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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years ago

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A Long Way From The Playground | Charlie Gillespie

Requested by @faithie-brock-gillespie01: Can you make one where me and Charlie go out to hang out around the town and I get pinned to the wall by man who hasn’t left me alone all day (like he attacks me when Charlie just goes to the bathroom or something) and then all of a sudden Charlie comes back and saves me by pulling the guy off. They get into a small fight and he ends up growling “mine” and pointing at the guy as I pull him back and out of the place. After I pull him out and get him home. When home I patch him up (because he has a few cuts on his face) and he ends up confessing (after I ask why he did it) that he hates to see me get hurt so he saved me. We end up confessing to loving one another.*My name: y/nMy nicknames: sweetheart, sweetie, love, Princess, queen, angel, nugget (Or whatever you can think of. )*charlies nicknames: Char, King, Baby Boy, My Prince, My Prince Charming, My Love, Babe, Sweetheart, baby, love bug, sweetie, sweetheart, my prince, baby, baby boy, sweet cakes, babe, sweetie, or even Troy (like I use it as a funny thing to mess with him, because he’s kinda like my Troy), real life Luke (because it’s again a funny thing in the relationship or like because he acts like a real life one hence the real life part), (Or whatever you can think of. )

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Warnings: angst, sexual harassment, fight,

