5 Seconds Of Summer Imagines

Safety Pin

Pick your boy

His POV

Wandering along aimlessly in the dim moonlight, I feel my feet take the familiar path towards your home. The place where you're currently sleeping alone and dreaming beautiful things. The place where I wish I was laying next to you, a broken boy holding a broken girl and creating a whole new us.
The road to your house seems endless, the path stretching further ahead of me as I keep pushing my dying legs towards the destination I need to be at.
When I arrive, the cold air hitches in my throat as I inhale and struggle to breathe or think. I never really thought of what I would do once I arrived here. Do I go to your front door? Pound on it relentlessly until you answer in a restless state, your hair messy atop your head, yet still managing to look effortlessly beautiful in the early morning hours?
Choosing to wing the event, I slip down the side of your house into the back yard. Staring up at your bedroom window - feeling the presence of your broken heart in the broken home - the moon reflects off of the glass and I decide to be the romantic cliche I always wanted to be for you.
Grabbing a handful of rocks from the ground, I glance at each one swiftly before hurling them at your window to gain your attention.
I throw one...two...three...and then some. All to have your radiant face show through the glass to look down at me. It's a sight I crave for - like you're my own special batch of heroine and I'm addicted to the fix that you give me - just so that I can say the things that I never said, the things I wanted to pour out to you but deleted and never sent.
Suddenly, I'm illuminated in a patch of light in the dark garden as your bedroom light shines down from above. A small creak is heard as your window slides open, your eyes squinting down at me as your body half hangs out of the window.
"Hi," I mumble, loud enough for you to hear but not enough to disturb the tense and quiet air we're standing in.
"Hi," you reply, soft and musical, and I close my eyes in bliss at the sound of your voice. My addiction slowly fixing me again, "why are you here?"
"No more waiting," I call out, louder than before and you scrunch your eyebrows together as you look at me quizzically, "let's runaway."
You laugh. Not in a mocking or patronising way, in a loving way.
"Why now? You've had so long to do this," you chuckle, pulling your sleeve over your hand to conceal your warmth from the bitter cold air.
"I've been lost this whole time, but when I'm with you...I'm not," I passionately speak out, my gaze never breaking from your face as you bite your lip - almost in contemplation, "I want to run to the edge of the world with you. Defeat the odds."
You looks away from my face, staring at the almost black sky as you think over my words. I want to give you more reasons, tell you how much I love you, but the words won't come and destroy the silence set up between us.
"It will only make things worse," you barely whisper, and I can feel my lungs struggle for air. I don't want you to give up on us, I want you to want the same as me. To patch up our holes and fix us up until we feel better.
"You don't know that," I retaliate, biting my lip until I can taste the metallic blood in my mouth, "maybe this time we can make it right."
You stare at me, your mind overrunning with thoughts. Weighing the pros and the cons, trying to decide if it's right or wrong. And all I want to do is beg and plead for you to come with me, tell you I love you and argue that we can safety pin our broken hearts back together and became one whole.
"Ok."