((Okay, so I'm going to do one chapter per two paragraph things? I think they're called Stanzas? I don't know don't look at me.

Obviously, since this fic is gay af, I'm changing the pronouns. Ashton does not know how a woman feels because he has a dick. And Luke plays drums because I was trying to keep it as close as possible considering they don't even know Ashton.

-Mel))

Well the times are getting hard for you, little girl

I'm a humming and a strumming all over god's world

You can't remember when you got your last meal

And you don't know just how a woman feels

You didn't know what rock and roll was

Until you met my drummer on a grey tour bus

I got there in the nick of time

Before he got his hands across your state line

♪♪♪♪

There's a boy walking through the crowd. He's weaving through people, ducking down to avoid flailing arms, steering clear of the three people currently crowd surfing. Michael's eyes follow him, not focusing on the music. He doesn't really need to, anyway, strumming the chords is like breathing to him at this point.

No one seems to be paying the boy any attention. His eyes are wide, Michael can see the whites of them all the way on stage, and his lips are parted just slightly. He presses them back together again and stands on his tip toes to try to see over the crowd that's bouncing along to the bass line from Calum. He's too short, just sets himself back down on his heels and frowns. There's a red and white flower crown on top of his head, wilting slightly and held together with tape that shines through against the blinking lights on the stage.

The song ends and he stands on his toes again, craning his neck and looking around. The tanned column of his throat is exposed, would probably contrast well against Michael's pale skin and pink lips. The crowd keeps jumping and screaming, but he's not even looking at the stage. He's pouting again, back on his heels.

"You missed your cue, you stupid fuck," Luke says into his microphone. Michael turns around to face the drum set that Luke's hiding behind, let's a smile spread over his lips.

"There's a cute boy with a flower crown over there," he explains, leaning forward so that his mic catches his words. Calum laughs from the other side of the stage and the crowd screams, frantically spinning to find the boy with the flower crown. When Michael turns back to the spot he was, he's gone, replaced by the throngs of sweaty bodies. He frowns and Luke yells something about the next song. It doesn't matter, he knows which one it is anyway.

The beat starts on the drums, something even and staccato. Calum joins in next, low and only partly noticeable. He steps forward to kick at the pedal for his amp a little until the sound gets louder. Michael's next, the guitar bit is loud and high, his calloused fingers pressing against the strings towards the base of the guitar.

Sometimes he can feel the flow of the music in his mind, the beat in his bones, the bass line boiling in his blood. It sets his whole body on edge, makes his limbs fall freely into the riff and his neck muscles loosen up. The black hair falls into his eyes, but he barely even notices. He can feel the notes, knows exactly where to move his fingers and when.

Like he said, strumming has turned into another way to breathe for him.

♪♪♪♪

They don't get off stage until 1. Luke disappears immediately, not even bothering to help with his drum set ("what have we even got stage hands for if I have to put my own drum set away?"). Michael stays back a little to help make sure his guitar is secured and in place, and Calum fucks off with some girl with bright blue hair and more tattoos than any of them.

By the time Michael manages to crawl back onto the dirty gray bus, ready to just fall asleep until the next show in thirty five hours, its three in the morning.

The boy is on the tour bus. The boy with the red and white flower crown, that's indeed taped together with duct tape. The flowers aren't fake, but they're wilting fast and there's a few chunks missing on some petals. It's more dark green leaves and stems now, than it is bright, blossoming flowers.

He's on the couch, adjusting the crown so that a few of his soft brown curls slip between the stems and fall across the leaves smoothly. He's wearing just a white shirt with an 'X' drawn on it in what appears to be sharpie, and tight blue jeans. They follow the curve of his legs, making his thighs look beautiful and sort of biteable. They'd probably look better if they were off. There's bright pink vans on his feet, scuffed and dirty, but still shining brightly in the dim bus.

Luke's got his hand on this boy's thigh, leaning forward and smiling widely, while the boy giggles. The blush starts high in his checks and travels all the way down his neck and up to his ears. His eyes squeeze shut for a minute, then pop back open, wider and more bright than before. They're maybe green or brown, it's hard to tell in the low lighting. He leans towards Luke and looks down, thick lips stretching into a smile.

They both look up when the bus door slams shut. Luke grins, digs his fingers into the boy's thigh some more, mouths "virgin." The boy just smiles at him, careful And tentative, like he's afraid of what Michael's reaction to him will be.

