heartcal

[heartcal]

happy 11th birthday to this blog 🤩

[heartcal]

rejected ; c.h. (part viii)

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 has one shot to fix what's broken, but there's an obstacle and he's struggling. pairing: calum hood x reader (gender-neutral) genre: fluff, angst, classmates to friends to lovers au, college au warning(s): overuse of the word ridiculous because it's fitting, cursing? to be expected honestly, some grammar mistakes (it's been a while, english sucks), umm probably a lot of repeating, edited but not really, cal is going through it :^( word count: 4k words (yippee!)

a/n: after over 2 years (fuck), part 8 is finally here! this series is almost over, too! super duper sorry it took so damn long, i wasn't planning on this taking so long (check out my last update), but after lots of tears, part 8 is now being posted! this has been a journey, so i'm just gonna shut my mouth and let y'all finally read! but really quick, here are some links to help palestinians as they continue their fight for freedom and survival: link, link, link. free palestine 🍉

intro | i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii | viii current | ix series masterlist! | main masterlist!

The nuanced meanings behind common New Year’s quotes have a strong grip on the world. Ideologies once wise have lost their meaning, opening the doors to terrible interpretations.

You only realize this when you begin to follow the “New Year, New Me” idea.

Wanting to break away from the “you” from last year, you started making changes. You moved your bedroom furniture around, took down some decorations you had up since high school, then put up new ones that you bought with holiday money, and added some more pillows to your bed – a change of scenery in your bedroom is a good start.

You even changed your school bag, switching out your folders and binders to new ones. During the redecorating process, you came across some old pens from your past school years that still had ink. They’ve now found a new home in your pencil pouch.

Were you doing too much? Sure, but did you find it to be helpful? Absolutely.

Jessie laughed when you told them about the changes you made – not necessarily in a mean way, they assured you, but in a way that they thought you were joking only to quickly change their view when they realized you were serious.

“I’m not saying it’s ridiculous,” they told you over the phone, “and I’m not judging you in any way, but I do think you’re overreacting.”

“Maybe I am,” you had retorted, “but I think all of this will help me in the long run.”

Jessie sighed then, agreeing with you before switching to a new topic.

However, now, as you sat in your English class with a few minutes left before class started, you found yourself wondering if Jess was right.

Sitting at your seat, messing with the corner of your notebook with your nails, twirling a pen in the other, your focus is on the door.

Over the break, after finding out who your partners were, you did your best to be a good project partner and help out with the pre-project preparation. But the dread that filled your stomach during the break when you saw and responded to their messages was back ten-fold.

You had given yourself pep talks throughout the day, trying to ready yourself for the inevitable awkward energy that was about to engulf you. The messages exchanged during the break have been cordial; no mentions of personal life (or feelings) with the occasional holiday greeting. You would like to believe that both Calum and Ashton didn’t feel as awkward as you did, but knowing there’s an elephant in the room that needs to be addressed and both parties know of it only makes it worse.

Maybe Calum won’t bring it up? It could be possible that he will just pretend nothing happened. It seems like a good thing but then it could hurt knowing he brushed everything off, especially when you got your feelings hurt. Or maybe, Ashton won’t try to play peacemaker and be solely focused on the project? Maybe both of them will be too invested in the project and that’s all you three will talk about—huh?

A content sigh to your right breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Have any luck so far this new year?” Ashton asks, a warm smile on his face as he places his bag on his desk.

You only shake your head with a small shrug, suddenly not knowing how to continue a conversation.

“Same here,” Ashton continues, “I thought it would be my year right at the start, but I guess I have to wait for it.” His own statement elicits a chuckle from him, his focus shifting from you to his bag to get his material out.

“It’ll come,” you speak up before you can stop yourself.

Ashton offers another smile, attention still on his bag as he sifts through the multiple notebooks. “I hope so.”

It isn’t long before the rest of the class starts filing in. You notice how many are sitting in different spots compared to where they sat last semester, noting quite a handful of empty seats from those who dropped the class.

“I’m not late, am I?” Another voice interrupts your thoughts, but this time you cannot bring yourself to face the owner.

Ashton scoffs, “It’s the first day back, shouldn’t you know when class starts?” He eyes his friend as he takes the empty seat next to him.

“Like you said,” Calum places his bag on his lap, “first day back.”

The awkward atmosphere you dreaded starts to make itself known. You can only wonder if the other two feel it, but you’re unable to dig into it as your professor walks in.

“I assume you’re sitting with your partners because we are going over a few things before I let you all get to work.”

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It would be a lie to say that the entirety of the class was not that bad.

You and Calum probably made direct eye contact twice the entire time, and one of them was an accident. Ashton was an angel, at least in your opinion. He kept the dialogue going between the three of you when either Calum or you could not contribute – and he did not mind it at all – but most importantly, he did not point out any of the awkwardness within the group. If he noticed, he didn’t mention it, and you are grateful for that.

When class ended, you were deadset on leaving, needing your favorite treat and drink from the campus café to help yourself reset for the day. However, despite your obvious attempts at trying to exit as soon as you were dismissed, Ashton was able to keep you seated.

“Are you sure you want to do all the writing?” He asks.

You shrug, “I mean, I don’t mind doing the writing portion.”

Ashton looks at Calum for his input to which he only mimics your shrug.

He withholds a sigh, refraining from shaking his head at his friend before speaking up, “How about this: you do the writing portion, Calum and I work on the PowerPoint and the presentation.”

If it gets you out of speaking in front of the class and eliminates the risk of you stumbling over your words, you’ll take it.

“Yeah,” you nod, “I’m cool with that.”

Ashton smiles, clapping his hand on Calum’s shoulder before standing. He lifts his bag from the desk, checking the time on his phone before placing it into his back pocket, “Let’s meet at the library, say, around 5pm? Then we can work together.”

You smile back at him in agreement, “Sounds good.”

Ashton waves as you take off, oblivious to his friend’s narrowed stare until he turns to face him.

“What was that?” Calum asks, not easing up on his stare.

Ashton hums in confusion, and if he’s joking or not, Calum cannot tell.

“That,” Calum juts his chin towards the door, “what was all that?”

Ashton snorts, “Calum, haven’t you heard? There’s this new thing called ‘being friendly.’”

Ashton turns to leave, knowing Calum will follow behind, and is rolling his eyes at Ashton’s attempt at a joke.

“Ha ha,” Calum laughs sarcastically.

“Seriously, I’m just being friendly, Cal.”

And Calum knows. It isn’t out of the ordinary for Ashton to be friendly—it’s out of the ordinary if Ashton isn’t friendly, for that matter—but he thinks there’s more to it. Where did all this come from? When did this happen? He knows you two weren’t strangers, there was some familiarity for sure, but it feels like it’s out of nowhere.

“Yeah, I know,” Calum starts, but he falters, trying to piece together his next sentence. He doesn’t want to pry, because knowing Ashton, he’ll try to dissect whatever Calum is thinking or feeling.

Calum’s thoughts are interrupted when he bumps into Ashton.

“What’s going on with you?” Ashton questions, eyeing Calum up before pulling him to the side to avoid the foot traffic surrounding them.

“What do you mean?” Calum shrugs, “Nothing’s wrong.”

Ashton raises his eyebrows, another question on the tip of his tongue. He lowers his voice, leaning closer to Calum, “Is this about what happened before the break?”

Calum’s quick to respond, shaking his head as he adjusts his bag’s strap. “Not about that.”

Ashton doesn’t believe him for a second. He picked up on his behavior throughout the class; the glances between himself and you, the short responses, the way his posture changed when he felt the atmosphere grow awkward.

“Well,” he claps, “I need to meet with some admins, so I’ll catch up with you later.”

He bids goodbye to Calum before heading to the administration building, leaving Calum stewing in his thoughts and knowing he’s hiding more than he’s letting on.

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If every person on the planet had a handful of do-overs given to them when they were born, many would have used them up before they were 21. Calum is sure he’d be in the majority.

He knows he’s made many mistakes in his life, and he would go back in time and re-do plenty of things. The one thing he currently desires to change is his behavior before the break.

As he sat in class, watching the dynamic between himself and you felt foreign. He knows he’s the cause of it, but he cannot fathom how you two went from classmates, to friends, and back to classmates within a short time.

He knows it’s ridiculous to think about this and to dwell over what could’ve been instead of trying to move on is something he’s struggled with for years. He’s getting better, but progress can only move so fast.

“A simple apology is a start,” his sister points at him with her fork as they sit at the table for breakfast. “It’s not much—the damage is done—but it opens the door. The path you take from there is up to you.”

Calum moves the food around on his plate, staring blankly at the movement while he forms a new question.

“What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

A snort escapes her nose, making Calum’s head jerk up, “What was that for?”

His sister shakes her head, a small but pitiful smile on her face, “It is what it is. Sometimes an apology is better than none, and sometimes it’s the other way around. If you know what you did was wrong, and you can own up to it and acknowledge how much what you did hurt someone else, then it’s good. But if you don’t see eye-to-eye, and stay mum about how your words were perceived, then it’s best to not apologize at all. Go from there.”

Calum squints his eyes, pausing before opening his mouth, “Are you still tired?”

She shrugs, leaning forward to eat her food, “I don’t know. Probably.”

The break helped Calum, not as much as he wanted to, but enough to give him a push. He had planned to email you an apology, then switched to a text, before ultimately deciding a phone call would be meaningful. But as soon as he opened up your contact, he could not bring his finger to tap the call button.

He’s chickened out multiple times. He’s hyped himself up only to give up at the last second.

Over the break, during the countless hours he spent thinking about The Incident (and you, of course), Calum recalled the moments he’d spent with you both in college and high school. Moments that seemed so small and fleeting were constantly playing in his mind. Calum remembered how you were in high school and compared these memories to the college version; he felt happy for you. You weren’t the same person and yet, exuded the same comfort and friendliness – always welcoming. And he flipped that progress in one day all because he let his insecurities take over. 

Calum likes you. He’s not afraid to admit it (or admit it to himself, at least), and he no longer wants his past relationship and the fears that came from it to ruin any more chances. 

The talk he had with his sister helped clear his mind, but he was still at a loss as to how to go about all of this.  Regardless, he is ready, he wants to fix what was broken, and he wants to do it before it’s too late. 

Which is why he’s practically frazzled by the time the session comes around. He’s sat in the library with Ashton sitting across from him, leg nervously bouncing, fingers twirling his pen constantly only to drop from the shakiness. Calum still couldn’t shake off this weird feeling. Ashton’s attitude toward you earlier still had him asking questions, mostly trying to figure out if anything happened between them over the break. That old, familiar voice in his head that pushed his insecurities is demanding to be known. He’s nervous as hell.

“Calum,” Ashton begins, putting his phone down to give Calum his full attention, “what’s with you today?” 

Calum shakes his head, “Nothing.” 

“Bullshit,” Ashton retorts, ignoring the annoyed stares from the students around them. “You’ve been weird since this morning. What’s eating you?” 

A sigh creeps out before Calum can stop it. “Can we talk outside?” He asks before standing up. 

Ashton shrugs and follows Calum to the side exit, leaving their items behind to keep their table. Once outside, he motions for Calum to speak. Calum lets another sigh out. 

“I think,” he begins, pausing briefly before shaking his head, “no, I know-I know I like Reader.” 

Ashton raises his eyebrows, signaling that he wants more from Calum. He gets nothing but a look of near-distress from Calum, and he knows it took a lot for him to admit his feelings.

He inhales, noticing a growing sense of worry in Calum’s eyes. “Calum,” he starts, placing a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder to keep his mind steady.

“I thought a lot over the break—” Calum interrupts, “—and talked to people I trust, I know this is how I feel. But I’m at a loss, man.”

Ashton removes his hand, opting to rest it behind his neck while nervously looking around. He opens his mouth to take control of the conversation but is cut off again.

“I like them, and I think I have since before, I guess, my insecurities took over. The feeling is mutual but I was too chicken shit to take the wheel and make a move. Then I ran my mouth and ruined what really could’ve been a great thing.”

Ashton’s eyes shift from behind Calum to Calum’s eyes. “Is that how you feel?” He asks.

Calum nods, “I want to fix this, and I want to see what we could’ve been—what we could be. I just need to figure out how and when.”

Ashton keeps his eyes on Calum, nodding once before inhaling. “I’m proud of you, Cal; I know admitting that wasn’t an easy feat for you. I know all that stuff with, you know, her,” he clears his throat, “but I have to be honest with you bud. I’m not sure you can do it.”

Calum squints at him, confusion settling on his features.

Ashton shrugs, “I don’t mean that in a bad way. I mean,” he sighs, hands gesturing randomly, “in a sense, going from point A to point B, then getting so close to point C and falling right back to point A—it’s not going to be easy. Maybe won’t work at all.”

A pit forms in Calum’s stomach. He’s turned off by Ashton’s words, but there’s a lot of truth in them. He just didn’t expect them to come from his best friend. “I know, but I’m still going to try.”

Ashton smiles. The determination is new, almost foreign. Admirable, even.

“Let’s head back in,” Ashton nods to the door, patting Calum on the back to get him moving.

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The soft clicking of your keyboard is the only noise Calum can focus on. At first, it was his own heartbeat, but he got used to the sound quickly enough to ignore it. He’s hardly contributed anything to the project, chiming in only when asked. He’s a bad project partner, he’s very aware of that, but his mind is nowhere near where it should be for the project.

