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im-a-writer-sometimes · 6 years

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Slow Dancing ‘til We Die (Calum Hood Imagine)

Pairing: Calum Hood x reader

Warnings: language, implied smut

Description: After hooking up with some random guy you met at the club, you end up falling for his roommate.

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He was in a band. That was about all I needed to know before I decided I was going home with him. I usually never slept with musicians, despite the fact that I am one—they’re too snobby and over-emotional—and he was no exception, but I just really needed to get laid. He was really attractive too. Shaggy dirty blonde hair fell down into his eyes and he was dressed in all black. Black skinny jeans and a ripped black t-shirt complimented his frame perfectly. He wasn’t buff or anything, but I could definitely feel some definition while we were grinding on each other.

The friend I came to the club with had already left with someone, leaving me on my own. Therefore, musician-douchebag-dude was my ticket out of this loud, obnoxious establishment. I hated clubs, still do, but my friend had practically forced me into a skimpy dress and heels and dragged me out of my tiny apartment. I’ll admit, I was slightly grateful to her, considering now I was gonna get some.

“You wanna get out of here?” He yelled over the thumping music, practically reading my mind. I think he said his name was Luke, but I wasn’t 100% sure. I nodded eagerly and followed him as he weaved through the sea of dancing bodies, all a little too close for comfort. I breathed a sigh of relief as we burst out the front door, catching a whiff of fresh air, well, cigarette-smoke-filled city air. But it was fresher than the stuffy stuff inside the club. I tailed close behind him as he made his way to his car. I smirked as he approached his vehicle, recognizing it as a ‘69 Shelby GT500.

“Nice ride,” I commented, realizing my voice was cranked up too loud for the quiet night. I lowered my volume quite a bit as I continued. “The ‘69 is one of my favorite models.”

“You know cars?” He gawked. “You just got, like, ten times hotter.”

I shrugged as I slid into the passenger seat, admiring the leather seating and detailing inside the car. The ride to his place was silent, but not awkward. It was clear neither of us had any interest to actually get to know each other, which was great. I was just gonna go to his place, have some great sex, and slip out before he woke up in the morning. It’s a win-win situation. He gets sex, I get sex, and neither of us has to fear commitment.

Soon enough, we arrived at his building. The ride to his floor was also silent, as I sent my friend my location in case I was ax-murdered.

“By the way, I live with my bandmates, so they might be home. But don’t mind them. I can tell them to scram.”

I nodded awkwardly as I waited for the elevator to ding, signaling the end of this awkwardness. As if on cue, a shrill ding echoed through the air and the doors slid softly open. I followed him through the hallway and waited behind him as he reached his door, jiggling the key in the lock for a few seconds before it finally gave way.

His apartment was shit. There’s no other way to put it. Beer cans and liquor bottles littered the tables and floor. The air reeked of B.O. and alcohol. There was actually someone passed out on his couch.

“Sorry for the mess,” he said awkwardly. “My bandmates had a rager last night and clearly didn’t clean up.”

“It’s fine,” I assured him as we made our way to his room.

Once he closed the door behind us, it didn’t take long for our clothes to come off and then, well, you know.

---

I woke up with a pounding headache. I groaned as I sat up, checking my surroundings. I was not at home. It took a second, but I remembered the night before and the guy I went home with. Luke. I looked to my side and saw Luke sleeping soundly.

Careful not to wake him, I crawled out of bed and slipped my clothes back on. I checked my phone and saw it was only 7:15am, which meant I probably still had time to sneak out before he woke up. Carrying my heels in one hand and my phone in the other, I carefully crept out of his bedroom. What I saw amazed me. The rest of the apartment was decently clean, as opposed to the mess I had seen the night before. It was actually a pretty nice apartment. Hardwood floors filled the living room, and a leather couch sat on top of a soft, shaggy, white rug. It was homey. I was just about to creep through the front door when I caught sight of another room and my jaw dropped.

Now, I'm a musician. I'm used to seeing beautiful instruments and what not, but that room made my heart skip a beat. Guitars; electric, acoustic, and bass; lined the walls. Amps and speakers were stacked on shelves and a huge soundboard sat at one end. But the grand piano that stood in the middle of the room was what made me smile. It glistened in the sun, and I could feel it inviting me to sit down and play. Cautiously, I looked around to make sure I was alone, and then I scurried toward the piano and sat down on the bench. I traced my fingers along the Ivory and smiled at the smooth feel. It must have been 40 years old, but it looked brand new. Red velvet framed the black and white, redefining classy. Before I knew it, my fingers were dancing along the keys as I whispered a gentle melody.