It's not exactly a surprise that a boy is here. All three of them are pansexual (Michael personally thinks it's contagious, the way he figured out he liked boys in year eleven, and the other two caught it a few years later.), but Calum generally pulls more girls and Luke prefers boys. He doesn't really favor anything, just likes to sit with Luke and Calum and get high, rather than fuck some random. What is a surprise, is that this boy is on the bus. He clearly told Luke he though the boy was cute, and no one else would wear a flower crown to a rock concert. He wants to ask Luke what he's trying for, because there is no way he's getting in bed with Luke, no matter how cute the boy is.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Michael asks, because he doesn't like to dance around what he's trying to say. The boy looks taken aback, like he's personally offended Michael by just being there.

"What?" Luke raises his eyebrows. Michael gestures to the boy with a pointed look and Luke pulls his hand away instantly. "This boy with a flower crown?" He asks. Like it could have been anyone else.

"Did you see anyone else with a flower crown?" He asks. The boy looks down at his thigh, the spot where Luke's hand had been, a bit sadly. He looks terribly confused, scrunches up his nose at them both.

"Right, fine," Luke gets up and runs his hands through his dark purple hair, shoving it back onto the top of his head. He's smiles down at the boy, tugging on the black gauges in his ear and crossing one foot over the other. "Hey, Ashton, sorry. He called dibs."

The boy, Ashton, looks startled. His eyes widen for a second, the bright hazel clear as day, before narrowing again. He purses his lips and raises one eyebrow in a critical way. "Dibs? Fucking dibs?"

Luke's eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead in realization. "I gotta go, see you later." He hurries away, shouldering past Michael and muttering out an apology. The bus door smacks shut loudly, making Michael flinch a little. He glances back at it, sucking in a sharp breath, then slowly turns back to Ashton.

He's playing with a leaf on his flower crown, fingers rubbing against the smooth, green surface. His eyes lock onto Michael instantly, glare hardening and pretty lips pulled into a thin line. "Dibs," He huffs again. Michael finds it terribly endearing.

"I, no, that's not what I said," Michael says quickly. He tries not to stutter or slip up too badly. "I was just on stage- just, like, before- and I saw you and-"

"I heard what you said," Ashton flushes a little at the memory and let's his arm drop down. His palm slaps against his thigh loudly, making him jump a little. Michael kind of wants to wrap him in three blankets and pet his hair. Ashton clears his throat and keeps talking, despite the small smile that's probably on Michael's lips by now. "I'm not an object, you can't just- you can't dibs me!" He stands up quickly, only coming up to about Michael's chin. He's eye level with Michael's collarbones.

"I didn't!" Michael says instantly, taking a step forward. "I didn't, I swear I didn't, like, objectify you. Or anything. I just- you're so gorgeous." He breathes out the last bit, seeing as all the air in his lungs is suddenly gone.

Ashton flushes dark pink and flicks his eyes down to the floor. His lips pull into a little smile, which he quickly covers with his hand. He rests his palm over his mouth, thumb resting against the side of his nose and fingers curling over his cheek and jawbone. The flower crown slips on his hair a little, falling forward on his head, and he knocks the toes of his pink vans together. Michael takes another step towards him to push the flower crown back up. The tape gets tangled in his hair and he glances up when Michael starts to struggle.

"Take it off," he says simply, after dropping his hand again. Michael starts a little at the blunt innuendo, looking down to be sure they're still talking about the flower crown, here. Leaf crown. Ashton nods, so he pulls it up off his head, brushing down the soft curls that follow. He tosses it on the couch and moves his hand down to brush the hair off his forehead. Ashton's face is practically radiating heat, his cheeks are still so red.

"You looked so cute with it on, though," Michael smiles. Ashton giggles- full on giggles- scrunching his nose up and ducking his head even more so Michael can't see his face.

"Stop making me blush," he says in a fake scolding voice. He glances back up, looking small and innocent, with his eyes so wide and staring up.

"Stop being cute," Michael counters.

Ashton opens his mouth to respond, but his phone starts ringing. It's one of their songs, Michael recognizes his own guitar line, and Ashton flushes again. He pulls his phone out as quickly as he can, considering the way his jeans are stretched tight across his thighs, and swipes the screen to answer, hissing out a hushed, "What?"

He listens to the person on the other end carefully, then flicks his eyes up to Michael, cupping his hands around the front of the phone."Which one's Calum?"

Michael stares at him for a second to make sure he's serious. Ashton stares back, patiently waiting for an answer. "The one that's not me and not Luke?" He shrugs, not really sure how to describe Calum. They all look a lot alike, to be honest.

Ashton frowns. "Tattoos?"

"We've all got those," Michael looks down at his black and white arms. Luke had opted for colored tattoos, while Calum had a bit of both, but he preferred plain black ink. Luke said they were boring, Michael thinks they're cool.

"Hair color?" Ashton tries again.

"We've all got basically the same color," Michael points at his black hair. Calum has natural black hair, Michael's only slightly jealous. Luke's was supposed to be dark purple, but sometimes it looks black or brown, depending on the light.

