Tiny Voices (A Calum Hood fanfic)

chapter twenty-five

-- Brooke’s POV --

I sat silently in the small white walled room, playing with a rouge strand of my hair that had fallen out of the messy bun on top of my head. The doctor in front of me was studying notes in front of him intensely. He was relatively old, the lines around his eyes were now beginning to show on his forehead.

“She has a few cracked ribs and it looks like she took a hit to the head, but it’s nothing too serious,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence we had fallen into.

I nodded.

“She reacted well to the treatment we gave her overnight, and despite the pain she will be in for the next while, she’ll be fine at home. But she needs to rest. Her ribs will take a minimum of six weeks to heal,” he continued, interlocking his fingers and leaning forward on the desk. “She can’t do anything strenuous, alright? She will be okay, though,” he said softly.

“Thank you, doctor,” I said, looking down at my hands which were resting lightly on my thighs.

“We’ll get her all ready to leave now. Does she have a way home? Her parents?” he asked.

“I can take her home, we share an apartment,” I explained. He nodded shortly and got up from his seat. I got up from mine simultaneously. He shook my hand warmly, and walked me back to Chloe’s room.

Chloe was sitting on the edge of her bed, her belongings packed neatly into a bag I brought over this morning.

“Ready to go home chick?” I asked, sitting beside her.

She looked at me for a long time, with a sad smile on her face.

“What?” I questioned.

“Our flight is in four hours,” she said. “We’re not supposed to be planning on staying on this side of the world, you know.”

Her eyes were shimmering, and I wasn’t sure if it was because she was trying not to cry, or because she had a plan. It was maybe both. Either way, I didn’t like it.

🌺

-- Calum’s POV --

“Guys, where are my drumsticks?” Ashton squeaked from the other end of the house. Behind me, Michael chuckled.

“Oh my god, boys, I’ve lost my drumsticks how the hell can I play without the ONE set of sticks I brought?!” Ashton repeated, rushing into the room.

“You only brought one set?” Michael said, over-incredulously. “That was dumb.”

Ashton narrowed his eyes in response.

“Alright, Clifford, where the fuck are my sticks?” he questioned. Michael held both his hands in the air and looked from me back to Ashton, his face an expression of feigned shock.

“Why me? Calum could have taken them,” he said, pointing accusingly at me.

“Why would I sabotage my fellow rhythmist,” I replied. Ashton smiled victoriously at Michael.

“Fuck you Calum,” Michael laughed, pulling the drum sticks out from the back of his jeans and throwing them at Ashton.

Mali’s fiancee said that he wanted to get Mali’s favourite band to play at their wedding. So he asked us to do it. I swear, I nearly broke down in tears when the dude asked. So now we were “practising” for the rehearsal dinner tonight. By practising, I mean, playing FIFA and pranking each other and occasionally playing a song or two.

Everything felt normal. I was surrounded by the people I had become accustomed to being at my side; my four best mates and my family. But there was still a part of me that felt missing…