Words: 3,426

You’ve been friends with Charlie for ages. The first day at Kindergarten, a mean girl had pushed you off the swing during recess, and when Charlie saw this, he came up to help you. He pushed the girl off the swing she stole from you and then rushed to your side to help you up. He accompanied you to the school nurse and even stayed after the wound on your knee had been taken care of. The nurse had given both of you a lollipop and allowed you to wait in her office until recess was over. Ever since that day, you and Charlie had been inseparable. You went through life together, supporting each other’s decisions and helping out whenever the other was in trouble. It was really hard on you when Charlie went to LA to pursue his acting career, but you supported him nonetheless. This was his dream, and as a best friend, it was your duty to let him go and pursue that dream, even if that meant leaving you in Dieppe all by yourself. Your relationship never really suffered from the distance between the two of you. There were consistent FaceTime calls and constant texts, it’s almost as though he’s not even gone. The only thing that might cause disturbance is your feelings for him. You were eighteen when you first realized that you’d much rather kiss Charlie than hug him, when his otherwise platonic touches were felt everywhere. Everywhere. But, of course, you decided not to say anything because it might just ruin what you have, and what you have is really special. In 2019, Charlie asks you to come along with him to Vancouver where he’s going to be shooting Julie and The Phantoms, a Kenny Ortega project. You, being a big fan of the director and Charlie, decide to come along. You deserve a little break, and you’ve missed Charlie too much to pass up this opportunity. “Bubbaaaaa!” you shriek as you run up to him in the grand hallway of Vancouver International Airport, leaving your luggage somewhere along the way. He’s holding out his arms, ready to catch you as you jump up and into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist, clutching onto him like a koala bear. Passengers leaving or arriving give you weird looks, annoyed at the disturbance in their day, but you don’t care. It’s been months since you’d last seen this man, and you’re way too excited to be in his arms again. “Hey Nugget,” he mumbles in your hair, inhaling the fresh scent of peonies, his most favorite. “Gosh, I missed ya.” He loosens his arms a little to put you back on your feet, but you don’t want to let go yet. A chuckle vibrates through his chest and travels all the way through yours. “I missed you too, Bubba,” you say back and then let go of him. You just needed a few more seconds in his arms. After grabbing your luggage where you left it, he takes you to the apartment he’s sharing with one of his cast mates, Owen, who’s sitting on the sofa as you arrive. The tall blonde man gets up and makes his way over to you with a wide smile on his face. “Hi!” he greets, opening his arms to give you a welcome hug. “I’m Owen.” “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you,” you say back when the two of you pull away. “I’m gonna show Y/N to their room and then we can maybe get some lunch together?” Charlie suggests to the both of you. After exchanging a glance, you and Owen nod agreeingly. Charlie then excitedly grabs your hand and leads you towards one of the rooms. “This is my room, but you can sleep here and I’ll sleep on the couch,” he explains softly. Your head snaps up at this, wondering if he’s serious about his suggestion of sleeping on the couch. He’s looking at you expectantly. He is serious about sleeping on the couch. “Dude… We used to sleep in the same bed during our sleepovers in Dieppe all the time. Just sleep in this bed with me, alright?” You almost sound angry at the audacity of him suggesting doing otherwise. “Right, yeah! Of course,” he utters, his eyes lighting up, “I just-- didn’t want to force you to sleep in the same bed in case things… changed…” You let out an airy laugh, shaking your head in disbelief whilst throwing your luggage onto the bed with a dull thud. “Nothing could ever change things between us, Char,” you mutter, but in your mind know at least one reason that could change between you. You hear him chuckle as you grab an entirely new outfit from your suitcase, wanting to change out of your disgusting airplane clothes. “Can I take a quick shower before we go to lunch?” you ask, and he simply nods his head and guides you out of the bedroom and to the shared bathroom. While you shower, you think of all the possible ways this week could go. You want to tell Charlie how you truly feel. You can’t just be friends with him anymore. It’s been three years since you figured it out. You’ve spent three years trying not to scream whenever his fingers left a burning trail on your skin or when his glances made you tingle everywhere. But now you’re done trying to pretend nothing’s going on. You’re done pretending not kissing him isn’t killing you. Though the multiple possible scenarios make for a bad movie, you’re willing to at least try and see what he’s going to say or do. This could go either way. Little do you know Charlie’s having the exact same thoughts, only he’s saying them out loud to Owen, one room over. “You gotta tell them, man. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to hold out much longer,” says Owen to his distressed friend, “This is making you crazy.” Charlie doesn’t disagree. It is making him crazy. Maybe this week might give him some clarity as to what to do about this entire situation. Once you’re ready, the three of you head out into Vancouver to grab some lunch. While Charlie and Owen bicker about which restaurant would be best to take you to, you give yourself the opportunity to look around, rewarding your eyes with the beauty that is West End Vancouver. The difference between Dieppe and Vancouver is fascinating, to say the least. It’s funny to you because wherever you go or turn in Dieppe, there’s a natural flair to the streets, while everything in Vancouver is made of brick. Or at least this street is. “What about sushi, Y/N?” Owen asks you, making you snap out of your thoughts. “Ooh! I love me some sushi!” you reply, your mouth already salivating at the thought alone. “Told ya, Char,” he says to Charlie, “Who’s really their best friend, huh?” Charlie playfully punches the blondie in the shoulder, inducing a laugh from him. “All right, kids, where’s this sushi place? I am hella hungry!” you exclaim, interrupting their banter. They both point to a building on your right. You’re now looking at a townhouse, all brown bricks and teal framework around the windows and balconies at the top, whilst the ground floor has a black finish and black canopy with the sushi bar’s logo on it in big, white lettering. Before you can say anything else, the two have pulled you inside already, finding a spot near the back. Charlie slides into the booth next to you while Owen takes the opposite side. The waiter’s quick on his feet and brings you a menu and asks what you want to drink straight away. All three of you order some sodas, and then the waiter leaves you to choose. While you’re scanning the menu for something you like, you can feel a pair of eyes burning your skin. You look up for a moment, locking eyes with a guy that doesn’t look that much older than you. Awkwardly, you shoot him a smile before turning back to the menu. You look up again every now and then because you want to check if he’s still looking, and every time, he is. By the third time, he shoots you this disgusting smirk that sends physical shivers down your spine, shaking your entire body from head to toe. “You okay?” Charlie asks, feeling you shiver. “Yeah, just got the chills,” you reply, not wanting to make this a dramatic thing. It’s just a man staring at you creepily. Nothing you haven’t experienced yet. That’s what you get for wearing such extravagant clothes. “I’m ready to order, what about you guys?” you change the subject quickly, more for yourself than anyone else. You need to focus on other things so as to not feel too uncomfortable. The three of you order your food, and you start to ask the boys some questions about their new project together, and you even ask Owen about his show Knight Squad. You did watch that with your younger siblings when it ran on Nickelodeon. All of it helps keep you occupied and not at all thinking about the creepy man that’s still there. “I gotta go in for a fitting, but I’ll see you guys at the apartment later, okay?” Owen says after lunch, scooting out of the booth. “Can you cover my part of the bill, Char? I’ll pay you back later.” The boy next to you simply nods his head. “Kay, thanks. See you later, Y/N,” he offers you a wave before leaving the joint and leaving you and Charlie by yourself. “Can we go?” you ask when you notice Creepy Guy again. “Yeah, sure,” Charlie replies and scoots out of the booth. “Are you okay? You’ve been fidgety ever since we got here…” Of course he’d notice your change of demeanor. The Creepy Guy’s eyes on you at all times has made you quite nervous. “Oh, no, yeah… I’m fine,” you try to smile as convincingly as possible. “I gotta go to the toilet real quick, I’ll be right back, okay?” You slowly nod your head, unsure if it’s such a good plan to leave you by yourself with Creepy Guy just a few feet away. At first, you can keep your nerves at bay by pulling your jacket on and tugging at your shirt to make sure nothing’s on show. Then, you decide to take your phone out and aimlessly scroll through social media. It’s not like you’re actually picking things up from the things people posted since you’re trying to listen if there are any feet approaching. Your ears betray you today as there’s a tap on your shoulder. Hoping and praying it’s Charlie, you slowly turn around, only to find Creepy Guy in front of you with that disturbing smirk on his face. Chills run down your spine again as your thumb blindly finds its way to your contacts in your phone. You know Charlie’s name is at the very top of your recent calls, ready to be pressed in case of emergencies. “Hello, Gorgeous,” Creepy Guy says, “Noticed your two boy toys left you all by yourself, thought you could use some company.” He’s shuffling closer and closer, his breath hot and foul on your lips as you’re backing away until you feel the wall behind you. You’re frantically looking around for someone to notice and help you. A waitress behind the counter has a phone pressed to her ear, and you’re praying she’s calling the police. “What’s wrong, Angel Face? Are you n--” he’s cut off and pulled away from you all of a sudden. You have to blink your eyes a couple of times before you could properly see again. The whole situation made you black out for a couple of seconds. But now, your eyes land on Charlie, punching Creepy Guy in the face and getting hit a few times in return. For a moment, you’re frozen to the floor. Firstly because seeing Charlie fuming and punching a guy is kind of hot, and secondly because you’ve got no clue what to do. “Charlie,” you finally manage to bring out and place a hand on his shoulder. He turns his head at you, dark and angry eyes softening at the sight of your scared expression. “Let’s go,” you whisper, and grab his hand. “Hey, are you okay?” the waitress asks when you pass her, “I just called the cops, they’re gonna be here soon.” You glance at Charlie, his face all beaten up and bloody from the impact of Creepy Guy’s fist. “They’re gonna want you to make a statement.” “Fine,” you sigh. You wished you could forget about this whole thing quickly, but the girl just wants to help. “Could I get your first aid kit to take care of him first though?” You point at your best friend’s face, and the girl nods her head. “You can do it in here,” she says, beckoning you to follow. She hands you the small box and then leaves the two of you alone as though she knows you need some privacy. You sit Charlie down on the chair and perch yourself on the table next to it whilst going through the first aid kit. It’s silent for a while as you’re cleaning up the cuts on his forehead and cheeks. “Why’d you do that, Charlie?” you mutter, frustrated that his hot-headedness got him into this mess. He hisses as the disinfecting product you’re dabbing on his wounds starts stinging. “I hate seeing you get hurt, Nugget. Seeing that man practically groping you sickened me to my stomach. It hurt me as much as it hurt you, Y/N,” he exhales sharply and grabs your wrist to stop you from undeliberately hurting him some more. “Babe, I need to clean out these wounds,” you grumble, trying to wriggle your hand loose. “I’m fine, Y/N. They’ll heal,” he tells you, though you know those wounds are hurting. “No, Char. They’ll infect if I don’t clean them out properly,” you cup his face on one side, softly rubbing your thumb against his cheek. “You’re gonna have to grin and bear it, baby. Let me take care of you, okay?” His eyes soften as does the grip on your wrist. You continue cleaning up the wounds in silence, only Charlie’s soft hissing filling up your ears. “There you go,” you whisper when you’re finally done, “You’re as good as new.” Charlie offers you a thankful smile, which you return quickly before getting off the table to throw the used gauze into the bin in the corner of the room. When you turn around to return to the table, Charlie’s right behind you, making you jump out of your skin as you didn’t expect him to be this close. “Jeez, Bubba, I didn’t hear you sneak up,” you say in a hushed voice while clutching your heart. He’s staring down at you, his twinkling eyes flicking from yours to your lips and back. “What?” you ask softly. Your brain is going a mile a minute and your heart is pounding out of your chest. Besides hugging him, it’s been a while since you’ve been this close to him. You’d almost forgotten what that did to you. “I just--” he visibly swallows a lump, and then a smile plays at his lips, “Remember that first day we met? When Jade pushed you off that swing?” Though you’re confused as to why he’d bring that up, you can’t help but smile. “I still have a scar on my knee from that fall,” you reply, remembering the day clearly. “I thought you were super sweet to stand up for me. I even found it a little funny when you pushed Jade off the swing in return.” A chuckle escapes from him. “Yeah, Miss Edwards didn’t find it quite as funny,” Charlie adds. “But I knew from that day on that you were gonna be special to me, Y/N. Gossipping at the nurse’s office about who we liked and didn’t like, our mutual love for coca cola lollipops and The Rugrats.... I just knew I never wanted to be friends with anyone else in my life.” Your lips turn up into a tender smile at his sweet words. “But things have changed, haven’t they?” Your smile disappears at this. Where is this going? “I’ve been trying to find the right words to say this, but I could never come up with anything that could even come close to how I’m feeling…” he lets out a shaky breath, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of help. “Charlie… What are you getting at?” you ask, the fear taking over your voice with a quiver. “I might totally ruin our friendship with this, but I have to tell you because it’s driving me crazy…” Your eyebrows furrow, worry growing within you. “Charlie, stop babbling and just tell me what you wanna say! This is kinda nerve-wracking!” you raise your voice a little as a nervous chuckle breaks up the words ever so slightly. “Y/N,” he scoffs, “I’ve been in love with you since we were eighteen, and no, I didn’t get that from a One Direction song, though I’m pretty sure that one would’ve been accurate to sing to you right now. So, I’m just gonna quote that…” Your breath hitches in your throat at his confession. The thing you’ve been so afraid of for years is something that’s been bothering him too. At the exact same time. “Long before we both thought the same thing,” he continues, still in his normal speaking voice until the musician in him comes up. “To be loved or to be in love. And all I can do is say that these arms are made for holding you, oh. I wanna love like you made me feel… When we were eighteen…” He stops singing and looks at you for any sign of reciprocation. You’re frozen to the floor in absolute shock. This is what you’ve been dreaming about for so long and now that it’s finally here, you’re not even saying anything. “Y/N? I-- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I should’ve just kept these feelings to myself. I totally ruined everything now, didn’t I? I--let’s just forget about this whole thing, yeah? Just wake up tomorrow as if nothing ever happened. It’s okay, I--” You finally spring into action. But instead of saying anything, you simply grab him by his shirt and pull him into you, pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. He’s startled at first, but quickly melts into your lips and lets his hands find their way to your face. “I’ve been waiting for three years, scared you didn’t feel the same…” you whisper as you pull back, finally having found the words. “We’re both so stupid, Bubba.” He chuckles softly before kissing you again. “We literally could’ve been doing this for three whole years!” you exclaim, shaking your head in disbelief. “Yes, Princess, I know. Now, shut up and kiss me, we’ve got three years of this to catch up on.” A smile tugs at your lips as he removes the remaining space between your lips again. You’re a little too caught up into the kiss, you don’t even notice the knock on the door. “Guys, the--” you break apart, wide eyes staring at the door where the waitress stands with a sheepish smile. “Sorry… The cops are here,” she throws her thumb backwards. “Ugh, right…” you groan, but Charlie takes your hand and leads you out into the sushi bar again. During your statement, he stays with you at all times, holding your hand and watching you closely with a sad smile on his face. He hates the fact you have to go through all of that again as if you didn’t go through enough already. “That’s all we need from you, miss Y/L/N,” the officer says after a while. “You’ll hear from us soon. You can go home now. As for you, mister Gillespie, I’d do something about that anger of yours.” Charlie curtly nods his head before taking you out of the restaurant. The two of you head back home, and once there, you immediately head into the bedroom. There’s a lot of catching up to do from those three lost years. Your friendship has come a long way from the playground.

