invisible calum

Your hand freezes halfway to your drink.

No. Your eyes widened as you turn your head.

It couldn't be.

You look toward the other end of the bar, and there he is.

Calum.

For a split second, the room disappears.

The music becomes muffled beneath the rush of blood in your ears, conversations fading into a distant blur. It feels like the floor has shifted beneath you, like someone has reached into your chest and pulled on a thread you'd spent two years carefully trying to tuck away.

He looks older than the last time you saw him.

Not dramatically, it had just been a few years since you had seen him last.

His hair curls a little longer around towards the back of his neck than you remember. More tattoos snake beneath the sleeves of a faded black, tight fit t-shirt.

His jaw is sharper now, softened only by the familiar dimple that appears whenever he smiles at something one of his friends says.

The little silver ring still sits on his finger.

He still absentmindedly taps rhythms against the bar with his fingertips.

Some habits never leave.

As if sensing your stare, he glances up. His eyes meet yours.

The smile that was painted on his face, falls. A look of shock crossing his eyes.

For one impossible heartbeat, neither of you moves.

Then his lips part ever so slightly.

"...Y/N?"

It was a quiet that you could barely hear it.

Your feet carry you toward him before your mind has made the decision.

You stop a few feet away, both of you wearing the same expression.. a mixture of disbelief, nostalgia, and something that hurts too much to name.

"You look....."

He trails off, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. "I wasn't expecting to see you."

"I could say the same thing." You laughed softly back, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked at him.

"You still live here?" He asked, standing up and walking over to meet you where you were.

You nod as you looked up at him, taking in notes of how his eyes had aged.

"I never left."

He smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"I'm only here for a few days."

Of course he is.

He always was.

For the past decade, Calum had become someone the whole world borrowed. Cities, countries, tours, interviews, studios.

There had once been a time when you knew exactly where he'd be every afternoon after school. Now you couldn't even guess what continent he'd wake up on.

He gestures toward the empty stool beside him. "Would it be weird if I bought you a drink?"

You let out the smallest laugh.

"I think it'd be weirder if you didn't."

One drink becomes two.

Two become hours.

The conversation falls into place with startling ease, like slipping into a favorite sweater you'd forgotten you still owned.

You tell him about your job, how your cats had been doing, updates on your family, and so so much more.

He tells you about recording.

You laugh about the time he broke his arm trying to jump off your garage roof because he insisted he could "absolutely land it."

"You dared me." He scoffed with a giant grin on his face.

"I absolutely did not." You rolled your eyes, bringing your drink up to your lips and taking a sip.

"You literally counted down." He argued back jokingly.

"I counted because I thought you'd chicken out." It was now your turn to scoff at him with a grin on you face.

"You underestimated how stupid thirteen-year-old me was." He said slightly loud.

"I still underestimate how stupid thirty-year-old you is." You laughed, putting a hand on his forearm as you leaned forward.

He grins. "Fair."

You both laugh. The conversation was basically effortless.

You had been neighbors before you had been friends.

Your bedrooms faced each other across a narrow stretch of grass, and during summer break you'd sit on your respective roofs shouting conversations across the gap until one of your parents yelled for you to come inside.

At twelve, he'd taught you how to play bass.

At fourteen, you'd helped him pass algebra.

At sixteen, he was the first person you called after getting your driver's license.

At seventeen, he held your hand outside the hospital after a family member had passed away, never saying a word because he knew you didn't want comfort, you just didn't want to be alone.

By eighteen, everyone assumed you were dating.

You weren't. Not then at least.

The feelings had always existed beneath the surface, quietly waiting for one of you to be brave enough.

Neither of you were.

Until twenty-two.

"It was raining." Calum says suddenly, breaking the silence.

You blink.

"What?" You asked him confused.

"The first time we kissed." He stated as if it was matter of fact

You smile into your glass, putting it down and looking at him. "You remember."

"You don't?" He replied almost too fast for your liking.

"I remember everything."

The confession hangs between you.

You'd been sitting in his truck after watching some terrible horror movie. Rain hammered against the windshield while neither of you made any move to leave.

You'd looked at him. He'd looked at you.

Then quietly asked,

"Can I?"

