Becoming the Fifth Second of Summer - a FanFiction

Write.

We all played until we had decided on a definite ending, and practised some trickier parts until we all became confident with the song. We sat their in that familiar silence again, swimming in the white noise that flooded the basement room.

'So whats his name?' Michael looks at me, a soft and almost sympathetic smile appears on his face.

'Who's name?' I reply, confused.

'The boy who you wrote the song about, what is his name?' Luke says in a deep voice, sounding melancholic.

I dont reply. I look at my hands, and fiddle with my watch strap, a common tick of min when I'm nervous or uncomfortable. How did they know? Marcus just keeps on popping up in my brain. He was also there during the song. Every lyric illustrating another perfect feature of his face, adding more and more detail to his being with every syllable.

'Marcus.' I reply quietly. Pause. Nobody says anything. I look up to see their faces. All of them share similar expressions. As if they were looking back on old memories, happy but sad at the same time. Reminiscent. As if they remember feeling the same way. Remember feeling inadequate for somebody. Un-worthy. Or simply, not enough.

Calum reaches for my notebook laying in the middle of our circle. 'Does he know how you feel?' He asks, his eyebrows knitting together as he reads though my hand written words of confession.

'I doubt he even knows my name.' I say. I laugh at myself internally. God, you're so sad Daisy. Get over it, get over him.

Ashton gets up, and sits next to me. He bends his knees up towards his chest, and rests his elbows upon them, setting his chin on his interlocked hands. His eyes seem distant, far away. 'He doesn't know what he's missing.' After he says this, he turns his head to look at me. He studies my face, his eyes travelling across my sad expression. The others come and sit closer as well, adjusting their legs to a comfortable position. I think they're unaware that they are practically encircling me. But I dont mind, I feel protected. The knawing silence encourages me to go on, and elaborate on my story.

'Ive never really noticed him before. He was independent, distant, clever, but a bit of a screw up. He never did homework, and he barely turned up to school. But, you could just tell that he was intelligent, that the brain of his hidden under that beanie, was in fact, really special. Like, he could really be someone, ya know? Anyways, yesterday he kind of rescued me. I say rescued, I actually mean he helped sort myself out when my bag got soaked and my books ruined. I went on his skateboard. I was crap! But he didnt mind. He helped me, he guided me. I felt safe when he held my hands. I dont know. Its stupid. I get it, I'm young. Its just a crush, and he is just a boy..' I trail off, feeling i have shared too much way too quickly.

'Write.'

'what' I say, not hearing.

'Write about it.' Calum repeats, his voice muffled through his clasped hands.

'Write.'.