5 Seconds of Summer Preferences

#12 Breakfast Club

Ashton: He's the prince. It was a Saturday and for the normally mild weather, it was freezing. You stepped into the school building fighting the urge to flick off the principal and run out. Your boots scuffled against the tile floor and softly padded in the library. The wooden desks were aligned in rows. A few people were already here and it was killing you. These people wouldn’t be any fun. Sighing, you pulled out your chair, dropped your bag on the table and removed your coat. You were looking up from the chair that held your ratty coat when he walked in-Ashton Irwin. He was everything you weren’t, had everything you didn’t. His nice jeans and nice sweater, and nice sports car all added up to his fame. God forbid he didn’t show up one day, the whole school would shut down. He removed his coat and sat next to some jock he knew. “Well, well, well. Irwin finally did something bad. How’d you not get out of it?” you asked kicking your feet up. You took out a nail file and chipped away at the black paint on your nails. Ashton’s eyes widen at you. He seemed taken aback at the thought. “Or, are you trying to see how the ‘lower class’ live?” His mouth opened the dimply smile fading fast. “If that’s the case, you should stop by my place sometime. My dad could smack you around a couple of times.” Ashton shook his head, the caramel curls flying. “No, you don’t mean that.” Good lord, you thought, his voice is deep. And why the hell is there that laugh in it? You didn’t realize what you were doing until you heard his gasp. He quickly rose from his chair, not checking if the principal was watching and ran to your table. His long nimble finger touched the burns tenderly. “Why haven’t you said anything?” he asked bending so close his lashes tickled the skin. “You said it yourself; you’d think I was lying. Everyone would.” He squirmed. “Maybe if you weren’t...” he trailed off his proper ways unsure of how to put it. “If I weren’t what?” you hissed standing up in the seat. “If I weren’t unlike you? If I was popular I’d have sympathy? I don’t want it! I don’t need it from the golden boy of the school! None of you care! None of you ever will!” You raised your middle finger and opened your mouth to scream when you were cut off with a pair of lips. A large hand pulled your finger down and into his chest, Ashton’s lips molding with yours. His peppered away, “I believe you Y/N.”

Michael: He's the criminal. You quietly sat as the table in the large library on the cold Saturday. Your knee jiggled under the desk, your bag was sat beside you. Your thick winter coat lay over top of it. All morning you felt the need to cry. You were a good girl, you never did anything, and the one day you were five minutes late, your teacher’s husband left her. Oh God was that awful. She screamed at you and quickly wrote out the detention slip. Curling up into the chair you heard the one behind you scrape across the floor. Looking up you saw him. He was the criminal. There wasn’t a day he didn’t do something. His name was Michael Clifford. His hair was dyed brightly. He looks like a highlighter, you thought. You almost laughed at the comparison, given his constant highness. Piercings dangled from his ears, his fingers were covered in gloves the revealed the tip and his lips were stretched into a smirk. “Well, isn’t this a sight?” he chuckled stirring something inside you. “Little miss perfect here in detention. I know I’m not the only one that’s dying to know...why are you here?” he added wide sweeping gestures with his arms. Keeping quiet you stared down at the grains of wood on the table. You were never one to start anything and didn’t feel like it now. “Oh, I see, I’m not good enough for you. Well, listen sweetheart, you’re stuck with me. Daddy can’t get you out of this now.” This caused you to snap. You were never a spoiled little Daddy’s girl. But because of who you hung out with that was your label. “This is why nobody likes you! You’re such a dick!” you shouted. His eyes, which you never noticed before, were the most complicated shade of green. They looked warn and burnt out. “If you just gave people a chance you’d find out that we aren’t like what we seem “you continued but with less power. Michael stirred in his seat, biting on his plump lip. He leaned close his breath hitting you face. His heavily lidded gaze was too much for you to handle. His hands reached out and stoked your cheeks. “Most people aren’t open to giving me a chance.” He husked before turning his cheek so his lips flirted with yours. “But you aren’t most people, Y/N.”

