Can we just think about Carl from Peter’s perspective for a moment.
An older guy with a French surname and history of leaving behind trails of heartbroken French girls. Or one French girl, at least. Someone who holds his cigarette like a superstar and taught Peter how to steal a car. Well, a moped.
Oscar Wilde and writes his own complicated guitar riffs, who grew up living with
his hippie mother at communes and tent farms, who loves tenderly but fights dirty.
It was like a character from Peter’s wild imaginations come true.
Then imagine when Peter discovered that there could have been two Carls.
Every night, without fail, you’d go out onto the fire escape where you would sit.
Sometimes with a book, sometimes with a bottle of some sort of alcohol, sometimes with just your thoughts.
And every night, without fail, the guy who lived upstairs would do the same.
He’d climb onto the fire escape, have a cigarette or two, leaning on the ladder of your shared getaway, watching the city.
And you’d sit, and he’d stand, in silence. Silence, with the occasional turning of a page, sipping of a drink, or the tapping of a cigarette on the rusting bars.
But you never spoke a word.
You weren’t even sure if he knew your name or not, you only knew his because his friend - Luke you think it was - knocked on your door one time after he’d just moved in.
Sure, you exchanged breif glances from time to time, the occasional nod when passing in the hallways, but you had never spoken to the tattooed stranger who lived upstairs.
But it was some sort of unspoken ritual that you shared, sitting on the fire escape late at night, and you never questioned it, because you liked it.
So tonight, much like any night, you opened the door onto the fire escape, bottle of wine in hand, and sat down.
Glancing up, you caught sight of Calum, who shifted his gaze down to yours as you smiled, holding up the bottle of wine.
He chuckled lightly, lighting a cigarette and placing it between his lips.
You took a swig of the wine, crossing your legs and leaning against the bars, closing your eyes.
And that was when he cleared his throat.
Your eyes shot open, and you saw him looking down at you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
“What are you drinking?” He mumbled, cigarette between his lips.
“Huh?” You shook your head as you watched him climb down the steps. He took the cigarette into his fingers, sitting down on one of the middle steps and exhaling the smoke before repeating what he had said.
“What’s your poison?”
“Oh,“ you said, holding up the bottle for him to see. He nodded, putting the cigarette back between his lips, inhaling deeply.
“Any good?” He asked, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth and toying with it in his fingers.
“It’s not great, but I ran out of whiskey, so,” you laughed, taking another sip from the bottle.
“Understandable,” he nodded, chuckling as he climbed down the remaining steps, flicking the cigarette butt off your balcony and sitting down opposite you.
You held the bottle out towards him, still confused as to why he was talking to you.
“You want some?”
“Sure, go on,” he laughed, reaching over and taking the bottle from your hands, your fingers brushing slightly.
You quickly pulled your hand away as you felt your cheeks heating up, and Calum chuckled as he brought the bottle to his lips, chugging about a third of it.
“Hey! I said some!” You laughed, grabbing the bottle back off him and taking a few gulps. He laughed, grabbing the bottle again and sipping as you frowned.
“You’re the one who offered!” He shrugged, laughing as he took another sip.
“That is my life support, you cannot take it from me.” You laughed, reaching over and taking the bottle.
“Well if you don’t mind, I’ll get my life support,” he said, standing up and sticking his hand in his back pocket, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and pulling one out, glancing at you as if to check it was okay.
You shrugged and nodded as he walked over and slumped down next to you, lighting the cigarette.
He was good looking from a distance, and he was definitely good looking close up.
“Why do you think they painted this?” He spoke up, breaking the silence.
“What? The wall?” You asked, looking up at him as he took another drag of the cigarette.
“Yeah, why this colour?” He tilted his head, placing a hand on the faded turquoise wall.
“How am I supposed to know?” You laughed, having another sip of wine.
“I don’t know, I was just trying to make conversation I guess,” he laughed, and you shook your head, laughing too.
The usual silence settled once again, as you thought about what he had said.
“Why though?” You asked, and he turned to face you, a confused look on his face. “Why make conversation? We stand out here almost every night, in complete silence - why make conversation?” You laughed, and Calum shrugged, smirking as he scratched the back of his neck.
“I don’t know, I had a sudden burst of confidence, and decided to talk to the pretty girl who lives downstairs,” he said, and you almost spat out the wine. “What?” He laughed as you put your hand to your mouth.
“The pretty girl who lives downstairs?” You laughed, and he smirked, still holding the cigarette between his teeth.
“Yeah, Y/N right?” He grinned, holding out his hand.
“How do you know my name?” You laughed, shaking his hand.
“I don’t know actually,” he said, taking the cigarette into his fingers. “Anyway, I’m -”
“Calum.” You smiled, and he raised an eyebrow.
“How do you know my name?” He narrowed his eyes, and you shrugged.
“Of course I know the name of the hot guy who lives upstairs,”
“Touché,” he nodded, laughing as he placed the cigarette back in his mouth.
