Camera Shy || Ben Barlow

Twenty One

The war still wasn't quite over, but it wasn't in full swing anymore either. Fil and Sam, as Ben's advisers and negotiators, had met with Zach and Cara, my advisers and negotiators, to discuss a temporary peace treaty. Basically, Dani and Ben wanted to skate but refused to without someone they trusted to take photos; the fans need updates, Essa.

So, here I was. Fil (despite telling us he was on our side) and Sam were set on me not taking any 'indecent' images, especially of Ben. But then Fil had winked, so I decided to take it upon myself to take as many terrible photos as possible and just use them as ammunition another time. As if the universe were on my side, Ben kept falling. He blamed it on the fact that he was wearing jeans instead of shorts, but I shot back with why are you skating in winter again? He didn't have an answer.

The fans were divided, too, and not all of them were as loyal to Ben as he'd hoped. A few of them had managed to get some interesting shots from under his hood at that one concert where he'd decided to dress for a snowball fight. Let me tell you, none of them were holding back. These guys were a million times worse than me and I absolutely adored them for it. The amazing thing about being a photographer was that I was barely ever the one being photographed; Ben and his supporters had next to no ammunition.

"I know what you should get Ben for Christmas," Cara said, leaning on a picnic table that had been strategically placed on a platform to watch people break their legs for fun.

"Pray tell," I said, snapping a picture of Dani as he hit the floor, full impact, looking pretty done with his life.

"A new pair of jeans to replace the ones he's currently having so much fun destroying."

"It's fine. They probably only cost him a tenner. Dani's the one wearing expensive jeans," I said, watching him fail miserably at the one other thing than drums that he was meant to be good at. Cara huffed in that comical sort of way that everyone did when they saw something funny on the internet. Laughter was for show.

"Neither of them can afford ten quid jeans anymore, let's be honest." And unfortunately, she was right. After Dani's PlayStation debacle, he was skint and Ben was normally just skint in general. Tragic, really.

Before I could respond, there was a small Dani-like yelp and a sudden rush of staff stampeding in the same general direction. Several people called for a medic at various points and everyone on the ramps stopped where they were and just... looked.

Little Dani Washington lay in a little heap, surrounded by people he probably didn't want to see him like this, so Cara and I rushed to make this crowd larger. Inconveniencing the boys was a hobby of ours, you see.

Ben, the inconsiderate little shit that he was, stood hunched over himself beside his best friend, laughing as Dani writhed on the floor. I forced my way through a small crowd of people who didn't believe me when I kept telling them that Dani and I were friends and slapped Ben lightly on the stomach, before kneeling next to Dani.

"Did you get a picture?" He gasped. I shook my head and patted his shoulder, before realising he was probably in a lot of pain.

"Where are you hurt?" I asked, before a medic or two (I wasn't paying enough attention to tell) rushed over and gently pushed us all out of the way. Ben could stay, apparently.

"I'll meet you at the hospital, yeah?" Ben told me, finally looking worried as the medics had whispered about ambulances amongst themselves. The sirens had made the whole situation much worse.

"I'll call the boys." And with that, we were gone.

The hospital waiting room was swiftly becoming my least favourite place to be. Fil and Sam were both fidgeting while West paced the room and Cara focused her attention on making sure Zach stayed asleep. Ben was still with Dani, leaving me in a ball on a little corner chair, worried to tears. We still weren't even sure what had happened to him. He'd fallen, and that was all we'd been told.