Come home late again / Don't know where you been / And frankly, I'm scared to ask

I couldn't help the smile that formed in my lips. The piano sounded beautiful and my voice echoed perfectly throughout the room.

Say you were out with your friends / But we both know that ain't true / I don't even know what I want from you

It was by no means a happy song, in fact, I had written it right after my boyfriend dumped me, but my heart was full. Surrounded by nothing but music, I was happy.

I don't want excuses / But I'm scared of the truth / So don't say anything all

Just lie here with me / Pretend nothing's wrong / As we brace ourselves for the fall

The words fell from my lips effortlessly and my eyes gently closed, a smile still playing on my lips.

How did we come to this? / Where did the love go? / Oh, where did the love go? / Where do we go from here? / I don't know / No, I don't know / Where did the love go?

I was about to go into the second verse when a voice shattered the trance I was in.

“Did you write that?”

My head snapped towards the source of the question and my heart stopped.

Leaning against the doorframe was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen. Tall and lean, with tan skin and dark, chocolate eyes, he was a vision. I suddenly realized I was staring when he chuckled softly and I snapped out of it, standing up quickly.

“Umm, yeah, it's just… umm… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you--did I wake you? I just saw the piano and it's so beautiful and I just had to play it--I should have thought about the fact that people are sleeping--oh, god, I'm so sorry, I'm just gonna go.”

I started to gather my things and make my way to the door when he stopped me.

“Wait! I was already awake, you're completely fine.”

I turned to look at him and smiled awkwardly, standing with my hand on the doorknob.

“But did you write that?” He asked again. His voice was curious and impressed? Yeah, impressed.

“Yeah, it's not very good and I--yeah. Yeah, I wrote it,” I said, cutting myself off.

“Damn. Your voice. It's breathtaking.”

“My voice? No, it was just the acoustics of the room.”

He smiled, and let out a laugh.

“You have no idea how talented you are.”

“And you do?” I asked, smiling. “You don't even know me.”

“I know you have a boyfriend--or ex-boyfriend--who cheated on you and you blame yourself.”

“How do you know that?” I asked, thoroughly confused.

“It was in the song,” he said, laughing again. God, I could get used to that sound.

“I'm Y/N.”

“Calum.”

“Would you want to write a song with me?” Calum asked, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Right now?”

“No, no. I can imagine you're eager to scram before Luke wakes up, but maybe I could give you my number and we could get together another time?”

“Yeah, that actually sounds great,” I was about to leave when I turned to face him. “How did you know I was with Luke?”

“I could tell. Luke has a great taste in women,” He said, winking at me as I walked out of the apartment and I couldn't help but smile.

---

A gentle knock sounded through my apartment and I smiled, quickly fixing my hair in the mirror. I opened the door to see Calum standing there, a smile on his lips and I bag of carry-out in his hand.

“Oh, you know me so well,” I said, grabbing the carry-out and rushing to my kitchen table, mouth watering as I opened it up.

“Good to see you too, Y/N.”

Over the past few weeks, Calum and I had gotten to know each other rather well. Initially, we started writing a song, but we never actually finished it, too caught up in one another’s company. It would be right to say that we became fast friends.

“So are we actually gonna finish that song today?” He asked, grabbing one my french fries before I could swat his hand away.

“Oh, definitely. 100%”

“That sounded like sarcasm,” he said, trying for another french fry, but I beat him to it, snatching the bag away.

“Me? Sarcastic? Never!”

We both chuckled as he fished his burger out of the bag, and we fell into a comfortable silence as we ate.

Soon enough, the food was gone and Calum made his way to my keyboard, clicking it on and messing around on the keys. I slid into the piano bench next to him and rested my head on his shoulder as he continued to play, smiling softly.

“Is that Tchaikovsky?” I asked, knowing he had only learned it to impress me.

“I know he's your favorite, so I thought I'd surprise you with a little Swan Lake.”

“You know me too well, Cal.”

Soon, his playing morphed into the song we were working on and I smiled again as he started to sing the lyrics we had written.

Me and you / Slow dancing in an empty room / All we do / Is love each other til we both feel new / You and I / I swear, my love, I would never lie / To a lullaby / We'll be slow dancing til the day we die

“We should really finish that…” I said, looking towards Calum, who was still fiddling around on the keyboard, his tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration.

“Mmhmm.”