Suddenly, he feels like he’s back in high school, having a chat with his crush and he’s completely losing it on the inside. Trying to remain calm and keep a cool front, but in reality, he wants to kick his feet and cover his face with a bashful smile. But at the same time, he wants to curl up and hide.

The tension is building up, and it seems like he is the only one to feel it.

“Calum?” Ashton’s voice breaks him out of his reverie.

Calum hums in response, “Sorry?”

A ghost of a smile plays on Ashton’s lips as he turns to face Calum. “I asked what you thought of this section.” He points to a jumbled of words in his notebook gauging Calum’s reaction.

Calum stumbles in his mind, trying to think of something so he doesn’t look like an idiot in front of you. Thankfully, though, Ashton beats him to it.

“Y’know what? We’ve been at this for a while now. Let’s end it here and meet up tomorrow. Same time.”

Calum can only breathe a sigh of relief as you agree, seemingly unaware of Calum’s inner turmoil.

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Every session has Calum wanting to burst. He knows he’s making things even more awkward (if that was even possible at this point) but he cannot bring himself to focus and act normal. Ashton wasn’t helping either.

During these get-togethers, he’s noticed how “friendly” Ashton has been towards you. He tried to ignore it, not overthink it but to avail. His mind continued to drift further and further into all of it, with every single interaction being scrutinized.

It’s ridiculous, and at this point, he should get this statement tattooed on every visible part of his body.

Calum sits, staring at his laptop screen, thinking of what goofy effects he should use for the slides to help pass the time (at least until he’s spoken to).

“Hey,” Ashton taps Calum’s arm to get his attention, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Calum nods, slowly realizing he’s going to be alone with you for the first time in a while. He can feel his palms getting clammy, growing flustered now that it’s completely silent at the table. No keyboard tapping, now pens on paper scribbling notes, no pages turning—straight silence.

He sneaks glances over the top of his laptop screen. In the back of his mind, he’s thinking of the words he wants to say with the ones he’s never said.

“Calum?” You speak up, eyes still down at your book as you move it toward him, finger pointed at a sentence. “Does this sentence make sense?”

His eyes shift from you to where your finger is. He has no idea how to respond. What do you mean? He’s been zoned out for almost the entire project, he can barely even remember what this project is about! You’ve been on his mind to the point that almost everything goes in one ear and out the other. But he has to come up with something quick before the silence grows awkward.

He stumbles over his words, trying to sound confident and smart, “I… understand words.”

What?

You finally look at him, eyes meeting his for what feels like the first time since The Incident™.

His response repeats in his mind, and he feels horrified. ‘I understand words.’ That’s his response? His “smart” answer? That was the best that he had, and now he wants nothing more but to run and hide.

“What?” You ask, though the upward inflection in your tone seemed more like you didn’t hear him than not understanding what he said. At least, that’s what he hopes.

“I said,” Calum starts, quickly trying to think of something clever to save himself. He clears his throat, “It’s worded weird, yeah.”

You only offer a nod in response before redirecting both the book and your eyes back to continue your work.

If Ashton saw what went down just now, he would lose it and make sure Calum never forgets it.

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“How did it go?” Ashton asks once you’ve left the library.

The three of you finished shortly before 9pm. While Calum packed up his belongings in silence, he watched the two of you talk, and he didn’t want to believe it—maybe he’s reading too into it—but there’s no denying the chemistry you and Ashton have.

Whatever’s built up over these sessions is showing, and he can only admit one thing.

He’s jealous.

Jealous over how easy it is for Ashton to talk to you despite Ashton’s association with him after what went down. Jealous of how easy it seems for Ashton to make you smile. Jealous of how everything feels so… flirty between you two.

He feels like there’s nothing he can do. He made his bed so he has to lay in it. But it doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Ashton raises his hand to Calum’s face, snapping his fingers to get his attention. He tilts his head, “You there?”

“Yeah,” Calum nods, “just got caught up in my thoughts.”

Ashton hums, not oblivious to exactly what Calum could be thinking of. “What’s bothering you?”

Calum thought he’d be able to provide a quick answer, but the thoughts came pouring back, remembering your smiles directed at Ashton, the jokes, the comments that just bordered flirting, and how you’d give it to him right back. Calum can’t keep hiding away, shying from what he wants. Right now, however, he just wants answers, clarification specifically.

Calum says your name, earning an eyebrow raise from Ashton, “Do you like them?”

A snort comes out before Ashton can stop himself, followed by a short laugh, “What?”

Calum stays silent, face unwavering, not at all finding this a laughing matter.

Ashton composes himself, his humorous demeanor dying down once he realizes the gravity of the situation.

“I’m serious,” Calum iterates, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s standing tall, but the placement of his arms being lower than one would expect from someone trying to be intimidating gives away the true emotion at the forefront: insecurity.

A beat of silence passes as the two watch each other. Calum believes he knows the answer, and he’s just being overdramatic.

Ashton sighs, “No, Cal. I don’t like them, not like that.”

“Do they know that?”

Calum knows he sounds so damn bitter. The small shrug he receives as a response only makes him feel worse.

“Look,” Ashton breathes, “what happened between you two, happened. If you want something to start between the two of you, then do something. I’m not going to walk on eggshells around you both. I’m going to be a friend, okay?”

That should bring Calum some relief, but it doesn’t settle the ache at the bottom of his stomach. Ashton’s right; he shouldn’t have to alter himself for the sake of Calum’s issue just to make him feel better. It’s childish, and both he and Ashton think it’s time for change.

He rubs his hands over his face, muttering an apology to his best friend.

Ashton eyes his friend with weary eyes. He knows the entire situation is taking a toll, and he can only watch helplessly as Calum navigates the jumble of emotions.

They bid each other goodbye before heading back to their homes.

One thing is certain. Calum needs to act fast, and he needs to act now.

Lying on his bed in his room later that night, his eyes glued to his phone with his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He’s staring at your contact image—a picture from one of the yearbooks from high school, you absolutely despise the picture, but Calum loved how awkward you looked—heavily debating if he should do this.

“Just send the text,” he whispers to himself, “you can do it.”

The phone slips slightly, but just enough for his finger to tap send.

Delivered.

Read.

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taglist: @rexorangecouny // @hungrycrazy // @itjustkindahappenedreally (sorry it took 2 years)

[heartcal]

i have started writing part 9 to rejected (posting this for accountability because i don't date my writing for some reason)

part 9 will either be the final part or the second to last (part 10 will be an epilogue tho tbh i don't see how that's needed)

[heartcal]

rejected ; c.h. (part viii)

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 has one shot to fix what's broken, but there's an obstacle and he's struggling. pairing: calum hood x reader (gender-neutral) genre: fluff, angst, classmates to friends to lovers au, college au warning(s): overuse of the word ridiculous because it's fitting, cursing? to be expected honestly, some grammar mistakes (it's been a while, english sucks), umm probably a lot of repeating, edited but not really, cal is going through it :^( word count: 4k words (yippee!)

a/n: after over 2 years (fuck), part 8 is finally here! this series is almost over, too! super duper sorry it took so damn long, i wasn't planning on this taking so long (check out my last update), but after lots of tears, part 8 is now being posted! this has been a journey, so i'm just gonna shut my mouth and let y'all finally read! but really quick, here are some links to help palestinians as they continue their fight for freedom and survival: link, link, link. free palestine 🍉

intro | i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii | viii current | ix series masterlist! | main masterlist!

The nuanced meanings behind common New Year’s quotes have a strong grip on the world. Ideologies once wise have lost their meaning, opening the doors to terrible interpretations.

You only realize this when you begin to follow the “New Year, New Me” idea.

Wanting to break away from the “you” from last year, you started making changes. You moved your bedroom furniture around, took down some decorations you had up since high school, then put up new ones that you bought with holiday money, and added some more pillows to your bed – a change of scenery in your bedroom is a good start.

You even changed your school bag, switching out your folders and binders to new ones. During the redecorating process, you came across some old pens from your past school years that still had ink. They’ve now found a new home in your pencil pouch.

Were you doing too much? Sure, but did you find it to be helpful? Absolutely.

Jessie laughed when you told them about the changes you made – not necessarily in a mean way, they assured you, but in a way that they thought you were joking only to quickly change their view when they realized you were serious.

“I’m not saying it’s ridiculous,” they told you over the phone, “and I’m not judging you in any way, but I do think you’re overreacting.”

“Maybe I am,” you had retorted, “but I think all of this will help me in the long run.”

Jessie sighed then, agreeing with you before switching to a new topic.

However, now, as you sat in your English class with a few minutes left before class started, you found yourself wondering if Jess was right.

Sitting at your seat, messing with the corner of your notebook with your nails, twirling a pen in the other, your focus is on the door.

Over the break, after finding out who your partners were, you did your best to be a good project partner and help out with the pre-project preparation. But the dread that filled your stomach during the break when you saw and responded to their messages was back ten-fold.

You had given yourself pep talks throughout the day, trying to ready yourself for the inevitable awkward energy that was about to engulf you. The messages exchanged during the break have been cordial; no mentions of personal life (or feelings) with the occasional holiday greeting. You would like to believe that both Calum and Ashton didn’t feel as awkward as you did, but knowing there’s an elephant in the room that needs to be addressed and both parties know of it only makes it worse.

Maybe Calum won’t bring it up? It could be possible that he will just pretend nothing happened. It seems like a good thing but then it could hurt knowing he brushed everything off, especially when you got your feelings hurt. Or maybe, Ashton won’t try to play peacemaker and be solely focused on the project? Maybe both of them will be too invested in the project and that’s all you three will talk about—huh?

A content sigh to your right breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Have any luck so far this new year?” Ashton asks, a warm smile on his face as he places his bag on his desk.

You only shake your head with a small shrug, suddenly not knowing how to continue a conversation.

“Same here,” Ashton continues, “I thought it would be my year right at the start, but I guess I have to wait for it.” His own statement elicits a chuckle from him, his focus shifting from you to his bag to get his material out.

“It’ll come,” you speak up before you can stop yourself.

Ashton offers another smile, attention still on his bag as he sifts through the multiple notebooks. “I hope so.”

It isn’t long before the rest of the class starts filing in. You notice how many are sitting in different spots compared to where they sat last semester, noting quite a handful of empty seats from those who dropped the class.

“I’m not late, am I?” Another voice interrupts your thoughts, but this time you cannot bring yourself to face the owner.

Ashton scoffs, “It’s the first day back, shouldn’t you know when class starts?” He eyes his friend as he takes the empty seat next to him.

“Like you said,” Calum places his bag on his lap, “first day back.”

The awkward atmosphere you dreaded starts to make itself known. You can only wonder if the other two feel it, but you’re unable to dig into it as your professor walks in.

“I assume you’re sitting with your partners because we are going over a few things before I let you all get to work.”

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It would be a lie to say that the entirety of the class was not that bad.

You and Calum probably made direct eye contact twice the entire time, and one of them was an accident. Ashton was an angel, at least in your opinion. He kept the dialogue going between the three of you when either Calum or you could not contribute – and he did not mind it at all – but most importantly, he did not point out any of the awkwardness within the group. If he noticed, he didn’t mention it, and you are grateful for that.

When class ended, you were deadset on leaving, needing your favorite treat and drink from the campus café to help yourself reset for the day. However, despite your obvious attempts at trying to exit as soon as you were dismissed, Ashton was able to keep you seated.

“Are you sure you want to do all the writing?” He asks.

You shrug, “I mean, I don’t mind doing the writing portion.”

Ashton looks at Calum for his input to which he only mimics your shrug.

He withholds a sigh, refraining from shaking his head at his friend before speaking up, “How about this: you do the writing portion, Calum and I work on the PowerPoint and the presentation.”

If it gets you out of speaking in front of the class and eliminates the risk of you stumbling over your words, you’ll take it.

“Yeah,” you nod, “I’m cool with that.”

Ashton smiles, clapping his hand on Calum’s shoulder before standing. He lifts his bag from the desk, checking the time on his phone before placing it into his back pocket, “Let’s meet at the library, say, around 5pm? Then we can work together.”

You smile back at him in agreement, “Sounds good.”

Ashton waves as you take off, oblivious to his friend’s narrowed stare until he turns to face him.

“What was that?” Calum asks, not easing up on his stare.

Ashton hums in confusion, and if he’s joking or not, Calum cannot tell.

“That,” Calum juts his chin towards the door, “what was all that?”

Ashton snorts, “Calum, haven’t you heard? There’s this new thing called ‘being friendly.’”

Ashton turns to leave, knowing Calum will follow behind, and is rolling his eyes at Ashton’s attempt at a joke.

“Ha ha,” Calum laughs sarcastically.

“Seriously, I’m just being friendly, Cal.”

And Calum knows. It isn’t out of the ordinary for Ashton to be friendly—it’s out of the ordinary if Ashton isn’t friendly, for that matter—but he thinks there’s more to it. Where did all this come from? When did this happen? He knows you two weren’t strangers, there was some familiarity for sure, but it feels like it’s out of nowhere.

“Yeah, I know,” Calum starts, but he falters, trying to piece together his next sentence. He doesn’t want to pry, because knowing Ashton, he’ll try to dissect whatever Calum is thinking or feeling.

Calum’s thoughts are interrupted when he bumps into Ashton.

“What’s going on with you?” Ashton questions, eyeing Calum up before pulling him to the side to avoid the foot traffic surrounding them.

“What do you mean?” Calum shrugs, “Nothing’s wrong.”

Ashton raises his eyebrows, another question on the tip of his tongue. He lowers his voice, leaning closer to Calum, “Is this about what happened before the break?”