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13 @calamitykaty @wiselight @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @gingerxarmy @lovesanimals @lolychu @perfectlywrongformend3s @luckylouiebug @camiladelrio98 @myfriendscallmebeans @kcd15

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #jatp #charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie au #Luke Patterson #reggie jatp #jeremy shada #alex jatp #owen joyner #julie molina #madison reyes #18 #One direction

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bright-molina · 4 years ago

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ok wait this is the anon asking about how the buckley-mercers came about and I read Emergency Contact again and realized it was a reader insert and I cannot help but think that the reader has to have some form of trauma they are literally a buckley and now I can’t stop thinking about what it could be? I JUST ADORE YOUR WORK SO MUCH

ONCE AGAIN ANON YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY AN ANGEL!!!!!

I'm so glad you like this little world as much as me and @biqherosix do oh my gosh 🥺

[I'm gonna use she/her pronouns for this one but if anyone would prefer any others just let me know!]

Ahh okay SO

Short answer: poor Baby Buckley has had it rough. Absent parents and both her siblings leaving her alone left her with her fair share of abandonment issues and quite a bit of emotional detachment.

Long answer:

Baby Buckley is Alex’s age, they met when they were young a couple times during family reunions and whatnot and the last time they exchanged numbers and they talk all the time, calls, texting, facetime, everything (this will be relevant in a little bit)

We all know Maddie practically raised Buck herself and the two of them are the ones who raised Y/N

But still, it isn’t the same as having parents. If they paid little attention to Buck, they paid even less attention to y/n, there were a lot of times when their parents forgot there were kids in the house at all

Buck is 11 years older so when he was out doing something it was y/n fending for herself, a child barely old enough to read with no one there, that’s just how it was

So she learned to keep to herself, she could never keep her parents' attention no matter how hard she tried, and she tried practically everything. They always looked past her so she learned quickly to keep every single thing locked inside cause there was no one there to pay attention either way

It was always different with Maddie and Buck though, she let her guard down then because they were always there. She could trust them. Then Maddie left. She knew nothing about what was going on, all she saw was someone else leaving her alone. So she distanced herself. They both did.

Then one night Buck mentioned wanting to leave, promising y/n he’d take her with

But when he found the letter from Maddie telling him she couldn’t go with them he didn’t know what to do. Without her guiding him to do the right thing he was lost, fully believing he couldn’t do it. So he left.

He took a page out of Maddie’s book and left y/n a letter, promising he’d keep her updated and visit her soon

And for a while she believed him. She waited by the door every day after school, collected his postcards and hung them on her wall, smiling as she read the stories he told over and over again.

But days turned to weeks then months then a year had gone by and nothing

He still sent postcards and gifts on birthdays but it wasn’t the same as having him there

The postcards and pictures became bitter reminders that he was out living his life, happy as could be, without her. So she took them down and stuffed them deep inside an old backpack out of sight. Every new one he sent joined the pile unread.

Maddie stopped answering her calls and it became more obvious that they had both moved on without her

So there she was, alone at home, with two parents who preferred to pretend she didn’t exist

They were absent at best, most days were spent alone in her room, either sitting in silence or blasting old cd’s as loud as she could but never letting herself think of either of her siblings

She was never too good at remembering to do things herself, it was just easier to forget anything and everything, easier to not say a single word

Her only relief came when Alex called, he’d relay everything about how his band was doing, play her their newest songs, and sometimes when he could tell she was having a rough time he’d sing to her

That brief period of feeling okay, of feeling like there was someone there, meant everything. As they got older the phone calls turned to texts and even those became more sporadic until they stopped all together for a brief period of time.

I’m actually gonna elaborate on the rest of this in another short fic I’m working on now but essentially:

One day Y/N gets a call from Alex’s phone but it’s not actually Alex. It’s Reggie, Luke, and Bobby looking for him, he was missing and they thought she’d know where he could be

It’s not him, it doesn't sound like something he'd do and she can tell something is wrong. So naturally, she uses the debit card Buck left her to buy herself a ticket to LA telling them “No one will miss me here anyway.”

Y/N is 15 when she decides to stay in LA. Permanently.

The five of them practically live in Bobby’s garage together, it’s just safer and better for them given everything they have to deal with at their respective houses. They’re there for each other and that’s all they need, they’re convinced of it.

She has no clue Buck is also in LA. The postcards were at the bottom of one of the only bags she took with but they’re still left unread. She doesn’t answer the calls from him or Maddie and the first time her dad calls she loses it, breaks down in angry tears and throws the phone across the room because why now?

