1. Man Bun

Author's note: This story does not intend to insult any sexuality and is not based on real life. It's pure fiction. And also, I've made One Direction as a separate entity from the members of the band. Meaning, in this story, the 1D members are not members of One Direction but One Direction exists in the story.

DANIELLE'S P.O.V.

Waking up to the thoughts of my girlfriend is the greatest feeling in the world. But not all of it are quite enjoyable as a horrible thought of her wandering alone in the parking lot overpowers any thought in my mind. Just like everybody else, I do have an alarm clock. The only problem is... it didn't ring at all and I swear to God I might punch that dude who sold me this clock at Target because now I might not make it on our date.

I drag myself to the edge of the bed, pulling my phone from underneath my pillow. Five missed calls and ten text messages and all are from Joana. A frustrated sigh escapes my parched mouth as I check the messages one by one.

Where are you?

We are supposed to meet at 7.

You're late. Again.

I hate you.

I scramble on my phone, hitting the call button. It goes straight to her voice mail. "Ugh." I growl in frustration and hit the button again. Another voice mail. So much for early Saturdates. I give it up and throw the phone on the bed, rushing toward the bathroom to shower. I don't know. No matter how fast paced I should be taking things, I just can't leave my apartment without showering. It's a girl thing, I guess. Jeez, yeah, of course, I'm a girl and no matter how many girlfriends I take out to parks, to Time Square every New Year, or to any restaurant, all my internal organs scream I'm a girl. Fine, there's no arguing there. Who am I arguing with anyway?

Joana decided to make my birthday last month the happiest birthday of my life by giving me a set of lacey bras and undies I can barely stand. I wanted to throw them right then and there but I decided against it. They still have the same use to me anyway regardless of my preferences. I put on one of the lacey bras and undies, adjusting it in front of the mirror, my damp, long brunette hair falling over my face. The clock catches my eyes. It's eight thirty! I hurriedly pull another white loose shirt over my head and a pair of black jeans, not so tight but snug enough to fit my limbs. I don't want anything too tight or too fitting. It's like I can't breathe.

Stumbling out of the door with my phone in hand and a rubber tie, I call Joana. It goes to her voice mail again. Pick up please. "Joana, you have a phone for a reason! When are you going to use it to answer my call?" I mutter, almost yell on the phone. A beep suddenly follows through.

"I already left the park, Dan." She answers finally. Her voice is quiet and calm, despite the anger lacing through each and every word.

"Joana, I'm sorry. I've had rough waiting duties last night. You know damn well how much I---."

"You need it. I know." She sighs on the other line. I can already imagine her picking at the hem of her cardigan, something that she does whenever she's mad or just uncomfortable. "I'm going to my mom's house."

"What? Like now?" She told me she wouldn't leave for Los Angeles until five in the afternoon today. It's only approaching nine in the morning for God's sake!

"Um, yeah, Dan, I'm sorry. I gotta go." Her tone is clipped and as soon as she said the last word, the line goes dead.

I try to dial her number but it just goes straight to her voicemail. I groan and thump my palm against my forehead. I messed up again. We've already gone through many breakups already in the past two years and I'm not sure if I can handle another one any time this year. I'm struggling to get through my last two semesters in college and heartaches won't help me the least bit.

My mind reels at the thought of her breaking up with me again while I thread the steps that will lead me back to my apartment. Gathering my hair in both hands, I pull it up in a pony-tail. Man bun is actually the trend these days and sometimes I'm tempted to pull it off but it gives me the outcome completely opposite to what I want. It made me look so feminine that the idea of doing a man bun flies straight out of the window that day when I tried it. Why am I suddenly obsessing over a man bun when I'm at the verge of losing a very important relationship? Geez, I'm a lost cause. I scoot around the corner, passing by one of the stores that Joana and I went to the other day to shop for my daily needs. Damn, I can't afford to lose her this time, not today, not any time in the near future.

I swing my leg backward and attempt on kicking the stone with my leather-clad foot but just like the way I am when it comes to my relationships, I fail. I ended up losing my balance, swaying and now on the verge of falling on the fit of pebbles. Just in time though, a pair of hands steadies me and places me to the corner like I'm some sort of a light material that can easily be disposed.

"Hey, watch it." A thick and deeply accented voice snaps, drawing me from my pool of frustrations about Joana and my plan of kicking all the stray stones all over Metairie. A form of a very tall man with overgrown curly hair sticking out of her head and pushed back from his forehead is frowning, his stormy green eyes hard on me, his full plump lips a little twisted to the side. The short sleeves of his white shirt make it easier for anyone to see the collection of his tattoos gracing down his left arm and from the low neckline of his shirt, it's easy to notice another set of tattoo on either side of his chest just below his collarbone.

Meeting someone tattooed, a man at that isn't really appealing to me so

I know I'm going to need an exit anytime soon. I take a step back and pat the top of my head in my boyish, Dan way. Someone's phone starts to ring so before I'm able to thank him, I'm abruptly interrupted. He pulls something from his pocket and presses it against his ear.

"Yeah, I know. I'm going to get it real soon. You just have to wait." He mumbles while tugging the roots of his curls. Frustration graces his features strongly as he pulls his dark brows together. "S**t, no, I told you. F**k."

