(A/N) Guess who's back? ;)
***
"Hey."
I gave a small wave into the camera, flashing a half- smile at the circular lenses, altering my eyes away from the multiple camera ushering me to move out of shot. Three metallic lights were aimed directy towards me, yet the heat couldn't stop my arms from shaking. I shoved my hand back into my pocket, only resulting into my nerves escaping into my legs.
"If you didn't already know, I'm Sophie, and uh," I pushed back a loose strand of hair behind my ear, "I'm not trying to disrupt the guys' livestream, believe me. But I do have something to say."
My cheeks started to burn and I pressed my cold hand against my clammy neck, moving my eyes from the camera down to the floor silently hoping that the ground would split in two and swallow my up.
But it didn't move, and neither did I. I looked back up into the camera, not only into the lens but to every pair of eyes watching back at me.
"You may know me as Calum's friend..." I blinked as my eyes started to dry out from the blaring lights. "Girlfriend, even." I sighed heavily, imagining how many jaws have clenched and eyes have rolled I've created in the past thirty seconds already.
"And before I go any further I just want to get something straight." I stammered on my words, shuffling my weight from foot to foot. "I am not, in any way, different to any of you, and I really, really need you guy's to keep that in mind." my voice grew louder, and my breath's became more steady.
"And we are all capable of doing great things- the guy's being an obvious example of that." I grinded my teeth together, talking suddenly becoming a tedious task. "But we are also capable of comitting mistakes, and getting involved with things that don't concern us, and even though when every inch of our body tells us not to do something we," I tamed my hair over my shoulder. "We go ahead and do it anyway." I shrugged.
I opened my lips to continue talking when my eyes fell on a clock mounted on the wall. The boy's would be back any second now.
"Sorry, I'm rambling- bear with me." I rubbed my palms together, thinking. But unjumbling my thoughts were about as easy as describing what a colour looks like.
I looked up at the ceiling, pathetically blowing through my lips. Mentally wishing that the heavens will send down some sort of guidance. Or a sign? Anything?
"Cut the camera's."
Heavy footsteps followed a loud slam of the studio door.
"I said cut the camera's." Ani whittled her way through the crowed, tripping over camera man four as she did so, though she kept her composure as her eyes latched onto mine. "Stop the live stream."
Her hair was less tamed then usual, the top half pulled back into wispy half- ponytail. A denim jacket was wrapped around her waist clinging onto a white shirt. "Now." Her voice was stern. Matching her face in which her lips fell into a tight line.
I looked back up at the ceiling. "Not that kind of sign, damn it."
Without thinking, I dashed to my right, knocking over a pair of lights into a mass of red and green wires, thoughtlessly jumping over them. I pulled open the double doors, slamming down my back on the otherside as the locks clicked.
"For goodness sake, Sophie." I mumbled to myself in annoyance. "You do this way too much." I scolded myself as I stumbled down the steps, clawing into the handrail as I ran away from, yet again, another one of my screw-ups.
The steps lengthened into the ground floor where i met another pair of green double doors. There were no windows, only red decaying bricks separating me from the hoards of people outside waiting for the boys. They were already screaming for the guys, their sheer volume almost leading me to believe that there sound alone could knock down the separating wall.
"Sophie?" Ani's voice rang from the floor above. The sound of her hands on the metal handrail echoed down the steps. "Sophie, don't make me come down their."
"Fuck." I mouthed to myself, digging my nails into my jeans. Placing my left hand against the green door, chewing on the inside of my cheek.
"Sophie, please come back up." Ani shouted firmly, the sounds of her feet increasing as they scuttled down the stairs.
"Not now, soz. Aha." I called back, my right hand mirroring my left against the door. "I'm in the middle of running away- it's kind of my thing now."
"And why the heck are you doing that?"
" 'Cause." My hands grappled around the push bar. "It's what I do best." I replied, forcing the door open.
It was like the zoo- that's the only way I could describe it. The only difference being that I was the wild animal.
I don't really know what I had intended. I guess the plan was to run through the crowed, like something in a 90's movie. Preferably not tripping up but probably ending in me crying in a dumpster somewhere in the middle of the city. Either way, the army of journalists and fans armed with expensive camera's and phone's alike attacked me in a mount of white flashes at my eyes, and more then few choice words for my ears.
Taking into account the fact I was pretty much blinded the paparazzi, I had managed my way through a fairly decent way into the crowed. Deeming on me that it was now impossible for me to make my way back into the studio and, as I had originally intended, go cry in a dumpster. That is, if the way I had came up hadn't been closed up in the crowed. And in a mere few seconds the line I had trailed through had enclosed into a tight circle around me.
So this is how animals in a zoo feel, huh?
It was like I had been trained not to react to anything. To blink through the flashes and ignore the comments as if a glass shield separated me from them. And, like a lion, I couldn't say anything. It was as if they were speaking a different language that I wasn't familiar with.
Even if I did, I couldn't have explained myself anyway. I've been trained not to.
A sharp pain exuded from between my shoulder blades. I winced as I turned around to a brown boot bouncing off my heels onto the gravel from being thrown at my back.
