Sooooo, this part might be slightly triggering. So just like, you know. Watch yourself. PM me if you don't want to read and I'll send you a summary of what happens, you won't be missing a lot tbh.

-Mel

Woman you're a mess going to die in your sleep

There's blood on my amp and my Les Paul's beat

Can't keep you home, you're messing around

My best friend told me you're the best lick in town

You didn't know that rock and roll burned

So you bought a candle and you lived and you learned

You got the rhythm you got the speed

Mama's little baby likes it short and sweet

The next time he sees Ashton is back in Sydney, nearly a year later. They've been around the world and back, already a month into their three month long break.

Michael's in the middle of a show when his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. He pulls it out because they're between songs and Luke's talking up a storm.

"You weren't kidding when you said you'd answer my calls on stage," Ashton muses. Michael's breath catches in his throat as he glances through the crowd, looking for any flashes of pink or delicate white petals in the thousands of people that have come out to see them.

"Are you here?" He asks. Luke's yelling at him from the back of the stage, but he ignores it. Calum seems to be just fucking around with various tones of his bass, plucking the chords and gauging the crowd's reaction.

"No," Ashton admits. "Lilly's front row. She's filling me in. Meet me backstage after the show."

"Backstage?" Michael echoes. "Have you got a pass?"

Ashton snorts. "Nope!" He hangs up before Michael can argue. Calum's done fucking around with his bass and Luke's still yelling from behind his drum set and there's thousands of people screaming in front of them. Michael shoves his phone back into his pocket and grabs his guitar again, glancing back to give Luke the thumbs up.

He steps forward, towards the microphone, to address the crowd. "Sorry. Booty call." He peers through the light smoke catching in the bright lights until he finds bright blue hair and raised eyebrows. "Tell your brother I said no offence, Lilly."

Lilly flips him off and starts texting rapidly on her bright phone.

"Are you done?" Luke asks.

"Yeah, thanks," Michael says dryly. Luke scoffs and looks like he's going to go off on a rant, so Calum introduces the next song.

°°°°

True to his word, Ashton shows up backstage twenty minutes after the show. Just not the way anyone expected.

Michael's just casually clipping his guitar into it's case when there's a loud shriek behind him and several thundering sets of footsteps. Before he can turn to see what the commotion is, something lands on his back. Black leather covered arms wrap around his neck and black jeans pulled tight over knees wrap around his waist, linking at pink converse high tops. Michael makes a choking noise and grabs onto the table in front of him so he doesn't fall over.

"Target spotted!" Someone yells. Michael recognizes the voice as their head security guard, and thinks one of their fans has run backstage. But then lips start pressing along the side of his jaw and soft, dark blonde hair catches his eye.

"What the fuck, Ashton?"

"I told you I didn't have a pass!" Ashton defends.

"I thought you were just going to find Luke!" Michael reaches up and tugs Ashton's arms away from his neck, catching sight of black ink disappearing up his sleeves. He spins around, bending his knees a bit to set Ashton onto the table, and addresses what seems to be the entire security team as they close in. Ashton doesn't loosen his grip, even though he's seated on top of the table now.

"Sorry, he ran past us," the head of security says quickly, stepping forward. Michael's grip tightens around Ashton's forearms. "He's pretty quick! We'll throw him out, if you want."

"Its fine," Michael assures him. "He's fine, I know him. Sorry, I didn't think he was going to do this." The whole security team gives him a skeptical look, but eventually disperses to various ends of the arena. Michael peels Ashton's arms and legs off of him and spins around to glare at him. Ashton grins in response.

"Hi!" He says happily. "I didn't know you were back in Sydney!"

"Well, here I am," Michael agrees. He glances over Ashton quickly, raising his eyebrows. He remembers pink and flowers, and now Ashton's in tight black jeans with a rip in the left thigh, a black Nirvana shirt, and a leather jacket. The only thing Michael recognizes is the pink converse. "Wow, have sex in a rock star's tour bus one time and suddenly you're, what? A punk?"

Ashton shrugs his shoulders in response, smirking like he's proud of his black leather. Michael reaches forward and tugs on the collar of his jacket. "Take it off, let me see your tattoo."

"No," Ashton says.

"Oh come on, you've seen all of mine," Michael rolls his eyes and tugs on the collar even more.

"Fine," Ashton scowls and slaps Michael's hand away so he can peel off the jacket. "It's not like you won't see anyway."

