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jxst-saying · 5 years

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What about working for the boys and the fans ship her with Luke and they say they are just best friends but end up realizing they love each other in soft rn :(

A/N: This had me fucked up. Also, too in–depth to just do in a one part little drabble, so I wrote it in multiple parts! If you want the next part, just go ahead and request it here!

(Part Two is now available: here!) (And so is Part Three: right here!) (And so if Part Four: right here!)

[+masterlist]

@mukeclifford: @Luke5SOS and @y/t/n are SO cute!!!!! they’re totally dating there’s no other explanation that’s it that’s the tweet

@wackycalum: I don’t have a problem with @Luke5SOS and @y/t/n being an item, but lying about it is fucking messed up. Just be honest to your fans. Don’t lie. We’ll find out eventually.

@rAiNbOwAsH: how cliché is it that the social media manager is messing around with @Luke5SOS what a way to keep her job

@bitchluke: honestly people that are hating on @y/t/n for absolutely no reason are just jealous bitches she’s a professional doing her job let her be even if she and @Luke5SOS are dating that’s their business (but i do think they’re fucking cutE)

Y/N. Social media manager to well–known band 5 Seconds of Summer. Currently rumored to be dating Luke Hemmings, aforementioned band’s front–man. Actually, let’s make a correction to that statement: Always rumored to be dating Luke Hemmings, front–man. It probably (read: most definitely) had something (read: everything) to do with the fact that the two of you were always together and always ended up having your picture taken. Together.

Maybe everyone else saw something the two of you couldn’t and didn’t.

There was just something about the way the two of you––clicked. It had been that way since the second you got the job. Somehow, you and Luke always just gravitated toward each other. It was like magnets. You were the north pole; he was the south. In any crowd, you were always the first face that Luke searched for; the first hand he reached for; the first voice he sought out amongst thousands of screaming fans. It all started with just one photo from two years ago. All of you were at the airport. Hundreds of people were scattered around with their suitcases and carry–ons and airplane tickets. Calum, Michael, and Ashton were all in the security line getting patted down by TSA at JFK. They were headed to Europe; you were staying behind in the city for a while. Luke, however, was standing in front of you right before the security checkpoint line with his suitcase at his side and his duffle bag on the ground. Some fan must have seen the two of you and taken the snapshot before uploading it. That was the only thing that made sense. It was probably the look in his eyes that they saw: the one that spoke of a myriad of unsaid words and confessions and admissions of truth, bottled–up emotions, fear, and heartbreak. That one.

You, in your complete naïveté and blindness when it came to the entire situation, chalked it up to just Luke not wanting to leave a close friend behind. Europe was always a special place for the two of you. Midnights in Paris; early mornings in Rome; evenings in London; afternoons in Berlin. There was always something so incredibly romantic about it all––traveling in the late night to another country. Sometimes, it felt like the two of you were running away from it all like some modern–day Romeo and Juliet. But then the light of day would spill through the windows of the airplane and the rough landing of touch down would shake the two of you from whatever reverie you both daydreamed about whenever you had the chance. (Not that either of you would ever dare admit that.)

So, that was that.

You could easily explain that photo. Luke wasn’t too keen on leaving his good friend and social media manager behind in a different country. You had the same look in your eyes for nearly the same reason. And because you weren’t so trusting of four boys having unlimited access to their own social media accounts with absolutely no repercussions whatsoever. That was a gut–wrenching thought, in and of itself. And that was all.

But that photo then went viral and––well––the rumors came shortly after that and stuck. More rumors meant more photos meant a vicious cycle that neither of you could escape from.

And maybe that was why you were, once again, staying behind in NYC while the four boys were on an airplane to Europe. More specifically, that was why you were sitting in your boss’s office with your legs crossed and your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. You knew what this was about; it wasn’t that hard to put two and two together. With new music coming out, the last thing the band––and the executives––needed was the rumors about you and Luke taking center stage instead of the upcoming single. You understood that; really, you did. But that definitely did not mean that you were any keener on sitting in the principal’s office ready for whatever detention they were going to hand out to you.

“Y/N, you have been doing an amazing job as the band’s social media manager. Really, you have.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

“That being said, we do need to adjust our course. I am sure that you are aware of the rumors going around about you and Luke Hemmings. All the photos and tweets and mentions. Your Twitter mention activity has increased by 67% as of late. That’s remarkably convenient for the band. Their mentions have increased nearly 85% since the rumors started up again. But, right now, with the single about to be released, it isn’t so convenient. Actually, it’s not convenient at all.”

