5 Seconds of Summer

Broken Home

Wrote it down on the walls, she was screaming it out.

Made it clear, she's still here, are you listening now?

There are happy families in the world and Araminta knew they exited, her main question to the universe was why could she not be in one. It was as if the walls of the beautiful mansion her surgical parents showed off was crumbling at the foundations. Screaming matches and threats of leaving were the only things that seemed to lace the different colored walls together. Of course, Araminta wasn't one for confrontation, leading her further into the shadows as the darkness of her parent's mistakes loomed over her.

Maybe this was the cause of her social depravity that caused her to lack boyfriends for fear that she would speak to him the same way her mother spoke to her father. A culmination of these handed down words mixed with her mother's own admission that if she were not a fully devoted Christion, then she would have left her father long ago, haunted her detached eyes. The only source of hiding for the girl was within her fictional land of beauty: photography.

That was what she enjoyed about her occupation- the fact that she could make something truly disgusting seem so beautiful to the outside eye; however, this tactic was unsuccessful when it came to her parents' marriage.

Michael's question caught the brunette off guard and brought those thoughts back into her mind as she was taken back to the time when she was nine years old, curled up on a five star hotel's bed, her older brother that resembled her only through his smile threatening to leave and never see their family again.

Flashbacks of the petite frame staring at the scene in front of her flooded the girl's mind as she struggled to stay with Michael in the present as opposed to traveling to that time in her life where prayers and dreams seemed to be absent or unable to work.

"We don't have to-"

She cut him off before he could finish the sentence, "One sibling. An older brother," she stated shyly, sipping at the drink in front of her as she took in his green eyes staring at her. "We don't really look alike. Between his blonde hair and fair complexion, no one ever believes me when I say that we are related," she laughed slightly at her speech as she spoke as though he were still with them.

Michael's body leaned forward, not wanting others to hear the intimate conversation between the two. He seemed to sense the unspoken story between her words as the dots connected in his mind. No words passed the boy's lips, unsure if questions would lead her to reveal answers that she wished to keep hidden.

The girl took a deep breathe as she relived the facts of her unorthodox upbringing in a house so divided that it might as well have been on two opposite ends of the country. Her words only reflected her beloved brother though as she took time to describe their relationship growing up, detailing the stories of their elaborate schemes that were devised while their parents were at work instead of the horrid accident that claimed his life only a few years previously.

"One time, we made a pillow and blanket fort throughout the entire house. No one even stopped us, but when our parents returned home from work, they were so mad," she said, her voice quivering slightly as she could envision the entire building and the teasing words her brother shouted across the room. It was times like these that Araminta would cherish as she found herself more and more often forgetting the sound of his voice.

"Why didn't they stop you from making it then?" Michael asked, confused as to why the girl's parents would change moods quickly. The thought was unprecedented to Michael, whose family had allowed him to do almost anything as he was an only child.

"My parents are surgeons," she explained, slightly shivering as she said the words. Her head tilted up to look at the boy in front of her as she took in the look on his face. It was one that possessed shock and awe, but most of all, it was one she was accustomed to as everyone reacted the same to her parents' career choices.

"That's amazing," he said, still sounding as though he were in the atmosphere in awestruck wonder. "You must be so proud." The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them and take in her dejected face at the mention of her parents' careers.

Why she was unhappy about her parents' occupations, Michael was unsure of as he contemplated her sentences. None of them had held malice when she spoke. They were all fond, like memories that she wanted to recount. The idea of not being proud of a parent's accomplishments was foreign to him as he loved everything they had done for him; however, Araminta found Michael's love for his parents to be foreign as she had never shared the same view.

"Why aren't you a surgeon then?" the guitarist finally asked, catching the brunette off guard at his sudden question.

She looked between her half empty glass and Michael's eyes that were full of hope. In desperate measures, she wished that she was more like the blonde haired boy in front of her as she took in his energy and love of life. Ever since she had left home, she had not looked at the world as the boy in front of her did. Instead of being a world of possibilities, she saw the earth as being a place of misery that only succeeded in taking the most valuable things of life.

"I want to be able to love someone in my life, and I never saw my parents do that to anyone but themselves," she spoke before resuming her gaze at the drink in front of her, trying to will it to be full with hard liquor as she regretted bringing up the hard parts of her history.

"What if you could love someone while being a surgeon?" Michael gently spoke, trying to gain the brunette's attention.

The blue eyed, brunette's gaze immediately transfixed on the boy in front of her, taking in his quizzing look. She had never met a person that annoyed her, yet made her this happy, all at once. It was the look in his eyes that told her that he was trustworthy. That look told her that Michael was a dreamer as it held the sparkle that she had only seen in the innocent eyes of a child and the photo shopped photographs of an idealist. Nothing else had intrigued her as much as the boy in front of her, and she did not mind.

"What if," she repeated as an answer, holding his eye contact with a fierce, yet soft, gaze. "There will always be what if's, but at least I won't abandon the thought of love and having a family, or a life, by jumping into something that I know will steal all of my time from the important things in my life."

His eyes widened at her answer, not expecting her to speak so soundly on the subject. Michael had expected an answer along the lines of, 'I had never thought about that,' but was pleasantly surprised by the girl's wisdom.

The never ending mysteries that accompanied Araminta made Michael even more nervous as he became conscious that this girl was a chance for only once in a lifetime. All along the boy had been wondering what was so special about himself that attracted such a beautiful girl to him; however, now his only question was how to keep her as he refused to let go of the never ceasing sea of discoveries that made up the beautiful brunette in front of him.

All of his life, the guitarist had longed for a girl that would have substance, an unordinary type of wisdom that could not be duplicated so that in times of stress, in times of pain, and in times of joy she could provide the knowledge no one else had thought to tell him. Now that it was in front of him, he did not know how to contain it as all he could see was the beauty of the girl sitting in front of him.

Yes, she was physically beautiful, but Michael saw the beauty in her knowledge. He found beauty in the scars that he had not even begun to see. He found beauty in the way she would speak of her brother. He found beauty in the way she would ask how he was before speaking about herself. He found beauty in her character before seeing the beauty of her skin.

She stared into his endless green eyes as she took in the man before her, much like Michael was doing to her as well. Never in her life had Araminta liked the color green, mainly because it made her think of the harsh color of the evergreen trees that claimed her brother's life. Michael's eyes, however, made her mind recall the most gorgeous color of green in the world. His eyes were the same color as emeralds, shining bright as the light danced off of them.

"Enough about me," she spoke bashfully as she turned the straw of her drink slowly before reconnecting their eyes. "Do you like the fame?" she asked after pausing for a while, trying to think of a question that would reveal the boy in front of her more.

His eyes widened and his muscles tensed, much like her had at the mention of siblings. The blonde haired boy ran his hand through his hair, debating whether to ask for a new question or state that it was too personal; however, he navigated his mind through the maze of excuses and gave her the answers no other therapist had ever been able to extract from his timid thoughts.

"I feel bad that I can't say I always enjoy it. Sometimes I think I'm letting our fans down by being so antisocial. Other times, I just wonder if something is wrong with me," he confided, never taking his eyes off of the drink before him, swirling around the straw as he avoided her stare, much like the girl had also done.

Everyone else had given him the same look at his confession: the 'you're my new charity case' glance, which he found himself annoyed with entirely. However, when his eyes connected with hers, he only found compassion and understanding. His heart seemed to melt a bit in his chest as he felt butterflies erupt within himself, the thought of the only girl to ever make him feel this way understanding his problems as well flooring him and making him all too willing to dive into a relationship head first.

Just a ghost in the halls

Feeling empty, they're vacant now.