The tattoo is a simple lily flower, stretching from his left wrist all the way up to the to his elbow, with only small white and green highlights along the stem and petals. There's another one above that, a new school skull with only one sharp, bright eye and a few teeth. It's right on his bicep, standing out with bright reds, blues, and purples against his pale skin. But the new tattoos aren't what what catches Michael's attention.

There's thin little scars crawling all the way up Ashton's arms, some closed white and others scabbing dark red and brown. Purple and green bruises liter his arm, all the way from his wrist to his shoulder, covered with warped red and white skin. With all the bruises, cuts, and burns, Michael kind of just wants to set Ashton in the back corner of his bunk and never let him leave.

Instead, he flits his fingers over the lily tattoo and licks his bottom lip swiftly. "What are you doing?"

"Now or in general?"

"Both," Michael thumbs over one of the newer burns, glancing up to watch the way Ashton tenses and hisses sharply.

"Nothing," Ashton responds shakily. He still hasn't pulled his arm away or tugged his jacket back on. "I got fired a few days ago and Lilly's almost 18. We'll be homeless in a month."

Michael remembers back to when he met Ashton in the parking lot of that gas station, how Ashton could barely admit that his car broke down. He remembers how Ashton didn't ask for any help and barely accepted it when it was presented to him.

"We're on break for two more months. Stay with me," Michael says.

Ashton glances up at him, away from his own arm, and they make eye contact for what feels like the first time in years. "I barely know you."

Michael shrugs, "You could be an axe murderer. But I think that's a chance I'm willing to take."

"Are you?" Ashton raises his eyebrows with a tiny smile slipping onto his lips.

"I am," Michael nods. "It'd be an honor to be murdered by someone so hot."

Ashton rolls his eyes and shoves his shoulders with a grin.

°°°°

So, Ashton and Lilly move in. Which, like, its not like Michael didn't have the space. He's gotten enough money in his three years of being in a successful band to buy a mansion. It's a low key mansion, almost the complete opposite of Luke and Calum's "bachelor pad".

He has about four bedrooms and five bathrooms, along with a cook and a maid. He doesn't see them much, but they're always nice when he is around.

Lilly comes with three bags, an electric guitar, and an exasperated expression. Ashton has about three times his body weight in clothes.

Michael addresses Lilly first, because Ashton looks like he's dying from having to carry all that inside. "Hey, you're bedroom is down here, down that hall, second door on the left. The connected bathroom is yours to use, and you can set your guitar in the room straight across the hall. Feel free to hook it up to whatever, there's a lot of guitar shit in there."

Lilly instantly looks happier. And like she's about to faint. "Oh my god, Michael Clifford is letting me use his guitar shit. I'm going to live in Michael Clifford's house."

Michael laughs when she stumbles away, down the hall, towards her new bedroom. Once she's gone, he turns back to find Ashton struggling with his seven thousand bags. Still. "Christ, Ash, do you need some help?"

"Yes," Ashton says miserably. Michael grabs about six bags and starts dragging them down the hall, towards the staircase. Ashton follows behind him with the rest of his stuff, eyes scanning around the large, sparsely decorated house. "Lovely home you have here," he says.

Michael smirks at him and starts on the stairs. "How formal of you."

"I try," Ashton shrugs. He's wearing a different leather jacket today, one with a million zippers that click together loudly.

"Your room's next to mine," Michael explains once he gets to the top step. "Don't tell Luke, that's supposed to be his room when he stays over."

"When do I talk to Luke?" Ashton points out.

"He's coming over tonight," Michael throws the bags onto the edge of the bed, rumbling the dark blue duvet. "Him and Calum want to scope out my new housemates. Hide your sister."

"Shouldn't you be worried about me?" Ashton asks. "I'm hotter. And you're all gay as hell."

"We're all pan as hell, thanks," Michael quips, because there's a huge difference between gay and pansexual. Like, multiple genders. "And besides, I told you. I dibsed you. And you're living in my house, we're basically dating."

Ashton raises his eyebrows, Michael almost wants him to argue about being objectified again. Instead, he says, "Does this mean I get to sleep with you, too?"

Michael snorts out a short laugh. "No. Get your shit put away, Luke's bringing a pizza."

Which, like, Luke probably isn't bringing a pizza. Luke's probably bringing weed and drunk Calum. It doesn't matter, Michael has the pizza place on speed dial. He expects this, if he's honest.

