5SOS Preferences and Imagines

Song Preference|The Girl Who Cried Wolf

Luke: "Where you going? Always running. Find a way to call it quits again."

My hands were in my hair, fisting at it in a burst of frustration. Hot tears streamed down my face. Luke's screams were drowned out by the continuous pounding in my head. He had been yelling for the last five minutes. I stopped listening as soon as his voice went from stern to condescending. It was safe to say that we were having problems and neither of us knew how to resolve them. "Y/N!" he snapped, bringing me out of my inner thoughts. I looked up at his blue eyes, expecting his angry expression to soften when he saw the tears on my cheeks. It didn't. His jaw tightened in frustration. "God, you never listen to me!" he exclaimed in frustration, beginning to pace back and forth. "I never listen to you?" My voice sounded broken, but there was a fire that stirred in my chest upon hearing his accusation. All I ever did was listen to him. Whenever he needed someone to rant to or someone he just needed to unload all of the shit on his chest to, I was always there. "How fucking dare you, Luke Hemmings?" I spat, taking a step closer to him and jabbing my finger into the middle of his chest. "I always listen to you! I listen every time you get mad at one of the other guys. I listen every time you're homesick or you get depressed. I alwayslisten!" I took a step back. Then another. "Let's not forget that you neglect me whenever you're on tour." Another. "But once again, I'm the bad guy." One more. I turned on my heel and headed for the front door. As I was turning the knob, I felt Luke grip my wrist and pull me away from the door. "Where do you think you're going?" he barked. I yanked my hand away from him and shut my eyes. I tried to calm down, but I could feel my entire body shaking with anger and fear. "I can't do this anymore, Luke," I said. "I can't keep pretending that I'm happy when I'm broken inside. I can't stay here and listen to you tell me how awful I am when all I do is give and give to you!" My voice had steadied and got louder. "I quit," I uttered. Luke looked taken aback. He looked like he didn't understand what I just said to him. "Excuse me? What do you mean you quit?" I took a deep breath. "I mean I'm done, Luke. I quit. I quit trying to work things out. I quit being miserable everyday of my life. I quit this relationship. I quit us." Luke shook his head as if he were telling me I was wrong. Telling me I wasn't quitting. "You're not going anywhere, Y/N. Even if you walk out that door, you're still not going anywhere. You'll be back in a three days telling me how sorry you are. You always do this! You run out on me, telling me how you don't want to be with me anymore, then you come crawling back home. It's the same old song and dance. You don't mean any of this." I couldn't tell if he was trying to convince me or himself. Was he worried he'd really lose me? If he was, he didn't show it. He ran a hand through his messy hair and looked around the room, not wanting to meet my eyes. More tears brimmed in my eyes, but I choked them back, trying to show no mercy. "I mean it this time." My voice was barely above a whisper. Luke took a step towards me, but I moved back about four. "I quit," I said to the air that was now so thick with tension it was tangible. My hand found the doorknob. Turned it. And I walked.

Ashton: "Why don't you just reach out and make it clear to me? What are you telling me?""Y/N! I need you to tell me what's wrong!" Ashton yelled at me while I was curled up in the corner of the bed, the covers devouring my body. I couldn't tell him what was wrong. I couldn't tell him that everyone was making me feel like absolute shit about myself. People online and in my life made me feel so small and unappreciated. Like I didn't even matter. I could die tomorrow and no one would even bat an eye. They might even throw a party. I couldn't tell Ashton because we had talked about my insecurities time and time again. I'd tell him I hate myself, he'd hug me and tell me I had no reason to, then we'd talk about ways to effectively ignore what people say about me. I had already had another episode like this earlier this week. And again, Ashton held me and we talked, but I could tell he was getting tired of listening to me. He would never admit it, but I knew he was. I could tell in his voice, in his movements. I was afraid that eventually he'd become numb and insensitive to my hurting and would just tell me to get over it. The way my mother always did with everything that was ever wrong with me. The way everyone seems to do now. I felt like a burden to Ashton. I felt like I was keeping him down by being with him. He deserved so much better than much better. I heard Ashton's feet shuffle towards the bed. I moved closer to the corner, curling up into a tight, impenetrable ball. Ashton rested his large on my back. "Y/N," he said gently, "I can't read your mind. I don't know what's going on with you." "Then how do you know that there's something wrong?" My voice was muffled by the blanket. "Because you don't just come in here and curl in the corner when there isn't something wrong." He sounded annoyed. He sounded exhausted. I knew he couldn't keep dealing with me, and it wasn't fair to make him have to constantly assure me I was good enough. "I think I need to leave, Ashton," I said, my voice cracking on his name. The bed dipped next to me and I felt Ashton's strong arms pull me to his chest, but I wriggled away. Being close to him only made it hurt worse. He looked hurt. Then he looked angry. He rolled off of the bed and stood over me, looking like a giant. "I just want to help you, Y/N. But I can't do that if you just shut me out. I'll ask one more time before I walk away: what's going on with you?" I expected him to throw out suggestions; was it him, did someone say something, etc. But no. He just stood there, silent and brooding. I struggled to form words. It was the point in the conversation where I couldn't say I was fine or I was just tired. Ashton always called bullshit on that. He knew better. I was stuck. I didn't want to tell him I wasn't fine, but I didn't want to tell him I was okay. I wanted his comfort, but I knew I didn't deserve it. In the end, my choice was silence. I laid there on my side, staring at the wall, wishing that I could just melt away. I heard Ashton's familiar sigh escape his lips, followed by receding footsteps. When I was sure that he had left, I cried quietly, whispering to myself, "I don't deserve you, Ashton. I never did. I'm sorry."