A Little Too Much | c.h
this song hurts my heart
I M A G I N E
Sun poured itself into the newly renovated kitchen. Ornate on the white tiled ground were shattered pieces of glass, sources that include cups, plates, and a vase. Sink was wooshing with running water, hearing as the pipes swallowed it and sent it to the scariness that was the sewers. The only other sound beside it was the whistling kettle that was searing behind you.
“A-Andrew, please–!” You whimper, your hands trembling from pure fear. Inches before you was your boyfriend, his cherry face blurred by the tears coating your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to hug that boy, but knew that the idea was far too audacious now.
“Why the fuck were you at your mothers this weekend?” Andrew growled, his voice hoarse and stern. He slammed his hand on the counter when you remained mute, having you flinch from the sound of the impact. “Answer me, Y/N!”
“I-I…” You stuttered, too scared to utter any sort of words. The entire situation was comprehensible, and you could barely say a thing. “Sh-she wanted to s-see me, s-s-so I visited the h-house for a bit…”
“So why did you fucking tell me?” Andrew roared, having you desperate to run from the house as soon as possible.
“B-because you work so much and hard, I d-didn’t want to di-disturb you…” You cried out, your words barely coming out as a whisper as you hugged yourself. Goosebumps full of fear crawled up and down your arms, feeling your hands tremble in your armpits as you did.
“You’re such an idiot, Y/N…” Andrew said lowly. “…You deserve to be punished.” Those words jabbed straight to your heart. You blinked a few times, allowing your tears to stream down your cheeks in exchange for clear vision. But your pupils dilated, seeing as your boyfriend’s arm was raised in the air. Slowly, he clenched his hand into a fist, revealing those strong brass knuckles of his. Shutting your eyes once more, you waited for the impact to just–
“Miss? Miss!” Voices surged into your head as you quickly refocused yourself. You looked up dizzily, your hands touching the concrete as you felt a sudden throb on your bottom. Your sight was now full of worried stares from strangers. “Are you alright, Miss?”
“Mm, I am,” you hummed, taking the offered hand from said voice as you were lifted back onto your feet. A woman beside you had offered your phone and items you held, having you take it graciously as you looked around.
“D’you want me to call anyone?” The man asked, a few bystanders walking away to see the few that remained handle the situation. You nodded your head no, touching your forehead with your hand. You moved a few strands of hair from your face, having the worried faces enlarge their pupils from the motion.
“Hey, you’re the girl from the news!” A woman exclaimed, pointing at the bandaged wound on your upper cheek. You brought up a trembling hand and touched the bandage, having your heart race from recalling the sudden memory. “What are you doing outside on your own? You should be getting some therapy for that scary experience!”
“I’m okay,” you said simply, giving them a soft, painful smile as you dusting yourself off. You thanked the worried bystanders before turning around and making you way to home. The people called out softly, offering assistance that you easily ignored.
It’s been one whole month since the assault. The wound remained damaged, the cut deep into the skull. A bruise purple and blue, like space, had danced around the cut painfully. But there was no more pain emitting from the very thing. Just fear.
Help was continuously shot to you, having you turn them down with ease. You parents, relatives, friends of all sorts were yearning to give you a hand. But you were far too stubborn, subconsciously flaunting the toughness that resided in your. You hadn’t needed help, but you couldn’t avoid the sadness that dispersed with your sudden loneliness.
Half of that month was spent weaving your life back together. You went back to work right after your release from the hospital. You were quick to sell the home that once homed two connected hearts. Crawling into a small apartment, you worked long hours to keep yourself distracted. But flashbacks like the ones that occurred can’t help but break your focus.
Not even you knew if you were ever going to get better. You were on your two feet, but you weren’t standing up perfectly. You were breathing, but you weren’t alive. You were living without actually living.
‘She’s so strong, isn’t she?’ Voices of many would replay in your mind. Your stubbornness was seen as some sort of strength, which you have kept with for too many days on your own. As much as you wanted to cut it out, you couldn’t. This was your problem, and you believed you hand to deal with it on your own.
Until Calum Hood showed up into your life.
Arriving to your apartment, you jingled your keys from your pocket and opened the door, revealing yourself to the gentle scent of coconut oil and vanilla candles. But, you were also suddenly introduced to your patient boyfriend.
“Y/N!” Calum’s voice rang, having you softly smile at the tall bassist. His torso was hugged in a black baseball shirt, with cotton black pajamas to cover his legs. His raven locks were a mess, likely the case that he just woke up. Or, like he usually does, refuses to fix himself up as he wandered around the small house. His feet were swallowed up by two different socks, one with stripes and the other with polka dots.
“Calum, did you just wake up?” You asked softly, still outside the doorway as he nodded happily.
“Like 20 minutes ago,” Calum said with a grin. “I checked the time and knew you were coming soon, so I waited to see you, love.” You smiled, your heart warming to see the gentle being before you. His eyes proved how much he missed you, those pupils enlarging to show how happy he was.
“You didn’t have to…” You whispered.
“But I wanted to,” Calum insisted, his eyes gleaming at you. Just watching Calum and hearing his words made you feel warm. He was always so content to see you and handled you with such care. With him, everything was slow and nice, easing emotions into you with no rush.
When you first met Calum, he was the dolt who managed to drop coffee on your thigh. You watched as the nervous boy fret about it, grabbing several Dunkin Donuts napkins and dabbing your burning thigh. But the pain hadn’t occurred to you once you listened to his worried accent and large almond eyes.
“Stop standing outside already,” Calum began, offering his large hand out to you. You felt your heart bounce with emotion, seeing his offer as one of the biggest things. He was welcoming you, wanting your existence around without forcing you or pulling you in. It was just a simple hand gesture and it slowly began to mean the world. “Come home.”
Instantly, you rushed into the doorway and grabbed the boy into your arms. Your fingers grabbed the back of his shirt tightly, feeling the fabric bend between your fingers. You felt your body relax itself from his simple touch, feeling warmth disperse all over you. And, without question, he wrapped his arms around you, knowing why you did what you did.
“It’s okay now,” Calum cooed, his hand patting your head as he held you. “I’m here now. I’m here, and everything with clear up. I promise.”
His words felt true. Everything he has ever uttered to you has never gone back. Even with two weeks knowing this boy, you felt so safe around him. It only took him a week to get a kiss from you, and another just to stay in your house. All the scary stuff clears away like fog once he was in the picture.
“I like you,” you mumbled into his chest, feeling bad that ‘like’ has yet to upgrade to ‘love.’ But you knew he was so incredibly close. With such little time, he has saved you from yourself, and you couldn’t have been any more gracious. From writing you songs to taking you out for dinner on a yacht. He introduced you to Vegemite and bands like All Time Low. Both their music and the actual band. He became the light of your life, saving you from the dark oblivion that was near close to consume you whole.
“I like you, more,” Calum mumbled, pulling you away to plant a gentle kiss on your wound. “Now, let me make you something to eat, yeah? Our package of Vegemite finally came in.”
“You’re going to get sick of that stuff someday,” you humored, keeping your tears in as he closed the front door and led you into the kitchen.
“Sick of that delicious black spread?” Calum began with a smirk. “Someone would have to take my life before that happens.” You giggled, playfully shoving him as he held your hand and led you to eat.