Mr. Cinderella (5SOS) {discontinued}

(23) It Could Be The Accents

Sighing, I let my eyes roam across my bedroom, exasperation setting in with the realisation that I am going to have to clean all of this up later; the bed still hasn't been made, not that it really matters since I'm currently sprawled across the covers, with Spotify open on my computer in front of me, blaring One Direction per Kat and Brandy's requests.  Kat's head is stuck inside my wardrobe, and every so often she emerges with an item of clothing which she flings into a pile on the floor, where our possible outfits for tonight are all accumulating.

Earlier, I hadn't been too keen on attending the boys' gig tonight, but now that Brandy and I have reconciled, I don't see any reason not to go; truthfully, we had considered staying home to spend the night messing around on Youtube and Omegle, but as Kat pointed out, we should be celebrating the end of this whole mess, not locking ourselves away.  Brandy also added that she needs to explain everything to Calum before giving him a proper apology - I'm not sure how he'll react, in all honesty, but he needs to hear Brandy's side of things.  She's perfectly aware that he may not want to hear her out, and that even if he does, he may be reluctant to forgive and forget, but she insists that it's a risk she's willing to take - after all, Brandy's only in the country for three full days after today, so if she's going to apologise it would be best to do it sooner rather than later.

Speak of the Devil - Brandy appears in the doorway, dressed in a Piece The Veil T-shirt paired with ripped black skinny jeans, a pair of hair straighteners in her hand.  "Do I look okay?"

Kat stops rifling through my clothes for a moment, instead stepping back to check Brandy's outfit.  "You look like a member of 5 Seconds Of Summer," she observes with a rueful smile, and I burst into laughter, suddenly able to see the resemblance - since they've been here, I haven't seen any one of the boys in anything other than skinny jeans and band T-shirts (they insist that they're 'punk rock').  I'm not sure how I would have reacted to a comment like that, but Brandy seems thrilled with Kat's response and squeals before throwing herself onto the bed.

"Are you nervous?" I ask her, referring to her impending talk with Calum.  She seemed terrified before speaking to me, whereas my emotions were a jumbled mix of anger towards both Brandy and Tyler, fear at the prospect of actually having to confront her, and general confusion about what to do.  I suppose talking to Calum should be easier than talking to me though, given that Brandy hasn't known him for as long, and she's already survived one confrontation-turned-apology.  Then again, despite knowing Calum for as long I have, neither one of us has ever encountered a situation like this before, so I have no idea how he's going to react, or if he's even going to be willing to hear her out.  I guess we'll see later tonight, though.

Brandy shrugs, frowning slightly.  "Sure, I'm nervous, but more than anything I just want this whole thing to be over, and I need Calum to know I'm sorry.  I totally get it if he doesn't want to talk to me, or if he doesn't want to forgive me, but as long as he knows I'm sorry then I'll be happy."  I smile at her response, and she holds her wrist up adding, "Besides, I have these for good luck."  Tied around her wrist are a poorly constructed bracelet which I actually made for her (I never claimed to be good at making bracelets), as well as a One Direction wristband.  

I gasp, tugging on the wristband.  "I still have my one of these somewhere!" I exclaim, rolling off of the bed and stumbling over to the chest of drawers in the corner of the room.  Knowing that the top drawer is filled with makeup and hair stuff while the bottom drawer holds random crap which probably needs sorting through at some point, I decide to start my search in the middle drawer where I store jewelry (and by that I mean other failed bracelet-making attempts as wells as some actual wristbands and rings).  After a minute or two of rummaging through the tangled heap of strings and metal chains, I eventually locate a familiar hot pink rubber wrist band.  I hold it up triumphantly.