It’s months later, her and Luke, who are the quickest, are at a grocery store, one of the big ones that can afford to lose a little money, with their bags and sublty sneaking whatever they need into the pockets. Everything happens fast and next thing they know there’s a scream, a lot of yelling, and upon closer examination, an accident.

Despite everything, Y/N picked some stuff up from Maddie and she’s the first to rush to the scene, telling Luke to call 911

She makes friends, hesitant ones, with the paramedics who responded to the call. The one who helped her, Chimney as he introduced himself, doesn’t tell anyone about the things stuffed in her bag. He does however promise that if she ever needs anything to come down to the 118 and ask for him and his friend, Hen.

Eventually, she does and as promised, they're both there. She’s tense and on edge the entire time she follows them around the place but it’s not until she gets to the second floor that she realizes she made a mistake going there in the first place.

The very first person she lays eyes on is her brother. Evan Buckley himself.

And she runs.

#i just am obsessed okay #i don't know whether to start adding tags to these little hc's but anyway #jatp #911 #buckley mercer universe #lovely anons

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angelbabylu · 6 years ago

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The Art of Losing // AI

pairing: i created an oc for this bc its pretty heavy

prompt: Imagine you and Ashton are married and have a baby girl. You and your baby girl are driving back from a long day at the carnival and you get into a bad car accident.

warnings: this is supposed to be sad okay, warnings for death, drug use, & problematic domestic situations

word count: 5.5k

notes: this is for @myemptywallets who sent me the prompt. i hope this is does your prompt justice. shout out to my love @5sosnsfw ! thanks reading and editing this. love you

title from the poem One Art by Elizabeth Bishop

- before -

There is no sound in the dressing room as Ashton sits typing away at the screen of his phone. He had taken a few photos of the boys during sound check, and now he’s posting them: Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, the works. With his focus buried deep in the world of social media, he is lost to the world around him.

A voice floats through the device on the desk in front of him, disrupting the silence with an exasperated, “Ash.”

He lets his eyes to flicker up to the neutral-faced woman on the screen for a half a second before shifting his attention down to Twitter once more.

“One second, babe. I just need to send this tweet.”

With a heavy breath, she tries to convey her feelings of discontent. Were Ashton paying attention, he would have picked up on it in seconds. Then again, were Ashton paying attention, she wouldn’t be upset in the first place.

“Ashton, I think you guys are big enough now that you can hire someone else to run your twitter account.”

He doesn’t hear her. Or, if he does, he’s too engaged to respond.

It takes a full minute for his head to pop up and his eyes to meet piercing ones, their intensity dulled by the LCD display. She never quite looks the same behind a screen. Something about her felt diluted by the machine that separated them.

“What?” His thick brows furrow, creating a deep V in the space between them. She is opening her mouth to restate herself when his brain catches up.

“Baby,” he scoffs. They had talked about this. “You know how impersonal that is to me. Our fans deserve to hear straight from us.”

This time he keeps his eyes on her long enough to take in how disconcerted she is. Ashton knows that face better than his own. There were hours in years past that he dedicated to learning her every emotion. On that day that Ashton said those fateful words (“Maren Anderson, will you marry me?”), he promised to always do what he could to keep her happy. His current actions were contradicting that vow.

“Mare, you okay?”

The look she gives him says that she obviously isn’t. He feels a twinge in his gut at the realization that he had been neglecting her. Placing his phone back in his pocket (after covertly hitting send on the tweet), he gives his attention over to her.

“What’s up?”

“I miss you.”

It is three simple words, but the weight of them is enough to crush Ashton’s heart. This is why he had become so engrossed in the business side of the tour. Being the band’s personal PR agent is just one of the many tricks he uses to keep his mind occupied. The more menial tasks he finds to consume his days, the less time he spends thinking about to what he left behind at home.

She reaches her left hand up to sweep her hair out of her face, the diamond on her ring finger catching the light, sparkling on screen. Ashton still remembers the day he gave her that ring - more so than the day he had stumbled into Tiffany’s at Saks Fifth Avenue, drugged out of his mind but sure of one thing: how much he wanted her to be his wife.

“Why aren’t you on tour with me again?” He tries to keep his tone light, recognizing what the scrunch of her nose meant. If he allows the conversation to continue with professions of just how much pain the space between them is causing, she will inevitably start to cry. Selfishly, he doesn’t want to go on stage thinking about his wife crying thousands of miles away, with no way to comfort her.

“We’re blaming Eden,” she says, and that is just the segue he is hoping for. If there is one thing that could put a smile on both their faces, Eden is it.

“And where is my little devil?”

His wife is sitting on the couch in their living room, and if the smile she shoots over the screen of her phone is any indication, so is their five-year-old daughter.

“Daddy!”

The scream is accompanied by high pitched giggles as a flurry of dark curls materializes on screen, dislodging the camera from her mother’s hand. In the next second, Ashton is facing the light of his life. She is smiling, as always, her dimples the size of craters on her cheeks.

“Hey! How’s my favorite girl?”

“Once again, your daughter comes on screen, and you forget I exist.”

His wife’s voice comes from somewhere to the left of the device, meaning she doesn’t see the roll of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he calls out. “Who are you again?”

Neither Maren nor Eden take lightly to the joke.

“Daddy, don’t be mean!” the curly-haired kindergartener chastises.

“Okay, okay.” He raises his hands in defeat. “What are my two favorite girls going to be up to today?”

Maren’s head pops up on screen then, resting her cheek gently on the top of their daughters head. She doesn’t take the phone from Eden, knowing how much she likes to be in control during these family FaceTimes (“She gets this control thing from you,” Maren never hesitates to tell her husband.)

“We’re going to the carnival!”

He catches his wife’s guilty eyes over his daughter’s head. Just last week she had sworn they wouldn’t go to the carnival, citing it as punishment for Eden’s recent unruly behavior.

“We’re only going for a few hours,” Maren tries to explain. “Because Eden was good and cleaned her room today without me having to ask.”

“And I spoil her?” His voice is incredulous, hinting at a conversation they’d had numerous times before.

Eden, too clever for her own good, comments, “You both spoil me.”

The sound Ashton releases is an embarrassingly loud guffaw. Eden is sharp, to the point where Ashton is continuously amazed by her mind. Of course, he remembers watching his younger siblings mature, but something about watching his daughter, someone he helped bring into the world, go from only being able to laugh and babble to now developing her own firecracker sense of wit, felt different. He is immensely proud. And grateful to be blessed with someone as amazing as her.

“Your eyes, your smile, and now your sass,” his wife says fighting a slight smile. “She is her father's child.”

And she is. The resemblance is uncanny. Not only in their looks, but in their personality as well. They are both talkative pranksters, demanding of attention, always in need of stimulation and excitement. Together, they wreak havoc in their house. They are partners in crime. His wife often complains that they needed another child ASAP. It is easy to feel out of place in the Ashton and Eden Show.

“I’m daddy’s child when I’m bad, mommy’s child when I’m good, and uncle Lu’s niece when I whine too much.”

Eden recites the mantra Maren has been repeating since Eden could talk. There are more sayings for the other boys as well. She is Mikey’s niece when they couldn’t get her away from her video games and Calum’s niece when she is melodramatic.

