SOPHIE
"The..." Ashley begins, sticking her tongue out in concentration as she types one last word on her laptop. "...End."
"Whoop!" Bailey then hollers, snatching the thing from her with a wide grin and plopping down on the other end of the couch. "Finally!"
"Hey, hands off," Ashley warns, swatting her hand away and glaring. "You can't read it yet,"
"And why not?"
"Because it's not the end end,"
"But you just said it was finished!"
"Yeah, but I've got some things I have to fix," she sighs, and Bailey does the same, handing the laptop back to her. "I just don't know how to write the ending,"
"You could make them have sex,"
"Bailey." Chloe glares.
Ashley just shrugs. "Already done that."
"He could eat her out."
"Done. Twice."
"Thought it was only once?"
"No, twice. I should know, I got the ideas from the girl herself," Ashley shoots me a smirk and I blush, covering my face with my hands.
"Could you guys maybe not talk about my relationship when I'm in the room?"
"Oh, honey," Bailey says, patting my shoulder in mock reassurance. "If it makes you feel any better, about a hundred thousand other people think this whole 'Daddy story' kink thing is fucking hot."
"How is that supposed to make me feel better?!"
"It's not. I just thought you had the right to know," Bailey gives me a toothy grin and I roll my eyes.
"Well, I don't want to know. And Ash," I turn to my other best friend, folding my arms. "End your story already. It's getting really weird,"
"How so?"
"Well, first of all, you wrote about me and Luke naked," I reply, but her face stays expressionless. "And second of all, you got all the 'nicknames' right! I never even told you what he called me-"
"Oh, please. It's pretty self explanatory, he calls you that sort of kinky shit outside of the bedroom anyway."
"Third of all, you're writing about my boyfriend. Isn't that a little strange to you?"
"A little. I just try to push the thought of him out of my head and imagine Michael instead," Ashley replies, carelessly. I grimace.
"Well, still."
"Look, be happy I didn't turn Daddy's Favourite into one of those SNSM fics."
At this, Chloe's eyebrows knit together. "SNSM?"
"Yeah. The whips and shit."
"Don't you mean BDSM?" Bailey quips.
"No, that's the thing you do in Maths."
"Ashley, that's BIDMAS," I sigh, bringing my hand up to my forehead.
"What the fuck? I thought Maths was BMI?!"
"That's the thing you use for weight!" Chloe groans, exasperated as she falls back onto the couch. She then looks at the purple-haired girl, eyes narrowed. "How the hell did you get so many PattWad followers with logic like that?"
"I'm cooler on the internet," Ashley shrugs.
"Right," I say, uncertainly. "Ash?"
"Hm?"
"What's a BLT?"
"The car."
"...What's a BMW?"
"That Korean band."
"Okay. BTS?"
"The sandwich."
"Get some help," Bailey finally interrupts, after wincing everytime Ashley gave me an answer.
I giggle, my laughter eventually being joined by everybody else. "You guys," Chloe says, a small smile on her face as her head hits gently back against the couch. "I can't believe the tour's almost over."
"Just one more show to go," I say, weakly. I've been counting down the days on my calender but now that it's finally here, I don't think I'm prepared in the slightest.
"We're not even going to see each other tomorrow," Ashley says, the corners of her lips falling from the grin she had earlier on. "We'll all be so busy-"
"We might see each other at the airport," I try to reassure her, but I know that I'm not the only one regarding that fact as nearly impossible. We all have different boarding times, at different stations, different terminals and to places in the world that share no connecting flights whatsoever.
"Yeah. Maybe."
"Are you excited?" Chloe asks me, turning her head to give me a smile. "I mean, in a few days you're going to be living with the man of your dreams. In LA!" I smile back, though it's faint.
"I guess."
"You guess?"
I shrug. "Want the truth?"
"Nothing but."
"I'm scared."
"Scared?" Chloe repeats. This takes all of her attention and she raises an eyebrow; adhering to the stereotypical mom-friend of the group image of her we've all developed over time. "Of what?"
"Of everything," I mumble, distracting myself by staring at my fingernails. I pause, looking up from them for a split second as Chloe parts her lips to speak.