Ashton steps forward and presses onto his toes until he can press a kiss to Michael's bottom lip. It's gentle and testing and tastes like watermelon. Ashton falls back down to the flat part of his feet and looks across Michael's face carefully, judging his response.

Michael checks the time on his phone. "I bet I could suck you off in five minutes."

"You're lying,"

"I have a nice throat," Michael argues and shoves him back. "Sit down, I'll show you."

♪♪♪♪

As expected, Luke shows up with a bag of weed as his party favor. Calum's surprisingly not drunk, but he does bring this expensive looking bottle of Jameson and refuses to let anyone touch it.

Ashton eyes them both carefully and tells Lilly to go in the other room. She complies easily after Michael says, "Did you figure out the amp with the blue cord? It changes the sound, tell me if you can fix it. And yes you can post this on your blog."

"Who's that?" Calum asks.

"Jesus Christ," Michael responds. "Leave her alone, you fucked her last year. Actually, what the fuck Calum, she's not even 18 yet!"

"Then I definitely did not fuck her," Calum says.

Luke's too busy eyeing Ashton to add in to the conversation. "Wait, we know you," he furrows his eyebrows in an attempt to figure it out, looking at Calum and Michael for help.

"Yeah, I almost threw up on you," Calum nods, then glances at Michael again. "He's here so we can fuck him, right?"

"You two are fucking monsters," Michael informs them, wrapping his arm around Ashton's waist almost protectively. Ashton stumbles against him, hips knocking together, and looks relatively unconcerned about the fact that Calum thinks they're going to gangbang him.

"Yeah, well," Calum shrugs. "That's not a no, is it?"

"Yes it's a no!" Michael says quickly. "I dibsed him like a year ago!"

Recognition flickers over Luke's features, lighting up his eyes and raising his eyebrows. "Oh, Ashton!" He says happily, snapping his fingers and elbowing Calum in the ribs. "The one with the flower crown and really tight blue jeans!"

Luke and Calum both get matching confused looks suddenly, glancing over Ashton again. They rake their eyes over his small figured, from the piercings in his ears to the black ink sticking out of his leather jacket sleeve to his black jeans with rips across the knees and thighs, all the way down to his black boots. Michael knows he's hiding pink socks and boxers. He protectively tucks Ashton closer to his side when Calum licks his lips and Luke raises one eyebrow.

"You look..." Luke trails off and let's his lips tilt up into a small smirk, eyes flashing with something dangerous. "Different."

"Good different," Calum assures him.

"Fuck off," Michael glares at them both and pulls Ashton as close as physically possible. Ashton flinches a little, but turns to bury his face in Michael's shirt gently. Michael feels like he's been punched in the gut suddenly. He clears his throat and continues to address his band. "I told you, he's mine. Get your own-" he cuts himself off and waves his free hand a little, trying to come up with a word that describes what Ashton is to him. He finally settles on "-fuckboy."

It forces a scoff out of Ashton.

"Whatever," Luke rolls his eyes, realizing that he's not going to get anything out of Ashton or Michael. "Order some pizza, I'm going to find your pipe."

"Get the fucking bowl," Michael says, patting his pockets for his phone. "Its in my closet upstairs."

Luke slaps his ass on the way past, making Michael kick out at him, even though he's already gone past. Calum follows him obediently, while Michael pulls out his phone and unhands Ashton finally.

Ashton glances around to make sure they're both gone, then glares at Michael and crosses his arms over his chest. "You're really going to smoke with my little sister in the house? She has a blog dedicated to your band, this'll crush her!"

"Please, if she has a blog, she already knows we smoke," Michael snorts out a laugh and dials the number for the pizza place. After he's finished ordering, he shoves his phone back into his pocket and jumps when seeing Ashton's still glaring at him.

"We'll lock the door," he bargains. "She'll never know."

"Maybe I don't want to flipping smoke, did you ever think of that?" Ashton asks forcefully. Michael flinches a little at his sharp tone but still finds himself smiling at "flipping". Ashton's still basically a tulip that's been painted black. Ashton smacks him in the chest with a muffled thump and shoves him until Michael's stumbling backwards. "This isn't funny!"

"Come on, baby," Michael grins. "I thought you were some sort of hard-ass now, huh? Can't take a little weed?"