(A few days before they had gone on tour, Ashton had walked into their house to find Eden home from Kindergarten, sprawled out on the tan carpet of their living room. His wife at their record player with a Depeche Mode album in hand.

“What’s going on here?” he had asked.

Maren shrugged. “She came in, threw herself on the carpet, and asked for this album.” She waved the Some Great Reward Vinyl in her hand before slipping it out of its sleeve and onto the player.

“Bug?” Ashton turned to his daughter then, looking for more information.

No such luck.

“People are people, daddy.” She said as if there was some great weight on her five-year-old shoulders only Depeche Mode could solve.

Ashton caught his wife’s eyes. Then, as if there was no other response to the scene in front of them, they both sighed, “She is Calum’s niece.”)

They speak for a while, Eden monopolizing most of her dad’s attention. She is in the middle of a nonsensical story that Ashton was having a hard time following.

“Four, five, six hippo princesses and a dinosaur car chase!” Ashton’s mind supplies, and even though he has no idea what that means, he nods along anyway.

A knock on the door interrupts them just as Eden begins to mention Ali’s tater’s and lasers, or perhaps alligator lasers, Ashton isn’t really sure. She pauses though, all three of their attention shifting to the door as Ashton called the person inside.

It’s three people. Luke, Calum, and Michael stumble through the door of their dressing room looking all fired up and ready for the show. As soon as they see who’s one screen, they do not spare Ashton a second glance.

They crowd around the back of Ashton’s chair and begin to all speak at once, offering varying greetings to Maren and Eden.

“Sorry little bug,” Calum begins once everyone has finished exchanging pleasantries. “We’ve come to steal your daddy away.”

Luckily, Eden does not put up as much of a fight as she usually does.

There are tears - there are always tears. The second Eden hears that her dad has to leave, she begins to cry. Her nose scrunches, similar to the way Maren’s had earlier, and her eyes well up with rivers.

“No please,” She begs her uncle. “I wanna talk to daddy.”

All five adult hearts at that moment shatter. The boys know how hard it is for Ashton to be away from his daughter. Truthfully, it is hard for them to be away from her too. At that moment, Ashton is the only one with a child, and in many ways, Eden has become theirs as well.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, they have done this enough that everyone knows how to calm the five-year-old down.

“Eden,” it is Luke’s turn this time. He crouches at Ashton’s side, bringing himself down to be face to face with the screen of the iPad. “You know your daddy & your uncles will call you after the show.”

“Yeah,” Maren chimes in, her hand gently running through the unruly mop of curls on her daughter's head. “And we have the carnival. If you talk to your daddy all afternoon, we won’t be able to go.”

Eden still doesn’t budge. “I wanna keep talking to daddy.”

“My little sunshine.” Ashton and his daughter are twins. He boasts about knowing how to talk her down. “Go to the carnival. Have as much fun as possible. Then later when you get home, you’ll have twice as many stories to tell me and all the time in the world to tell them!”

At the thought of making more memories to share later with her dad, the kindergartener reluctantly resigns. “Okay,” she pouts.

“Love you, little bug.”

They exchange a round of “I love you’s” before Ashton got up and got ready for the stage.

- after: ashton -

Calum receives the news first. He is the closest to the wings of the arena stage that night, so when their manager rushes on stage, only ten minutes of the set remaining, he is the first one she runs into.

Ashton doesn’t realize that he has stopped playing for a full minute. It is not until Michael and Luke stop playing as well, both their attention on Calum, that Ashton begins to register that something is off.

Later, he will tell them that he knows the bad news is for him from the get-go. How can he not, with the way Calum breathes, “Fuck,” and immediately turns to him.

The arena is almost silent now. What was once thousands of fans yelling the lyrics to She Looks So Perfect is now a mass quiet, curious faces. Ashton wonders if the crowd can feel it too, can feel the realization that his manager’s next few words will tear his life apart forever.

“We regret to inform you that due to a family emergency we will be cutting the show short. . .”

Ashton doesn't get to hear her finish the speech because the boys rush towards him, all but forcing him off stage. He knows his body is moving, vaguely aware of the gentle hand at the small of his back, guiding him through the backstage area. His mind - that is elsewhere. It buzzes with one question only: What the fuck was happening? It takes him a full minute to realize he is repeating it aloud.

He doesn’t get his answer until Calum shoves him into a chair in their dressing room - the very same chair he sat on earlier when talking to his daughter and his wife.

“Promise me you’ll take deep breaths after I tell you this,” Calum commands. That is never a good sign. That phrase is not one that is usually followed by good news.

Ashton looks up and meets Luke’s eyes. He is surprised to find that he and Michael are confused as well. Calum is the only one who knows what was going on.

“Cal, what the fuck is happening?” Ashton says in lieu of the promise.

Calum is silent for what feels like a full minute. Ashton could hear the sound of each second passing from the clock on the dressing room wall. Tick, tick, tick.

It counts down the seconds before Ashton hears, “Maren and Eden got into a car accident.”

Luke and Michael release gasps of shock, both staggering as if Calum’s words are enough to knock them off their feet.

For Ashton, the words don’t quite sink in. He is on his feet before Calum’s next breath. The phrase alone is too much for Ashton to process, but he is aware that it is Mare and it is Eden and it is bad news.

“Okay, I need to - “

He doesn’t get to finish before Calum is pushing him back into his chair. “You need to breathe. We have a flight. The four of us. We leave for LA in 2 hours. The car will be pulling up any second now. We’re gonna go to the hotel, grab what you need, and then we’re gonna go.” He speaks like he would were it Eden in a crisis, demanding and almost infuriatingly slow.

“Do you understand?”

When Ashton nods, Calum shakes his head. “I need you to use your words, Ashton. Do you understand?”

He’s not sure his voice will work. He surprises himself when he’s able to croak out, “I understand.”

“Did you want to try eating breakfast today?”

He doesn’t get a verbal answer. Instead, the mop of hair peeking out from underneath the comforter slowly shakes no.

“You need to eat something,” There is a pleading in his voice. Still, he gets no response from the body tucked tightly in the bed sheets.

Sighing slowly, he closes the door behind him.

Maren hasn’t said a word since they came home from the hospital without their daughter. He understands. Some days he’s surprised he’s able to get out of bed at all. His mother thinks that he’s in shock, that the finality of everything hasn’t hit him yet. Maybe he hasn’t realized he will never see his little girl again, never see her smile, never hear her say a sharp comment, nothing. He thinks she’s partially correct. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognizes that this truly terrible thing has happened to him, but if he doesn’t give himself the time to think, the time to mull on just how world crushing the situation is, he won’t snap. He won’t fall to pieces like his wife has. And right now, he has to keep it together for her.

When he gets downstairs, he finds Calum, Michael, and Crystal in the kitchen.

There are a million people staying at his house right now. Luke refuses to go home. He spends most of his days curled up in bed with Maren. From what Ashton can gather, neither of them say very much. They just sit together in silence. Sometimes when he walks by the TV will be on. Other times, they’re crying. But he hasn’t heard either of them utter a word. He’s happy (a funny word at that moment) that Luke can be there for Maren in a way that he can’t.