You'd never answered. You'd simply leaned across the center console. It had felt inevitable almost like breathing.

Like finally finishing a sentence the two of you had been writing since childhood.

"What happened to us?" His voice is barely above a whisper, his drink long forgotten about as he looked over at you.

It's the first difficult question of the night. You stare down at the condensation gathering around your glass.

"We grew up." You swallowed hard as you downed the last of your drink and ordered another.

"No." Calum replied short, letting out a huff of a laugh as he leaned back into his chair.

"We did." Your gaze followed him as he leaned back.

"I think.." he sighs. "I think we just kept missing each other."

You know he's right. When he was home, you were building your career. When you finally had time, he was halfway across the world.

Phone calls became voice messages. Voice messages became texts. Texts became likes on Instagram.

Likes became birthdays. Birthdays became....

Nothing.

Not because either of you stopped caring but because caring wasn't enough anymore.

Eventually, silence became easier than missing someone every day.

The bartender announces last call.

The words slice through the warmth surrounding the two of you.

Last call.

The irony isn't lost on either of you.

Calum lets out a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Guess they're trying to tell us something."

You smile sadly, eyes welling up with tears as you quickly sniffled and threw your head back so they wouldn't fall.

"They're a little late."

Outside, the night air is cool enough to raise goosebumps across your arms.

The city feels quieter than it should.

Streetlights paint soft pools of gold across empty pavement while the sounds of distant traffic echo somewhere beyond the parking lot.

For a while, neither of you says anything.

You both simply stand there.

Two people who know each other better than almost anyone else trying to figure out how to become strangers.

"I've missed you." He said softly, breaking the silence.

The words come so quietly you almost don't hear them.

You close your eyes.

"I know."

"No." His voice cracks.

"You don't." He added.

When you look back at him, his eyes are glossy.

"I've looked for you in every city." He confessed, a tear falling down his face.

Your breath catches.

"In coffee shops." He laughs weakly.

"At airports, in crowds." His voice became desperate and almost like begging.

"Every girl I'd meet..." he pauses. "I'd wonder if she'd laugh like you."

Your chest aches, tears falling from your eyes as you now stood in front of him. The dull glow from the street light and the moon illuminating his tear stained face.

"I stopped listening to songs you would've liked because I couldn't send them to you anymore."

Silence settles around you but its not awkward. You swallow hard before replying to him.

"I did the same thing."

He steps closer but its not enough to touch.

Just enough that you can smell the cedarwood cologne you bought him for Christmas years ago.

You wonder if he realizes he's still wearing it.

"I kept thinking that if we ran into each other again that it would..." he started before he laughed, shaking his head and looking down..

"...maybe it'd mean something."

"It does." You quickly said, he looked up at you.

"It does?"

"It means we finally get to say goodbye." You said softly, reaching out to run your hand down his arm and to hold his hand gently.

His face falls almost imperceptibly.

"I don't want goodbye."

"I know." You said softly, your voice breaking.

"I want another chance."

Your heart begs you to say yes. To ask him to stay. To suggest breakfast tomorrow.

One more coffee.

One more conversation.

One more kiss.

One more week.

One more life.

But you know yourselves too well. If he stayed until tomorrow...

Tomorrow would become next weekend and then next month and then another goodbye at another airport.

Another promise to call. Another cycle of almosts. You couldn't survive losing him twice.

"I think.." you whisper. "We've loved each other in every way except the one that mattered."

He wipes at his eye with the heel of his other hand.

"...That's a cruel thing to say." He let out a slight chuckle.

"It's true." You said, your heart breaking as you did the opposite of what your brain was screaming at you to say.

"We were kids." He laughed dryly.

"We were."

"We were friends."

"The best."

"We were almost everything." He shook his head, taking his hand away and looking at the ground, kicking at it.

You nod. "Almost."

He opens his arms and you step into them immediately.

He still hugs exactly the same...one hand spread across your back, the other cradling the back of your head like he's trying to memorize the shape of you.

You bury your face against his chest, listening to the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat, your tears soaking his shirt.

You wonder if his heart recognizes yours the way yours still recognizes his.

"I loved you," he whispers into your hair.