“Hey, Cal?”

“Hmm?”

He finally looked at me and I smiled, and he smiled, and I was so goddamn happy.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

I didn't respond, I just closed the distance between us, softly pressing my lips to his. I could feel him smiling into the kiss as he held onto me, my arms wrapping around his neck.

“Y/N?” He mumbled in between kisses.

I simply hummed in response.

“Can we finish the song later?” He asked, gently placing kisses along my jaw.

“That's fine with me,” I managed out, breathless.

Before I knew it, Calum had lifted me up, carrying me into my bedroom. I was suddenly lying on my bed, Cal placing kisses and soft bites on my neck and collarbone. It didn't take long for his lips to find mine again and I was lost in him. It felt like it was just us.

He pulled away and looked at me, a soft smile on his face.

“I love you so fucking much.”

I smiled and kissed him hard.

(Some of these lyrics I just made up, but the first one is actually one of my songs so plz don't steal it. Thx)

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davidpwilson2564 · 7 years

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Bloglet

Monday, April 17, 2017

It being a school holiday, Emancipation Day, Kenichi and the family are headed upstate.

Very nice weather.

Note: I somehow get a link for an article written by young Mr. Bernard, the fellow I played for a few days ago. Does this mean that, along his being a good conductor, he is a music scholar? Excellent piece about Tchaikovsky’s “Pathetique.” What does he do other than conduct a non-professional orchestra?

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Tax day.

To the East Side for yet more dentistry. All of this becoming quite expensive. I thought everything was paid up but am asked for another check. Ouch. All of this quite unsettling. They’re killing me. (If I am careful about saving receipts there is a chance I could get a small refund when I do my 2017. But something tells me our President will have taken that deduction away by that time.)

Note: Cutting it close, a power walk up Fifth Ave, from 65th to 71st in fifteen minutes. Not bad for an old guy.

Rehearsal at the Union. Roger’s band. Talk to Ray Hoffman. Wally Dunbar, Ray and I end up at the Jolly Monk for drinks. Ray knows a lot of famous jazz people and has many interesting stories about them. Yikes, he even knew Al “Jazzbo” Collins of Purple Grotto fame. Funny, this.

Note: Interesting email from Lou. He says forty years ago tonight he and I were playing our first performance with ABT. Doing “Swan Lake.” Actually, I had played with them before, as a sub. Percussion geeks take note: We used a bass drum with a foot pedal. It saved them from hiring another player (and sounded awful). I played both bass drum and cymbals. (So much cymbal crashing in that piece. Like cussing, too much cymballing creates loss of effect.)

Wednesday, 19, 2017

Up very early for 7:00 a m appointment to get an MRI. Train to 34th Street. Odd to see who is out at that hour. Much confusion before I am at last signed in. Told to wait downstairs and finally sent to second floor where numerous people are ahead of me. My wait downstairs makes no sense.

Further nonsense...I am at last signed in and the room empties out. It’s just me, sitting there among magazines, none of which are of any interest to me.

At long last I am called in.

There it is. The huge white machine with the small circular opening. It is as if I’m about to be shot into space. When the girl says “lay down” I do not correct her. The claustrophobia is almost too much to bear. (Man was not placed on this earth for pleasure alone.) I am asked if I want music and, if so, what kind. I ask for classical and get a deafening Moonlight Sonata. Yikes.

This is a long procedure and I’m hoping they don’t find anything too awful.

Home. On the news: Aaron Hernandez hanged himself in his cell. The kid with the forty million dollar contract.

Can’t get on line. So...can’t consult my notes for piece I am writing for tonight's class. I am not happy. I phone Verizon (this again!) and they say they will send someone on Monday. This will not do. Wondering what to do next, I use my head. Type the piece (which is pretty much in my head) on Word Perfect (for which it is not necessary to be on line...) Print it out. As usual, I don’t know if it’s any good but it is sort of inspired (?) by an experience with K M, who once came for a visit and wouldn’t leave. Sometimes one has to salvage something from past disasters.

Huge meeting at St Malachy’s church re the gutting of our pension fund. Kenichi is there to help with the mic-ing, etc. I have to leave early.

Class. My piece found adequate. Two of our group, Hani and Corey, are moving on to the novel writing bunch. I have to put all this aside and go back to work...but...happy to be doing so. Dentistry has cleaned me out.

A text from Roger. Pick up a bottle of wine and go to his place. He has taped this evening’s Jeopardy.

Life in the fast lane.

#nd

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