"Hey, Sally?" A black haired girl wearing only one matching shoe called from my right.
"Sophie."
"Whatever." The girl retorted, "Stay away from Michael, yeah?"
"Excuse me?"
"And Ashton!" Another one jeered from further into the crowed. I spun around. "That is, if you havn't done him already."
"Oi, kid- let me get a picture." A plump, un- shaven man found his way to the front of the circle. "The last issue we had with your face on the front broke sale records," he pointed his camera at my face and I flinched at his menacing grin, the smell of cigar smoke radiating from his jacket. "The readers love this kinda stuff."
"Stop." I pleaded, covering my the lens with my palm. "Stop it."
"C'mon kid, it's one picture." the man persisted, stepping closer and raising the camera back up to his eye.
"Yeah, it's not like we havn't seen any photo's of you before." a voice chimed in.
"Please, put the camera down. Honestly-"
"At least it's not with one of the boy's- that'll be a first." another added. "Or one where she's not sucking face with one of them. Fucking whor-"
"Alright, everybody back off." I bellowed, slapping the lens out of my face. "Back off!"
The crowed near the front fizzled down, as did the people near the back. Some jumping on others' backs to get a view of the mad girl in the middle.
I faced the man, who still held the large black camera in his hands.
"Take one more picture and I swear I'm reporting you and you're magazine for invasion of privacy."
The man scoffed. "You're all talk, kid."
"Try me." I challenged, turning my back on the man to face another aspect of the crowed.
"This is all really stupid, you know." I gulped. "All these stories you're buying- it's a whole bunch of bull, not gonna lie." I caught eyes with a girl holding up her phone in a floral case, blatantly filming my little speech.
"And I may be the one who's face is plastered over gossip columns, and a target for hate mail, or," I licked my quivering lips. "Heck, I'm to scared to check my Facebook nowadays."
The girl lowered down her phone, slowly tucking her hand into her pockets refusing to look directly at me.
"And I may not know a lot about how this all works but I do know one thing," I faced the man. "You will not sell my personal life for profit" I shook my head, blinking back the wet aftermath of anger. "I'm not buying it."
I knelt down, picking up the boot that was previously thrown at me.
"And if I were you." I held it out to the stunned black haired girl, her mouth hanging slightly open.
"I wouldn't waste your time believing it, anyway."
She took the boot, rolling her lips back in and fiddled with the laces.
"And just to clear things up. All this shit that's happened- my fault, not the guy's." I looked around at the silent crowed. "And if you choose to hate me for it, well," I shrugged, a half- hearted smile appearing on my face. "So be it."
I turned on my heels back round to the man, whose camera was now simply hanging down from the strap around his neck.
"I'm just another scandal in the making, right?"
***
"121... 122... 123..."
I maundered sleepily, counting the lines on the ceiling as my head tilted back against the shelves of canned goods. I blinked, my eyes stinging from the lights above, I rubbed them with my sleeve and rested my head back again, focusing back on the lines.
"Ah fuck, lost count."
"Pardon?" The boy paused from stacking the magazine rack. "Did you say something?"
"Me? Oh right, no, no. Just, uh," I pointed upwards. "Just counting lines."
"... Right, okay." he looked at me, slightly concerned before returning to stacking the papers.
I slapped my palm against my forehead. "Counting lines...?"
I traced my finger over the rims of the shelves, turning the cans so that they were all in line. The shop was empty, the only prominent sound being a repetitive, slightly irritating buzz from a busted light from above the entrance.
Me, being a big believer in fate (also known as never having a plan) decided to sprint to the nearest door I could find and somehow convince the workers to lock every door in the building to prevent the listeners of my so- called 'speech' earlier in the day busting in.
Luckily, the first door I found lead into a small store being supervised by the owners teenage son who was more than happy to close down the store at the suggestion of a stranger.
The other hand being that this guy was quiet. Like, oddly quiet.
I dug through the blue bucket labelled 'Bargain Bin', attempting to ignore the feeling of eyes burning into the back of my head. I whirled round, only to the boy swiftly looking away.
"Can I help you?" I questioned, scratching my arm.
"Huh?" he looked up from the magazine rack he had been supposedly 'stacking' for the past half an hour. He raised his eyebrows, as if he hadn't been stealing glances at me since I had burst in a couple hours ago. "Nothing, nothing. Actually," he swallowed, flustered.
"I hope you don't think I'm strange-"
"Bit late for that." I joked, something he clearly didn't catch on as he stared at me expressionless. I coughed. "I was kidding."
"Kidding, right. Got it." He nodded. The boy appeared to ponder for a second, as if to debate whether his question was worth me hearing. He was tall, with a slightly wonky tooth as he chewed on a swollen bottom lip. He slouched, his back making a clear c shape as his shoulders hunched forward.
"Is this, uh- Is this you?" He turned the magazine to face me.
I let out a sigh as my eyes met the glossy cover, I forced a grin against my lips.
"Mhm, yeah." I nodded, pulling a stiff smile. "It is. Is that why you were staring at me?"
He shook his head in a childlike manner. "No." he said simply.
"So you just stare at everybody?"
