Calum Hood Imagines

you walk out after he gets mad at you (requested)

You jumped at the sound of the slamming door as Calum came inside. He was grumbling under his breath as he slipped off his shoes and took his jacket off.

Sensing his stress and grumpiness as he took a seat on the sofa beside you and buried his face in his tattooed hands, you dropped everything to put your hands on his shoulders.

"Cal? Are you okay?"

"Does it look like I'm okay?" He asked as he clenched his jaw and pulled his face from his hands to gaze at you. He pulled away from your touch with a sigh and scooted away from you.

"What's going on with you?"

"Nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothing." You spoke softly and laid your hand on his. "I don't know what happened but you know you can talk to me about it."

"I don't want to talk about it, y/n! Okay?" He yelled and pushed your hand away. "Can't see you see my day has been bad enough? I don't need you all over me! Just leave me alone!"

Your heart broke. There was a lump in your throat and tears blurring your eyes. He's never raised his voice at you unless he was being playful. So it took you by surprise, like the anger in his voice and the look in his eyes did.

"Why are you so upset with me? I-I didn't do anything to you."

"You're getting on my nerves." He said as he toyed with the rings on his fingers and looked anywhere but at you.

"Well if that's how you feel then I should just leave then?"

"Yes! Go! Go somewhere, anywhere, I don't care where. Just go."

You swallowed thickly, attempting to rid the lump in your throat but it was only growing and the tears in your eyes were falling down your cheeks now. You slid your shoes on and grabbed your phone and wallet before going out the door.

Only at the slam of the door did it all hit Calum; a wave of guilt and the terrible words playing in his mind, again and again, knowing it must've broken your fragile heart.

He didn't even put on his shoes or jacket. He just ran out the door and off the porch steps, hoping he'd catch a glimpse of you walking away so he could follow you and comfort you. But you weren't anywhere. He couldn't see you anywhere. He tugged at his dark curls and tried to calm down, but he was worried and he felt terrible.

He rushed back in and grabbed his phone. He tried to call you, again and again, leaving voicemail after voicemail on your phone, talking about how sorry he was and how worried he felt.

"I know I screwed up, y/n. I feel horrible. I know you probably don't want to speak to me but please, call me or text me that you're okay. It's dark and cold and it's getting really late. You left your jacket behind. I don't want you to get sick. Just please tell me you're okay. I'm so sorry." He rambled as he paced the living room, leaving you what must've been the tenth voicemail that night.

He spent the rest of the evening trying to get ahold of you. He even called your friends and the boys, who gave him a good lecture but also promised that if they heard anything they'd tell him. It did nothing to help him feel better. Everyone he called said they hadn't seen you or heard from you.

He paced the floor, grabbed his keys, and drove around the neighborhood and the parks nearby to see if you were anywhere. But you were nowhere to be found.

He dragged his feet through the door. His cheeks were stained with tears. He fell onto the couch, phone clutched in his hand. It's after one in the morning now and every hour that goes by only keeps him more on edge.