Mikey and Crystal will go home sometimes. Mostly because Maren doesn’t like seeing Crystal, the small 4-month baby bump a reminder that of the child they had lost.

His mom and his siblings are milling around somewhere. They flew in just a few hours after he did.

God. Just 4 days ago he was still on tour. He shook the thought out of his head. There was no point in worrying about how his fans were reacting to its abrupt cancellation.

Calum catches sight of the motion and looks over him with scrutinizing eyes, “You okay?”

Calum had been his rock in the past four days. Ashton will never forget how he ushered him from one place to the next that first night, getting him ready for the plane flight and the subsequent visit to the hospital. And now, there was no way he could plan this funeral without Calum. They were the only ones strong enough to. Better yet, the only ones strong enough to pick themselves up after a good cry.

Neither of them told anyone about the day at the funeral home. Calum had barely been able to clarify, “We’re looking for child caskets,” before the both of them broke down in tears. That was the only time Ashton allowed his emotions to slip. Even then, he forced himself to regain composure, perhaps too quickly. Ashton is afraid that if he lets himself to really cry, he will never stop.

“Fine.” He responds to Calum’s earlier question.

Eventually, his sister joins them in the kitchen and all five of them make breakfast. It is a little crowded, but everyone just wants to be around each other, so no one complains.

The funeral and wake will be later that day. The wake is being held at his house so of course his mom has been up since the crack of dawn cleaning. Never mind the fact that they could easily hire an entire crew to do so. His mom recruits his siblings, Michael and Crystal to help with the cleaning. Calum and Ashton go over final funeral details. And Luke and Maren. . . they cry and try to gather their strength for the funeral.

Ashton makes it through the funeral, his eulogy, and the wake that follows. He makes it to the end of the week. He makes through seven days of his wife not uttering a word to him. So, he feels weak when the thing that finally causes him to break is his mom leaving.

He had rolled his eyes at the airport when she asked, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” and all but pushed them onto the plane. He knew they wanted to stay and be there for him, but his siblings still had school. They had already taken a week off. They made promises to see each other the next holiday and then said goodbye.

It doesn’t hit him until he gets home.

There are no more distractions.

The funeral is over.

The few days post-funeral he had spent shopping for and catching up with his mom and his younger siblings.

Now they are gone too.

Michael and Crystal are home together.

Luke is probably curled up somewhere with Maren.

Calum finally went home to his girlfriend, no longer needed to help plan a funeral.

Ashton is alone.

Maybe not totally alone.

He takes a deep breath and climbs the stairs, en route to his room. He knocks but knows better than to expect an answer before pushing it open.

He’s surprised to find that Luke isn’t there. He’s even more surprised to find his wife sitting up, and scrolling through her phone. “Luke went home?” he asks.

She doesn’t even look up at him.

“Yeah.”

Yeah. The first word his wife has spoken to him since the death of their daughter.

He sits gingerly on the bed. His side of the bed. A bed he hasn’t slept in for months.

“Should we. . .” he trails off, looking at her, hoping to meet her eyes.

She keeps her gaze down.

“Should we talk about it?”

For a minute, he thinks she isn’t going to respond. She’s almost robotic in the way she stares at the small device and in the movement of her thumb. He thinks that maybe if he sticks it out, if he sits by her, she will look up at him and they will finally get to talk about it - to go through this pain together.

They don’t.

“Ashton,” Her voice is small. She turns off her phone, but her eyes never leave it. “Don’t take this the wrong way but - “

Her voice is breaking, just like his heart.

“I’m having a hard time okay? I just want to be alone to process my emotions. I can’t talk about it. It is still too painful.”

He doesn’t know what that means. What he’s supposed to do with that information. A million responses roll through his mind.

He eventually settles on, “Okay.”

Before he’s even out the door, he has his phone in hand, dialing a number he hasn’t touched in years.

- after: maren -

The first words Maren says after Eden dies are, “I need to go get Eden ready for school.”

She’s woken up by someone placing something on her bedside table, and for a brief moment, before she even opens her eyes, her subconscious thinks it’s Ashton waking her up to go get Eden. They had done it many times before. He would make her breakfast, a nice gesture, but inevitably wake her up with the clanging of the breakfast tray on the bedside table.

But this time it wasn’t Ashton, and she would never get Eden ready for school again.

When Luke lets out a shuddering breath, reality comes rushing back to her. As soon as her eyes open, she is crying. She has only seen people through her tears recently.

Luke is crying too.

At this point, it’s two days since Eden’s death. One day since they got home from the hospital. The car was hit on the passenger side, where Eden had been peacefully babbling, playing with a stuffed giraffe she had “won for her uncle Lu” at the carnival.

A drunk driver. Dead on impact as well.

The car had spun out, gone off the bank on the opposite side of the road before being stopped by a thicket of trees. She had been conscious until the airbag deployed, causing the majority of her injuries.

Lucky. That’s what the doctor said when she awakened. She was lucky to walk away with a few burns and a broken arm.

Mourning a child felt impossible. If the driver had hit her side and Ashton were planning her funeral, she knows it would be hard, but some part of her thinks like it would be better.

She has experienced life. Eden has not. She’ll never experience the first day of first grade, she’ll never get her first report card, do a science project, have a first crush, bring a significant other home, anything.

The thought swarms her mind what feels like every second of every day. So much so that she can’t speak. She thinks that if she does, all that will come out is a list. A list of things that she’ll never see her baby do.

So, she locks herself away. Luke is the only one brave enough to come and see her - and even then they don’t speak. They cry and listen to Eden’s favorite albums and watch Paw Patrol of all things. All without exchanging a word.

She leaves her room twice in that first week. The first time, she shuffles down the stairs in search of water. It’s expected when what feels like a thousand voices float up from the foyer, getting clearer as she gets closer.

She knows that all the boys are there. They wouldn’t leave Ashton’s side at a time like this.

When she walks into the kitchen where they’re gathered, everyone grows quiet, watching her as if she is teetering on the edge of a break.

To be fair, she is.

She sees Crystal’s baby bump for the first time since the accident and immediately breaks down in tears.

The second time is for Eden’s funeral.

Ashton even gets a fucking priest. Neither of them are very religious, so it feels disingenuous. She briefly wonders if five-year-olds go to heaven. If Eden is somewhere at that moment, being taken care of.

It’s a nice thought. Something easy to believe.

Perhaps that’s why Ashton got the priest in the first place.

She sits in the back and leaves before it’s over.

Ashton tries to comfort her at times. She’s aware of him coming to her door daily, of the food he sends up with Luke even after she says she doesn’t want to eat, of the gentle hand that he places on her shoulder at the funeral that she promptly shakes off.

She loves Ashton.

She does.

But Ashton is Eden’s twin. They were always joking about that. Now, Maren couldn’t look at him without being reminded of everything she’s lost.

She doesn’t expect it when Ashton stops trying.

The day she sends Luke home is the day she pushes Ashton away.

She realizes too late that it’s a mistake. It means getting out of bed and making her own tea.

The first day she tries but finds one of Eden’s sippy cup forgotten at the back of the cupboard. She spends three hours on the kitchen floor crying.

At the end of the second week, she works up the energy to make an appointment with a grief counselor.