Okay, he's got these brown overgrown curls that I strangely find to be amusing, like I've never found anything amusing in a man, just now which makes it strange. The features of his face are unbelievably soft for someone rich in tattoos. Everything about him looks soft despite his hard built which you can easily see under the thin fabric of his shirt. But he's got a real, big dirty mouth. He has to stop swearing now or I will have to gag him. When the call has ended, his brows can't get any closer to each other, forming a hard line in between them, his plump lips puckering.

I want to thank him for saving my a*s but something in his upset expression tells me to just shut my mouth and make a very quiet exit instead. The latter plan is immediately ruined when he takes notice of me again. His jade eyes oddly seem to pick up, like an idea has just popped up or something.

"You're free right now, yeah?" He asks, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other toying at his phone.

"No." I've never planned on sounding so rude but it came out that way.

Well, I'm not sorry.

"Yeah, you are. I wouldn't find you s**t-faced in the street if you weren't."

"S**t-faced? Me?" I can't help but wonder out loud. I've never been told that my whole life. I never allow men to say that. They get punching before they're able to.

"Yep, now shut that f*****g mouth and come with me---."

The urgency in his voice tells me to ditch his hand that tries to hold my wrist and I did just that. But not only that, though. I just got him smacked hard against his nose that it starts to bleed. He's not going anywhere near me.

"F**k, what the hell did you just." Wiping his nose with his knuckles, he sees right there the blood that just oozed out because of my punch. His green gaze darkens and chills go straight down my spine. "You won't get away from this. You won't---."

I didn't let him finish. I just run as fast as I can toward the sidewalk, whizzing and zigzagging through the throng of people coming my way as the crowd starts to fill the busy street. I look back, trying to check if he's following. My body grows stiff at the sight of those brown curls standing out among the rest of the heads. No f*****g way. Now, I'm swearing. I sidestep a flower vendor and dash to the next alley, threading the steps back to my apartment. But going home isn't a good idea when a tattooed man with a dirty mouth is following me. So I decided to go straight in between two buildings. He won't think even for a second I've gone there. It's too narrow and shabby. I've waited for a good ten minutes, making sure he won't be anywhere near when I go out. And he isn't. Thank God.

The walk back to my apartment is torn between dragging and confusing.

I've been pretty much occupied with the thoughts of Joana along the way, like where she is now, like if she really meant what she said about going to her mom or she just said that so I won't come looking for her in her dorm. We talked about living together last year. She wanted to share her dorm with me, something that's been the subject of our fights all throughout the year of 2014. I can't just move in. I have responsibilities and she knows damn well about it.

But it didn't take long before my thoughts about our relentless fighting have been replaced by my encounter with the curly haired, tattooed boy. What is it that he wants from me? He couldn't be asking me if I were free or something and come running after me like mad if he didn't have any intentions. Whatever that intention is, I reckon it won't be anywhere good.

When I reached my apartment, my younger brother, Joe, is gone. He's probably gone out for his date today. Having thought of that, I just got reminded that I missed mine and apparently that might cause our permanent breakup this year. I don't understand why Joana had to be difficult.

My work for today won't start until two this afternoon. I still have a few hours left to do my assignments. I run to my bedroom and start going over my notes when the phone in my pocket vibrates. I pull it out to see an unregistered number flashing in my screen. Who the hell is this? Is it Joana? Why would she even get a new number? If she did get a new number to purposefully evade me, why would she even call me through it? I answer the phone before I go mental. "Hello?"

"Hi, is this Danielle Marie Gilbert?" I cringe at the mention of my full name momentarily and focus on the voice of the man on the other line. He sounds too formal and strict, too dark even that it has instantly made me feel that something's off.

"Yes." I answer, trying to make out of the voices and sharp sounds in the background.

"Are you the mother of Jonathan Gilbert?"

"No, but I'm his sister." My insides are starting to curl in a knot and I don't understand why.

"Your brother, he's been hit by a car."

And all too fast, I recognize finally that the sharp sounds in the background are actually the ambulance and police siren combined. "Where is he?" He gives me the address and I practically scramble to my feet and run out of the apartment. It isn't that far. I can get to it through running. My heart is in my throat and seems to be stuck there forever when I get to spot my brother, being lifted toward the ambulance truck. I rush to them, trying to get a better look of his face. His head is bleeding and his lips are busted and I'm not sure why but there might be more damages hiding underneath his clothes that I might be able to comprehend right now. "His eyes are closed! Why are his eyes closed?" I gnarl, totally losing it.

None of the men, in medical uniform, answers. Joe has totally vanished from my sight as he's been settled inside the truck.

"Let me through." I murmur, not caring the least bit about their response. I sit beside him, watching him carefully while I pat and pat my head in God knows what, fears and frustration. This day just won't seem to pass without getting the best of me.

Reviews

[WanderingDavid]

I think you write well. I think maybe the pacing could be improved; it seems uneven. Things happen fast, then they happen slowly. It's slow in the beginning, slow when you take a lot of time to describe the man who accosts Dan, but then it's lightening fast as Dan is heading out and especially when the brother dies. That's my main comment!

[PassionUnique]

it is really a great story and i loved how you strutured it and it flowed