“Yes, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t realize that––”

Your boss interrupted you with that fake smile on her face. “We’re going to need something from you, Y/N. What we’re going to need,” she stood up and walked around to the opposite side, leaning against the desk with her ankles crossed in front of her. This was the part of being called to the principal’s office that you definitely didn’t like. “What we’re going to need from you is less involvement. Less involvement will mean less photos and less photos will mean less rumors, and all of that put together will mean that news about the upcoming single will be front–page news and not meaningless and contrived photos of you and our front–man.”

Less involvement? How would that even be possible as the social media manager? Her job was to be the definition of involved. If the executives were wanting less involvement, she wouldn’t be able to do her job. She wouldn’t be able to do anything.

“But I’m the social media manger,” you said. “How am I supposed to be less involved?”

She smiled. It was fake, the kind that flight attendants gave you when they were two seconds from taking you off the plane. “Ah, yes. That is another part of the equation. We’re going to be giving you promotion. You’ll be based out of LA. So, pack your bags! You’re headed to the West Coast!”

“A promotion? To what?”

“You’ll get all the information when you get there. The company will pay for your AirB&B until you find a suitable residence. Your plane ticket and conformation e–mail have already been booked and sent to you on company expense. It’s a direct flight from JFK to LAX, so don’t worry about that. And we’ll also take care of your apartment here. Furniture will be sent to you as soon as you find a place to live, and we’ll pay off the rest of your lease.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re getting promoted, Y/N. That’s a big deal. We help out our big fish here, you know.”

“But I’m not a big fish. I’m just a social media manager for 5 Seconds of Summer.” You still weren’t all that sure what was going on. All of this wreaked of some sort of convenient cover–up. With you out of the picture, there were no rumors about the two of you together leaving all the spotlight for the new single and upcoming album and later tour. It was all picture–perfect in the eyes of the executives. Even you could see that.

“Not anymore, you’re not. This’ll be good for you, Y/N. Trust me. Maybe one day you’ll be sitting in this office. You never know!”

“So, basically, you’re firing me from my job and giving me a desk job on the opposite end of the country just because of some stupid rumors.”

“Doesn’t matter whether they have any evidence behind them. Rumors spread because they’re just that––rumors. All people need to think that something is true is their own belief in the rumor. And you just being around Luke gives them just the evidence they need to run wild with it all. Don’t think of this like a punishment, Y/N. Think of it like … the next step in your PR career. It’ll do you some good. Now, if you don’t mind––”

You understood her unsaid sentiments. Get out of my office. Pack your bags. Go to L.A.

So, you did just that.

You walked the twenty–seven blocks back to your apartment, packed your tweed weekender bag and your pink rolling suitcase, printed out your ticket, and stood in the threshold to the apartment that you had lived in for three past three years. (Although, saying that you lived in that apartment might be a stretch; it was more of a home base that you just ghosted through from time to time.) But even with that, it was your home. It was the place that you and Luke had ordered late–night Chinese takeout (pan–fried pork dumplings, lemon chicken, Mongolian beef, Vietnamese doughnuts). And the place that you and Michael and Ashton had a three–a.m. water balloon fight in the living room, knocking over and breaking your flower vase mid–fight. (You won.) And the place that you and Calum had Ghost Adventures marathons until the sun would filter through the blinds on the right side of the living room. Most importantly, it was the place that you had come to view as your home whatever that meant at the end of the day. So, standing in the door was maybe more than a little heartbreaking. It was only 731 square feet, but they were yours. And now? Well, now, you were being banished out of the kingdom and sent to exile.

Perhaps that was a little dramatic. But, for you, it felt like the truth.

You shut the door behind you and left the apartment building that you were all–too–familiar with and caught a cab to JFK.

“Leaving the city or just a vacation?” The friendly cab–driver asked as he pulled into the street.

You sniffled and stared out the window, catching your last view of the Empire State Building as you did so. The sunlight glinted off the tall metal building in an annoyingly tragic and romantic sort of way. Memories of the time that you and Luke climbed all the staircases to the very top of that building flashed through your mind like a supercut. Heavy breath, burning legs, racing heartbeats, and your hand in his. It was up to the jury to decide whether the racing heartbeat was because of the flights of stairs or the hot hand she was holding onto. (Her bet was on the stairs.) “Leaving.”

Who even knew if you would ever be allowed to return?

“That’s such a shame. Well, either way, I’m sure the universe has something amazing for you in store. I just know it.”

But without this city, without your home, without all those memories that you were speeding past left and right, you weren’t so sure.

REQUEST PART TWO!

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