Ashton looks slightly exasperated. "Those ear hole thingys?"

Michael blinks at him for a second. He's pretty sure nearly everyone in the world has ear holes. Ashton tugs on his earlobe pointedly, and Michael realizes he's talking about gauges. "Oh! Yeah, Luke is the only one with those! Calum has an industrial bar-" Ashton looks concerned and confused again, so he cuts himself off.

"So, Calum is the one that's not you, with no ear holes," he summarizes. Michael nods and Ashton goes back to his phone call. "Yeah, he's cute, I don't care. Meet me at the motel before noon tomorrow or else I'm calling the police and saying he kidnapped and raped you."

Michael chokes. Part of him thinks he should probably warn Calum about this, but the other part thinks Ashton's full of shit. He's only like, 5' 7" and he wears flower crowns and pink vans. He's full of shit.

He pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Calum that says "pls get rid of whoever your fucking by noon tomorrow."

When he pockets his phone and looks up again, Ashton's got his hands on his hips and one eyebrow raised skeptically. Michael clears his throat nervously and smiles in the most natural way he can, while still panicking that Ashton's going to like, call the police on him.

"So, you're Michael then," Ashton says instead of kicking him in the shin and running.

Michael nods quickly, a little too quick. His head jerks and there's a tight twinge in his neck, which he ignores in favor of smiling again. "And you have our song as your ringtone."

"Yeah, my sister's in love with your band," Ashton shrugs, like that should explain why his ringtone is their song. Michael doesn't say anything, so Ashton continues. "You have no idea how many times I've heard your albums on full volume. And how many times I've had to hear about Luke's new smiley face shirt or Calum's new tattoo or Michael's new hair color. It's exhausting, she cried when I got her tickets for the show."

"Yeah?" Michael practically grins at that. "Let me guess, blue hair? Lots of tattoos?"

Ashton nods and rolls his eyes, flicking his hair off his forehead with his fingers. "Of course she snuck backstage and met you guys already. I'm not surprised."

"She mainly just met Calum," Michael shrugs, like that's supposed to help her case. "They left before I could say anything, and Luke was gone as soon as the show was over."

"I know," Ashton says simply. Michael shuffles his feet, glancing down at the old, black boots, and nods a little. Of course Ashton knows, he was probably the reason Luke left so early. Neither of them say anything, and the awkward silence hangs thick and heavy in the air. The curved edge of a pink shoe lands on top of his right boot after a few seconds, and presses down against the worn black toe. A small smile stretches his lips upwards, and he follows the line of Ashton's body from the toe of his shoes to his bright eyes.

"Listen," Ashton says before the silence can stretch out too long. "I came here tonight to get fucked, and if you're not up to it, I'll go find-" he waves his hand in a vague gesture and waits for Michael to understand what he's trying to say.

Michael frowns again. "Luke?"

"Yeah, that one," Ashton nods.

"I thought you came here for your sister?"

Ashton shrugs again. "Well, that's why I bought her tickets. I came along with the soul intention of losing my virginity to some hot band member."

Michael chokes on nothing but the bluntness Ashton suddenly has. Clearly, he's stopped holding back. "You- you want me to- wouldn't that be objectifying you?"

"For fucks sake, are you going to fuck me or not?" Ashton sighs heavily, like its a burden to be having this conversation.

"How old are you?" Michael asks instead.

"18," Ashton puffs out his chest a little, probably not even consciously. Michael waits patiently for him to deflate. He does, after a shirt pause and a skeptical look. "Okay, 17. But I turn 18 in like, two days."

Michael snorts. "Come see me then."

"I'll go find What's His Face, Luke!" Ashton threatens. Like calling Luke is supposed to be intimidating.

"Luke doesn't fuck anyone under 19, there's an extra year in there, just in case," Michael explains. They all have policies set in place. Luke's minimum age is 19, even though he's only 22, himself. Calum's okay with a lot of stuff, but he won't fuck anyone under 18. Michael doesn't even have a policy. He doesn't fuck enough randoms to set up an age limit for himself, so instead he just goes by basic laws and regulations. Luke says its dumb not to have a policy, Calum says it's lame. Michael doesn't give a shit, to be honest.

"That's crap!" Ashton yells. He raises his voice above speaking level and apparently startles himself, jumping a little, then glancing around to make sure no one heard that. There's no one else on the bus, of course no one heard it. Michael finds it endearing, somehow. Ashton scowls at his soft smile.

"I'm not too into the whole law breaking thing, believe it or not," Michael explains, once Ashton's done scaring himself. "Call me when you turn 18, alright?"

Ashton pouts. "Fine. But only because your my favorite."

Michael beams at him.