"Elaborate."
"It's just," I sigh, sitting up fully to let her know that I'm ready to talk. "I've never lived with Luke before. In a real house. It's always been tourbuses, bunks, hotel rooms-"
"And what makes a house that he owns any different?"
"I don't know," I say, my face contorting into an uncomfortable expression. "I'm just not used to it, that's all."
"Well, that'll change," Chloe tells me, confidently. "It's going to feel like home the more time you actually spend living there."
"Really?" I ask, though I'm unsure.
Chloe nods. "Really. Trust me on this, you'll be fine."
I decide to listen to Chloe because amidst everything else, it's a great thought to think about. It's also the only piece of solid advice I've been given, and I intend to hold on to it for as long as I possibly can.
The rest of the night is hectic and it's because of the last show. There's an afterparty I'm allowed to attend, and pre-drinks I'm not allowed to attend because I'm under the legal drinking age, as well as an on-stage celebration that I'd much rather watch from the safety of Luke and I's last hotel room; instead, I'm backstage.
I'm not complaining. I love being backstage. When the band has little breaks in between their song sections, they come running behind the scenes, sweaty and full of adrenaline, their faces painted with wide smiles. Anyone with the slightest hint of common sense can tell that this is what they were born to do.
They come behind the stage now, whooping loudly and patting each other on their backs as the crowd outside cheers for an encore. They'll get what they want and probably more, seeing as it's the last show and there are no restrictions anymore; there's no contracted management team to hold the guys back from whatever it is they want to do. They're free, and the fans know this. Hence why the cheers have been louder than ever and everyone whose a part of the tour crew can't wait to put their own spin on things.
"Baby!" Daddy yells, running towards me with his arms out. I let out a squeal as he picks me up from the floor and spins me around, trying to ignore how hot and sweaty he is from two continuous hours of playing.
"Daddy!"
"Come on," he grins, a lopsided grin that makes my smile widen because I know he's in his element. I find it both fascinating and bewildering; put Luke in front of the drums, and he won't know what to do. But then take away the sticks and replace them with a plectrum, the Zildjian with a Gibson, and he turns into this whole other person.
Daddy starts pulling me along with him and I can't help the confused smile that crosses my face. It's only until we pass Mark, the coordinator of tonight's show, that I realize where we're going.
"Daddy," I say, eyebrows knitting together as we come up to the entrance of the stage. My eyes widen once Luke doesn't stop, instead skirting around the barriers and running up steps, two at a time. If I am to let him drag me along for a little while longer, then within seconds, I'll be exposed to a crowd of a thousand screaming fans cheering for She Looks So Perfect. "Daddy!"
Digging my heel into the floor, I make him stop. "What are we doing?"
"It's the last show, Soph," he says. He walks forward, places his hands gently on my arms before bending down ever so slightly to look me in the eye. "You don't have to if you don't want to. But I know they'd love to meet you," he's talking about the thousands of people standing up from their seats, expecting just an encore but instead getting an encore and a lead singer's girlfriend-used-to-be-daughter.
"But..." I look away, not sure how to phrase it. "What if they don't..."
"Hm?"
"What if they don't like me?"
"They'll love you," Daddy says, in a soft voice that suddenly makes everything seem okay. I have no idea how he does it, but I take his hand regardless, nodding my head. He smiles. "Okay. Now come on, I think it's time I introduce you to my... other family."
Screams pierce louder through a concert hall than it does anywhere else. Music sounds livelier. The beat of the bass drum sounds nowhere near as powerful backstage than it does onstage. That's to be expected, though;
in order for the music to be felt, you have to be in the right place, at the right time.
The thing with me and Luke is that we were both simply in the wrong place, at the wrong time. We met at an awkward age, with an awkward situation, and even more awkward feelings. Unlike music, sometimes you can't escape that. You just have to build a bridge from it and try to cross as carefully as you possibly can.
Sometimes there comes a point in that bridge where you're stuck and don't know what to do. I was stuck; so was he. And even now, as I watch the man I've been calling Daddy for the majority of my life explain to the audience who I am and what I mean to him, I can't help but feel like I truly don't know what to do; that's okay. I don't have a map to follow, a blueprint of my life I need to stick to in order to make things work. Sometimes- more often than not- it's better to let the things go as they may, and the pieces will connect over time so long as you give it time.