Not love.

Loved.

Past tense. It somehow hurts more.

Tears spill down both of yours cheeks before you can stop them.

"I know." You whispered into his chest.

"I never stopped." You added on, squeezing your eyes shut to try and make the tears stop.

"I know."

When you finally pull apart, you're both smiling through tears.

The kind of smiles reserved for people who know this moment will live inside them forever.

"I hope," he says quietly, "that whoever gets to love you next gets all the versions of you I never got to meet."

Your throat tightens as you take a deep breathe.

"I hope someone reminds you that you don't have to carry everything by yourself." You reply to him.

He laughs through wet eyes. "You always knew me too well."

"I had a lot of practice." You joke, nudging him with your elbow.

One final laugh.

One final smile.

One final look.

He starts walking backward toward his rental car, unwilling to turn away just yet.

You do the same.

Halfway there, he raises two fingers to his forehead in the same stupid salute he'd given you since you were eleven years old the one he'd do even more after you complained of how cringey it was, every road trip, every sleepover, every hangout.

The one that had always meant,

See you later.

Your lip trembles as you return it.

But this time, instead of see you later.

You both know what it really means.

Goodbye.

And as he drives away, taillights disappearing into the dark until there is nothing left but empty road, you realize that some people are never meant to stay forever.

it was a perfect golden day, and for the first time in months, our only agenda was to absolutely do nothing. no interviews, no rehearsals, no flights, no meetings. just sunshine, silence, and the two of us.

an empty ceramic plate—which hours ago held a vibrant mix of a fresh fruit platter—sat slightly soaked in melted ice and leftover juice on the little wicker table beside us. the thick, quiet atmosphere was making my eyelids heavy, and i was just on the verge of drifting straight into a nap.

calum scrolled mindlessly through tiktok behind me while absentently drawing shapes on my arm. the rhythmic movement and warmth of his skin against mine had me drifting in and out of consciousness.

it was a rare occasion where both of us were schedule-free. him from 5sos and me from my own band, gotham.

i know, cheesy name. but me and my friends decided on it during one of our very first rehearsals when we were entirely stuck, throwing out terrible band names for hours, when james, our guitarist, looked over at his little brother’s lego batman set sitting on the shelf pointed and said “what about gotham?”

it stuck and we never bothered to change it.

by the time our debut album came out in early 2018, calum was already well established in his career. we'd been dating for around a year now after first meeting through a string of parties, gigs, festivals and industry events.

sound-wise, gotham is a lot heavier than 5sos—more gothic rock, gritty guitars, and dark, driving basslines. it’d be pretty weird if a band named after a dark, fictional city sounded like bubblegum pop.

i had always noticed calum, obviously. given who he was, it was hard not to. but also for the slight, secret fact that i used to be a massive stan back in the day. 

okay, maybe slight is a massive understatement. 

i may or may not have had a solid three or four of his posters taped to my bedroom walls as a teenager. 

the first time i saw him in real life, standing just a few steps away from me at a festival bar, i froze mid-sentence. i had to be physically shaken back to reality by my drummer, josh, who nudged me hard in the ribs.

“mate you look like you’ve just seen god”

i never had the balls to actually say anything to calum. it wasn't until josh went ahead and confidently introduced himself, and naturally the rest of the band, that the ice was broken.

"hey, man, love the music," josh had said, totally casual, while i was internally sweating bullets. "i'm josh, my band’s called gotham."

calum had smiled that warm, easygoing smile of his, shaking josh's hand before looking over at me. "gotham? dark name. i like it. nice to meet you guys." i managed a tight, polite nod, praying my hands wouldn't shake.

after that, we kept running into each other at various events, until one night at a dimly lit industry afterparty, he struck up a conversation himself.

like him, i held down the low end—we were both the bassists for our respective bands. when he first walked up to me alone, cornering me near the drinks table with two plastic cups in hand, i felt a deep, furious blush forming on my cheeks. i immediately looked down at my shoes, trying desperately to hide it.

"hey," he said, handing me a drink. "you're the bassist for gotham, right? i'm calum."

"yeah, i know—i mean, yeah, i am," i stumbled slightly, cursing myself internally. "i'm the bassist."