Calum’s quick to respond, shaking his head as he adjusts his bag’s strap. “Not about that.”

Ashton doesn’t believe him for a second. He picked up on his behavior throughout the class; the glances between himself and you, the short responses, the way his posture changed when he felt the atmosphere grow awkward.

“Well,” he claps, “I need to meet with some admins, so I’ll catch up with you later.”

He bids goodbye to Calum before heading to the administration building, leaving Calum stewing in his thoughts and knowing he’s hiding more than he’s letting on.

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If every person on the planet had a handful of do-overs given to them when they were born, many would have used them up before they were 21. Calum is sure he’d be in the majority.

He knows he’s made many mistakes in his life, and he would go back in time and re-do plenty of things. The one thing he currently desires to change is his behavior before the break.

As he sat in class, watching the dynamic between himself and you felt foreign. He knows he’s the cause of it, but he cannot fathom how you two went from classmates, to friends, and back to classmates within a short time.

He knows it’s ridiculous to think about this and to dwell over what could’ve been instead of trying to move on is something he’s struggled with for years. He’s getting better, but progress can only move so fast.

“A simple apology is a start,” his sister points at him with her fork as they sit at the table for breakfast. “It’s not much—the damage is done—but it opens the door. The path you take from there is up to you.”

Calum moves the food around on his plate, staring blankly at the movement while he forms a new question.

“What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

A snort escapes her nose, making Calum’s head jerk up, “What was that for?”

His sister shakes her head, a small but pitiful smile on her face, “It is what it is. Sometimes an apology is better than none, and sometimes it’s the other way around. If you know what you did was wrong, and you can own up to it and acknowledge how much what you did hurt someone else, then it’s good. But if you don’t see eye-to-eye, and stay mum about how your words were perceived, then it’s best to not apologize at all. Go from there.”

Calum squints his eyes, pausing before opening his mouth, “Are you still tired?”

She shrugs, leaning forward to eat her food, “I don’t know. Probably.”

The break helped Calum, not as much as he wanted to, but enough to give him a push. He had planned to email you an apology, then switched to a text, before ultimately deciding a phone call would be meaningful. But as soon as he opened up your contact, he could not bring his finger to tap the call button.

He’s chickened out multiple times. He’s hyped himself up only to give up at the last second.

Over the break, during the countless hours he spent thinking about The Incident (and you, of course), Calum recalled the moments he’d spent with you both in college and high school. Moments that seemed so small and fleeting were constantly playing in his mind. Calum remembered how you were in high school and compared these memories to the college version; he felt happy for you. You weren’t the same person and yet, exuded the same comfort and friendliness – always welcoming. And he flipped that progress in one day all because he let his insecurities take over. 

Calum likes you. He’s not afraid to admit it (or admit it to himself, at least), and he no longer wants his past relationship and the fears that came from it to ruin any more chances. 

The talk he had with his sister helped clear his mind, but he was still at a loss as to how to go about all of this.  Regardless, he is ready, he wants to fix what was broken, and he wants to do it before it’s too late. 

Which is why he’s practically frazzled by the time the session comes around. He’s sat in the library with Ashton sitting across from him, leg nervously bouncing, fingers twirling his pen constantly only to drop from the shakiness. Calum still couldn’t shake off this weird feeling. Ashton’s attitude toward you earlier still had him asking questions, mostly trying to figure out if anything happened between them over the break. That old, familiar voice in his head that pushed his insecurities is demanding to be known. He’s nervous as hell.

“Calum,” Ashton begins, putting his phone down to give Calum his full attention, “what’s with you today?” 

Calum shakes his head, “Nothing.” 

“Bullshit,” Ashton retorts, ignoring the annoyed stares from the students around them. “You’ve been weird since this morning. What’s eating you?” 

A sigh creeps out before Calum can stop it. “Can we talk outside?” He asks before standing up. 

Ashton shrugs and follows Calum to the side exit, leaving their items behind to keep their table. Once outside, he motions for Calum to speak. Calum lets another sigh out. 

“I think,” he begins, pausing briefly before shaking his head, “no, I know-I know I like Reader.” 

Ashton raises his eyebrows, signaling that he wants more from Calum. He gets nothing but a look of near-distress from Calum, and he knows it took a lot for him to admit his feelings.

He inhales, noticing a growing sense of worry in Calum’s eyes. “Calum,” he starts, placing a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder to keep his mind steady.

“I thought a lot over the break—” Calum interrupts, “—and talked to people I trust, I know this is how I feel. But I’m at a loss, man.”

Ashton removes his hand, opting to rest it behind his neck while nervously looking around. He opens his mouth to take control of the conversation but is cut off again.

“I like them, and I think I have since before, I guess, my insecurities took over. The feeling is mutual but I was too chicken shit to take the wheel and make a move. Then I ran my mouth and ruined what really could’ve been a great thing.”

Ashton’s eyes shift from behind Calum to Calum’s eyes. “Is that how you feel?” He asks.

Calum nods, “I want to fix this, and I want to see what we could’ve been—what we could be. I just need to figure out how and when.”

Ashton keeps his eyes on Calum, nodding once before inhaling. “I’m proud of you, Cal; I know admitting that wasn’t an easy feat for you. I know all that stuff with, you know, her,” he clears his throat, “but I have to be honest with you bud. I’m not sure you can do it.”

Calum squints at him, confusion settling on his features.

Ashton shrugs, “I don’t mean that in a bad way. I mean,” he sighs, hands gesturing randomly, “in a sense, going from point A to point B, then getting so close to point C and falling right back to point A—it’s not going to be easy. Maybe won’t work at all.”

A pit forms in Calum’s stomach. He’s turned off by Ashton’s words, but there’s a lot of truth in them. He just didn’t expect them to come from his best friend. “I know, but I’m still going to try.”

Ashton smiles. The determination is new, almost foreign. Admirable, even.

“Let’s head back in,” Ashton nods to the door, patting Calum on the back to get him moving.

¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸

The soft clicking of your keyboard is the only noise Calum can focus on. At first, it was his own heartbeat, but he got used to the sound quickly enough to ignore it. He’s hardly contributed anything to the project, chiming in only when asked. He’s a bad project partner, he’s very aware of that, but his mind is nowhere near where it should be for the project.

Suddenly, he feels like he’s back in high school, having a chat with his crush and he’s completely losing it on the inside. Trying to remain calm and keep a cool front, but in reality, he wants to kick his feet and cover his face with a bashful smile. But at the same time, he wants to curl up and hide.

The tension is building up, and it seems like he is the only one to feel it.

“Calum?” Ashton’s voice breaks him out of his reverie.

Calum hums in response, “Sorry?”

A ghost of a smile plays on Ashton’s lips as he turns to face Calum. “I asked what you thought of this section.” He points to a jumbled of words in his notebook gauging Calum’s reaction.

Calum stumbles in his mind, trying to think of something so he doesn’t look like an idiot in front of you. Thankfully, though, Ashton beats him to it.

“Y’know what? We’ve been at this for a while now. Let’s end it here and meet up tomorrow. Same time.”

Calum can only breathe a sigh of relief as you agree, seemingly unaware of Calum’s inner turmoil.

¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸

Every session has Calum wanting to burst. He knows he’s making things even more awkward (if that was even possible at this point) but he cannot bring himself to focus and act normal. Ashton wasn’t helping either.

During these get-togethers, he’s noticed how “friendly” Ashton has been towards you. He tried to ignore it, not overthink it but to avail. His mind continued to drift further and further into all of it, with every single interaction being scrutinized.

It’s ridiculous, and at this point, he should get this statement tattooed on every visible part of his body.

Calum sits, staring at his laptop screen, thinking of what goofy effects he should use for the slides to help pass the time (at least until he’s spoken to).

“Hey,” Ashton taps Calum’s arm to get his attention, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Calum nods, slowly realizing he’s going to be alone with you for the first time in a while. He can feel his palms getting clammy, growing flustered now that it’s completely silent at the table. No keyboard tapping, now pens on paper scribbling notes, no pages turning—straight silence.

He sneaks glances over the top of his laptop screen. In the back of his mind, he’s thinking of the words he wants to say with the ones he’s never said.

“Calum?” You speak up, eyes still down at your book as you move it toward him, finger pointed at a sentence. “Does this sentence make sense?”

His eyes shift from you to where your finger is. He has no idea how to respond. What do you mean? He’s been zoned out for almost the entire project, he can barely even remember what this project is about! You’ve been on his mind to the point that almost everything goes in one ear and out the other. But he has to come up with something quick before the silence grows awkward.

He stumbles over his words, trying to sound confident and smart, “I… understand words.”

What?

You finally look at him, eyes meeting his for what feels like the first time since The Incident™.

His response repeats in his mind, and he feels horrified. ‘I understand words.’ That’s his response? His “smart” answer? That was the best that he had, and now he wants nothing more but to run and hide.

“What?” You ask, though the upward inflection in your tone seemed more like you didn’t hear him than not understanding what he said. At least, that’s what he hopes.

“I said,” Calum starts, quickly trying to think of something clever to save himself. He clears his throat, “It’s worded weird, yeah.”

You only offer a nod in response before redirecting both the book and your eyes back to continue your work.

If Ashton saw what went down just now, he would lose it and make sure Calum never forgets it.

¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸

“How did it go?” Ashton asks once you’ve left the library.

The three of you finished shortly before 9pm. While Calum packed up his belongings in silence, he watched the two of you talk, and he didn’t want to believe it—maybe he’s reading too into it—but there’s no denying the chemistry you and Ashton have.

Whatever’s built up over these sessions is showing, and he can only admit one thing.

He’s jealous.

Jealous over how easy it is for Ashton to talk to you despite Ashton’s association with him after what went down. Jealous of how easy it seems for Ashton to make you smile. Jealous of how everything feels so… flirty between you two.

He feels like there’s nothing he can do. He made his bed so he has to lay in it. But it doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Ashton raises his hand to Calum’s face, snapping his fingers to get his attention. He tilts his head, “You there?”

“Yeah,” Calum nods, “just got caught up in my thoughts.”

Ashton hums, not oblivious to exactly what Calum could be thinking of. “What’s bothering you?”

Calum thought he’d be able to provide a quick answer, but the thoughts came pouring back, remembering your smiles directed at Ashton, the jokes, the comments that just bordered flirting, and how you’d give it to him right back. Calum can’t keep hiding away, shying from what he wants. Right now, however, he just wants answers, clarification specifically.

Calum says your name, earning an eyebrow raise from Ashton, “Do you like them?”

A snort comes out before Ashton can stop himself, followed by a short laugh, “What?”

Calum stays silent, face unwavering, not at all finding this a laughing matter.

Ashton composes himself, his humorous demeanor dying down once he realizes the gravity of the situation.

“I’m serious,” Calum iterates, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s standing tall, but the placement of his arms being lower than one would expect from someone trying to be intimidating gives away the true emotion at the forefront: insecurity.

A beat of silence passes as the two watch each other. Calum believes he knows the answer, and he’s just being overdramatic.

Ashton sighs, “No, Cal. I don’t like them, not like that.”

“Do they know that?”

Calum knows he sounds so damn bitter. The small shrug he receives as a response only makes him feel worse.

“Look,” Ashton breathes, “what happened between you two, happened. If you want something to start between the two of you, then do something. I’m not going to walk on eggshells around you both. I’m going to be a friend, okay?”

That should bring Calum some relief, but it doesn’t settle the ache at the bottom of his stomach. Ashton’s right; he shouldn’t have to alter himself for the sake of Calum’s issue just to make him feel better. It’s childish, and both he and Ashton think it’s time for change.

He rubs his hands over his face, muttering an apology to his best friend.

Ashton eyes his friend with weary eyes. He knows the entire situation is taking a toll, and he can only watch helplessly as Calum navigates the jumble of emotions.

They bid each other goodbye before heading back to their homes.

One thing is certain. Calum needs to act fast, and he needs to act now.

Lying on his bed in his room later that night, his eyes glued to his phone with his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He’s staring at your contact image—a picture from one of the yearbooks from high school, you absolutely despise the picture, but Calum loved how awkward you looked—heavily debating if he should do this.

“Just send the text,” he whispers to himself, “you can do it.”

The phone slips slightly, but just enough for his finger to tap send.

Delivered.

Read.

¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸

taglist: @rexorangecouny // @hungrycrazy // @itjustkindahappenedreally (sorry it took 2 years)

[heartcal]

Welcome back I have be active alot on here I almost forgot I followed you till I seen you post so I had to was re-read rejected and girl I missed you hope all is well with you

hiii!! sorry it took so long 🥺 i'm doing good now tho! thank you for rereading and checking in 🥹🩵🩵🩵

i hope to be more active on here too 🫶

[heartcal]

rejected ; c.h. (part viii)

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 has one shot to fix what's broken, but there's an obstacle and he's struggling. pairing: calum hood x reader (gender-neutral) genre: fluff, angst, classmates to friends to lovers au, college au warning(s): overuse of the word ridiculous because it's fitting, cursing? to be expected honestly, some grammar mistakes (it's been a while, english sucks), umm probably a lot of repeating, edited but not really, cal is going through it :^( word count: 4k words (yippee!)

a/n: after over 2 years (fuck), part 8 is finally here! this series is almost over, too! super duper sorry it took so damn long, i wasn't planning on this taking so long (check out my last update), but after lots of tears, part 8 is now being posted! this has been a journey, so i'm just gonna shut my mouth and let y'all finally read! but really quick, here are some links to help palestinians as they continue their fight for freedom and survival: link, link, link. free palestine 🍉

intro | i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii | viii current | ix series masterlist! | main masterlist!