“And how is your husband taking all this?”

Counseling is going great until she gets that question.

She doesn't know how to tell her counselor that she hasn’t seen her husband in weeks. She has no idea where he is or what he has been up to. She never even asked him how he was feeling about the death of their first child.

At the encouragement of her counselor, she makes an effort to reach out to Ashton.

Staring at her phone screen for hours, she finally decides on a text.

Dinner?

She’s not sure that he will respond.

He does, seconds later.

He says, i'll be home in 20.

After all that time, Ashton still came running when she called.

She thinks it’ll be cute to bring back some of their old traditions. The first time she cooks for Ashton, it is after spending an entire day wrapped around each other. Naturally, she was wearing his clothes while she did it. Somehow, it becomes a ritual of theirs: her wearing his clothes as she moves about the kitchen, him watching from the sidelines pretending to help.

What she finds in his t-shirt drawer derails the entire night.

When Ashton walks in, she is not in the kitchen preparing dinner, but in the living room, sitting quietly in the dim light of their table lamp.

“Really?” Maren asks. This is the second conversation they’ve had since Eden, and she feels like this will be their last.

Ashton’s eyes finally fall on the bottle in her hand. It’s a translucent orange with a handful of white pills sitting at the bottom. When she shakes it, its rattle thunders through the room. His flinch lets her know that at least part of him feels remorse.

He had stopped taking Xanax before they got married. It was their deal. She would only marry him if he got clean. To know that he was back. . .

Ashton’s first reaction is to downplay it all.

“Eden is fucking dead, Mare. This is my way of dealing with it. Just like yours is to disappear to your room for weeks and refuse to say anything to me.”

Maren doesn’t respond. She knows that if she opens her mouth to speak, she is going to yell. Gritting her teeth, she tries to keep her comments to herself – comments about how her dead daughter is not an excuse for him falling off the wagon.

Her silence only serves to agitate him.

She has to tighten her grip on the pill bottle as he continues, voice rising as he yells, “What so you’re allowed to feel things, and I’m not?”

Anger bubbles inside her. First, he uses their daughter as an excuse to go back to the dark places of his past, and now he is throwing her own grief back at her. She stands, facing him, but tries to keep her voice level, aware of how easy it would be for both of them to start screaming.

“This isn’t feeling things. This is you not knowing how to deal with your emotions, same as always.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” He asks, as if this isn’t a conversation they’d had before, as if she hadn’t once begged him to go to therapy for it.

“When you were on tour, and you missed us, instead of allowing yourself to feel it, you buried yourself in work and pretended everything was fine. This is no different.”

“You’re comparing the pain that I’m feeling over our dead daughter to me missing you on tour?”

“No.” She knows he is purposely misunderstanding her for the sake of argument. She explains herself anyway, “I am saying that just like how you refused to deal with your pain then, you are refusing to deal with your pain now.

“Ashton, our daughter is dead.” He winces at her impassive tone. That is the difference between them. It has taken her months of depression and counseling to be able to say those words. Ashton isn’t there yet, and she knows that if he doesn’t acknowledge his feelings, he never will be.

“Our daughter is dead. And that is not something that you can forget or pretend isn’t happening with drugs. You need to allow yourself time to mourn her. The drugs? That’s not helping you feel things.” She calls back his earlier phrase again, to drive her point in. “That’s helping you burry those feelings.”

He recoils as if her words are a slap to the face.

“Oh get off your fucking high horse, Mare!” Because of the volume and the intensity of his words, now Maren is the one to flinch. It was like this before too, with the drugs. He was easily irritable, prone to blaming his out of control behavior on anything other than himself, “I had to deal with this shit by myself. You disappeared. I had to plan this funeral while I mourned the loss of our child. And you created this distance between us. You! The only other person who understood what I was going through.”

He’s screaming by the time he has finished.

And he’s right.

That’s the painful part. Maren fucked them up first, but if she sticks around, Ashton is going to make everything worse. She knows she didn’t deal with Eden’s death in the best way just like she knows that Ashton isn’t coping in the best way now. If they continue down this path, they’re just going to keep hurting each other.

“I think I’m gonna go.”

“Go where? We’re not done.”

She ignores his angry protests and sidesteps him as she makes her way to the door.

“I love you,” she says. Her back is to him, hand already poised on the knob. “I will never love someone as much as I love you. And that’s why I think it’s best if I go.”

“Why are you always trying to walk away from us?” His voice is small now, barely above a whisper. She can feel him pleading in his words.

He is referring to the first time she gave him an ultimatum. Back then, he had brought her the beautiful ring that still sat on her finger, but he had been so drugged up he could barely get words out. What she told him then is what she tells him now.

“You need to realize Ash that this is bad for you, for the both of us. When you realize that and you get clean, come find me.”

She looks back at him for a brief second, and the last thing she sees before she leaves are the tears running down his face.

end notes: don’t forget to let me know what you think! thanks for reading!

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#ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin imagine #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos blurb #ashton irwin angst #ashton irwin au #ashton irwin fluff #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos fluff #5sos au #luke hemmings #calum hood #michael clifford #my fics #jay writes

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originalfics · 6 years ago

Text

Letting you go- Ashton Irwin (pt 2)

I walk through the house, reliving all the memories as I make my way out the front door and to my car. As I pull out of the drive way, I swear I can feel my heart shattering in 2.

It is now 2018

Hayly Sandoval is now 22. She still lives in LA. She has an apartment that she lives in by herself. She makes YouTube skits, covers, original music, dance videos, and vlogs. She hasn’t seen or talked to Ashton since the day she left. She still hasn’t been able to fall in love with anyone else. She still hasn’t been able to fall OUT of love with him, even though she doesn’t like to admit it. She hangs out with YouTubers like David Dobrik, Liza Koshy, Colby Brock, and Shane Dawson. She has a really good life and tries not to miss Ash too much.

“Hey Shane.” I say as I walk into his house, petting his dogs. We all (Garrett, Morgan, Ryland, Andrew, and Shane) hang out in their house for a few hours until everyone gets hungry. We all end up driving to Chipotle, after I put on actual clothes that aren’t my pj’s.

We walk into Chipotle and stand in line. Garrett and I talk about Harry Potter.

“Seriously mate!” The people in front of us laugh.

“You guys can go in front of us. He doesn’t know what to get.” A guy says, laughing slightly. I turn around to see who is in front of us because the laugh sounds familiar.

Ashton.

“Hayly?” Ashton breathes.

“I’ll see you guys later.” I choke.

“You said you were super hungry.” Morgan says.

“I’m not. I need to get out of here.” I say shaking. People are looking at me, including Mikey, Ashton, Calum, and Luke. I practically run out of the resturaunt. I take a deep breath, trying to get my lungs to work, my heart to stop racing, and my body to stop shaking. My eyes are dancing with stars and I have to lean against the building to not fall over.

“Hayly. Are you okay?” Someone asks, holding my arm. So I guess it wasn’t a building.

“Jesus christ. Hayly, breathe.” Another says.

“I’m sorry.” I say to the people helping me. I hate being a burden to people. One my vision clears up, I see Morgan, Garrett, Ryland, Andrew.

