. Truth was that, well. He can’t sleep. He can’t sleep because his dreams are filled with Y/N, Y/N, Y/Nand they’re so fucking vivid that he jolts awake with a smile because he thinks that him fucking up was just some (horrifyingly) realistic nightmare, but. But then she’s not next to him, is she? And he realises that, no, Luke, you really fucked it up. You fuck everything up.

 

Staring at the ceiling in the dark

Same old empty feeling in your heart

'Cause love comes slow and it goes so fast

 

Well you see her when you fall asleep

But never to touch and never to keep

Luke exhales deeply, head tilting back to rest against his pillow as his gaze is diverted to the ceiling. It’s bare, so bare, there’s nothing to stare at but it’s like there’s a movie playing anyway because his mind’s reeling and his heart feels hollow and it just. It’s shit. This feeling’s so fucking shit, and there’s really nothing he can do to stop feeling so empty.    

 

He fell for Y/N. Fell for Y/N like the first rain drop that comes after a drought, slowly. Fell for her like how the rest of the following drizzles come, and then it’s pouring rain, and he’s fallen completely in love with this beautiful girl and he doesn’t even realise it. It came so slow and it just… left. Left like a high speed train that’s stopping for less than a minute before it’s zooming off again. So fast.    

 

(Luke eventually falls asleep after what feels like hours, but could’ve possibly been minutes, of him just staring at the ceiling. Though it doesn’t really do him any good, because all his dreams, they’re filled with her. Y/N smiling, Y/N laughing, Y/N being there and still being his. And for God’s sake, it’s worse than any nightmare he’s ever had to endure, even if it did make him happy for those few minutes.)  

 

Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low

Only hate the road when you’re missin’ home

Only know you love her when you let her go

 

A hand clasping his shoulder makes him jump, spinning around with wide eyes. Michael laughs gleefully at the startled look on the younger’s face, though once he realises that Luke doesn’t even try to smile, or roll his eyes, his expression switches – turns concerned with furrowed brows and downturned mouth.    

 

“Y’ alright, bro?"    

 

"Yeah, m'fine,” Luke mumbles instantly, pulling a smile. “Just, you know. Tired.”   

 

Michael raises a brow. They’d just come back from a break, and they’re all itching to play their shows again. If anything, they're probably tired of being home because the stage is where they belong now and they all love it. “But – ” he starts, only to cut himself off with a shake of his head. “Alright, mate. We’re playing in, like, two hours. Go rest, or summat. Maybe take a nap. Probably jet lag, yeah?”   

 

Luke smiles at the elder, and his eyes show that he’s grateful for the lack of questioning. “Probably, yeah. Okay. Yeah, I’ll do that. I’ll… nap. Maybe.”  

 

Luke doesn’t end up napping, though. Neither does he even rest. What he does do, is lay in his bunk, and stare at his phone – at a particular contact. He wants to call her. Hasn’t tried to make any contact with her since she’d walked out because he figured that he deserved it, that she deserved someone better. But now – now he wants to call her, maybe even hang up after she says “hello” because all he wants, all he needs, is to hear her voice, because he’s been home for the break but it’s never felt colder than ever before because Y/N is home and he doesn’t even know when it happened, but he did, and he wants a little piece of home again.   

 

So he does. Calls her. Brings the phone up to his ear and takes in a deep breath, heart racing in his chest.   

 

Hello?” Luke sucks in a deep breath as he hears her tinny voice. Reception’s a bit shit, and there’s a lot of sound on the other end of the line, like she’s outside, at the shops or summat.    

 

He opens his mouth, only to end up shutting it again. Y/N doesn’t say anything again, and then he hears her inhale almost sharply. “Luke?” comes her voice again and he knows that she’s just pulled the phone away from her ear to look at who this dumbass who has called her only to not say anything is.    

 

“I love you,” Luke manages to get out, and his voice cracks in an embarrassing prepubescent manner but he doesn’t even have it in him to be self-conscious about it. And before she’s got the chance to reply, he speaks again, “I’m sorry,” and then he’s hanging up and throwing his phone to the other end of the bunk.  

 

He really fucked it up, didn’t he?

 

And you let her go

 
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