((This chapter is only one stanza becsuse I like to live life on the edge.

-Mel))

I didn't know you had a rock and roll record

Until I saw your picture on another guy's jacket

You told me I was the only one

But look at you now, it's dark and you're gone

Michael thinks they both realize it when they're in bed. Ashton hasn't slept in his bed once since he'd arrived.

Ashton's straddling Michael's waist and pressing soft kisses down his chest and stomach lazily. Michael's kind of in love with the entire moment, because neither of them are hard or desperate, and it's all about Ashton's soft lips against Michael's torso. Its warm and smells like sex, a remnant of the past two weeks. Ashton's hair is wild, a complete mess of honey colored curls on top of his head, practically golden in the early morning sunlight coming in through the windows and clear, balcony door.

Tight pink boxers are stretching over Ashton's thighs, and Michael's kind of in love with them.

He laces his fingers with Ashton's, squeezing their hands together tightly and smiling when Ashton looks up at him.

He feels like he's been punched in the stomach suddenly, all the air flying out of his lungs, because this incredible boy wants him, wants to kiss him, wants to sleep with him all the time. And its amazing to Michael, because he's always been perceived as "the ugly one" in his band. He's always gotten hate for being useless and annoying.

Luke's always been loved for his nose and eyes, his smile and wit. Calum's always been loved for his build and muscles, his sharp jawbone and mysterious, yet airy attitude. They've both been praised highly by the press and the fans, but Michael's just sort of there. He doesn't have any outstanding features or talents, Calum could easily replace him on the guitar if he ever decided to quit.

But here, with Ashton leaving careful little kisses everywhere his lips can reach, Michael suddenly feels like he belongs. He feels like this is his spot, anywhere with Ashton.

Michael's lips tilt up in a smile, while Ashton tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and looks down, blushing shyly.

"What?" He asks, looking up from under his eyelashes.

"Nothing," Michael's still smiling like a fucking idiot. "You're just really pretty."

He expects the usual "You're not bad yourself, stud," that he usually gets when complimenting Ashton, but instead the smaller boy ducks his head down, blushing furiously, and lays his cheek against Michael's lower ribs.

Michael smiles fondly and reaches down to tangle his fingers in Ashton's hair, rubbing through the light brown strands gently. "You like it when I call you pretty, huh?"

"No," Ashton mutters against Michael's skin, blowing hot breath across where his mouth is laying.

"Would you like it if I called you princess, too?" He whispers.

Ashton honest to god whimpers, just a quiet noise that's just over the sound of Michael's voice.

Michael's smile hurts his face now, cheeks and lips tight with the force of trying to contain it. "You do, don't you?"

"Mikey," Ashton says quietly, rolling his head so he can press a kiss to Michael's stomach again. He sets his chin up then, crawling up to rest it on Michael's chest. His face is still bright pink, probably warm to the touch, and his hair is wild and almost yellow in the early morning light. His pink lips are pulled in a smile, glistening from a combination of cherry gloss and Michael's spit, while his eyes are practically sparkling.

Michael feels a pang in his chest.

As if expressing his thoughts, Ashton whispers, "How do you do this to me?" Michael shrugs a little, moving his hands from Ashton's hair to his cheeks. He brushes his thumb under Ashton's eyes and over his cheekbones softly while Ashton flutters his eyelashes and let's his lips part slightly.

"I was just thinking the same thing,"

°°°°

"That's so gay," Calum says when Michael tells him about the morning before. They're at band practice, the only time Lilly gets kicked out of the music room in Michael's house, but Michael's love life (or lack thereof) is more important than practicing the same songs they've been playing for months.

"I- yes," Michael's only a little startled at the response, but that is a pretty typical reply from Calum. "We are two males, that's kind of the definition of gay."

"No," Calum pauses. "Well, yes. But I meant, like, the conversation was pretty, you know. Gay. Girly. Fruity." Michael stares at him, so Calum goes for backup. "Luke? Thoughts?"

"You guys are so in love, please," Luke says.

Michael makes a startled scoffing noise, waving his hand in the direction of Luke behind his drum set. He makes the noise again when Luke just shrugs, then yells, "Pfft!" at Calum.

"That was the most guilty thing you've ever done in your life," Calum accuses.

"I don't fall in love, Hood," Michael explains. "Some boy in pink boxers is now going to change that!"