The nuanced meanings behind common New Year’s quotes have a strong grip on the world. Ideologies once wise have lost their meaning, opening the doors to terrible interpretations.

You only realize this when you begin to follow the “New Year, New Me” idea.

Wanting to break away from the “you” from last year, you started making changes. You moved your bedroom furniture around, took down some decorations you had up since high school, then put up new ones that you bought with holiday money, and added some more pillows to your bed – a change of scenery in your bedroom is a good start.

You even changed your school bag, switching out your folders and binders to new ones. During the redecorating process, you came across some old pens from your past school years that still had ink. They’ve now found a new home in your pencil pouch.

Were you doing too much? Sure, but did you find it to be helpful? Absolutely.

Jessie laughed when you told them about the changes you made – not necessarily in a mean way, they assured you, but in a way that they thought you were joking only to quickly change their view when they realized you were serious.

“I’m not saying it’s ridiculous,” they told you over the phone, “and I’m not judging you in any way, but I do think you’re overreacting.”

“Maybe I am,” you had retorted, “but I think all of this will help me in the long run.”

Jessie sighed then, agreeing with you before switching to a new topic.

However, now, as you sat in your English class with a few minutes left before class started, you found yourself wondering if Jess was right.

Sitting at your seat, messing with the corner of your notebook with your nails, twirling a pen in the other, your focus is on the door.

Over the break, after finding out who your partners were, you did your best to be a good project partner and help out with the pre-project preparation. But the dread that filled your stomach during the break when you saw and responded to their messages was back ten-fold.

You had given yourself pep talks throughout the day, trying to ready yourself for the inevitable awkward energy that was about to engulf you. The messages exchanged during the break have been cordial; no mentions of personal life (or feelings) with the occasional holiday greeting. You would like to believe that both Calum and Ashton didn’t feel as awkward as you did, but knowing there’s an elephant in the room that needs to be addressed and both parties know of it only makes it worse.

Maybe Calum won’t bring it up? It could be possible that he will just pretend nothing happened. It seems like a good thing but then it could hurt knowing he brushed everything off, especially when you got your feelings hurt. Or maybe, Ashton won’t try to play peacemaker and be solely focused on the project? Maybe both of them will be too invested in the project and that’s all you three will talk about—huh?

A content sigh to your right breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Have any luck so far this new year?” Ashton asks, a warm smile on his face as he places his bag on his desk.

You only shake your head with a small shrug, suddenly not knowing how to continue a conversation.

“Same here,” Ashton continues, “I thought it would be my year right at the start, but I guess I have to wait for it.” His own statement elicits a chuckle from him, his focus shifting from you to his bag to get his material out.

“It’ll come,” you speak up before you can stop yourself.

Ashton offers another smile, attention still on his bag as he sifts through the multiple notebooks. “I hope so.”

It isn’t long before the rest of the class starts filing in. You notice how many are sitting in different spots compared to where they sat last semester, noting quite a handful of empty seats from those who dropped the class.

“I’m not late, am I?” Another voice interrupts your thoughts, but this time you cannot bring yourself to face the owner.

Ashton scoffs, “It’s the first day back, shouldn’t you know when class starts?” He eyes his friend as he takes the empty seat next to him.

“Like you said,” Calum places his bag on his lap, “first day back.”

The awkward atmosphere you dreaded starts to make itself known. You can only wonder if the other two feel it, but you’re unable to dig into it as your professor walks in.

“I assume you’re sitting with your partners because we are going over a few things before I let you all get to work.”

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It would be a lie to say that the entirety of the class was not that bad.

You and Calum probably made direct eye contact twice the entire time, and one of them was an accident. Ashton was an angel, at least in your opinion. He kept the dialogue going between the three of you when either Calum or you could not contribute – and he did not mind it at all – but most importantly, he did not point out any of the awkwardness within the group. If he noticed, he didn’t mention it, and you are grateful for that.

When class ended, you were deadset on leaving, needing your favorite treat and drink from the campus café to help yourself reset for the day. However, despite your obvious attempts at trying to exit as soon as you were dismissed, Ashton was able to keep you seated.

“Are you sure you want to do all the writing?” He asks.

You shrug, “I mean, I don’t mind doing the writing portion.”

Ashton looks at Calum for his input to which he only mimics your shrug.

He withholds a sigh, refraining from shaking his head at his friend before speaking up, “How about this: you do the writing portion, Calum and I work on the PowerPoint and the presentation.”

If it gets you out of speaking in front of the class and eliminates the risk of you stumbling over your words, you’ll take it.

“Yeah,” you nod, “I’m cool with that.”

Ashton smiles, clapping his hand on Calum’s shoulder before standing. He lifts his bag from the desk, checking the time on his phone before placing it into his back pocket, “Let’s meet at the library, say, around 5pm? Then we can work together.”

You smile back at him in agreement, “Sounds good.”

Ashton waves as you take off, oblivious to his friend’s narrowed stare until he turns to face him.

“What was that?” Calum asks, not easing up on his stare.

Ashton hums in confusion, and if he’s joking or not, Calum cannot tell.

“That,” Calum juts his chin towards the door, “what was all that?”

Ashton snorts, “Calum, haven’t you heard? There’s this new thing called ‘being friendly.’”

Ashton turns to leave, knowing Calum will follow behind, and is rolling his eyes at Ashton’s attempt at a joke.

“Ha ha,” Calum laughs sarcastically.

“Seriously, I’m just being friendly, Cal.”

And Calum knows. It isn’t out of the ordinary for Ashton to be friendly—it’s out of the ordinary if Ashton isn’t friendly, for that matter—but he thinks there’s more to it. Where did all this come from? When did this happen? He knows you two weren’t strangers, there was some familiarity for sure, but it feels like it’s out of nowhere.

“Yeah, I know,” Calum starts, but he falters, trying to piece together his next sentence. He doesn’t want to pry, because knowing Ashton, he’ll try to dissect whatever Calum is thinking or feeling.

Calum’s thoughts are interrupted when he bumps into Ashton.

“What’s going on with you?” Ashton questions, eyeing Calum up before pulling him to the side to avoid the foot traffic surrounding them.

“What do you mean?” Calum shrugs, “Nothing’s wrong.”

Ashton raises his eyebrows, another question on the tip of his tongue. He lowers his voice, leaning closer to Calum, “Is this about what happened before the break?”

Calum’s quick to respond, shaking his head as he adjusts his bag’s strap. “Not about that.”

Ashton doesn’t believe him for a second. He picked up on his behavior throughout the class; the glances between himself and you, the short responses, the way his posture changed when he felt the atmosphere grow awkward.

“Well,” he claps, “I need to meet with some admins, so I’ll catch up with you later.”

He bids goodbye to Calum before heading to the administration building, leaving Calum stewing in his thoughts and knowing he’s hiding more than he’s letting on.

¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸

If every person on the planet had a handful of do-overs given to them when they were born, many would have used them up before they were 21. Calum is sure he’d be in the majority.

He knows he’s made many mistakes in his life, and he would go back in time and re-do plenty of things. The one thing he currently desires to change is his behavior before the break.

As he sat in class, watching the dynamic between himself and you felt foreign. He knows he’s the cause of it, but he cannot fathom how you two went from classmates, to friends, and back to classmates within a short time.

He knows it’s ridiculous to think about this and to dwell over what could’ve been instead of trying to move on is something he’s struggled with for years. He’s getting better, but progress can only move so fast.

“A simple apology is a start,” his sister points at him with her fork as they sit at the table for breakfast. “It’s not much—the damage is done—but it opens the door. The path you take from there is up to you.”

Calum moves the food around on his plate, staring blankly at the movement while he forms a new question.

“What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

A snort escapes her nose, making Calum’s head jerk up, “What was that for?”

His sister shakes her head, a small but pitiful smile on her face, “It is what it is. Sometimes an apology is better than none, and sometimes it’s the other way around. If you know what you did was wrong, and you can own up to it and acknowledge how much what you did hurt someone else, then it’s good. But if you don’t see eye-to-eye, and stay mum about how your words were perceived, then it’s best to not apologize at all. Go from there.”

Calum squints his eyes, pausing before opening his mouth, “Are you still tired?”

She shrugs, leaning forward to eat her food, “I don’t know. Probably.”

The break helped Calum, not as much as he wanted to, but enough to give him a push. He had planned to email you an apology, then switched to a text, before ultimately deciding a phone call would be meaningful. But as soon as he opened up your contact, he could not bring his finger to tap the call button.

He’s chickened out multiple times. He’s hyped himself up only to give up at the last second.

Over the break, during the countless hours he spent thinking about The Incident (and you, of course), Calum recalled the moments he’d spent with you both in college and high school. Moments that seemed so small and fleeting were constantly playing in his mind. Calum remembered how you were in high school and compared these memories to the college version; he felt happy for you. You weren’t the same person and yet, exuded the same comfort and friendliness – always welcoming. And he flipped that progress in one day all because he let his insecurities take over. 

Calum likes you. He’s not afraid to admit it (or admit it to himself, at least), and he no longer wants his past relationship and the fears that came from it to ruin any more chances. 

The talk he had with his sister helped clear his mind, but he was still at a loss as to how to go about all of this.  Regardless, he is ready, he wants to fix what was broken, and he wants to do it before it’s too late. 

Which is why he’s practically frazzled by the time the session comes around. He’s sat in the library with Ashton sitting across from him, leg nervously bouncing, fingers twirling his pen constantly only to drop from the shakiness. Calum still couldn’t shake off this weird feeling. Ashton’s attitude toward you earlier still had him asking questions, mostly trying to figure out if anything happened between them over the break. That old, familiar voice in his head that pushed his insecurities is demanding to be known. He’s nervous as hell.

“Calum,” Ashton begins, putting his phone down to give Calum his full attention, “what’s with you today?” 

Calum shakes his head, “Nothing.” 

“Bullshit,” Ashton retorts, ignoring the annoyed stares from the students around them. “You’ve been weird since this morning. What’s eating you?” 

A sigh creeps out before Calum can stop it. “Can we talk outside?” He asks before standing up. 

Ashton shrugs and follows Calum to the side exit, leaving their items behind to keep their table. Once outside, he motions for Calum to speak. Calum lets another sigh out. 

“I think,” he begins, pausing briefly before shaking his head, “no, I know-I know I like Reader.” 

Ashton raises his eyebrows, signaling that he wants more from Calum. He gets nothing but a look of near-distress from Calum, and he knows it took a lot for him to admit his feelings.

He inhales, noticing a growing sense of worry in Calum’s eyes. “Calum,” he starts, placing a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder to keep his mind steady.

“I thought a lot over the break—” Calum interrupts, “—and talked to people I trust, I know this is how I feel. But I’m at a loss, man.”

Ashton removes his hand, opting to rest it behind his neck while nervously looking around. He opens his mouth to take control of the conversation but is cut off again.

“I like them, and I think I have since before, I guess, my insecurities took over. The feeling is mutual but I was too chicken shit to take the wheel and make a move. Then I ran my mouth and ruined what really could’ve been a great thing.”

Ashton’s eyes shift from behind Calum to Calum’s eyes. “Is that how you feel?” He asks.

Calum nods, “I want to fix this, and I want to see what we could’ve been—what we could be. I just need to figure out how and when.”

Ashton keeps his eyes on Calum, nodding once before inhaling. “I’m proud of you, Cal; I know admitting that wasn’t an easy feat for you. I know all that stuff with, you know, her,” he clears his throat, “but I have to be honest with you bud. I’m not sure you can do it.”

Calum squints at him, confusion settling on his features.

Ashton shrugs, “I don’t mean that in a bad way. I mean,” he sighs, hands gesturing randomly, “in a sense, going from point A to point B, then getting so close to point C and falling right back to point A—it’s not going to be easy. Maybe won’t work at all.”

A pit forms in Calum’s stomach. He’s turned off by Ashton’s words, but there’s a lot of truth in them. He just didn’t expect them to come from his best friend. “I know, but I’m still going to try.”

Ashton smiles. The determination is new, almost foreign. Admirable, even.

“Let’s head back in,” Ashton nods to the door, patting Calum on the back to get him moving.

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The soft clicking of your keyboard is the only noise Calum can focus on. At first, it was his own heartbeat, but he got used to the sound quickly enough to ignore it. He’s hardly contributed anything to the project, chiming in only when asked. He’s a bad project partner, he’s very aware of that, but his mind is nowhere near where it should be for the project.

Suddenly, he feels like he’s back in high school, having a chat with his crush and he’s completely losing it on the inside. Trying to remain calm and keep a cool front, but in reality, he wants to kick his feet and cover his face with a bashful smile. But at the same time, he wants to curl up and hide.

The tension is building up, and it seems like he is the only one to feel it.

“Calum?” Ashton’s voice breaks him out of his reverie.

Calum hums in response, “Sorry?”

A ghost of a smile plays on Ashton’s lips as he turns to face Calum. “I asked what you thought of this section.” He points to a jumbled of words in his notebook gauging Calum’s reaction.

Calum stumbles in his mind, trying to think of something so he doesn’t look like an idiot in front of you. Thankfully, though, Ashton beats him to it.

“Y’know what? We’ve been at this for a while now. Let’s end it here and meet up tomorrow. Same time.”

