5SOS Imagines

Calum - You're Insecure About Being Curvy

Author: Rhine

-

"Do you want to go out for lunch?" Your boyfriend, Calum asked you from the kitchen.

"No, not really." You reply tonelessly, moping on your couch.

"What about a movie?" He pops his head out the door, looking at your slumped form on the cushions, facedown on the pillows.

"Not really in a movie mood." You say, voice muffled in the pillows.

"Walk in the park?" Calum puts the snacks in his arms down, walking towards you, concern etched on his face.

"No thank you." You mumble, curling up into a small ball.

"What’s wrong, babe?" Calum squeezes himself onto the couch next to you, lying on your torso, trying to get a view of your face. "Are you feeling sick?"

"No.. I just don’t really feel like seeing anyone right now." You sigh into the pillows.

"Not even me?" 

The pout is evident in Calum’s voice, and you can’t help but to turn slightly to him, giving him the faintest of smiles.

"I’ll always want to see you, you doofus." You reach up and grab his cheeks, pulling on them and watching him make a sour expression. "It’s just.. I don’t really want to go out today."

"Why’s that?" He asks, pouncing on you like a little five-year-old. "It’s such a beautiful day out today - let’s go have some fun, yeah?”

You pull the hood on your sweatshirt over your head and pull the drawstrings tight so that the fabric covered most of your face as you groaned quietly.

Calum pokes at the bit of skin that your hoodie didn’t cover - your lips - and squishes them together, generally annoying you.

"Cal.." You sigh, frustrated at his antics.

"Come on, babe - why don’t you want to go out today?" He gives you surprise peck on the lips, his fingers gently loosening the drawstrings of your sweatshirt. "You can tell me anything."

Calum brushes the hood off your head, his long fingers sweeping your flyaway hairs off your face until you had no choice but to stare into his puppy dog eyes; getting lost in those dark depths of his.

"I don’t know.." You trailed off, forcing yourself to break away from his gaze. "I just don’t feel like having everyone stare at me and whisper." The last sentence comes out as a mumble, words jumbled and low, but Calum catches it.

"What do you mean?" He questions you, looming over you.

"I just - it’s just.. whenever we go out we always get whispers and stares because you’re you and I’m - well, I’m me.” You say quietly, avoiding Calum’s gaze as much as possible.

"Babe…" This time it was Calum’s turn to sigh.

"I mean, I completely understand. Look at you - you’re like some sort of god or something, and I look like I’ve had a few too many dates with Ronald McDonald’s." You say dejectedly. "Look, I even jiggle." You hold up your arm and push at the flab in your arm to prove your point.

Calum looks down at you, his expression serious - the complete opposite of the playful glint in his eyes a minute ago.

"Babe, don’t be like that." His voice is almost pleading. "You’re beautiful. I love every inch of you, inside and out.”

You want to believe his words, you really do - but every time you look in the mirror, it’s a different story. Every time you look into a mirror or see yourself in a reflection of a store window, you feel something drop in your stomach, your guts wrenching. Every time you saw yourself, you wanted to hide somewhere and forget that was what you looked like, forget that this was the best you had to offer to the world. 

And that it was nothing much. 

You tried to convince yourself otherwise, you really did. You’d think that you had some days where you could maybe pass for nice looking, some mornings where you told yourself you were beautiful with a hopeful smile on your lips that seemed to shake.

But it always came back to you standing in front of the mirror, wanting to look away but ending up gazing at yourself, nitpicking all your wrongs.

A smile that didn’t show any cheekbones. Hip bones that didn’t jut out quite as much as you’d like. Half a curve that rose into a hill that you hated; a curve that you knew girls shouldn’t have. A layer of skin where a touch of bone should be. Flesh and meat invading areas where gaps of space should be.

You weren’t a model, not a girl next door, not a bombshell that would make you stop and stare on the streets. You weren’t those cute, beautiful girls that made boys’ hearts skip a beat.

You were you; the girl who had to think twice about wearing shorts, worrying about how you’d look when you walked. The girl who had wear this to hide that, the girl who hid in the back of pictures and walked passed the section in the stores that only sold clothes with 0s. 

It was hard to believe that Calum loved you inside and out when every morning, you looked in the mirror and saw something you hated.

It was clear that Calum could see that you didn’t believe his words.

He sighed again, this time a little deeper.

"Look, babe - I don’t want those girls from the magazines or TV shows or even any other girl walking down the streets. I want you. I love you. You.”

His voice is softer now, sincere.

"You’re beautiful. I could compare you to a star or an angel or a goddess or the sun but you’re so much more beautiful than that. I don’t even have words for what I’m seeing, what I’m loving." Calum smiles at you. "I wish you could see that."

You merely smile wanly up at him, but you can feel your heart fluttering despite your gloom.

"I think you’re beautiful here - " he places a light kiss on your forehead, " - here - " another on both your cheeks, " - can’t forget about here, this is my favourite - " he says, before smiling and pecking your lips.

And so it continued - Calum would whisper how he’d find you beautiful here and there, kissing every spot of your body softly. 

I love you here. Your arm. And here. You hand, then every fingertip, looking into your eyes and smiling. I think you’re beautiful here, too. Your collarbones, and you can feel his grin. Here. Your stomach, his soft lips causing butterflies to flutter inside despite your dread and insecurity. I especially love you here. One for your hip. Your thigh. Your bruised kneecaps and your calves, hidden by your sweatpants, but he kisses it anyways.

When Calum’s done leaving a trail of kisses on your body, he climbs back on top of you on the couch, smiling. 

"Do you believe me now?" He asks like a proud third grader, his smile brighter than the sun.

"Just a little." You grin at him, cheeks red.

"Well, I’ll work on it." Calum grins, his forehead touching yours. He’s so close to you that you can see every eyelash, your reflection in his dark eyes. You could see the planes of his sharp cheekbones and feel his breath right on top of yours, his lips just a hair’s width away from yours.

"I’ll do it every day if I have to. So long as my girl can see how radiant she truly is."

You blush, tilting your chin up so that you can capture his lips in a kiss. 

"Thank you." You whisper when you part, his eyes still half-closed as if he was dreaming.

"Anything for you."