“No, one of your friends got the wrong apartment, Luke I think,” you said, and he nodded, before feigning shock.
“Wait - so I’m not the hot guy who lives upstairs?” He whispered, and you laughed.
“Oh no, you’re still the hot guy who lives upstairs - you’re just Calum the hot guy who lives upstairs,” you nodded, and he chuckled.
“And you’re Y/N the pretty girl who lives downstairs.” He grinned, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He laughed, and you smiled, finishing the wine.
Standing up, you chucked the empty wine bottle into the dumpster on the street, before sitting back down next to Calum.
He threw the remains of his cigarette over his shoulder, and looked up at the sky, which was slightly blocked by the fire escape.
“So, would Y/N the pretty girl who lives downstairs be willing to go on a date with Calum the hot guy who lives upstairs?” He asked, running a hand through his hair.
“I think it would depend on where Calum the hot guy who lives upstairs would take her,” you laughed, and Calum chuckled under his breath, looking down at his hands.
“Well he does know this great little place that he thinks she would like,” he said, glancing up at you before shifting his gaze back down to his fidgeting hands.
“Yeah, it’s called ‘The Fire Escape’,” he said, and you laughed.
“It sounds great,” you grinned, and Calum looked up at you.
“Is that a yes?” He raised an eyebrow and you laughed as you nodded.
“That’s a yes.”
“Cool,” Calum nodded, standing up as he pulled out another cigarette.
“See you tomorrow then?” You laughed, standing up and opening your door.
“Tomorrow sounds great,” he winked, placing the cigarette inbetween his teeth and climbing up the steps to his balcony.
You waved at him as you walked back through your door, and laughed as you heard Calum shout.
“Y/N the pretty girl who lives downstairs will not regret this!”
Summary: Inspired by the music video for The Wedding Singer by Modern Baseball. Calum finds love where he least expects it.
Pairing: Calum Hood x Female Reader
Warnings: mention of death, mental disorder, anxiety, depression
Small. Calum felt small.
He rushed down the sidewalk along the front entrance of the cemetery, his vision blurring with tears as he fought to inhale a proper breath. His lungs felt tight and heavy in his chest, as if somebody started emptying concrete inside them and let it dry. Warm tears were streaming down his face at a rapid pace, his lower lip trembling as his voice came out in quiet whimpers. He needed a cigarette. He promised his mother he wouldn’t smoke at the service, but he was losing his mind.
Calum pulled his pack of smokes from the pocket of his dress slacks, placing a thin cigarette between his teeth before patting at his pockets in search of his lighter. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Calum sighed under his breath as he found himself out of luck. His lighter was nowhere no be found.
“Shit! Why can’t something just go right for once in my life?”
Kate liked it when the girls from school came to visit her, she did. Especially since people she’d never expected came by - she understood that a lot of it was guilt, but all she could hope was that they might learn not to wield such cruelty in the future. There were those she liked seeing more, of course - Victoria was awkward, and most of the other girls didn’t know how to act around her now - but Max was always pleasant, always willing to suspend her disbelief and act as if they weren’t in a sterile white room. She’d sneak her laptop in, wifi off, and they’d watch bad movies (mostly things she never would’ve considered watching on her own, and some that made her blush and sputter as much as laugh), but it was pleasant.
Far and above, though, her favorite visitor was Chloe.
Though her first interaction with the girl was an awkward meeting when Max brought her along nearly a week ago, she had started arriving alone, and had somehow convinced the orderlies to let her take Kate for “walks”. What this meant was she sat in a wheelchair with a blanket over her lap while Chloe pushed her and talked about the bands she was into, the movies that she and Max had watched (No, seriously, I’ll totally tell her to bring you that one), what she liked best was what the older girl smuggled in along with her.
It was one of those lazy, chill afternoons. Chloe on a bench, Kate beside her, cans of soda sweating in their laps while Chloe smoked. They had lapsed into comfortable but pointless chatting, something Kate had forgotten was possible in the last few months - and she surprised herself with the sound of her own voice.
“Can I bum one of those?”
For a moment, the blue-haired girl just stared at her, not comprehending. It wasn’t until Kate pointed at the cigarette in her hand that she understood, and after a few seconds of awkward, incredulous laughter, she passed one over, brows raised. “You probably haven’t even smoked before, kiddo -” Chloe liked to call her ‘kiddo’. Kate had no idea why. “But sure, I can go for another when you finish coughing out your lungs.”
Smiling around the cigarette, Kate fought back the urge to laugh as the other girl lit the cigarette. Pause, inhale, hold, exhale. She made eye contact - wide eyes greeted her, slightly slackened jaw, no words (for once).
“What?” Kate asked, shaping the words around the cloud of smoke between them. “I had a rebellious phase, too.”
There should be a law saying that if you haven’t read TFIOS you can’t watch the movie because I don’t want stupid white girls going around with unlit cigarettes saying “ its like if you hold the unlit cig in your mouth its like youre like cheating death its like a metaphor or some shit”