latch :: calum hood (rewriting)

xxviii.

If you were to tell me, roughly seven years ago, where my life would be like now, I would probably laugh and call you crazy. The idea that my four best friends would pick up instruments and form a band would result in a giggle. Michael couldn't even hold a pencil correctly, Ashton was older and restless, Luke focused more on memorizing the periodic table, and Calum wouldn't be seen without a ball near his feet.

If you would have told me, seven years ago, that I would have gotten in a car accident, I probably would have never went into a car. I would spent hours in my backyard, having Michael teach me to ride a bike, like he did, and ride it practically everywhere.

If you would have told me, seven years ago, that I would fall in love with Calum Hood, I would be able to taste last nights mac and cheese in my mouth. I would have kicked his shin and run away to the tree house Liz had built in their backyard when Jack was little. I couldn't have fathomed someone better than Daniel Levy, the ultimate grade 6 crush. He had eyes made of glass and smile of porcelain, and a mom who made the best cupcakes.

I would have prepared myself. Looked at countless magazine advice columns, preventing myself from doing something that would ultimately be the best and worst thing to happen to me. I would have brought Luke in the closet that night, and have the butterflies in my stomach learn his face, and my tongue to memorize the outline of his name. I would have nailed a "do not enter" sign on my heart, and hope Calum wouldn't have.

But now, I lie next to my lover, who lies directly on his left side, closest to the wall. He has had the same pillow since he was 15, his sister poorly sewed it up for him after a pillow fight. He is shirtless, since the heat in his room is unbearable and he is always warm. He had gotten used to me always wrapping his cover around me, for I was always cold, and tossed too much to cuddle all the time.

I am stuck staring at the ceiling, my mind wandering on its own. I play around my fingers for comfort.

"Cal?" I turned on my side, to face him, scared of putting my cold fingers on his skin.

"Hmm." He mumbled, still mostly asleep. He could never fully fall asleep if I didn't, since it bothered him when my mind was racing.

"I can't sleep." I whispered to him, moving closer to his body. He groaned, I am not sure if it was out of annoyance, but he turned to face me nonetheless.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked, which was infused with a yawn. I looked down, staring at the couple of inches between us.

"I don't know. The boys, my parents, us, college. A whole bunch of things I guess." I sighed, putting my hair behind my ear, licking my lips that were dry.

"Michael is probably up, wanking and watching a movie. Luke is probably restless, his guitar in his hand as he throws away yet another song that could be a hit. Ashton is up thinking of Abigial, even though he would never admit it, and is probably plotting the nice punch he will give me, before he forgives me." He said, his eyes still closed.

"As for your parents, well —" He paused for a second, trying to choose his next word carefully, "they still hate each other, thats not going to change."

I let out a weak laugh, agreeing with him.

"You got accepted to UCLA, which is the school of your dreams. You'll probably get a group of friends who are all art majors of some art medium, you being a music and sociology double major. You will have pictures of the five of us, plastered on the wall, and on some lonely nights, you'll look at a picture of me and slip your hands down—"

I covered his mouth immediately, trying not the shriek in embarrassment, but that didn't stop the blood from rushing towards my cheeks.  "You can't say that Calum!" I told him. A cocky grin was planted on his tired face.