𝟓𝐬𝐨𝐬 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐕𝐨𝐥.𝟏

'Why won't you love me' by 5sos (Calum Hood Angst / The Youngblood Series)

Summary: Calum ends up drinking in the bar he used to go with (Y/N), resulting in calling her in the middle of the night.
(Words: 1.2k) (Part 1: Babylon, Part 3: Moving Along, Part 4: Youngblood) 
--

(Calum's POV)
And after that night, she left. When I woke up in the morning, she was already in the kitchen, drinking coffee. Honestly, I still believe she didn't sleep that night. I don't even remember how I slept that night. The final 'It's over' came after the same conversation as the previous night. For 2 hours we went back and forth, but no matter how hard we both wanted it, we couldn't save what we had.
It sucks, knowing that for the past few months of our relationship she pretended we were ok, she tiptoed around shattered glass just so we wouldn't end up like this. But it was all futile and now we are both left with the memories of something great. And the bitterness of its end.
I can't stay at my place without thinking of her. She is everywhere I am looking at. Sometimes, I swear to God, I can almost hear her voice, I can almost hear her open the door of our house like every night after work.
It kills me to be in here alone, I can't bear the emptiness of the house, the coldness of the walls.
I can't even remember when it was the last time I slept on our, I mean my, bed. I sleep on the couch near the door, in hopes that she will walk in, curl herself against my chest, and just make me feel like all of this was just a bad dream.
I still keep the picture of her sleeping on my chest as my background picture. My thumb always slips when I try to change it. I like to believe that my brain still holds on to the hope of her coming back. However, the serenity of the picture makes me feel sad; I miss that serenity.

I don't even know how I got to the bar. The street felt familiar and in my heart, there is the hope that I will see her on our usual spot in this place.
"Can I have a vodka, double?" I ask the barman as I climb on the stool. The man nods and grabs a glass, fixing my drink fast. The place seems dull and empty, but I am not the right person to judge that. This place used to be our place, the little, hidden spot in the city where we used to come after work, or after dinner, or after going to the movies. In general, this was our place... Our place, and now it feels strange being here without her. And now I am here alone, once more, seeking the feeling of comfort this place used to give me.
"Here you go." The man places the drink in front of me. I smile weakly, bringing the drink to my face. I let the vodka burn my throat a bit, but I manage to down it in a gulp.
"One more, please." I call the barman, passing him the glass. The man pours me the same drink, giving me a weird look as he does. It looks like pity in his eyes... That's the worst thing; after the breakup, everyone looks at me with so much pity in their eyes.
"Can I smoke in here?" I ask, making him sigh.
"Man, I mean... Legally no, but you look like you are having a bad night, so I can just pretend I didn't see that... Just one cigarette though..." He says, handing me the drink. I nod and thank him as he hands me a makeshift ashtray.

As I order my third drink, an oh-so-familiar scent fills my nostrils. It smells like her, it smells like her perfume, it smells like home, so I snap towards the direction that the scent is coming from. For a moment I feel my heartbeat fast, in full excitement, hoping that I will find her next to me. But of course, the hope gets shuttered as my eyes land on the girl sitting on the stool. She smiles a bit awkwardly as she realizes that I am looking at her, making me sigh but smile back.
She is not her, not even close to looking like her. No one will ever be like her.
But maybe if I drink enough, the differences will fade away, and I will fake the relief of seeing her again.
"2 more please." I say to the barman, unlocking my phone to take a look at her.

I've drunk one too many, and all I have achieved is to make myself tear up every time I look at the girl... The smell, oh the smell insists on triggering all the happy memories I have with her.
"Check, please." I ask the barman, feeling that if I stay a little longer, I will curl in a ball and sob.
"You ok? Want me to call you a cab?" He asks me before he hands me my tab.
"I will find one, thanks for the concern." I slur, handing him more than enough money to cover my bill.
I barely make it out of the bar in time before I break down. It smells like her, but she is not here. And all the lingering makes me sick. I am too drunk, I know, but I am also feeling the emptiness get deeper and deeper.
I take a seat on the nearby bench, fishing my phone out of my pocket. I look at our picture again; I miss her and all I want is for the smell to belong to the right person. All I want is to hear her voice, feel her body on mine.
Mindlessly, I press on my contacts and scroll until I find hers. For a moment, I stare at the number, gathering up everything in me until I press on it.
With every second that passes my heart beats faster and faster; I will finally hear her voice.
What should I tell her? From where should I begin?

"Come on, pick it up..." I plead I press redial.
I know it's late but I need her to pick up her phone.
And again, redial.
And again...

And again...
And again.

I groan as I wake up by the sound of my ringtone. All I want is to bury my face in the pillow and make everything mute.
"What?" I groan into the phone as I pick it up.
"Hey, Calum... Um... It's (Y/N)... I found your calls and I just wanted to see if you are ok... Are you... ok?" I hear her voice from the other end of the line.
"Hi... Uh, yeah... Everything is fine. I think my phone has a glitch or something, I don't remember calling you... Thanks for the concern. Are... are you ok?" I ask her; I curse myself. I can't be such a coward. Why can't I just tell her that I called her because missing her makes me feel sick? 
"Yeah, yeah I am good. I am glad you are ok and I am sorry about your phone. I gotta... go. Um... Take care, ok?" She sounds like she feels awkward talking to me, which only makes me feel awkward.
"Thanks, you too." I reply before she hangs up.
I throw the phone on the bed and bring my hands to my face.
At least she still worries about me.