Calum can only breathe a sigh of relief as you agree, seemingly unaware of Calum’s inner turmoil.

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Every session has Calum wanting to burst. He knows he’s making things even more awkward (if that was even possible at this point) but he cannot bring himself to focus and act normal. Ashton wasn’t helping either.

During these get-togethers, he’s noticed how “friendly” Ashton has been towards you. He tried to ignore it, not overthink it but to avail. His mind continued to drift further and further into all of it, with every single interaction being scrutinized.

It’s ridiculous, and at this point, he should get this statement tattooed on every visible part of his body.

Calum sits, staring at his laptop screen, thinking of what goofy effects he should use for the slides to help pass the time (at least until he’s spoken to).

“Hey,” Ashton taps Calum’s arm to get his attention, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Calum nods, slowly realizing he’s going to be alone with you for the first time in a while. He can feel his palms getting clammy, growing flustered now that it’s completely silent at the table. No keyboard tapping, now pens on paper scribbling notes, no pages turning—straight silence.

He sneaks glances over the top of his laptop screen. In the back of his mind, he’s thinking of the words he wants to say with the ones he’s never said.

“Calum?” You speak up, eyes still down at your book as you move it toward him, finger pointed at a sentence. “Does this sentence make sense?”

His eyes shift from you to where your finger is. He has no idea how to respond. What do you mean? He’s been zoned out for almost the entire project, he can barely even remember what this project is about! You’ve been on his mind to the point that almost everything goes in one ear and out the other. But he has to come up with something quick before the silence grows awkward.

He stumbles over his words, trying to sound confident and smart, “I… understand words.”

What?

You finally look at him, eyes meeting his for what feels like the first time since The Incident™.

His response repeats in his mind, and he feels horrified. ‘I understand words.’ That’s his response? His “smart” answer? That was the best that he had, and now he wants nothing more but to run and hide.

“What?” You ask, though the upward inflection in your tone seemed more like you didn’t hear him than not understanding what he said. At least, that’s what he hopes.

“I said,” Calum starts, quickly trying to think of something clever to save himself. He clears his throat, “It’s worded weird, yeah.”

You only offer a nod in response before redirecting both the book and your eyes back to continue your work.

If Ashton saw what went down just now, he would lose it and make sure Calum never forgets it.

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“How did it go?” Ashton asks once you’ve left the library.

The three of you finished shortly before 9pm. While Calum packed up his belongings in silence, he watched the two of you talk, and he didn’t want to believe it—maybe he’s reading too into it—but there’s no denying the chemistry you and Ashton have.

Whatever’s built up over these sessions is showing, and he can only admit one thing.

He’s jealous.

Jealous over how easy it is for Ashton to talk to you despite Ashton’s association with him after what went down. Jealous of how easy it seems for Ashton to make you smile. Jealous of how everything feels so… flirty between you two.

He feels like there’s nothing he can do. He made his bed so he has to lay in it. But it doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Ashton raises his hand to Calum’s face, snapping his fingers to get his attention. He tilts his head, “You there?”

“Yeah,” Calum nods, “just got caught up in my thoughts.”

Ashton hums, not oblivious to exactly what Calum could be thinking of. “What’s bothering you?”

Calum thought he’d be able to provide a quick answer, but the thoughts came pouring back, remembering your smiles directed at Ashton, the jokes, the comments that just bordered flirting, and how you’d give it to him right back. Calum can’t keep hiding away, shying from what he wants. Right now, however, he just wants answers, clarification specifically.

Calum says your name, earning an eyebrow raise from Ashton, “Do you like them?”

A snort comes out before Ashton can stop himself, followed by a short laugh, “What?”

Calum stays silent, face unwavering, not at all finding this a laughing matter.

Ashton composes himself, his humorous demeanor dying down once he realizes the gravity of the situation.

“I’m serious,” Calum iterates, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s standing tall, but the placement of his arms being lower than one would expect from someone trying to be intimidating gives away the true emotion at the forefront: insecurity.

A beat of silence passes as the two watch each other. Calum believes he knows the answer, and he’s just being overdramatic.

Ashton sighs, “No, Cal. I don’t like them, not like that.”

“Do they know that?”

Calum knows he sounds so damn bitter. The small shrug he receives as a response only makes him feel worse.

“Look,” Ashton breathes, “what happened between you two, happened. If you want something to start between the two of you, then do something. I’m not going to walk on eggshells around you both. I’m going to be a friend, okay?”

That should bring Calum some relief, but it doesn’t settle the ache at the bottom of his stomach. Ashton’s right; he shouldn’t have to alter himself for the sake of Calum’s issue just to make him feel better. It’s childish, and both he and Ashton think it’s time for change.

He rubs his hands over his face, muttering an apology to his best friend.

Ashton eyes his friend with weary eyes. He knows the entire situation is taking a toll, and he can only watch helplessly as Calum navigates the jumble of emotions.

They bid each other goodbye before heading back to their homes.

One thing is certain. Calum needs to act fast, and he needs to act now.

Lying on his bed in his room later that night, his eyes glued to his phone with his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He’s staring at your contact image—a picture from one of the yearbooks from high school, you absolutely despise the picture, but Calum loved how awkward you looked—heavily debating if he should do this.

“Just send the text,” he whispers to himself, “you can do it.”

The phone slips slightly, but just enough for his finger to tap send.

Delivered.

Read.

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taglist: @rexorangecouny // @hungrycrazy // @itjustkindahappenedreally (sorry it took 2 years)

[heartcal]

part 8 is posted! any mistakes and masterlist updating will be done later 🤠

enjoy 🙂👍

[heartcal]

rejected ; c.h. (part viii)

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 has one shot to fix what's broken, but there's an obstacle and he's struggling. pairing: calum hood x reader (gender-neutral) genre: fluff, angst, classmates to friends to lovers au, college au warning(s): overuse of the word ridiculous because it's fitting, cursing? to be expected honestly, some grammar mistakes (it's been a while, english sucks), umm probably a lot of repeating, edited but not really, cal is going through it :^( word count: 4k words (yippee!)

a/n: after over 2 years (fuck), part 8 is finally here! this series is almost over, too! super duper sorry it took so damn long, i wasn't planning on this taking so long (check out my last update), but after lots of tears, part 8 is now being posted! this has been a journey, so i'm just gonna shut my mouth and let y'all finally read! but really quick, here are some links to help palestinians as they continue their fight for freedom and survival: link, link, link. free palestine 🍉

intro | i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii | viii current | ix series masterlist! | main masterlist!

The nuanced meanings behind common New Year’s quotes have a strong grip on the world. Ideologies once wise have lost their meaning, opening the doors to terrible interpretations.

You only realize this when you begin to follow the “New Year, New Me” idea.

Wanting to break away from the “you” from last year, you started making changes. You moved your bedroom furniture around, took down some decorations you had up since high school, then put up new ones that you bought with holiday money, and added some more pillows to your bed – a change of scenery in your bedroom is a good start.

You even changed your school bag, switching out your folders and binders to new ones. During the redecorating process, you came across some old pens from your past school years that still had ink. They’ve now found a new home in your pencil pouch.

Were you doing too much? Sure, but did you find it to be helpful? Absolutely.

Jessie laughed when you told them about the changes you made – not necessarily in a mean way, they assured you, but in a way that they thought you were joking only to quickly change their view when they realized you were serious.

“I’m not saying it’s ridiculous,” they told you over the phone, “and I’m not judging you in any way, but I do think you’re overreacting.”

“Maybe I am,” you had retorted, “but I think all of this will help me in the long run.”

Jessie sighed then, agreeing with you before switching to a new topic.

However, now, as you sat in your English class with a few minutes left before class started, you found yourself wondering if Jess was right.

Sitting at your seat, messing with the corner of your notebook with your nails, twirling a pen in the other, your focus is on the door.

Over the break, after finding out who your partners were, you did your best to be a good project partner and help out with the pre-project preparation. But the dread that filled your stomach during the break when you saw and responded to their messages was back ten-fold.

You had given yourself pep talks throughout the day, trying to ready yourself for the inevitable awkward energy that was about to engulf you. The messages exchanged during the break have been cordial; no mentions of personal life (or feelings) with the occasional holiday greeting. You would like to believe that both Calum and Ashton didn’t feel as awkward as you did, but knowing there’s an elephant in the room that needs to be addressed and both parties know of it only makes it worse.

Maybe Calum won’t bring it up? It could be possible that he will just pretend nothing happened. It seems like a good thing but then it could hurt knowing he brushed everything off, especially when you got your feelings hurt. Or maybe, Ashton won’t try to play peacemaker and be solely focused on the project? Maybe both of them will be too invested in the project and that’s all you three will talk about—huh?

A content sigh to your right breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Have any luck so far this new year?” Ashton asks, a warm smile on his face as he places his bag on his desk.

You only shake your head with a small shrug, suddenly not knowing how to continue a conversation.

“Same here,” Ashton continues, “I thought it would be my year right at the start, but I guess I have to wait for it.” His own statement elicits a chuckle from him, his focus shifting from you to his bag to get his material out.

“It’ll come,” you speak up before you can stop yourself.

Ashton offers another smile, attention still on his bag as he sifts through the multiple notebooks. “I hope so.”

It isn’t long before the rest of the class starts filing in. You notice how many are sitting in different spots compared to where they sat last semester, noting quite a handful of empty seats from those who dropped the class.

“I’m not late, am I?” Another voice interrupts your thoughts, but this time you cannot bring yourself to face the owner.

Ashton scoffs, “It’s the first day back, shouldn’t you know when class starts?” He eyes his friend as he takes the empty seat next to him.

“Like you said,” Calum places his bag on his lap, “first day back.”

The awkward atmosphere you dreaded starts to make itself known. You can only wonder if the other two feel it, but you’re unable to dig into it as your professor walks in.

“I assume you’re sitting with your partners because we are going over a few things before I let you all get to work.”

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It would be a lie to say that the entirety of the class was not that bad.

You and Calum probably made direct eye contact twice the entire time, and one of them was an accident. Ashton was an angel, at least in your opinion. He kept the dialogue going between the three of you when either Calum or you could not contribute – and he did not mind it at all – but most importantly, he did not point out any of the awkwardness within the group. If he noticed, he didn’t mention it, and you are grateful for that.

When class ended, you were deadset on leaving, needing your favorite treat and drink from the campus café to help yourself reset for the day. However, despite your obvious attempts at trying to exit as soon as you were dismissed, Ashton was able to keep you seated.

“Are you sure you want to do all the writing?” He asks.

You shrug, “I mean, I don’t mind doing the writing portion.”

Ashton looks at Calum for his input to which he only mimics your shrug.

He withholds a sigh, refraining from shaking his head at his friend before speaking up, “How about this: you do the writing portion, Calum and I work on the PowerPoint and the presentation.”

If it gets you out of speaking in front of the class and eliminates the risk of you stumbling over your words, you’ll take it.

“Yeah,” you nod, “I’m cool with that.”

Ashton smiles, clapping his hand on Calum’s shoulder before standing. He lifts his bag from the desk, checking the time on his phone before placing it into his back pocket, “Let’s meet at the library, say, around 5pm? Then we can work together.”

You smile back at him in agreement, “Sounds good.”

Ashton waves as you take off, oblivious to his friend’s narrowed stare until he turns to face him.

“What was that?” Calum asks, not easing up on his stare.

Ashton hums in confusion, and if he’s joking or not, Calum cannot tell.

“That,” Calum juts his chin towards the door, “what was all that?”

Ashton snorts, “Calum, haven’t you heard? There’s this new thing called ‘being friendly.’”

Ashton turns to leave, knowing Calum will follow behind, and is rolling his eyes at Ashton’s attempt at a joke.

“Ha ha,” Calum laughs sarcastically.

“Seriously, I’m just being friendly, Cal.”

And Calum knows. It isn’t out of the ordinary for Ashton to be friendly—it’s out of the ordinary if Ashton isn’t friendly, for that matter—but he thinks there’s more to it. Where did all this come from? When did this happen? He knows you two weren’t strangers, there was some familiarity for sure, but it feels like it’s out of nowhere.

“Yeah, I know,” Calum starts, but he falters, trying to piece together his next sentence. He doesn’t want to pry, because knowing Ashton, he’ll try to dissect whatever Calum is thinking or feeling.

Calum’s thoughts are interrupted when he bumps into Ashton.

“What’s going on with you?” Ashton questions, eyeing Calum up before pulling him to the side to avoid the foot traffic surrounding them.

“What do you mean?” Calum shrugs, “Nothing’s wrong.”

Ashton raises his eyebrows, another question on the tip of his tongue. He lowers his voice, leaning closer to Calum, “Is this about what happened before the break?”

Calum’s quick to respond, shaking his head as he adjusts his bag’s strap. “Not about that.”

Ashton doesn’t believe him for a second. He picked up on his behavior throughout the class; the glances between himself and you, the short responses, the way his posture changed when he felt the atmosphere grow awkward.

“Well,” he claps, “I need to meet with some admins, so I’ll catch up with you later.”

He bids goodbye to Calum before heading to the administration building, leaving Calum stewing in his thoughts and knowing he’s hiding more than he’s letting on.

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If every person on the planet had a handful of do-overs given to them when they were born, many would have used them up before they were 21. Calum is sure he’d be in the majority.

He knows he’s made many mistakes in his life, and he would go back in time and re-do plenty of things. The one thing he currently desires to change is his behavior before the break.