There's a short silence, where Michael makes eye contact with both of his band mates and realize they're both looking at him with considering expressions.

"Pink boxers," Luke echoes finally. "Bet you could talk him into lace panties."

"Probably wouldn't even need convincing," Calum adds with a smirk, flicking his tongue out to wet his lips.

Michael flips them both off. "Could you two get your own fuckboys? This one's mine, thanks."

"Protective of your boyfriend, I like it," Calum laughs slightly, a deep sound that feels like its come straight from the back of his throat.

"Wait, if you're not dating him, that means he's single," Luke points out suddenly. Michael's face twists up like he's eaten something sour. Luke grins like a shark. "Right?"

"No," Michael responds sharply. "No, fuck off. Get your own Ashton, because this one is mine."

"Technically," Luke starts.

Michael ignores him and snatches the set list off the amp in front of him. "Shut up, we need to fucking practice."

Luke and Calum smirk and play along, but Michael can tell they don't believe anything he says.

----

Two months later, Michael goes on tour for four months. They text and Skype and call the whole time, all the way up until the day Michael gets back to Sydney.

Ashton's cleaned out the entire house, removing any traces of himself and Lilly. They're both gone, their phones are cancelled, and Michael has no connection to either of them for almost a full year.

°°°°

Michael's in his bunk on the bus, outside of the venue in Adelaide. He keeps having weird flashbacks of waking up with Ashton plastered to his chest, soft skin against soft skin, lips brushing his collarbones, hot breath fanning across the base of his neck. He feels an empty pit in his chest, pressing down and making it nearly impossible for him to breathe.

Luke frantically calls his name from the back room. Michael's been avoiding the room, because Luke most definitely has some boy back there. Calum's still backstage in the venue, meeting fans and trying to pull some bird.

Michael rolls over lethargically and shoves his head out of the bunk, pushing the curtain to just below his chin. "What?" He yells.

"Get in here!" Luke yells back.

Michael groans and squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing a hand down his face in annoyance. "Why?"

"Just hurry up!" Luke's acting like there's a bomb in the back room that can only be disabled by Michael's presence. Michael huffs in frustration and digs his fingers and thumb into his eyelids. He allows himself a few seconds of stretching to pop his joints, then rolls out of the bunk. He hits the floor with a thud, knees bent and hands still gripping the edge of his bunk. He let's go off it and starts towards the backroom, stumbling slightly in the dark of the bunk area.

"What, Lu- Luke!" He yells upon opening the door. There's a boy on the couch, shirtless and writhing unders Luke's fingers. Luke's straddling his waist, fully clothed, thank god, and kissing down his neck, digging his fingers into the boy's chest.

Luke pulls away from his neck with a smacking noise and turns to face Michael innocently. "Mike, this is Travis."

Michael has a hand over his eyes and spreads his fingers to meet the green haired boy's gaze, ignoring the blooming hickey under his jaw and the splotches of pink all over his chest and cheeks. He waves with his free hand and says, "Hi, Travis."

"Oh my god, that's the hot one," Travis responds. Luke scoffs and crawls off of him.

"First of all, thanks," Michael closes his fingers when he realizes Travis doesn't have any pants on either (damn it, Luke). "Second of all, why am I here? So you can flaunt your amazing sex life?"

"No!" Luke says quickly, stumbling around the room until he finds a denim jacket on the floor. Michael assumes its Travis's, because none of his band wears colors, to be honest. Luke pauses while trying to straighten it out. "Well, yes, but there was another reason!"

Michael sighs and starts to tell Luke he's going back to sleep, but Luke's finally holding the jacket up by the shoulders, the huge patch on the back facing Michael.

And its Ashton.

Just a huge picture of Ashton, sewn onto the back of Travis's fucking denim jacket. Ashton's wearing a black and green flannel with a black shirt underneath, holding up the universal sign for rock and roll with his right hand. He's got his tounge stucking out to the right and his left eye squeezed shut, dark red lips tilted up slightly. Ashton has tattoos crawling up his neck and peeking out of the sleeves of his rolled up flannel and a little ring in the left side of his nose. There's black gauges in his ears and dark green hair sculpted into a loose, windblown quiff on his head.

All Michael can say is, "What the fuck?"

"What?" Travis asks, sitting up on his elbows on the couch to see what's happening.