He's teasing. In all honesty, he doesn't really want Ashton to smoke anything. He wants Ashton in pink panties and a flower crown in the middle of his bed, but shit doesn't always work out the way he wants.

Ashton scowls and mutters, "I didn't say I wouldn't do it."

"You don't have to," Michael tells him honestly. "If you don't want to, I'm not going to make you."

Ashton squints at him in the most condescending way possible. Michael shifts uncomfortably under his glare and bits his lip until Ashton steps forward and shoves a finger in his chest. "I'm going to do it. And then we're going to fuck and you're going to kiss my neck, do you understand?"

"Demanding, I like it," Michael grins at him. Ashton groans in frustration and smacks him in the chest again. "Oh come on, Ash, I'm joking! I understand, alright? I get it, I'll do anything you want, baby."

Ashton's face softens a little (so, like, only a slight scowl and a tiny glare), and he reaches up on his toes to shove his mouth against Michael's. He sucks on Michael's lip harshly and bites it until Michael tastes blood, then shoves him away again. Michael stumbles back, slightly dazed and confused and completely thrilled with the kiss. Before he can respond, Ashton's gone.

°°°°

At two in the morning, Ashton's stripped to his pretty pink boxers and socks and curled up in the middle of Michael's bed. His hair is spread out around him in some sort of soft looking lions mane, surrounding his flushed face delicately. There's red bags under his eyes and his lips are pale and Michael wants to kiss every single inch of his skin until he's writhing and confessing his love.

Which is weird and Michael's high as fuck.

Luke's passed out in the next room, asleep amongst Ashton's things, and Calum's sitting next to Michael on the floor of the master bedroom, leaning against the foor of the king sized bed.

"Dude," Calum says, with his face on Michael's shoulder. "I totally fucked your boyfriend."

"Dude," Michael responds, because he doesnt believe any of the stupid shit that comes out of Calum's mouth. Not just now, but in general.

"No, dude, seriously," Calum insists. "He gives the best fucking blowjobs, their incredible. I thought he was going to swallow my entire dick."

"Wait, what?" Michael sits up suddemly, because yeah. That sort of is how Ashton gives blowjobs. He is really fucking good, considering last time Michael saw him, he could barely kiss.

Calum's head falls off Michael's shoulder when he sits up and he falls to the floor, sprawling across the hard wood and looking unconcerned about the sudden move. "Yeah man, when we first got back to Sydeney, I went to a bar with a few of my friends and Ash was there, and they all started telling me how good he was. So of course I had to figure it out myself."

"Of course," Michael agrees.

"I swear I bought him one drink and he was down to fuck," Calum continues. "We went back to my apartment and he just said he wanted it hsrd and fast. So like, that's what I did, right?"

"Right," Michael nods.

"It was fifteen minutes, tops," Calum mumbles sleepily, cuddling against the floor and shutting his eyes. "Best sex of my life, though. Fucking incredible."

"Incredible," Michael echoes, glancing back up at Ashton. He's still in almost the exact middle of the bed, pale pink lips dropped open and eyelashes fluttering like he's dreaming. He looks so innocent and unsuspecting, like a fucking flower. He's curled up in a small ball, and Michael suddenly has the overwhelming urge to go curl around him and tuck them both under a few blankets and just sleep. which is weird, because he barely even knows Ashton.

He glances down to see Calum snoring against the wood flooring, and stands up shakily. His legs feel like jello, so he collapses on the bed before he's even standing up straight. He lands in front of Ashton, just centimeters away, and accidentally jolts the boy awake with the shaking of the bed. Ashton's eyes flick open, widening even more when Michael trails his cold fingers along his jaw. He follows the line of the arm connected to his face until he meets Michael's eyes.

Without even saying anything, he shifts closer and slots his bare leg between Michael's, then hitches the other over his hip. He rests his head against Michael's chest and falls back to sleep before Michael can say anything to him. Michael hooks his chin over the top of Ashton's head and wraps his arm around Ashton's waist, fingers brushing gently against Ashton's spine until he's pressing closer in his sleep.

Michael can't figure out why this boy he picked out of the crowd makes him feel like he's dying. His breath hitches in his throat when he feels Ashton's nose rub against his collarbone and his chest feels like its falling in. His heart starts beating rapidly in his chest and there's a huge pit somwhere in his stomach.

And all he can think about is how much he wants to kiss the bruises and scars and burns that are peppered across nearly every inch of Ashton's skin.