Calum: He's the jock.From the back of the library you could see him. There was no denying he was handsome. But beneath the tan skin and puppy eyes was a jerk. A massive jerk. A huge jerk. So you kept your distance. But here in the library you were forced to breathe the same air as him. His letterman jacket displayed his years of playing soccer. He shrugged it off leaving him in a jersey supporting his national team. He threw this head back laughing at something with his prince of a friend. Rolling your eyes you turned back to the paper lying in front of you. The outline of the pier filled you with some hope. All you wanted was to leave. Leave all this behind. Calum Hood on the other hand, loved it here. He thrived here. That’s all he’d ever do. Sure he’d go pro, but he’d never leave. He wouldn’t want to travel the world. You stared at the back of his head. When you were little you thought it looked like a coconut. He sensed the gaze and turned back your way. “You don’t talk do you?” he said with a laugh. Your cheeks flushed heavily with the thought of him talking to you. With a shaky finger you pointed to yourself. “Yes you!” he giggled. You quickly shook your head and ducked down to the table top. The rest of the room chuckled at your outburst. You rolled your eyes glancing to the window. The snow from the previous night covered the ground. What a way to spend a perfect snow day, stuck in the school library with the assholes of your school. You sweated in the thick dark coat you wore. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching you, you shredded it. The back of your neck was sticky with sweat, causing you to pull up your hair. There was scuffling in front of you causing you to look up. There stood Calum Hood. “It’s Y/N right?” he asked. You nodded. “I just thought you should know that I think you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” You couldn’t help but blush. You knew better though, of course you knew better. You hummed quietly, building up the strength to say what was needed. “I think that you’re going to lose the bet from which ever friend decided it would be funny to ask me out.” Calum’s eyes widen, “No, I really do! What can I do to prove it?” He pushed leaning onto the table. “Nothing.” You muttered. Then suddenly you felt a soft set of hands resting on your cheeks. “I’ll think I’ll prove you wrong.” He whispered pecking your nose.

Luke: He's the basketcase.You had been staring at him all day. He knew too, he kept dodging glances while chewing on the black metal on his lip. You wondered why you never saw him before. Of course you had seen him around. Even to your brainy group he was weird. But today, today was different. You saw something that you’d never seen before. His blue eyes peeked out from underneath his blonde hair. You couldn’t see much of them, but from what you could it was so blue. His pale skin stood out against the dark gray and black sweater he wore. His black jeans were ripped at the knees and his converses were worn. It was hot though. What really got you was his humming, that’s all you heard.  You dropped the pencil you’d been using on that paper the principal assigned. This was your first detention, and you were sure that this was Luke’s first too. Sneaking back to the back table you coughed quietly. He looked up startled, his humming stopping. “Um, hi, I just wanted to say that whatever you’re humming is really catchy.” You said softly glancing at him. His defined cheeks flushed, casting glances at the soft hairs growing on his face. “I-it’s Y/N, right?” you nodded trying to fight back a smile. “I-I’m-“you cut him off, “Luke Hemmings, I know.” His startled expression forced a giggle out of you. “You know what else I know?” He looked up from his sheets of paper with what looked like lyrics. “What?” he asked looking horrified. Giggling you reached out to pat his blonde fringe, “You have nice eyes, and you’d look better with your hair out of your eyes. “ Taking a water bottle you wet your hands running your hands through his hair, quiffing it up. “See? Your eyes are nice.” He blushed and referred to the chair beside him. Taking it, you took in all of the lyrics. Some were sweet, others showing how alone he was, and even a few cursing the life of a teenager. “You want to know something?” he asked shyly. You nodded turning to face him, “I didn’t do anything.” You choked on a laugh staring him down. “I didn’t have anything better to do, and I thought that this would be great to get some writing done.” You burst out in laughter curling over your stomach. “You’re something else Hemmings.” You whispered pressing your lips to his cheek.