the replacement project :: c.h.

fifteen » calum's promise and heather's secret

a/n - i don't know how i feel about this chapter but there are some really interesting things thrown in here as well, so i'm nonetheless excited to be getting it out for you guys - mainly to all of you who're starting to think heather had something to do with elena's disappearance 8-)

judging from the character ask/answers, a lot of people find heather pretty shady (i don't blame you, haha) and her calling out for a week suspicious. if you're one of those people, here's my message for you; keep an open mind. there's still more to the story. 

leave your thoughts down below, your guys' comments really motivate me to write, i'm ngl!! 

i love you, thank you for being you :---)

stay happy,

x bri 

-

[ cara ]

"Do you ever get tired of having a vagina?"

"Calum, please don't."

"But do you?!"

I exhaled deeply, bringing the hand that wasn't currently cradling Calum's head on my lap to my temple. "Sometimes, yes. It's a lot of work."

"So are penises." Calum giggled, rolling his head around, his chest bouncing up and down from laughter. "But we have balls. And balls is funner to say. Balls would win in a fight against vaginas."

"Funner ins't a word, Cal."

"Balls. Balls. Blue balls, pink balls, green balls."

"Calum, stop," I laughed, thwacking the side of his head slightly with my fingers. I prayed it brought him enough pain to bring him back at least a somewhat sober level.

He was so drunk, insanely drunk, judging by the four empty beer bottles laying scattered across his bedroom floor. It was currently two in the morning, and Calum was as tipsy as he could possibly get. Ashton had called me and told me (technically, he yelled) that I had to come over to knock him unconscious or something, because apparently he'd been making duck noises and moaning sounds while the guys were trying to sleep, and none of them could get the boy to shut the hell up.

And so here I was, with a wasted brunette boy on my lap, and a trashcan by my side incase all of the alcohol decided to take a trip back up his esophagus.

"What's wrong, Calum?" I pressed both of my lips together, brushing his deep brown, currently fluffy hair away from his eyes. His hair always seemed to fluff up a little more whenever he was drunk or tired, it was just anther thing I'd add to my collection of small things I've learned about him.

Calum turned his body so that he was now facing me, his face nuzzling into my chest and his arms wrapping around my shoulder. He made a small whimpering sound that was muffled into my shoulder, and I would've laughed if I wasn't concerned. "Nothing's wrong."

"Why were you drinking tonight, then?" I asked him, genuinely confused. He seemed okay earlier today during the cake testing - I wouldn't have been able to tell if something was actually wrong considering he seemed perfectly fine. "Michael told me that during tour you only drank when you were stressed out."

Calum shrugged slightly, "I'm not stressed."

"So why were you-"

He shifted a little in my lap and turned his body away from me slightly, looking offended. "Sometimes there's nothing wrong. Sometimes I just can't help it, sometimes I just need to drink something. I don't always drink my problems away. That's not how addictions always work, you know. Not all addicts are living bad lives."