"i saw a live clip of you guys on youtube a couple of weeks ago," he said, leaning against the wall, his eyes locked on mine. "your bass tone on that one track... what's it called? the one with the massive breakdown?"

"oh– in between?"

"that's the one," he grinned, his eyes lighting up. "that bassline is filthy. the distortion you used was insane. i was literally showing michael the video like, 'look at this tone.'"

hearing calum hood praise my bass playing was an absolute out-of-body experience. we continued talking about our shared lifestyle—complaining about calloused fingers, comparing our favorite pedals, and joking about how the people always ignore the rhythm section until something goes wrong. from there, he started taking a genuine interest in the rest of the band, and eventually, me in general.

we ended up leaving the loud main room of the party, finding a quiet, dented set of stairs backstage. we sat there for hours on end, the muffled bass of the party's dj vibrating through the walls as we talked about music, life, and the unique, shared struggles of being a musician.

"it gets exhausting, doesn't it?" he asked quietly at one point, twirling an empty cup between his hands. "the constant pressure to write something better than the last record. sometimes you just want to play music without the industry noise."

"yeah," i agreed, looking over at him in the dim lighting. "sometimes i feel like i'm just trying to keep my head above water. especially being the newer band on the block. you feel like you have to prove yourself every single night."

he nodded understandingly, bumping his shoulder against mine. "you've got the talent. don't let the noise get to you. you guys are doing great."

after that night, we kept in contact. what first started as a regular, musician-to-musician friendship actually stretched on for a few years. we became each other's safe havens in the industry. it started with casual texts about song lyrics, which turned into late-night facetime calls when one of us was stuck in a studio on the other side of the world. whenever our tour schedules aligned, we’d meet up for low-key hangouts or casual studio jams, trading riffs and helping each other iron out melodies.

but after years of dancing around the obvious tension, he eventually properly asked me out. it happened during one of our usual low-key hangouts at his place. we had spent the afternoon jamming in his home studio, the floor littered with guitar picks, cables, and empty takeout boxes.

our relationship was still, though, a complete secret to the public. 

it was hard at times—especially whenever we just wanted to go out on normal dates without having to pull oversized hoodies over our faces and look over our shoulders. but we made it work. i knew he did it to protect me. he wanted to shield me from the prying eyes of a fandom that had peaked in the terrifying, stalker-obsessed days of 2013-2014.

calum knew i had been a fan of their music, of course, but he didn’t know how big of a fan i actually was. and i fully planned to keep it that way forever, purely to save myself from the inevitable lifetime of constant teasing and embarrassment.

though, things don’t always go exactly as planned.

as i was halfway to dozing off, the steady, repetitive sound of calum scrolling through tiktok on his phone blurred into the background of my mind. he let out a low chuckle, which i didn't think much of at first—he laughed at random videos all the time.

until he stopped scrolling, shifted his weight slightly, and tapped me on my shoulder.

"baby," he murmured, his voice laced with pure amusement. "i was your celebrity crush?"

my eyes snapped wide open. the drowsiness vanished instantly. i turned my head around to look up at him. "what?" 

he had an incredibly annoying, cheeky grin plastered across his face that made my stomach drop. he turned his phone screen towards me. oh no. oh no. 

"look at this."

it was a tiktok from a gotham fan account that had unearthed and reposted a clip from an old interview of me.

it was an old interview. like, old, old. it was from a magazine that wasn't even active anymore, the original video probably barely had ten thousand views. it was filmed back in 2018, during the very first year of my career during our media promo run around our debut album. 

in the clip, the interviewer was doing solo rapid-fire shots with each of us, asking stupid, fun questions just to let the world know a bit more about the new indie kids on the scene.

then came the question of answering our ultimate celebrity crush.

"calum hood," i watched my younger self say on the screen, without even a second of hesitation.

horrified, a loud shriek escaped my throat. i lunged forward, scrambling to snatch the phone right out of his hand, but calum anticipated it. he instantly raised his arm high above his head, entirely out of my reach, keeping the screen playing while he started laughing maniacally, his chest shaking against my back.

"calum!”

"nope."