"Not necessarily." He carefully placed the magazine against the others and clasped his left hand around his left forearm. "When you put it like that it sounds a little creepy."
"That's 'cause it is."
He chortled, "Another joke, yes?"
"...Yeah."
"I study people. You see, I'm a writer- it's a habit I've developed." He walked over to me, crouching down to my level. "The ability for us humans to lie so effortlessly fascinates me. We are just layers upon layers of consciences and temptations and only a minute amount of it can be translated into movement." he shrugged, standing back up. "It fascinates me."
I blinked.
"Have I made you uncomfortable?" he asked sheepishly. "Sorry, another habit there."
"Oh no, not uncomfortable. Just slightly uneducated." I laughed. The boy didn't react. "And clearly not funny whatsoever." I cleared my throat. "So, what kind of stuff do you write," I peered at his name tag. "Rowan?"
"Fiction." He replied. "For now."
I raised my eyebrow, amused. "What do you mean for now?"
Rowan pulled out a rag from his back pocket and wiped the shelves' ridges. "Ideas in fiction, whether a story line or so on, are just mere theories. A plot is just an idea, the body of the story is the explanation. Theories." He returned the rag to his back pocket.
"For example, you say you do not feel uncomfortable. Yet the way your deriving your sight up to the ceiling suggests you feel slightly uneasy and your nibbling at your nails emphasizes an idea of anxiousness- lack of stability even. And your attempts at humour is just an instrument to cover up the prior. An instrument that, no offense, needs a little fine tuning." he chuckled. "You're being polite, when really- you think I'm creepy as fuck."
I lowered my hand from my mouth, ripping off a hangnail. "Alright, genius. What do you do with these theories then?"
"Depends. If you're on about a physical example-" he acknowledged my confused look. "As in, an actually person." he quirked an eyebrow, his lop- sided grin growing.
I nodded. "Yeah?"
"My understanding of the physical language that is presented from a personal thought means I can recognize what that person may need to hear verbally- albeit, whether they want it or not."
I gave him a deadpan look. "Huh?"
He exhaled sharply, clearly amused by my reaction. "I'm good at giving advice."
"Oh, right- " I cleared my throat. " And an example would be..?"
Rowan straightened the sign above the baskets, "Everything is about perspective." he stepped back studying the sign as he arranged the boxed goods beside it. "Burdens, for example." he surveyed my expression, which, not surprisingly, was an extremely confused one.
"Troubles."
"Ah."
"In a lifetime, one will always have to bury a burden- and that's okay." Rowan explained, gesturing with his hands, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. "But one cannot grow another in the rubble of the past."
"I... see." I nodded slowly, folding my arms. "C-clever one aren't you-"
"You didn't get any of that, did you?
"Not a single word."
Rowan's cheeks dimpled, "You can make mistakes, but you can't use the ones you've committed as an excuse to not to move on in fear of creating new ones." his eyes crinkled at the edges. "Acknowledge, but don't ignore."
I looked up at him, dazed, gathering my thoughts. "Wow." I said, startled. "And you knew I needed that from just looking at me?"
"Partly." he continued, picking up a spray bottle. "The other half being that your story is literally plastered on every magazine we sell- and sometimes a guy can get curious."
I snickered, picking myself up and trudged over to the magazines- picking the glossy page spread up from the rack. I flicked through.
"So are you with him?"
"What?" I replied, confounded at his sudden question.
"The blonde one." He shut the magazine in my hand and pointed at the front page. "The one you had your mouth on?" he asked, blatantly.
"You're incredibly forward, you know."
He nodded, "I've been told."
I scratched my head as he observed my actions, waiting for my answer. "It's complicated." I replied. "Really, really complicated.
I turned to face Rowan, who now had his attention away from me. He stared forward with an creased forehead before facing my direction once again. "Not to alarm you- but I think you have a visitor." he point to a curly haired girl at the entrance, small ringlets framing the sides of her grey hood that she wore over a pair of leggings.
"Like I said," I strolled over to the way of the entrance, "Things are pretty damn complicated."
As I walked I heard Rowans footsteps scurrying into the stock room, and I gave the hooded figure a small nod before unlocking the door.
"Bree," I spoke, threading my thumb over my pockets. "Long time no see."
"Hi, Sophie." she said, her breath releasing a strong whiff of caffeine into my face. I looked down, taking into account her mismatched socks under her red flip- flops.
"You look great."
"Thanks."
"So," I tapped my foot against the doormat. "What brings you here?"
She rolled her shoulders in, "I just wanted to, um," she stopped breifly. "Can you stop looking at my feet. Please?"
"Sorry, sorry. It's just that, I," I pulled my lips back, "I've never seen you like this." I said, stifling a smile.
She nodded.
"That was a compliment." I added, flicking my hand forward. "I think-"
"Sophie." Bree cut me off, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her face was free of makeup, her down turned lips a plain fleshy tone which she bit between her jaw. She, for once, looked like a real person. I leaned against the door frame, studying the crinkles on her forehead and the wrinkles on her clothes. Bree uncrossed her arms, placing them in her baggy front pocket and fixed her tired eyes to mine.
"We need to talk."