As he sat in class, watching the dynamic between himself and you felt foreign. He knows he’s the cause of it, but he cannot fathom how you two went from classmates, to friends, and back to classmates within a short time.

He knows it’s ridiculous to think about this and to dwell over what could’ve been instead of trying to move on is something he’s struggled with for years. He’s getting better, but progress can only move so fast.

“A simple apology is a start,” his sister points at him with her fork as they sit at the table for breakfast. “It’s not much—the damage is done—but it opens the door. The path you take from there is up to you.”

Calum moves the food around on his plate, staring blankly at the movement while he forms a new question.

“What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

A snort escapes her nose, making Calum’s head jerk up, “What was that for?”

His sister shakes her head, a small but pitiful smile on her face, “It is what it is. Sometimes an apology is better than none, and sometimes it’s the other way around. If you know what you did was wrong, and you can own up to it and acknowledge how much what you did hurt someone else, then it’s good. But if you don’t see eye-to-eye, and stay mum about how your words were perceived, then it’s best to not apologize at all. Go from there.”

Calum squints his eyes, pausing before opening his mouth, “Are you still tired?”

She shrugs, leaning forward to eat her food, “I don’t know. Probably.”

The break helped Calum, not as much as he wanted to, but enough to give him a push. He had planned to email you an apology, then switched to a text, before ultimately deciding a phone call would be meaningful. But as soon as he opened up your contact, he could not bring his finger to tap the call button.

He’s chickened out multiple times. He’s hyped himself up only to give up at the last second.

Over the break, during the countless hours he spent thinking about The Incident (and you, of course), Calum recalled the moments he’d spent with you both in college and high school. Moments that seemed so small and fleeting were constantly playing in his mind. Calum remembered how you were in high school and compared these memories to the college version; he felt happy for you. You weren’t the same person and yet, exuded the same comfort and friendliness – always welcoming. And he flipped that progress in one day all because he let his insecurities take over. 

Calum likes you. He’s not afraid to admit it (or admit it to himself, at least), and he no longer wants his past relationship and the fears that came from it to ruin any more chances. 

The talk he had with his sister helped clear his mind, but he was still at a loss as to how to go about all of this.  Regardless, he is ready, he wants to fix what was broken, and he wants to do it before it’s too late. 

Which is why he’s practically frazzled by the time the session comes around. He’s sat in the library with Ashton sitting across from him, leg nervously bouncing, fingers twirling his pen constantly only to drop from the shakiness. Calum still couldn’t shake off this weird feeling. Ashton’s attitude toward you earlier still had him asking questions, mostly trying to figure out if anything happened between them over the break. That old, familiar voice in his head that pushed his insecurities is demanding to be known. He’s nervous as hell.

“Calum,” Ashton begins, putting his phone down to give Calum his full attention, “what’s with you today?” 

Calum shakes his head, “Nothing.” 

“Bullshit,” Ashton retorts, ignoring the annoyed stares from the students around them. “You’ve been weird since this morning. What’s eating you?” 

A sigh creeps out before Calum can stop it. “Can we talk outside?” He asks before standing up. 

Ashton shrugs and follows Calum to the side exit, leaving their items behind to keep their table. Once outside, he motions for Calum to speak. Calum lets another sigh out. 

“I think,” he begins, pausing briefly before shaking his head, “no, I know-I know I like Reader.” 

Ashton raises his eyebrows, signaling that he wants more from Calum. He gets nothing but a look of near-distress from Calum, and he knows it took a lot for him to admit his feelings.

He inhales, noticing a growing sense of worry in Calum’s eyes. “Calum,” he starts, placing a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder to keep his mind steady.

“I thought a lot over the break—” Calum interrupts, “—and talked to people I trust, I know this is how I feel. But I’m at a loss, man.”

Ashton removes his hand, opting to rest it behind his neck while nervously looking around. He opens his mouth to take control of the conversation but is cut off again.

“I like them, and I think I have since before, I guess, my insecurities took over. The feeling is mutual but I was too chicken shit to take the wheel and make a move. Then I ran my mouth and ruined what really could’ve been a great thing.”

Ashton’s eyes shift from behind Calum to Calum’s eyes. “Is that how you feel?” He asks.

Calum nods, “I want to fix this, and I want to see what we could’ve been—what we could be. I just need to figure out how and when.”

Ashton keeps his eyes on Calum, nodding once before inhaling. “I’m proud of you, Cal; I know admitting that wasn’t an easy feat for you. I know all that stuff with, you know, her,” he clears his throat, “but I have to be honest with you bud. I’m not sure you can do it.”

Calum squints at him, confusion settling on his features.

Ashton shrugs, “I don’t mean that in a bad way. I mean,” he sighs, hands gesturing randomly, “in a sense, going from point A to point B, then getting so close to point C and falling right back to point A—it’s not going to be easy. Maybe won’t work at all.”

A pit forms in Calum’s stomach. He’s turned off by Ashton’s words, but there’s a lot of truth in them. He just didn’t expect them to come from his best friend. “I know, but I’m still going to try.”

Ashton smiles. The determination is new, almost foreign. Admirable, even.

“Let’s head back in,” Ashton nods to the door, patting Calum on the back to get him moving.

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The soft clicking of your keyboard is the only noise Calum can focus on. At first, it was his own heartbeat, but he got used to the sound quickly enough to ignore it. He’s hardly contributed anything to the project, chiming in only when asked. He’s a bad project partner, he’s very aware of that, but his mind is nowhere near where it should be for the project.

Suddenly, he feels like he’s back in high school, having a chat with his crush and he’s completely losing it on the inside. Trying to remain calm and keep a cool front, but in reality, he wants to kick his feet and cover his face with a bashful smile. But at the same time, he wants to curl up and hide.

The tension is building up, and it seems like he is the only one to feel it.

“Calum?” Ashton’s voice breaks him out of his reverie.

Calum hums in response, “Sorry?”

A ghost of a smile plays on Ashton’s lips as he turns to face Calum. “I asked what you thought of this section.” He points to a jumbled of words in his notebook gauging Calum’s reaction.

Calum stumbles in his mind, trying to think of something so he doesn’t look like an idiot in front of you. Thankfully, though, Ashton beats him to it.

“Y’know what? We’ve been at this for a while now. Let’s end it here and meet up tomorrow. Same time.”

Calum can only breathe a sigh of relief as you agree, seemingly unaware of Calum’s inner turmoil.

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Every session has Calum wanting to burst. He knows he’s making things even more awkward (if that was even possible at this point) but he cannot bring himself to focus and act normal. Ashton wasn’t helping either.

During these get-togethers, he’s noticed how “friendly” Ashton has been towards you. He tried to ignore it, not overthink it but to avail. His mind continued to drift further and further into all of it, with every single interaction being scrutinized.

It’s ridiculous, and at this point, he should get this statement tattooed on every visible part of his body.

Calum sits, staring at his laptop screen, thinking of what goofy effects he should use for the slides to help pass the time (at least until he’s spoken to).

“Hey,” Ashton taps Calum’s arm to get his attention, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Calum nods, slowly realizing he’s going to be alone with you for the first time in a while. He can feel his palms getting clammy, growing flustered now that it’s completely silent at the table. No keyboard tapping, now pens on paper scribbling notes, no pages turning—straight silence.

He sneaks glances over the top of his laptop screen. In the back of his mind, he’s thinking of the words he wants to say with the ones he’s never said.

“Calum?” You speak up, eyes still down at your book as you move it toward him, finger pointed at a sentence. “Does this sentence make sense?”

His eyes shift from you to where your finger is. He has no idea how to respond. What do you mean? He’s been zoned out for almost the entire project, he can barely even remember what this project is about! You’ve been on his mind to the point that almost everything goes in one ear and out the other. But he has to come up with something quick before the silence grows awkward.

He stumbles over his words, trying to sound confident and smart, “I… understand words.”

What?

You finally look at him, eyes meeting his for what feels like the first time since The Incident™.

His response repeats in his mind, and he feels horrified. ‘I understand words.’ That’s his response? His “smart” answer? That was the best that he had, and now he wants nothing more but to run and hide.

“What?” You ask, though the upward inflection in your tone seemed more like you didn’t hear him than not understanding what he said. At least, that’s what he hopes.

“I said,” Calum starts, quickly trying to think of something clever to save himself. He clears his throat, “It’s worded weird, yeah.”

You only offer a nod in response before redirecting both the book and your eyes back to continue your work.

If Ashton saw what went down just now, he would lose it and make sure Calum never forgets it.

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“How did it go?” Ashton asks once you’ve left the library.

The three of you finished shortly before 9pm. While Calum packed up his belongings in silence, he watched the two of you talk, and he didn’t want to believe it—maybe he’s reading too into it—but there’s no denying the chemistry you and Ashton have.

Whatever’s built up over these sessions is showing, and he can only admit one thing.

He’s jealous.

Jealous over how easy it is for Ashton to talk to you despite Ashton’s association with him after what went down. Jealous of how easy it seems for Ashton to make you smile. Jealous of how everything feels so… flirty between you two.

He feels like there’s nothing he can do. He made his bed so he has to lay in it. But it doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Ashton raises his hand to Calum’s face, snapping his fingers to get his attention. He tilts his head, “You there?”

“Yeah,” Calum nods, “just got caught up in my thoughts.”

Ashton hums, not oblivious to exactly what Calum could be thinking of. “What’s bothering you?”

Calum thought he’d be able to provide a quick answer, but the thoughts came pouring back, remembering your smiles directed at Ashton, the jokes, the comments that just bordered flirting, and how you’d give it to him right back. Calum can’t keep hiding away, shying from what he wants. Right now, however, he just wants answers, clarification specifically.

Calum says your name, earning an eyebrow raise from Ashton, “Do you like them?”

A snort comes out before Ashton can stop himself, followed by a short laugh, “What?”

Calum stays silent, face unwavering, not at all finding this a laughing matter.

Ashton composes himself, his humorous demeanor dying down once he realizes the gravity of the situation.

“I’m serious,” Calum iterates, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s standing tall, but the placement of his arms being lower than one would expect from someone trying to be intimidating gives away the true emotion at the forefront: insecurity.

A beat of silence passes as the two watch each other. Calum believes he knows the answer, and he’s just being overdramatic.

Ashton sighs, “No, Cal. I don’t like them, not like that.”

“Do they know that?”

Calum knows he sounds so damn bitter. The small shrug he receives as a response only makes him feel worse.

“Look,” Ashton breathes, “what happened between you two, happened. If you want something to start between the two of you, then do something. I’m not going to walk on eggshells around you both. I’m going to be a friend, okay?”

That should bring Calum some relief, but it doesn’t settle the ache at the bottom of his stomach. Ashton’s right; he shouldn’t have to alter himself for the sake of Calum’s issue just to make him feel better. It’s childish, and both he and Ashton think it’s time for change.

He rubs his hands over his face, muttering an apology to his best friend.

Ashton eyes his friend with weary eyes. He knows the entire situation is taking a toll, and he can only watch helplessly as Calum navigates the jumble of emotions.

They bid each other goodbye before heading back to their homes.

One thing is certain. Calum needs to act fast, and he needs to act now.

Lying on his bed in his room later that night, his eyes glued to his phone with his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He’s staring at your contact image—a picture from one of the yearbooks from high school, you absolutely despise the picture, but Calum loved how awkward you looked—heavily debating if he should do this.

“Just send the text,” he whispers to himself, “you can do it.”

The phone slips slightly, but just enough for his finger to tap send.

Delivered.

Read.

¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸

taglist: @rexorangecouny // @hungrycrazy // @itjustkindahappenedreally (sorry it took 2 years)

[heartcal]

update 02.22.25 🎀

hiii 😬 haven't really been here for a while, huh?

so a lot has happened in the past few months, one of them really took a toll on me and i'm still heavily affected by it. it took any bit of writing inspiration i had left in me and left me unable to write anything in its wake.

grief is a very complex thing and finding ways to deal with it is complicated. one way i've found to move forward is to create, whether it's art or baking, anything that essentially leads to a sense of pride for completion, following through on something until the end. it's not permanent obviously, and there's still a feeling of emptiness, but the small joy in finishing that creation is enough to push me through when it gets tough.

and so with that, i'm super excited to announce that part 8 of rejected is finally coming. finishing touches being added (rewriting and minor editing) and some restructuring are currently in progress. should be posted by mid-march barring any setbacks 🫡

i've constantly put off this part because the will to write was barely there, and while i'd get the urge to write something not related to it, i would never finish those pieces and be stuck a square one. so navigating like i have these past few months has allowed me to work at a pace im comfortable with, without forcing or pushing myself to unnecessary burnout.

super duper sorry that this has taken so long, and my updates have been barely there. when i started this blog, i was in my sophomore year of high school (second year) and i am currently... very much not in high school lmao. life really does beat your ass after graduating 😭

so all in all, in due time part 8 will be up and i believe i'll be working on finishing this series up after, if i keep going at this pace. thank you to all those who've been kind and patient 🩵

see y'all soon 🙂👍

[heartcal]

Omg hi there I missed your post sooo much I was sooo super surprised to see you post hope all is well with you.

hi hi 💕

all is good! sorry for being gone ☹️ life is kicking my butt and it's been hard trying to keep up with everything, but with the holiday season approaching i think all will be good!

i hope all is well with you 🫶🫶🫶

[heartcal]

heartcal’s masterlist!

last updated: September 22nd, 2024

i was plscashton! 

feel free to let me know if a link is broken or isn’t the right one!

in order of oldest to newest :^)

💞: personal fav

🌟: new!

