F I X T H E B R O K E N | gang!cal AU

c r o s s o v e r

"We have to call Calum," you mouthed, looking Dylan dead in the eye.

He gulped anxiously. He had only heard a few things about Calum and this gang. Dylan wasn't sure of what he was supposed to expect, really. Will he automatically be associated with the gang because of this? Is he part of some underground society purely by association? He scratched the back of his neck out of anxiety.

You put down the call from Mom. "Oh, wow! This is actually happening," you rambled, searching your contacts for Calum's number.

"Wait."

You looked up from your phone. Your index finger was millimetres from pressing the call button.

"What?" you breathed out impatiently.

"There's got to be another way!" he suggested exasperatedly.

You raised your eyebrows and shrugged your shoulders, holding out your palms to him. "Dylan, I'm not going to do this by myself!" You were appaled that he would have such an idea. Even when you were in the gang, you heavily depended on the others while you tried your hardest to stay alive.

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

Ding!

The two of you jumped at the doorbell. You tilted your head, silently asking if that was for him. He shook his head, just as curious as to who was waiting behind the front door. Fear struck you at the possibility of some mafia boss standing outside your house, just waiting to kill you. Dylan caught on quick.

Protectively, he held you behind him and grabbed a tennis racquet that was lying on the floor. With his hold on you, you two crept to the front door, not wanting to make any noise. He looked through the peephole. Fair enough, he saw a group of people who all looked like they were a little too old to be doing what they were doing. You squeezed your way to take a look through the peephole as well.

Four burly men were on the other side. The person nearest to the door was the tallest. He had an unshaven scruff. His golden hair sprawled everywhere unkemptly. The guy beside him had thick glasses on and his blonde hair peeked out from his beanie. You could recognise the guy furthest from the door by his soft dimples. And lo and behold, it was the guy. The guy.

"They're here," you whispered to Dylan. He gulped, freaked out at the thought of losing his life right there and then.

You yanked the door open. Both sides eyed the other. The four guys eyed Dylan down. You could already sense them hurling insults at him in their minds.

"Guys," you muttered.

"Y/N," Luke rasped, eyes still squinting at Dylan.

"Put down your racquet. We aren't going to do anything to ya..." Ashton mocked.

Dylan lowered his racquet bashfully. "-yet" Ashton continued. Dylan looked up at Ashton in fear. Ash pulled the wickedest smile anyone has seen. You were getting a little tense too.

The gang sauntered into the house as if they owned the place. Your eyes were still on the hardwood floors. You didn't dare look at anyone in their eye, not after what happened. They took a seat on the couch.

This was mind-altering for you. It was the weirdest crossover of your present and your past. You hated it. The fact that you've worked so hard to detach yourself from the past, and now your past shows up uninvited. Well, you were going to "invite" them, but still.

"Okay, Y/N is not going to talk, so I'll start," Luke sneered, just like old times.

"Hey," Dylan interrupted, standing up. He didn't like these men mocking you. Luke looked up at him, still sitting down. He was frankly unimpressed by Dylan's act of valour. Just from the look alone, Dylan calmed down and returned to his seat.