hiatus : c.t.h.

"perpetual earphone"

Calum didn't know what it was about that girl, the one with the brown hair who walked down the South Bank. She drew him to her. Maybe it was the perpetual one earphone, always the left ear. Maybe the notepad. Maybe the simple fact that she'd passed that way a hundred times.

In any case, she was interesting.

When five o'clock in the afternoon rolls around again, he finishes playing his last song (Gotta Get Out. He always saved that one for last, it had a satisfaction to it that the others didn't quite possess) and stowed his guitar and unsold CD's back into his black guitar case, shaking out the change first.

"Good haul today," he mutters, pouring the cold coins and the odd bill through his fingers. "Wouldn't be surprised if I could pay the apartment bill without help from Mali this month."

He lived in a hellhole of a place just outside Clapham, right on the train tracks. The noise was horrendous, the smell was dastardly, and the general appeal was one of decay and last resorts. But that's exactly what it was for him.

He'd lived pretty well most his life. His parents were wealthy, compared to most of the world, enough at least to afford with ease football and guitar lessons for him, and singing for Mali. But once the band started...

5 Seconds of Summer. He pours the name through his mind like he did the coins through his fingers as he hoists the guitar case onto his back and starts towards Clapham.

Michael, Luke, Ashton. His band mates. They'd started the band as fifteen and sixteen year olds, and taken Ashton on when necessity demanded. But the band had never - taken off - he supposed. Not enough to support them as a living.

A couple of months ago, Ashton had held one of his famous "band meetings." But this time, he hadn't wanted to discuss Luke's shower issues, or Michael's disgusting chip bowl habit. He'd proposed the idea of a hiatus.

"A break," he'd said. "To make sure this is exactly what we want. And if we all decide to come back, we'll give it another shot."

Luke and Calum had been reluctant to follow Ashton's suggestion. They were both still starry eyed eighteen year olds, hoping, even after two and a half years, their break would come. But Michael knew Ash was right, and the two elder members convinced the younger ones this was the right thing to do, both for themselves and for their careers.

Ashton had gone home, of course. He was back with his family, traveling Australia and spending time with his siblings. Michael had decided to go to Japan and live there for a year, having wanted to go there on tour and being disappointed they'd never gotten to. Last Calum had heard, Mike had been having the time of his life.

Luke had gone to LA to hang out in recording studios and stay in music, at least a bit. John Feldmann found jobs for him to do, recording the odd guitar bit for a record or getting an opinion on which songs they should take forward to production.

And Calum. Calum had had this strange feeling that if he was going to do this whole separation thing, he was going to do it right. So he'd moved to London, across the city from where his sister, Mali, lived. This way, he could do what he loved; sing. With no strings attached. And if he ever reached the point where he couldn't support himself, Mali was close enough to help him out.

There was something so exciting about earning the bare minimum you needed to live; maybe the uncertainty or the instability, or simply the fact that he played guitar seven hours a day and lived off that.

Everything barely functioned, and that was the part he loved.

He reaches his apartment after an hour of walking, his shoulders hunched against the cold as he unlocks his front door. Calum's sigh echoes through the tiny apartment when he enters, heading straight for his bedroom and flopping down on his bed after he sets his guitar lovingly in the corner of the room next to his bass. Bass was his first love, but he couldn't play melodies with it. So he played his guitar instead.

Almost immediately after he closes his eyes, finally resting, his phone chimes. With a grunt of protest, he digs it out of his pocket. An unknown number's message notification lights up the screen.

UNKNOWN: Clever, aren't you.

A small smile curves his mouth as he types, a sneaking suspicion stealing over him that he knows who it is.

ME: is this Small Girl With Perpetual
Earphone?

UNKNOWN: I am of average height, thank you very much.

"Of average height," he chuckles to himself, making her into a new contact.

ME: as a six foot three man, i can tell you you're definitely small

PERPETUAL EARPHONE: Man? You
can't be more than eighteen, stud.

Calum is rather taken aback by her straightforwardness over text. The girl had practically started hyperventilating when he'd talked to her.

ME: i'm twenty sassypants

PERPETUAL EARPHONE: Whatever you say, Guitar Boy.

ME: ^_^ great insult. i can see you have a bit of background in this

PERPETUAL EARPHONE: Wow. The
sarcasm is radiating off my phone.

Calum can't help but laugh a little at her. He has a feeling this is going to be fun.

ME: you know something we have in
common?

PERPETUAL EARPHONE: We're both
texting a person we don't know simply
because you felt the need to stalk me.

ME: no ya dumb butt. we both enjoy
walking

PERPETUAL EARPHONE: What a
fabulous thing to have in common. We
must be meant for each other.

Rolling his eyes a little, Calum types back.

ME: i'm tryin to ask if i can join you on
your daily, pointless walk tomorrow

PERPETUAL EARPHONE: I dunno. Are
you a kidnapper?

ME: my god, earphone. if your gonna be a jerk about it the offer can be revoked

PERPETUAL EARPHONE: *you're

ME: -__-

PERPETUAL EARPHONE: Sorry. I'm a
writer, it comes with the territory.

ME: I write too. But mainly songs

When she doesn't respond for a bit, he sends another text.

ME: so can I join you on your inspiration walk or what

PERPETUAL EARPHONE: If you enjoy
acute awkwardness and frequent pauses to write down seemingly inconsequential observations, then you're welcome to it

ME: you're cute when you talk smart

PERPETUAL EARPHONE: Take it slow,
stud. I'm still reserving judgement on you

ME: god, you even text like a writer.

She doesn't respond again. After a while staring at his phone, Calum finally gets up and heads to the kitchen, attempting to find something to eat and thinking about Writer Girl.

It occurs to him that he neglected to get her name.

(a/n)

sassypants
dumb butt
Calum you comeback genius

I wrote this during geography class so no songs. Also, I'm severely depressed about Zayn. I'm so happy he took his health into consideration, but my heart is breaking. I didn't think it would end this soon... And abruptly... I don't know what to think.