Keep reading

[heartcal]

overflow; c.h.

summary: calum breaks up with you over text instead of talking things out, but you're not settling for that. pairing: calum hood x gn!reader word count: 1,055 words warnings: mentions of stress, arguing, probably some swears (as usual), angst :^) (but some comfort), largely unedited + not proofread (written around 5am pls forgive me)

a/n: hi :^)) this is a lil piece i wrote after spending an entire day fixing my old laptop (that has been "dead" for 5 years) -- i used this laptop to write A LOT back then. since i have it working again, i had the motivation to write so i wanted to write and this is what came out :^) not for rejected (sorry :^( it's coming though!) but it's something! this was more like a writing exercise to get me back into things, so enjoy!

masterlist!

“I told you,” Calum scoffs, gripping the door handle to stop himself from shutting it in your face, “we’re done.” 

You shake your head, “Over text? Really?” 

He shrugs in response, eyes shifting behind you on a car passing by. He’s doing what he can to avoid any more direct eye contact. 

The everyday stress weighed on him, you note, as the dark circles under his eyes make any indication. There’s a slight redness surrounding his eyes and he’s blinking slower than normal. His shoulders are slumped, and you can hear it in his voice. He’s exhausted. 

You push past him and into the house – a home you once felt comfortable in – and it isn’t a welcome sight. Papers crumbled up and strewn around the living room, and various beverages in both cans and bottles littered the coffee table along with the end tables. Ash trays with countless cigarettes, used tissues, a slight musty odor tickled your nose with every other inhale. 

“What the hell, Calum?” You turn back to him, still standing by the now closed door, still avoiding your eyes. 

You sigh, your gaze shifting back to the mess in disbelief. 

You knew the stress was getting to him, and despite your best efforts to comfort him, it wore him down. The requests for him to take it easy, to take a break, to go for a walk with you to help clear his head; pointless, stupid, not helpful. His responses were pitiful, then they were disappointing, and eventually, maddening.  

You couldn’t take the pity party anymore. You wanted to be a good partner and be there for him but it was hard when he constantly pushed away any of your support. You didn’t want to watch Calum self-destruct when you were there to offer a shoulder to lean on. 

It started with a few snarky remarks here and there, originally going unnoticed by him (at least you believe they did, since he made no noise of acknowledgment). Then it evolved into quick albeit small retorts, which would then lead to you giving a few of your own.  

Was it petty? Absolutely, you’ll admit, and so did all your friends when you showed up to one of the latest get-togethers. They offered words of encouragement with their criticism of the situation. It’s just a small bump in the road, one said, patting your back gently, you both will get over it. 

Except neither of you did. The small bump devolved into a pothole, and your relationship went south. 

One snarky remark, then another, then another, and then another until it became name-calling and playground insults. The weight of everything poured over and you said something you didn’t mean. 

You were tired, too. You had your issues going on and he had known, and it was the fact that he was in his own world, too busy to notice you slipping like he was. 

It came to a head a week ago. Both of you spitting vitriol towards each other, too engrossed in trying to hurt the other to notice the look of heartbreak.  

“You know what? I’m done,” you breathe out, hands up in exasperation. 

Calum doesn’t say anything, rolling his eyes whilst nodding, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

You left the house that day, opting to stay with your friend hoping to clear your head in preparation for The Talk. But the days passed, and you received a text from Calum the night before. 

I can’t do this anymore. We’re done. 

It was stupid, you thought, to break things off over text. Childish, even, and you wanted to tell him that to his face. 

So the next day, you made your way over with a full speech ready to go. He was going to listen to you for the first time in a while whether he liked it or not. 

But the speech and any witty jabs were gone when you arrived, and upon walking into the house you were in just a week ago, the gravity of the situation dawned on you. 

You gulp, turning to face Calum. His eyes jumped up to look at the movement before moving down to look at his nails as he picked at the dirt underneath the fingernails. 

Your mouth opens, ready to speak, but it snaps shut as Calum’s stance changes. “Don’t.” 

“I didn’t even say anything.” 

“You were going to,” he steps away from the door, “and I know what you were going to say.” 

He knows you’re starting to pity him. He knows and he hates it. 

Your jaw clenches. You won’t get anywhere with him if he’s acting like this. You sniffle, warmth beginning to surround your eyes, “No, Calum, let me speak.” 

He inhales, ready to open his mouth to respond, but his mouth doesn’t move. 

“You’re digging yourself into this...this hole. I mean, look at this place--” your hands gesture to the living room, “--it’s a mess, Calum! This is unhealthy, physically and mentally. I’m worried about you.” 

Calum still says nothing, but his eyes finally make contact with yours. Your breath hitches, noticing the redness in his eyes has spread, unshed tears dance around his lower lids. There’s a slight tremble in his jaw, his breathing starting to pick up. 

“I’m worried about you, Calum,” you repeat, taking a hesitant step towards him, “I care about you. I just want you to talk to me, and I mean really talk to me.” 

He doesn’t move as you inch closer. He doesn’t move when you reach for his shaking hands, holding them in yours.  

His tears finally fall once you squeeze his hands, reassuring him that you’re here. 

He shakes his hands free from yours, bringing them up to wrap you in a tight hug while mumbling numerous apologies. 

Apologies for the insults, his attitude, his silence, and his behavior overall. He’s near inconsolable, hands tightening on your shirt, not caring about the tears staining it as he nuzzles his head into your neck.  

You soothe him, gently scratching his back. 

“Let’s talk, yeah?” 

He pulls away after a beat of silence, agreeing with puffy eyes, one hand still on your back. 

It’s not going to be an easy conversation, but it’s sure going to be a hell of a lot better than keeping everything in again.  

[heartcal]

overflow; c.h.

summary: calum breaks up with you over text instead of talking things out, but you're settling for that. pairing: calum hood x gn!reader word count: 1,055 words warnings: mentions of stress, arguing, probably some swears (as usual), angst :^) (but some comfort), largely unedited + not proofread (written around 5am pls forgive me)

a/n: hi :^)) this is a lil piece i wrote after spending an entire fixing my old laptop (that has been "dead" for 5 years) -- i used this laptop to write A LOT back then. since i have it working again, i had the motivation to write so i wanted to write and this is what came out :^) not for rejected (sorry :^( it's coming though!) but it's something! this was more like a writing exercise to get me back into things, so enjoy!

“I told you,” Calum scoffs, gripping the door handle to stop himself from shutting it in your face, “we’re done.” 

You shake your head, “Over text? Really?” 

He shrugs in response, eyes shifting behind you on a car passing by. He’s doing what he can to avoid any more direct eye contact. 

The everyday stress weighed on him, you note, as the dark circles under his eyes make any indication. There’s a slight redness surrounding his eyes and he’s blinking slower than normal. His shoulders are slumped, and you can hear it in his voice. He’s exhausted. 

You push past him and into the house – a home you once felt comfortable in – and it isn’t a welcome sight. Papers crumbled up and strewn around the living room, and various beverages in both cans and bottles littered the coffee table along with the end tables. Ash trays with countless cigarettes, used tissues, a slight musty odor tickled your nose with every other inhale. 

“What the hell, Calum?” You turn back to him, still standing by the now closed door, still avoiding your eyes. 

You sigh, your gaze shifting back to the mess in disbelief. 

You knew the stress was getting to him, and despite your best efforts to comfort him, it wore him down. The requests for him to take it easy, to take a break, to go for a walk with you to help clear his head; pointless, stupid, not helpful. His responses were pitiful, then they were disappointing, and eventually, maddening.  

You couldn’t take the pity party anymore. You wanted to be a good partner and be there for him but it was hard when he constantly pushed away any of your support. You didn’t want to watch Calum self-destruct when you were there to offer a shoulder to lean on. 

It started with a few snarky remarks here and there, originally going unnoticed by him (at least you believe they did, since he made no noise of acknowledgment). Then it evolved into quick albeit small retorts, which would then lead to you giving a few of your own.  

Was it petty? Absolutely, you’ll admit, and so did all your friends when you showed up to one of the latest get-togethers. They offered words of encouragement with their criticism of the situation. It’s just a small bump in the road, one said, patting your back gently, you both will get over it. 

Except neither of you did. The small bump devolved into a pothole, and your relationship went south. 

One snarky remark, then another, then another, and then another until it became name-calling and playground insults. The weight of everything poured over and you said something you didn’t mean. 

You were tired, too. You had your issues going on and he had known, and it was the fact that he was in his own world, too busy to notice you slipping like he was. 

It came to a head a week ago. Both of you spitting vitriol towards each other, too engrossed in trying to hurt the other to notice the look of heartbreak.  

“You know what? I’m done,” you breathe out, hands up in exasperation. 

Calum doesn’t say anything, rolling his eyes whilst nodding, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

You left the house that day, opting to stay with your friend hoping to clear your head in preparation for The Talk. But the days passed, and you received a text from Calum the night before. 

I can’t do this anymore. We’re done. 

It was stupid, you thought, to break things off over text. Childish, even, and you wanted to tell him that to his face. 

So the next day, you made your way over with a full speech ready to go. He was going to listen to you for the first time in a while whether he liked it or not. 

But the speech and any witty jabs were gone when you arrived, and upon walking into the house you were in just a week ago, the gravity of the situation dawned on you. 

You gulp, turning to face Calum. His eyes jumped up to look at the movement before moving down to look at his nails as he picked at the dirt underneath the fingernails. 

Your mouth opens, ready to speak, but it snaps shut as Calum’s stance changes. “Don’t.” 

“I didn’t even say anything.” 

“You were going to,” he steps away from the door, “and I know what you were going to say.” 

He knows you’re starting to pity him. He knows and he hates it. 

Your jaw clenches. You won’t get anywhere with him if he’s acting like this. You sniffle, warmth beginning to surround your eyes, “No, Calum, let me speak.” 

He inhales, ready to open his mouth to respond, but his mouth doesn’t move. 

“You’re digging yourself into this...this hole. I mean, look at this place--” your hands gesture to the living room, “--it’s a mess, Calum! This is unhealthy, physically and mentally. I’m worried about you.” 

Calum still says nothing, but his eyes finally make contact with yours. Your breath hitches, noticing the redness in his eyes has spread, unshed tears dance around his lower lids. There’s a slight tremble in his jaw, his breathing starting to pick up. 

“I’m worried about you, Calum,” you repeat, taking a hesitant step towards him, “I care about you. I just want you to talk to me, and I mean really talk to me.” 

He doesn’t move as you inch closer. He doesn’t move when you reach for his shaking hands, holding them in yours.  

His tears finally fall once you squeeze his hands, reassuring him that you’re here. 

He shakes his hands free from yours, bringing them up to wrap you in a tight hug while mumbling numerous apologies. 

Apologies for the insults, his attitude, his silence, and his behavior overall. He’s near inconsolable, hands tightening on your shirt, not caring about the tears staining it as he nuzzles his head into your neck.  

You soothe him, gently scratching his back. 

“Let’s talk, yeah?” 

He pulls away after a beat of silence, agreeing with puffy eyes, one hand still on your back. 

It’s not going to be an easy conversation, but it’s sure going to be a hell of a lot better than keeping everything in again.  

[heartcal]

overflow; c.h.

summary: calum breaks up with you over text instead of talking things out, but you're settling for that. pairing: calum hood x gn!reader word count: 1,055 words warnings: mentions of stress, arguing, probably some swears (as usual), angst :^) (but some comfort), largely unedited + not proofread (written around 5am pls forgive me)

a/n: hi :^)) this is a lil piece i wrote after spending an entire fixing my old laptop (that has been "dead" for 5 years) -- i used this laptop to write A LOT back then. since i have it working again, i had the motivation to write so i wanted to write and this is what came out :^) not for rejected (sorry :^( it's coming though!) but it's something! this was more like a writing exercise to get me back into things, so enjoy!

“I told you,” Calum scoffs, gripping the door handle to stop himself from shutting it in your face, “we’re done.” 

You shake your head, “Over text? Really?” 

He shrugs in response, eyes shifting behind you on a car passing by. He’s doing what he can to avoid any more direct eye contact. 

The everyday stress weighed on him, you note, as the dark circles under his eyes make any indication. There’s a slight redness surrounding his eyes and he’s blinking slower than normal. His shoulders are slumped, and you can hear it in his voice. He’s exhausted. 

You push past him and into the house – a home you once felt comfortable in – and it isn’t a welcome sight. Papers crumbled up and strewn around the living room, and various beverages in both cans and bottles littered the coffee table along with the end tables. Ash trays with countless cigarettes, used tissues, a slight musty odor tickled your nose with every other inhale. 

“What the hell, Calum?” You turn back to him, still standing by the now closed door, still avoiding your eyes. 

You sigh, your gaze shifting back to the mess in disbelief. 

You knew the stress was getting to him, and despite your best efforts to comfort him, it wore him down. The requests for him to take it easy, to take a break, to go for a walk with you to help clear his head; pointless, stupid, not helpful. His responses were pitiful, then they were disappointing, and eventually, maddening.  

You couldn’t take the pity party anymore. You wanted to be a good partner and be there for him but it was hard when he constantly pushed away any of your support. You didn’t want to watch Calum self-destruct when you were there to offer a shoulder to lean on. 

It started with a few snarky remarks here and there, originally going unnoticed by him (at least you believe they did, since he made no noise of acknowledgment). Then it evolved into quick albeit small retorts, which would then lead to you giving a few of your own.  

