Camera Shy || Ben Barlow

Twenty Four

"No mum," he chuckled, his face flushing slightly - none of us had really been able to talk to our families on Christmas day itself, so today would have to do. Ben had been pretty torn up about Christmas, since this would be one of the first without his dad; he'd felt terrible leaving his family but they'd assured us it was fine. As a result, he'd now been on the phone for over an hour. 

"He still in there?" Sam asked, looking disgusted as I stumbled over the air bed we'd squashed into my living room. I couldn't wait to take it down; I couldn't wait to leave this place and just get back on the road, but the tour was pretty much over. We weren't heading to the US for months, yet.

"Oh shush," I told him, reaching over to backhand him on the arm, "he just misses his mum." 

"He saw his mum a week ago," Fil said, dropping himself on the little love seat, very nearly squashing Sam's poor little feet (they weren't little at all but it made me feel better to fantasise that someone else had child sized feet, too). Sam and Dani were both averagely sized, fully grown men that I still associated with the words little and small. I couldn't help it.

"You miss your mum, too, Fil. I'm not an idiot." 

I battled my way through my little flat, trying my best to reach the kitchen without falling over and literally dying. I laughed as I stumbled into the table; when I'd woken up this morning, Ben had been tucked away underneath two chairs, having rolled himself off of the air bed in the middle of the night. Of course, I'd taken a stupid amount of photos to embarrass him with later. I hadn't properly met his family yet but I was pretty sure they'd all appreciate a few images of their Ben passed out underneath a table, half naked. I know the boys all did - except Ben. 

"What does everyone want?"

"A heffalump," Dani tiredly groaned from his seat at the table, rubbing his eye with a crumpled fist. 

"A he- what? What?" 

"You know those big purple elephants? From that kids show..."

"Winnie the Pooh, Daniel?" 

"Yeah! That one! I want one," he said, crossing his arms on the table and resting his cheek on his elbow. 

"You do know that they're not real, right?" I asked, more concerned for the little guy than I had been for a very long time. I hated heffalumps. I always had done. Piglet's Big Game had been the bane of my existence since being four years old and having to look at them pull faces while trying to squash me. To this day, I believe it had something to do with the piece of shit pink elephant scene in Dumbo. Traumatic. 

"They are! I had a dream about one last night, Es. It was the best thing,"

"Maybe you should have a few more dreams about them..." I said, patting his head and endearingly pinching his cheek. It stressed me out that the child in front of me literally successfully ran a clothing line with next to no help whatsoever yet was sitting here, presumably fully sober, telling me about fictional purple elephants in his dreams as though he'd just smoked a enough weed for everyone he knew. 

"Yeah, maybe," he told me around a yawn as I pulled cold turkey from the fridge along with butter before pulling various sauces the boys had pressured me into buying. None of them had actually responded (besides Dani, but his response was completely invalid) when I'd asked what they'd wanted, so it looked like they were all getting the same thing. Since it was the day after Christmas, that would be turkey sandwiches; I was sick of them already.

"West," I heard Sam say, matter-of-factly, as though important matters were at hand. I somewhat hated that I knew who was talking without looking; I truly did spend far too much time around these boy, didn't I? "I forgot to give you this yesterday. I lost it,"