An: requested by Sprinting_Ginger ! Obviously Calum is my lane he's definitely the easiest for me to write but I'll try anything so please send in your requests!
Calum rubbed at his eyes and groaned as he awoke from yet another fitful night of sleep. He'd always struggled to sleep, well except when he'd had you. Falling asleep with you in his arms had always been as easy as breathing. He hadn't had a good nights sleep since. He hadn't had a lot of things since you had left.
He rolled over to stare at the empty spot in the bed where you should've been. He couldn't bring himself to sleep on that side, though your shape hadn't filled the emptiness there in months. The funny thing was that that side had always been his side before. Alone or in relationships it hadn't mattered, he'd always preferred it. The first time you'd slept over however, you'd insisted on sleeping there and he'd caved, always a sucker for you.
The familiar ache in his chest drew him from his thoughts of you while the rumbling in his stomach drew him from bed. He wandered through the house that had once belonged to both of you. Every square inch covered in memories of you that haunted him like ghosts in the walls just waiting for the most devastating moment to remind him of what had once been his.
He found his way to the kitchen opening the refrigerator shuffling through the remnants of the groceries it held, looking for anything edible. You'd always been the one who did the shopping and without you to guide him through the aisles and stand like a child on the shopping cart he couldn't bring himself to do it. He shut the door in frustration and decided he'd try just a cup of coffee and see if one of the boys could meet him for breakfast later. Ashton was always up at the ass-crack of dawn, maybe he could join him for a meal.
Calum turned to the cabinets opening the one full of coffee cups and pausing when he opened the door to be greeted by your favorite one. A faint lipstick stain still visible from where you'd washed it quickly the last morning it had been put to use. He cried then. His body collapsing in on itself until he was clinging to the kitchen counter to hold himself upright. He could perfectly remember that morning. He'd thought everything was fine, until it wasn't. You'd been unhappy for so long, you'd said. He was emotionally unavailable and it was draining you. You didn't love him anymore. You'd been so contained, so cold and devoid of emotion as you broke his heart in two, cleaned the dishes and walked out of his life.
He shut the cabinet firmly and used his thumb and index finger to rub at his eyes to try and control his tears. Fuck this. He drug his feet as he walked along the hall and back to his bedroom. He slumped onto the comforter and immediately fell into disrepair. Duke jumped up onto the bed and used his nose to try and cuddle with Calum but when he sensed the boy's sadness he flopped down with his head against the man's large, tan shoulder.
When Calum finally got himself a little more together he rolled over and pulled Duke into his chest. Kissing the dogs fur and clutching him like he was all he had, at this point the dog basically was. "Am I ever gonna be okay again?" He asked the pup, wishing someone, anyone, could answer that question for him.
He sighed and closed his eyes begging for sleep to come and give him some relief for a little while. When he was asleep he could pretend his dreams were real. He could pretend that everything was different, pretend he still had you. Some nights he'd dream full conversations with you, those nights were the hardest to wake up from. If he stayed asleep long enough to ask you if he'd be okay you'd tell him he'd be just fine and he could hold on to that for a while.
Cal tossed and turned for another hour before finally giving up. He angrily threw the sheets off and forced himself up and out of bed. Everything sucked. Everyone had told him things would get better with time, but everyone had lied. It wasn't getting better and he was over it.
He stomped through the house his sadness masked by anger and flung open his alcohol cabinet. He grabbed the first bottle he saw, some sort of gin, unscrewing the cap and pressing the lip of the bottle to his lips. He scrunched his face at the burn as the liquid slid down his throat.
He hung his head wishing anything could dull this pain and just, emptiness he'd felt since you'd walked out the front door. He looked up and surveyed the chaos the house had become. He hadn't had it in him to clean anything in months and it looked like a disaster zone. Maybe cleaning would help to distract him from his endless hurt.
He started with the kitchen, and that damn coffee cup. He scrubbed and scrubbed until all the remnants of your pink lipstick were erased. He threw out the outdated food and wiped down the counters. When he finished he had to admit he did feel, better. Not good, but better. He decided to try another room and it made sense to do his bedroom next. He made the bed and threw out the endless supply of water bottles that covered the end table. He picked up the mountain of clothes that had accumulated off the floor and only stopped when he saw the faded grey Zeppelin shirt you'd loved so much.
It was the one you always wore when you stayed he night. He brought it up to his nose and nearly fell to the floor when your familiar perfume filled his nostrils. This was supposed to get easier? When was it going to get easier? He sank to the floor and held the shirt out in front of him as he recalled the first time you'd worn it, it was also the day of your first fight.
It was still early in your relationship and he'd made some crude comment. Stupid and childish and revealing of his youth. You'd always been worried about the age difference, being slightly older than Calum and his comment had made you worry about where his head was at and if he was really ready to commit to a relationship. He'd tried to show off for his friends who were present and told you if you wanted to leave then to go. You'd been hurt terribly and ran off back to your best friends house. Cal had realized how stupid he was an hour later and spent the rest of the night looking for you. Sleeping outside your best friend's house until you would agree to talk to him. He'd begged you to forgive him and after some convincing you'd agreed and he'd never made that mistake again.
He threw the shirt into the pile of clothes and leaned back against his bed. He brought his hands up to run at his eyes. They always appeared red-rimmed these days and rubbing at them probably only made it worse but he had to do something to try and make the constant tears end.
He had to get himself together, but he knew in his heart things would never be the same. Nothing would ever compare to what he had shared with you.
An: Are you crying? Bc I'm crying