Was it petty? Absolutely, you’ll admit, and so did all your friends when you showed up to one of the latest get-togethers. They offered words of encouragement with their criticism of the situation. It’s just a small bump in the road, one said, patting your back gently, you both will get over it. 

Except neither of you did. The small bump devolved into a pothole, and your relationship went south. 

One snarky remark, then another, then another, and then another until it became name-calling and playground insults. The weight of everything poured over and you said something you didn’t mean. 

You were tired, too. You had your issues going on and he had known, and it was the fact that he was in his own world, too busy to notice you slipping like he was. 

It came to a head a week ago. Both of you spitting vitriol towards each other, too engrossed in trying to hurt the other to notice the look of heartbreak.  

“You know what? I’m done,” you breathe out, hands up in exasperation. 

Calum doesn’t say anything, rolling his eyes whilst nodding, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

You left the house that day, opting to stay with your friend hoping to clear your head in preparation for The Talk. But the days passed, and you received a text from Calum the night before. 

I can’t do this anymore. We’re done. 

It was stupid, you thought, to break things off over text. Childish, even, and you wanted to tell him that to his face. 

So the next day, you made your way over with a full speech ready to go. He was going to listen to you for the first time in a while whether he liked it or not. 

But the speech and any witty jabs were gone when you arrived, and upon walking into the house you were in just a week ago, the gravity of the situation dawned on you. 

You gulp, turning to face Calum. His eyes jumped up to look at the movement before moving down to look at his nails as he picked at the dirt underneath the fingernails. 

Your mouth opens, ready to speak, but it snaps shut as Calum’s stance changes. “Don’t.” 

“I didn’t even say anything.” 

“You were going to,” he steps away from the door, “and I know what you were going to say.” 

He knows you’re starting to pity him. He knows and he hates it. 

Your jaw clenches. You won’t get anywhere with him if he’s acting like this. You sniffle, warmth beginning to surround your eyes, “No, Calum, let me speak.” 

He inhales, ready to open his mouth to respond, but his mouth doesn’t move. 

“You’re digging yourself into this...this hole. I mean, look at this place--” your hands gesture to the living room, “--it’s a mess, Calum! This is unhealthy, physically and mentally. I’m worried about you.” 

Calum still says nothing, but his eyes finally make contact with yours. Your breath hitches, noticing the redness in his eyes has spread, unshed tears dance around his lower lids. There’s a slight tremble in his jaw, his breathing starting to pick up. 

“I’m worried about you, Calum,” you repeat, taking a hesitant step towards him, “I care about you. I just want you to talk to me, and I mean really talk to me.” 

He doesn’t move as you inch closer. He doesn’t move when you reach for his shaking hands, holding them in yours.  

His tears finally fall once you squeeze his hands, reassuring him that you’re here. 

He shakes his hands free from yours, bringing them up to wrap you in a tight hug while mumbling numerous apologies. 

Apologies for the insults, his attitude, his silence, and his behavior overall. He’s near inconsolable, hands tightening on your shirt, not caring about the tears staining it as he nuzzles his head into your neck.  

You soothe him, gently scratching his back. 

“Let’s talk, yeah?” 

He pulls away after a beat of silence, agreeing with puffy eyes, one hand still on your back. 

It’s not going to be an easy conversation, but it’s sure going to be a hell of a lot better than keeping everything in again.  

[heartcal]

overflow; c.h.

summary: calum breaks up with you over text instead of talking things out, but you're not settling for that. pairing: calum hood x gn!reader word count: 1,055 words warnings: mentions of stress, arguing, probably some swears (as usual), angst :^) (but some comfort), largely unedited + not proofread (written around 5am pls forgive me)

a/n: hi :^)) this is a lil piece i wrote after spending an entire day fixing my old laptop (that has been "dead" for 5 years) -- i used this laptop to write A LOT back then. since i have it working again, i had the motivation to write so i wanted to write and this is what came out :^) not for rejected (sorry :^( it's coming though!) but it's something! this was more like a writing exercise to get me back into things, so enjoy!

masterlist!

“I told you,” Calum scoffs, gripping the door handle to stop himself from shutting it in your face, “we’re done.” 

You shake your head, “Over text? Really?” 

He shrugs in response, eyes shifting behind you on a car passing by. He’s doing what he can to avoid any more direct eye contact. 

The everyday stress weighed on him, you note, as the dark circles under his eyes make any indication. There’s a slight redness surrounding his eyes and he’s blinking slower than normal. His shoulders are slumped, and you can hear it in his voice. He’s exhausted. 

You push past him and into the house – a home you once felt comfortable in – and it isn’t a welcome sight. Papers crumbled up and strewn around the living room, and various beverages in both cans and bottles littered the coffee table along with the end tables. Ash trays with countless cigarettes, used tissues, a slight musty odor tickled your nose with every other inhale. 

“What the hell, Calum?” You turn back to him, still standing by the now closed door, still avoiding your eyes. 

You sigh, your gaze shifting back to the mess in disbelief. 

You knew the stress was getting to him, and despite your best efforts to comfort him, it wore him down. The requests for him to take it easy, to take a break, to go for a walk with you to help clear his head; pointless, stupid, not helpful. His responses were pitiful, then they were disappointing, and eventually, maddening.  

You couldn’t take the pity party anymore. You wanted to be a good partner and be there for him but it was hard when he constantly pushed away any of your support. You didn’t want to watch Calum self-destruct when you were there to offer a shoulder to lean on. 

It started with a few snarky remarks here and there, originally going unnoticed by him (at least you believe they did, since he made no noise of acknowledgment). Then it evolved into quick albeit small retorts, which would then lead to you giving a few of your own.  

Was it petty? Absolutely, you’ll admit, and so did all your friends when you showed up to one of the latest get-togethers. They offered words of encouragement with their criticism of the situation. It’s just a small bump in the road, one said, patting your back gently, you both will get over it. 

Except neither of you did. The small bump devolved into a pothole, and your relationship went south. 

One snarky remark, then another, then another, and then another until it became name-calling and playground insults. The weight of everything poured over and you said something you didn’t mean. 

You were tired, too. You had your issues going on and he had known, and it was the fact that he was in his own world, too busy to notice you slipping like he was. 

It came to a head a week ago. Both of you spitting vitriol towards each other, too engrossed in trying to hurt the other to notice the look of heartbreak.  

“You know what? I’m done,” you breathe out, hands up in exasperation. 

Calum doesn’t say anything, rolling his eyes whilst nodding, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

You left the house that day, opting to stay with your friend hoping to clear your head in preparation for The Talk. But the days passed, and you received a text from Calum the night before. 

I can’t do this anymore. We’re done. 

It was stupid, you thought, to break things off over text. Childish, even, and you wanted to tell him that to his face. 

So the next day, you made your way over with a full speech ready to go. He was going to listen to you for the first time in a while whether he liked it or not. 

But the speech and any witty jabs were gone when you arrived, and upon walking into the house you were in just a week ago, the gravity of the situation dawned on you. 

You gulp, turning to face Calum. His eyes jumped up to look at the movement before moving down to look at his nails as he picked at the dirt underneath the fingernails. 

Your mouth opens, ready to speak, but it snaps shut as Calum’s stance changes. “Don’t.” 

“I didn’t even say anything.” 

“You were going to,” he steps away from the door, “and I know what you were going to say.” 

He knows you’re starting to pity him. He knows and he hates it. 

Your jaw clenches. You won’t get anywhere with him if he’s acting like this. You sniffle, warmth beginning to surround your eyes, “No, Calum, let me speak.” 

He inhales, ready to open his mouth to respond, but his mouth doesn’t move. 

“You’re digging yourself into this...this hole. I mean, look at this place--” your hands gesture to the living room, “--it’s a mess, Calum! This is unhealthy, physically and mentally. I’m worried about you.” 

Calum still says nothing, but his eyes finally make contact with yours. Your breath hitches, noticing the redness in his eyes has spread, unshed tears dance around his lower lids. There’s a slight tremble in his jaw, his breathing starting to pick up. 

“I’m worried about you, Calum,” you repeat, taking a hesitant step towards him, “I care about you. I just want you to talk to me, and I mean really talk to me.” 

He doesn’t move as you inch closer. He doesn’t move when you reach for his shaking hands, holding them in yours.  

His tears finally fall once you squeeze his hands, reassuring him that you’re here. 

He shakes his hands free from yours, bringing them up to wrap you in a tight hug while mumbling numerous apologies. 

Apologies for the insults, his attitude, his silence, and his behavior overall. He’s near inconsolable, hands tightening on your shirt, not caring about the tears staining it as he nuzzles his head into your neck.  

You soothe him, gently scratching his back. 

“Let’s talk, yeah?” 

He pulls away after a beat of silence, agreeing with puffy eyes, one hand still on your back. 

It’s not going to be an easy conversation, but it’s sure going to be a hell of a lot better than keeping everything in again.  

[heartcal]

rejected masterlist

(i cannot make a graphic to save my life, sorry for this mess lol)

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?

genre: fluff, angst, classmates to friends to lovers au, college au

pairing: calum hood x reader (gender-neutral) status: ongoing total word count: 22k words

a/n: hiya! back in 2016 when i made this fic, it was one of my favorites. to this day, it still is, so i decided to challenge myself and rewrite it while still keeping certain elements but also making it make sense lol.

main masterlist | original rejected fic (2016): part one / part two

⭒ parts ⭒ (updated 06.15.24)

intro introduction with some backstory, 716 words

part i a week into the new school year, your friend convinces you to befriend your old high school crush. 3.1k words

part ii almost two months in, and with jessie’s support, you finally get to hang out with calum. 3.1k words

part iii jessie offers help despite being miles away, and calum has to apologize. 2k words

part iv calum’s apology may have worked, but something is off about him. 3.4k words

part v you don’t believe what jessie is saying, and calum doesn’t believe what ashton is saying. 3k words

part vi calum recalls his past relationship. it may be time to tell calum how you feel. 4.5k words

part vii apologies probably won’t fix what was broken, but an opportunity presents itself. 2.7k words

part viii calum has one shot to fix what’s broken, but there’s an obstacle and he’s struggling.

⭒ in progress ⭒

part viii - current word count: x,xxx

[heartcal]

rejected ; c.h. (part viii – preview)

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: “new year, new me.” at least, that’s what you hoped for, but instead of noticing a change in yourself, you’re seeing a shift between calum and ashton. pairing: calum hood x reader (gender-neutral) genre: fluff, angst, classmates to friends to lovers au, college au warning(s): none i think ?? maybe a curse word or two idk preview word count: 486 words

a/n: HEYOOO yikes wow it’s been a while huh? plenty of factors have kept me away from posting and writing in general (some were my own doing while some were out of my hands) bUt !! we finally have a preview !!! unclear when the full part will be posted but rest assured, it’s coming!! anyway, i’ll cut my rambling short, enjoy this preview! series masterlist! | main masterlist!

Ashton looks at Calum for his input to which he only mimics your shrug.

He withholds a sigh, refraining from shaking his head at his friend before speaking up, “How about this: you do the writing portion, Calum and I work on the PowerPoint and the presentation.”

If it gets you out of speaking in front of the class and risk stumbling over your words, you’ll take it.

“Yeah,” you nod, “I’m cool with that.”

Ashton smiles, clapping his hand on Calum’s shoulder before standing. He lifts his bag from the desk, checking the time on his phone before placing it into his back pocket, “Let’s meet at the library, say, around 5pm? Then we can work together.”

You smile back at him in agreement, “Sounds good.”

Ashton waves as you take off, oblivious to his friend’s narrowed stare until he turns to face him.

“What was that?” Calum asks, not easing up on his stare.

Ashton hums in confusion, and if he’s joking or not, Calum cannot tell.

“That,” Calum juts his chin towards the door, “what was all that?”

Ashton snorts, “Calum, haven’t you heard? There’s this new thing called ‘being friendly.’”

Ashton turns to leave, knowing Calum will follow behind, and is rolling his eyes at Ashton’s attempt at a joke.

“Ha ha,” Calum laughs sarcastically.

“Seriously, I’m just being friendly, Cal.”

And Calum knows. It isn’t out of the ordinary for Ashton to be friendly—it’s out of the ordinary if Ashton isn’t friendly, for that matter—but he thinks there’s more to it. Where did all this come from? When did this happen? He knows you two weren’t strangers, there was some familiarity for sure, but it feels like it’s out of nowhere.

“Yeah, I know,” Calum starts, but he falters, trying to piece together his next sentence. He doesn’t want to pry, because knowing Ashton, he’ll try to dissect whatever Calum is thinking or feeling.

Calum’s thoughts are interrupted when he bumps into Ashton.

“What’s going on with you?” Ashton questions, eyeing Calum up before pulling him to the side to avoid the foot traffic surrounding them.

“What do you mean?” Calum shrugs, “Nothing’s wrong.”

Ashton raises his eyebrows, another question on the tip of his tongue. He lowers his voice, leaning closer to Calum, “Is this about what happened before the break?”

Calum’s quick to respond, shaking his head as he adjusts his bag’s strap. “Not about that.”

Ashton doesn’t believe him for a second. He picked up on his behavior throughout the class; the glances between himself and you, the short responses, the way his posture changed when he felt the atmosphere grow awkward.

“Well,” he claps, “I need to meet with some admins, so I’ll catch up with you later.”

He bids goodbye to Calum before heading to the administration building, leaving Calum stewing in his own thoughts and knowing he’s hiding more than he’s letting on.