Tomorrow, we'll be on a plane to Los Angeles, California. Tomorrow, I'll be saying goodbye to Chloe, Ashley, Bailey and my mother. Tomorrow is the day I can finally admit to myself that my best friend had accidentally become my father and- fortunately for me- stuck to the role.
Only now he isn't my father, he isn't my Dad, he's not even my Daddy. He's just Luke; Luke Hemmings, with the guitar and the vocals and the striped shirt and the ring in his lip that I am begging every creature in the universe to keep in there. He's Luke Hemmings, the guy who gets stories written about him and posters of his band up on every wall and a 'lane' that will probably be set on metaphorical fire the minute this last show ends; but I couldn't have asked for a better person to come into my life.
Like Daddy always says, everyone falls in love with something at some point. Whether it be a little kid with aspirations of becoming a successful guitarist getting to hold their first Fender Strat, or an amateur painter in England getting to experience art classes at Oxford University for the first time. He says we're all neutral until somebody or something comes along and makes us a little less neutral.
I've already got my little-less-neutral thing, thank god. He came in the form of an awkward fourteen year old lead singer, then into my best friend, then into my Daddy, before finishing by becoming my boyfriend. And as strange as that sounds, as confusing as that'll be trying to explain to people why it's so weird for me to address him as Luke now, I know I don't mind.
The show ends. I wave at the crowd, a small goodbye I'm hoping is enough, before Daddy leads me backstage once again and envelopes me in a tight hug.
I hear Calum coo at us, an "Awww" sound leaving his lips as Luke slaps him on the arm, rolling his eyes. He then turns to me, hand cupping my face and tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear.
"Baby?"
"Yes, Daddy?"
"I love you. A lot," he says softly, a kiss landing on the tip of my nose after every short phrase. He then pulls away, eyes locked on mine as a weak smile overtakes his face. "In a way that, before, I couldn't because I wasn't supposed to."
"I-"
"But now I can," he exhales, and I bite my lip. "And I do. I really do."
"I love you too, Daddy," I say, sincerely, pulling him in for another hug. "In a way that I wasn't supposed to. But now I can, and I do."
"Goddamn," he chuckles breathlessly, leaning back to look at me. "What on earth would I do without you?"
"Your life would be easier," I joke. Daddy shakes his head.
"I wouldn't be very happy,"
"Things wouldn't be so complicated."
"But I wouldn't have you."
"I know. But everything would be so much easier,"
"Easy doesn't always mean happy," Daddy says, frowning slightly. "And I'm pretty happy now. No, scratch that- I'm very happy."
"Because we're moving in together?"
"Also because I have you. And I love you," he replies. "On top of that, I know I'll get to wake up every single morning to your beautiful face."
"Smooth, Daddy. Smooth." I giggle. Luke cracks yet another grin.
"I try my best."
We head off to the hotel room after, falling asleep in each other's arms because that is definitely where we're supposed to be. I dream of something far into the distance, of a little house with a porch swing and lilac walls and a child running around, yet when I wake up, I speak no word of it. I'm still a child myself and looking that far into the future isn't what I want to concentrate on right now.
Life is crazy. Insane. Senseless. It's everything that doesn't make sense yet does make sense at the same time and it makes you wonder, makes you think, of all the possibilities in the world that had the potential to come true but never did. Life is unbelievably intense, and life paired with love is a whole different story itself.
I guess we all have stories; that's just how the universe works. The child with the Nikon camera lens, the kid with the aspirations and the Fender Strat. Ashley has a story, so does Bailey, so does Chloe, so does Chase. Some people's lives may not be as perplex as others, but they're things to treasure all the same.
We still have so much to go through, Luke and I. We've jumped through so many hoops and broken down barriers and obstacles placed in the way- but unlike a fairytale, we don't stop here.
And anyway, it's not like we can stop here. We have to keep going, keep building to become better people, because this is our story; the life we have chosen to lead- and it's up to noone but us to make it a good one.
THE END.