And Ashton.

“Are you okay?” He asks me. I nod as I feel my throat close up and my heart starts to race again.

“Okay. Who the hell are you?” Morgan asks.

“I’m Ashton. Hayly and I used to... we used to know eachother.”

“She never mentioned you.” Ryland says.

“I have. Just never used his name.” I manage. Garrett is the first one to realize what I mean.

“Wait. He’s- that’s him?” Morgan asks me. I look down.

“We’ll give you guys a minute.” Andrew says, dragging them away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to have a panic attack when I saw you. Then again I did not mean to see you.” I tell him.

“Sorry I caused a panic attack. Are you okay?”

“I am fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“That’s all I do. I never knew what actually happened to you after you left me in the middle of the night.” He realizes what he said.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He appologizes.

“It’s fine. I did leave you in the middle of the night. And you have the right to be mad at me. I would be mad too.”

“Can we talk? Perhaps over lunch?” He asks, signalling to Chipotle. I nod and we walk back in.

“Before you do anything, I deserve a hug.” Calum says. I laugh and give him a hug as he rests his chin on my head.

“I missed you, Ly.” He tells me. He lets me go and sits at a table with the other guys.

“I bought you a bowl.” Shane says, handing me my food and a soda. I thank him and sit at a table with Ashton.

“I’m just going to ask it: Why’d you leave me?” Ashton asks.

“Because...”

“Because what, Hayly? I thought we were in love. I thought you loved me. I thought you supported me and the band. But all of a sudden I wake up with a note saying basically nothing. And it is all I can ever think about, Hayly. So why? Why did you leave me?” He begs.

When I don’t answer, he shouts “WHY?” making people look at us.

“Because you were always gone, Ashton! I left becuase no matter how much you tried, I was always lonely. I left my home, my family, my friends, my job to follow you halfway across the fucking world. But you were always gone on tour and shit. I was 19 and alone in a new country. Hell, a new CONTINENT. I left even though my mom said that if I left with you, I would NEVER be able to come back. Not for births, holidays, not even for deaths. But I left it all behind for a man who was never home. It didn’t ever feel like home unless you were there. And you were almost never there. But I mainly left because I was hurting you, even if you didn’t realize it. You would go on tour and while your friends would be out at bars and stuff, you would be FaceTiming me from a hotel room. I ruined your chance to socialize and hook up with groupies. I was holding you back and you needed to let me go.”

“That should’ve been my decision to make, Hayly! You left me wondering why! You left me heart broken and alone. Didn’t you ever think about how I would feel? Because that is all I thought about for you.”

“Of course I thought about you! I love you! But no matter what I couldn’t shake a stupid feeling that nothing I ever did was enough for you and I felt like you were wasting your time so excuse me for thinking I wasn’t good for you. For knowing I wasn’t good for you. I only ever thought about you. About us. Do you know how much I wanted us to work? How much I begged myself to stay? Ashton, I would never have hurt you except I couldn’t stay. I was having panic attacks nightly when you were gone. I was taking so many anti- depressants and anti- anxiety’s. I wanted to stay but I couldn’t, Ash. So you can stop worrying about me. You know where I am now.” I realize that my nails have been digging into my palm when they start to bleed.

“I have to go.” I grab my bag and rush out of the resturaunt and into my car, driving to the one place in LA where I can easily breathe: Will Rogers State Beach.

Not many people go here so it’s usually not crowded, especially the spot where I go to. You have to hike a little bit and it’s pretty hidden if you don’t know where to find it. I found it about 2 weeks after Ashton left for the first time.

God, I wish I could disappear. I would love to just go home back to London. But my mom meant what she said. I tried to go home when she was dying but she said no.

I gave up everything for Ashton.

“You alright, Ly?” I turn my head to see Calum. I shake my head. He sits next to me and pulls me into his arms.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” I say.

“You didn’t. I’ve just missed my best friend.”

“God you must think I’m a bitch for leaving you guys.”

“No. I understand. You gotta do you.” He tells me.

“The panic attacks got worse after I left. Especially recently.”

“Why recently?” He asks.

“My mom is dying. But I can’t go back. I made a choice coming to America with Ashton, and my mom says that I made a choice to leave the family. And now I have to stick with the choice.” He pulls me even closer.

“Can I ask you something?” I nod.

“Are you still in love with Ashton? You said love in the resturaunt, not loved.”

“It doesn’t really matter whether I love Ash or not. But yeah, I do. And I think I always will.” I say, no louder than a whisper. We sit watching the waves together for a while, catching up on life.

“I have to go home.”

“Why?” He asks me, whining.

“I feel like sleeping. Part of panic attacks, they make me sleepy.” I give him a hug bye and drive home. As soon as I open my door, I change into more comfortable clothes.

I grab my camera and set it up on the tripod. I turn it on but don’t do an intro. I just get to singing ‘Grace’ by Bebe Rexha and playing the piano. Then I sing ‘Sorry’ by Halsey while playing the piano. Then I play ‘Happier’ on the accoustic. Then I go on another emotional rant about my life and feelings.

“I just feel like I can’t even breathe anymore. It’s just like the entire world is crushing me and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I can’t do anything but watch it and think ‘Well I deserve this.’ Because I do. I left my mom back in London. Even though it would mean she would be all alone in the house. I have 6 siblings, all older than me, that have spread around the world. They’re doing great. They’re married, have families, have lots of money, have actual jobs. But here I am, having panic attacks that make me black out, making videos on the internet of me singing or doing stupid shit or just ranting about how much I hate myself.

“How much I wish I could just disappear. How much I wish I could die. How much I wish I could just breathe and rewind everything. How much I could forget everything. I wish I could forget the nights where I was helpless. The nights where I could hear my mom being hit but I couldn’t do anything. I was too young. I was too helpless. I wish I could forget my older sister’s sobs as we all hid in the closet. I wish I could forget watching my dad hit my older brother when he tried to stop him from hurting our mom. I wish I could forget how tight my oldest sister held onto me. How everyone tried to make sure I grew up without all of this pain. I wish I could forget the way my sisters would sing to me to help me sleep when I had nightmares.

“When my dad left, it was like we could all breathe again. It was like they could all breathe again. I wouldn’t sleep for days straight because of nightmares of the night where he took me out of my bed at 1 a.m and decided to to leave me at a gas station 30 miles away from home. I still dream of it to this day.

“I wish I could throw my feelings against the wall. I wish I didn’t have to feel anymore. I wish I wasn’t still in love with someone who probably hates me now because I left him 3 years ago. I sometimes wish I hadn’t left. But other times, I don’t. Because he is doing so great without me. He is fucking thriving. If I hadn’t left he probably would’ve already left me. So either way I would’ve been a depressed, anxious, and torn mess. Which is always fun.

“Anyways, I’ll see you guys next week.” I finish weakly, turning my camera off. I curl up in my bed with music blasting so loud I will probably get a noise complaint but honestly who fucking cares anymore.

#ashton irwin #ashton fletcher irwin #ashton 5sos #ashton 5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer #calum hood #calum 5sos #calum 5 seconds of summer #shane dawson #morgan adams #garrett watts #luke hemmings #michael clifford #part 2

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