"give me the phone." i yelled, stretching up fruitlessly

"absolutely not."

on the screen, 18-year-old me kept talking. "i saw him when 5sos opened for 1d in 2013, and i’ve been in love ever since," my past self gushed to the camera. "i remember when i first learned the bass, i literally learned every single 5sos bassline just in case he’d ever pull me up on stage and i could impress him..."

it just kept going. the editors had let me keep rambling on and hadn't even bothered to cut it. every member of gotham had a specific question where the focus was entirely on them, and of course, this trainwreck was mine.

in the video, i was giggling, twirling a strand of my hair in complete contrast to my current expression of pure dread. 

“his hair is really nice.."

calum snorted. "oh, thank you."

"shut up. please. just turn it off." i mumbled into my palms, my cheeks practically on fire.

i didn’t even remember this interview. having done hundreds of them later on, combined with too many chaotic things in life to handle, the memory had been totally wiped. i also certainly didn’t remember my 18-year-old self completely exposing the fact that i maintained a secret, highly active tumblr dedicated to my fangirl activities.

"and i used to have this tumblr account—"

i uncovered my face and let out a scream, not caring if the neighbors heard. 

"you had a tumblr?"

"everyone had a tumblr"

"did you make edits?"

i groaned into my hands. his laughter echoed across the entire backyard.

"did you write fanfiction?"

"shut up!" i mumbled into my palms, my cheeks practically on fire.

calum was practically breathless from laughing so hard, dropping his head onto my shoulder. he shut off his phone and tried to take my hands away from my face. “don’t be shy, baby. it’s cute.”

“no, it’s not. it’s embarrassing.” despite my hands now off my face i still avoided eye contact.

“why didn’t you tell me?” calum chuckled.

“because this! oh my god—” i gestured wildly between the two of us, finally looking at him, though my face was still burning a furious shade of red. “this exact reaction! i knew you’d never let me live it down. you’re going to hold this over my head until i die.”

“well, yeah, obviously,” he teased, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned in closer, his chin resting comfortably on my bare shoulder. “but c’mon, i think it’s sweet.” he insisted, wrapping his arms securely around my waist to keep me from squirming away. 

“sweet?” i repeated, still refusing to look at him. i squeezed my eyes shut, wishing the wooden deck beneath us would split open and swallow me whole.

“means you’ve always had good taste.” i rolled my eyes. he was still grinning. i hated that grin. actually, no. i loved that grin. which was part of the problem.

“it’s a miracle i didn’t accidentally scare you off at that afterparty three years ago,” i muttered, finally letting my guard down a little and turning my body slightly toward him on the sunchair. “if i had remembered that video existed, i probably would have sprinted out of the room the second you handed me a drink.”

“everyone has celebrity crushes,” calum shrugged, his tone shifting into something a bit more tender as he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me closer against his chest. “you just happen to be one of those lucky people who actually gets to date theirs.” he leaned in, pressing a warm, lingering kiss against my flushed cheek. “what would past you think, anyway? if she could see us right now?”

i shifted in his lap, turning completely so i could finally look at him properly, my knees framing his sides. the afternoon sun caught the amber flecks in his eyes, making them look incredibly bright.

"i’d tell her that it turns out the real calum hood steals my food, leaves empty glasses everywhere, and sends me instagram reels at three in the morning." i said, poking his bare chest with my finger.

his smile softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "but?" he prompted gently, leaning his head back against the cushion. he knew there was a 'but.'

"but... he's still a million times better than the version i made up in my head."

for once, calum had no comeback. he just looked at me with that stupid soft look he got sometimes. the one that always made my stomach flip no matter how many times i saw it.

he slid his hand up to the back of my neck, gently pulling me down as he leaned in to softly kiss me. i couldn't help but giggle into the kiss. as embarrassing as all of this was, as much as i wanted to launch myself directly into the sun, i still got what i spent years daydreaming about. him. and honestly, it was all i could ever ask for.

“i love you,” i whispered against his lips. a grin immediately returned to his face. “well,” he said, “that part was pretty obvious.”

i groaned. “calum.”

“what was your username?”

“never fucking mind,” i mumbled into his collarbone, swatting at his shoulder. “i hate you.”