Mess is Mine // Calum Hood

Chapter 2

"Did you just reference a Vance Joy song?" Calum questioned me, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. I smiled back at him and nodded. He sat silent for a moment, just looking at me. "Do you have a speaker?" I nodded once again and pushed myself off the bed. I stepped around him and pulled my bluetooth speaker from the top drawer of my dresser. He wordlessly paired his phone to the speaker, and Mess is Mine by Vance Joy started to play

"Hey, you've got a good taste," I said sarcastically, nudging him with my shoulder as I sat back down. For the first time that night, I earned a laugh from him. He glanced over at me once again, and he suddenly stood up from the bed as the lyrics started. I gave him a questioning look, but he just held his hand out and smirked at me. "I'm bad at dancing."

"I don't care."

He didn't wait for me to take his hand; he grabbed mine and pulled me onto my feet. I shook my head at him and laughed as he grabbed my other hand, swaying me back and forth to the beat of the song. Pretty soon, we were both just laughing at each other's awkward dancing. "I'm not drunk enough for this," I said, pushing my hair out of my face. Calum smirked and reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, revealing a flask.

"I never come to a party unprepared," he commented, opening it up and taking a quick drink before handing it over to me. My dad had always told me not to take alcohol from strangers, but all of my common sense had left the building as soon as Calum had stepped into it. I took it from him and took a drink as well. "Are you ready to actually dance now?" I shook my head but stepped into him anyway as the last chorus of the song was starting to play. He held one of my hands and wrapped the other around my waist. 

"Hold on, my darling, this mess was yours," he sang softly. "Now your mess is mine." He smiled down at me before letting go of my waist and spinning me around, keeping ahold of my hand. "You're not that bad of a dancer."

"Shut up," I responded, twirling back into him. We just swayed for a few more moments as the song winded down, and I felt strangely comfortable with my situation. The next song began to play, and I didn't recognize it. Calum flopped down face first onto my bed, and I decided to follow his actions. "What're you thinking about?"

He turned his head to look at me, body still flat against the mattress. He didn't say anything for what felt like an eternity. 

"Everything." 

"Everything?"

"Yeah. Everything." He pushed himself up and leaned on his forearm, reaching for the flask with his other hand. "My brain doesn't turn off. I'm always thinking of everything. And quite frankly," he paused to take a sip of the tequila, "it's exhausting." My heart sunk for the boy once again. Dealing with anxiety is terribly exhausting; the pill bottle that resided on my night stand spoke for itself. I really couldn't imagine having to deal with it while under the scrutiny of the public eye.

"I know what that's like," I responded, involuntarily picking at the skin next to my thumbnail. It was a nasty habit I'd held for years - my dad said I did it even as a toddler. At this point, I usually never even realized I was doing it. "I mean, obviously we have different situations, but I know what it's like." He just nodded, the far off look returning to eyes. I desperately wanted to distract him, to bring him back to Earth. "What's your favorite childhood memory?"

He looked at me and then up to the ceiling, probably trying to remember what it was. "Anything with my family, honestly. We're all really close, and I remember me and my sister always scheming and trying to prank my parents. It never worked, of course, but we always had a lot of fun doing it.  My sister is still my best friend." A ghost of a smile sat on his lips, and a pang of sadness hit me. He probably missed them. "What's yours?"