𝟓𝐬𝐨𝐬 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐕𝐨𝐥.𝟏

'Moving Along' by 5sos (Calum Hood Angst / The Youngblood Series)

Summary: On Christmas morning, Calum heads to a diner for breakfast, where he sees (Y/N) with another guy. 
(Words: 1.1k) (Part 1: Babylon, Part 2: Why Won't You Love Me, Part 4: Youngblood)
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(Calum's POV)
I walk in the diner, sighing happily at the smell of coffee and bacon.
It's Sunday; typically I would wake up to the smell of coffee and bacon, maybe pancakes, walk down the stairs in my boxers and find (Y/N) in my t-shirt, hair in a messy bun, swaying her hips at the sound of a Latin playlist. Then I would wrap my arms around her hips, rest my chin on her shoulder, let her move her body against mine, wait for our breakfast to get ready before I spin her around to kiss her good morning.
But now I have to take a taxi to the nearest diner to substitute the whole thing.
I could drive here, but I don't trust myself; I woke up with a hungover again, on the floor, even though I remember crashing on the couch. I don't want to sleep on my bed; it still smells like her so every time I wake up on the bed, my heart races, hoping that she has somehow sneaked up in the house and under the covers of my bed.
To make it worse, the whole fucking house reminds me of her. Sometimes I want to burn it to the ground, watch it all fall down. But then I remember that it is a rental one and I feel relieved that the lease is just for 2 months longer. But then again, it is 2 more fucking months. How am I supposed to stay in the house that she has touched every inch, knowing that I will have to do it without her? 

I sit in a booth by the window; as I wait for the waitress, I stare at the blinking lights of their Christmas decorations as they reflect against the glass. It's Christmas, and I haven't decorated my house, I haven't bothered getting in the mood. I wanted to do so many things with her this Christmas, and now it doesn't feel like Christmas at all. 
"What can I get you?" The waitress asks, grabbing her notepad and pen. I take a breath, rubbing my temples with my fingers.
"A black coffee please. And pancakes. And a bit of crispy bacon." I order and the girl hums.
"Be right back." She smiles politely before she turns to walk away. 

I look at my reflection in the window; I look like shit. I look like I haven't slept at all, my skin is dull and my eyes look lifeless. I wonder if she is as bad as I am. I wonder if she looks like shit as well. I wonder how she is doing. 
I hope she is not ok. I hope she is hurting as I am. I hope she is drinking a shitty coffee in a cold, empty apartment. I hope she is thinking of me, I hope she is thinking of me fucking the hottest girl in the world and I hope that thought makes her stomach hurt so much, she will be curled on the couch. I hope she is suffering, just like I am.  
"Here you go." The waitress snaps me out of my thoughts as she places a mug and a plate with pancakes and a side of bacon in front of me. I smile and pick up the mug, bringing it to my lips to take the first sip of my coffee. 
I pick the phone out of my pocket to scroll through my socials while I drink my coffee, but the cracked screen stops me. I tried texting her last night, tell her how much I miss her, ask her to just come home to me and tell her that I love her more than I thought I could love anyone in this life... But my stupid pride decided on tossing the phone across the room, choosing to destroy my screen than admitting it hurts me being away from her.

I play around with the food on my plate, my stomach pulsing at the thought of food. And then the oh-so-familiar scent fills my nostrils. My eyes go wide and my heart speeds up; every time I am in a place I have been with her, I swear I can smell her perfume. 
But this time, unlike the time in that bar and all the other times I thought that the scent belonged to her and it didn't, this time she is here flesh and bones. I have to shake my head in order to make sure she is real, that she is not an illusion, a trick of my brain. 
And she is there, even after I open my eyes, which only makes my stomach erupt in butterflies. 
I stare at her from across the room; she looks different, gorgeous as ever, but different. Or maybe she looks different to me because I haven't seen her in so long...
My body freezes; she is here, in the same place as me, on Christmas morning. This has to be some kind of a miracle. 
I decide that I want to go and talk to her; the world might be small, but this could be my last time seeing her. 
As I try to stand up from my booth, I see a guy sitting on hers. They seem awfully comfortable with each other, all smiles as he tells her something and he takes a seat. 

She can't just move on after me so easily. She just can't. 
I mean, it has barely been 2 months since we broke up and she is in the place we used to come after a drunken night out-our place- with someone new. 
Is he better than me? Is he dating her? Is he looking at her the way I did? Is she looking at him the way she was looking at me? Is he holding her so tight that they basically become one? Does he love her the way I do? 

It pains me looking at them; I want to walk up to them and pick her up, before disappearing into the unknown. 
But she is here with someone, moving on with her life, while I am in a bitter grieving circle that goes on and on and on for what feels like forever. 
I leave a 20$ on the table before I slip on my jacket and move out of the diner fast, letting her and her date enjoy their breakfast while I suffer in silence. 
To me, moving on after her seems terrifying, but it doesn't look like it is for her as well. 
So, maybe it is time for me to move on. 
Without her.