Without Words ≫ 5sos A.U

0.14

A/N

SORRY IF I HAVE TOO MANY SWITCHES IN POINTS OF VIEW; I JUST WANT TO PORTRAY WHAT HAPPENS WHILE OTHER PEOPLE DO THEIR OWN THING, AND SEE HOW OTHER CHARACTERS THINK AND FEEL; HOPE YOU'RE ENJOYING THE STORY; PLEASE VOTE! I LOVE YOU!

JAYCEE'S P.O.V

I sip on the filling breakfast smoothie I made myself today, contemplating what to do with the problem regarding Bri and Ashton. I decide to confront her about it; I know she never wanted this, and it's only right. I keep convincing myself this, but I never actually grow the courage to let her know.

"Nope, I have to do this," I mumble to myself, and I grab my phone from my back pocket. I search her up and start a message;

'Hey Bri. How are you? Hope everything is good. Text back when you see this. I want to talk to you. See you soon, bye."

I thought keeping it simple and straight to the point would be sufficient, so I hit send and watched the small 'delivered' text form underneath my message. I scrolled through my social media feed, and saw a notification pop up; Bri replied. 

"Hi Jay. I miss you a lot. Come over around 3 today?"

I take a big breath, and sigh, replying with a yes. I hope today goes well; I hope I can help her out of this. This mess, this chaos. Whatever the hell this is, I just hope I can help her. 

My fingers immediately decide to text Calum, mentioning I'll be talking to Bri later tonight. He wishes me good luck; the small things like this make me feel much better, and always put a smile on my face. 

I down the rest of my smoothie and wash the large glass and put it back in its place. My feet drag themselves onto the couch, as I watch my brothers' fingers press buttons on the game controllers really fast; way too fast. Is it even possible for fingers to move that fast on a gaming device?

"How do you do that so quickly?" My hands are in front of me, twitching, trying to figure out how they manage to do such a thing. 

"It's a skill, something you don't obviously have, Jay," Josh scoffs to me.

"Excuse me? I don't think you want to be talking to me like that," I stand up and slowly walk over to the two boys sitting on the carpeted floor, with microphones talking to online gamers and playing virtual soccer for who knows the reason. 

"Prove me wrong."

"What?"

"Grab a controller, sit, and play. Let's see how you can manage like us." A smirk is plastered across his face. 

"Challenge accepted." I take a seat, crosse-legged and reach for the third controller. He does something to put me in the game, and quickly speaks the instructions. I get lost, barely halfway through, and decide to improvise along the way. It's my first time playing; that's a reasonable excuse. 

"Ready?" He asks, looking at me, his eyebrows raised. 

"Damn right," I whisper, and we all turn our heads to the television and play for what feels like hours. 

MICHAEL'S P.O.V

My car drives into the lot of the small diner that serves three meals a day. I strut inside, and take my shades off, standing against the wall, waiting for someone to seat me on this busy morning. A woman in about her fifties, quite stout, grabs a menu from behind the small counter, and walks me over to a booth set up with condiments placed neatly. She hands me the menu and asks if I'll have a coffee. I nod and look at my options. My stomach decides on the supreme waffles as it growls. I fold the menu up and push it aside, whipping my phone out and checking on updates.

"Hi!"

A small yet bright voice chirps me up.

"My name is Ivy, I'll be your waitress for today. Do you know what you'd like to get or would you still like a minute to decide?" She smiles, her brown hair falling in front of her face. Eyes; her eyes are so deep and full of character, and the hint of pink in her cheeks lights up my smile. And her lips, how they curve into a grin that can bring light if this room were in the middle of a power outage. 

Shit; am I falling for someone?

"I definitely know what I want actually," my fingers run through my hair and I stare kindly at her. 

"Perfect? What would you like?"

You.

"The supreme waffles please, and thanks," I hand her my menu. She takes it, slowly as she smiles into my  orbs. 

"I'll be back with it in about 10 minutes. If you need me, just call. It's Ivy," she turns away on her heel, grinning and walking behind the counter, conversing with the woman greeting me, as she pulls out a couple of bills from her pastel yellow and white apron and tucking them into the cash register, pulling strands of hair behind her face. That should be my job; at least, later on in a bit. 

I think I need her.

Now.