#old!5sos

[wiiildflowerrr]

@Ashton5SOS: I regret many things in our career, this is one of them.

@Ashton5SOS: And this.

@Ashton5SOS: Heaven help me.

@Ashton5SOS: We needed help.

@Ashton5SOS: I now know why hey everybody flopped

@Luke5SOS: Fuk

8 September 2019

[venusplanetofloveee]

The og tumblr boys.

[justaasierra]

Mood for today

[notjustareject]

never enough.

[ashtcnirwin]

I wrote Glory Days about a time when things felt simpler, the early days of touring and experiencing the explosion of 5SOS front on with my best friends, those times are in the past, and although those times blessed me with everything I get to experience now in the present, I can comfortably say they were truly the glory days that ill cherish for the rest of my life

[2014enthusiast-x]

your lipstick stain is a work of art/i've got your name tattooed in an arrow heart

[5sosprincess]

Nobody could ever recreate nor create such a masterpiece, the enthralling lyrical genius of this song evokes feelings that only one could ever explain with such enchantment and humbleness.

[nostalgiafor2014]

girls after saying they don’t give a fuck

(she gives a fuck)

[get4waycarr]

𝙓𝙊𝙓𝙊

[justaasierra]

What are good girls?

[notjustareject]

barely surviving

[nostalgiafor2014]

essay idea: the cultural significance of tumblr in 2014

[mgcalum]

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[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.  

[kindahoping4forever]

📸: Andy Deluca

Fan pics of Rock Sound's 25 Icons Series