Kiss Me Imagines ✔

New York Calls - Ashton Irwin

Future Imagine, I am trying out lots of new styles of writing to see what I like and such - hence the variety of writing styles :)

“Oh, man, look!”

Calum pointed wildly at a clearing in the distance of the park, his eyes wider than they usually were. He was like a kid in a candy store, his eyes darting everywhere, trying to absorb as much of New York City as humanly possible in two days. With an arm around his wife’s shoulders, he nearly galloped over to the monochrome mosaic, his face breaking out into a grin.

Sighing, Ashton followed behind them slowly, keeping pace with the bodyguards and officials from the show. It was a nice reprieve that the Managers were allowing them, a little time to see the city. It broke the monotony of airports and television green rooms that had become the backdrop to Ashton’s life for the past five days. And while he was certainly enjoying this respite, in a bustling and beautiful city he had never experienced before, he wasn’t counting it as a second honeymoon opportunity as Calum was, or Luke for that matter. In fact, it wasn’t even his first honeymoon, or the equivalent of a romantic weekend getaway. Because he really wanted to share it with…

“Come on…come on! Take a picture!” Calum was nearly hopping with excitement in the clearing, oblivious to the passers-by snapping photos of the recent celebrities.

Despite his pensive mood, Ashton couldn’t help but chuckle. “Didn’t know you were such a Lennon fan,” he said to Calum as he warmed up the digital camera. He spied the stark, simple beauty of the Imagine memorial through the viewfinder and his breath hitched in his throat.

Calum waved a dismissive hand at Ashton. “You can’t be a musician and not like Lennon.” He took in the flowers and the letters scattered around the circular pattern; he knew he wasn’t alone in those feelings. “It’s like being a writer and not liking Shakespeare. Being an artist and not revering Michelangelo.” He stood close to his wife, holding their youngest daughter, the elder snoozing in a stroller before them. “Well?” he asked, in perfect posing position. “You gonna take the picture or not?”

Ashton snapped out of his contemplative trance and raised the camera to his face. The image it presented to him tugged at his heartstrings: a man and his wife, children, all with smiling, unassuming faces, without a care about how the media perceives them, or if they’re standing too close together. Calum can put his arm around her and onlookers will call it beautiful. They were a fucking Christmas card, a model family. Ashton glanced down at the message in the mosaic: Imagine. Ashton imagined a world that was easier; where he could smile just as Calum did, and truly mean it.

“Sure, you’ve listened to the words before,” Michael had once said to him, the night he chose to make a statement with a John Lennon song. “But have you ever really listened to what he’s trying to tell us?”

He tried to shake the memory out of his head. No need to dwell on it; not now. “Say Cheese,” he said plainly, and pressed on the shutter.

The Michael Family and the memory of John Lennon filled the viewfinder screen, immortalized; happy.

Ashton couldn’t take it.

Handing the camera over to one of the assistants, he dropped down onto a park bench, emotions flooding over him. Pressing his fingers to his temples, he chanted over in his head. You’ll still see her. She’ll still be there. It’s not over yet.

“Hey.” He snapped his head up to see Calum standing before him, a look of concern on his face. “You okay?”

All the possible excuses ran through Ashton’s head, some believable, some that were downright ludicrous but Calum would probably believe anyway. The interviews and the jet-setting were draining; the bitterness over elimination was finally catching up with her. He was so moved by Strawberry Fields that he felt physically weak. He could blame it on allergies.