"How the fuck do you know him?" Michael demands, pointing wildly to the jacket.

Luke turns it so Travis can see. "Who, Ashton? I don't know him, I just know of his band."

"Band!" Michael echoes, scoffing loudly. "What band?"

"Dude, Choking on Glass," Travis says like Michael should know this. Apparently, Michael's not music savvy anymore. He glares until Travis rolls off the couch and grabs his pants off the floor. He digs around in his pocket (instead of putting them on, unfortunately for Michael), and pulls out his phone. "Here, I'll play you their most popular song. It's called 18-"

"Wait, that's Ash- Choking on Glass?" Michael asks, because he's fucking heard that song on the radio a million and ten times. And he'd liked it all million and ten times.

"Dude, that song's totally about you," Luke fucking grins like Michael's entire world isn't crumbling down around him. Michael's having trouble focusing on the way Travis is fumbling on his phone.

"Shit, fuck," he swears loudly, reaching up to tug on his black hair sharply.

He crawls back into his bunk and tries not to think about the boy that makes his chest hurt.

°°°°

Michael travels to London and Los Angeles and Paris and this tiny fucking town in Peru, and basically every other place in the world, before he returns to Sydney.

Its just, its been almost a year and Michael's just starting to realize he was in love. He didn't just want Ashton for sex or cuddles in the middle of the night when his insomnia kicked in. He wanted to hold Ashton all the time, he wanted soft little kisses against his neck because Ashton was too lazy to reach his lips and he wanted Ashton wrapped in a silky robe at three in the morning, cooking pancakes at the stove because he couldn't sleep.

And Michael's scared, because he's never been in love before and he's never wanted to be with someone for anything other than sex. He's just starting to reach acceptance with it, he's just starting to be okay with loving a boy that changed because of him. If he let's Ashton back into his life, his entire system will be fucked up and he won't know how to react.

He doesn't know how to love someone, he doesn't want to fuck it up with Ashton and scare him off.

He'd rather just sit on his couch with Maria the cleaning woman and his unrequited love for the boy playing on the television set.

°°°°

Calum and Luke exchange sharp looks when Choking on Glass is announced for the best rock album of 2015. Michael claps along politely, because there's cameras on him, waiting for his reaction.

Of course there's cameras on him, they'd been up for the American Music Award, too. Only to get beaten by a nineteen year old boy and his little sister.

Calum and Luke hesitantly clap, reaching over to pat Michael's shoulder encouragingly. The cameras drop back when Ashton and his two band members get on stage.

He and his drummer, Rian, are wearing suits, but Ashton has a black shirt with Michael's band on the front, underneath his blazer. Because of course he fucking does. Lilly's wearing a dark red shirt under her fitted suit, and Michael even has to admit she looks good. Calum wolf whistles.

"Hi, wow, hello," Ashton says into the microphone, holding his fucking award and scanning the crowd with a slight smirk on his face. The applause dies down so he can start his speech, which he does after making eye contact with Michael and shifting so his shirt is on full display. Michael, Calum, and Luke all scoff loudly at the same time, making some boy band in front of them twist to look at them.

"That's a free promo," the older one with sharp blue eyes points out. Like they should be proud of Ashton wearing their shirt.

"We don't want a promo from him," Calum spits. Calum and Luke are both a bit bitter towards Ashton, considering they were the ones that had to deal with Michael when he was heartbroken and crying over a boy for the first time in his life.

The boyband turns back around as Ashton starts his speech. "Yeah, wow, thanks. Um, big up to the fans, you guys are great, and of course my little sister, Lilly, and Rian back here," Rian does a little wave and smiles with perfect white teeth.

"And of course, thanks to our manager and production team." He opens his mouth to say more, but the mic is cut off and the music starts playing and some tall woman in a black dress starts ushering them off stage. Ashton sends him a huge smile and a wink and Michael knowns he's flushing dark pink, even as the cameras zoom back in on him. He scowls defiantly, feeling eyes burn into the back of his head suddenly.

Fucking Ashton.

°°°°

Ashton doesn't try to make any contact after that. He clearly knows that Michael's aware of both their fame, but he doesn't even try to get to him.

Michael doesn't try, either.

----

((A/N: This is the last chapter before the epilogue

Sad face emoji

-Mel))