There's an hour or so before we are due on stage, which is why we're sitting in our dressing room. Getting ready takes 20 minutes at the most for all of us, since we only need to have our hair fixed and run through the set list quickly. The rest of the time we either make a ruckus or lazily sit around, and today is the latter.

We had just come from Calum's hotel room where we played FIFA. But if I'm being honest, I wouldn't consider what I did as playing FIFA; I'd classify it as losing miserably while Cal and Mike kick my ass.

Ashton still hasn't arrived back from his walk, which is fine. In the past, he's come in five minutes before the start of a show. His drums are already set up, so there isn't much to do.

"How was it being mobbed?" Michael says abruptly.

I'm met with curly hair and hazel eyes when I look up. Speak of the devil.

"What are you talking about?"

"You went for a walk, right?"

Ashton laughs. "Sure, a walk inside."

"What took you so long then?" I question him. He left for his walk right before four. Now it's half past six, and the show begins at seven thirty.

"I ran into a few fans while roaming around. Actually, I spent a while with three hanging out in one of the halls downstairs. They said they tried to get tickets but couldn't, so they're just going to listen on their rooms balcony tonight."

"They didn't ask for tickets or anything?"

"I think they forgot about the concert once I joined their game of scrabble," he said with a huge grin present, causing me to smile just as much as him.

How could someone not smile when Ashton is beaming? It's an automatic reflex: he smiles, you smile. He has that effect on people.

"Anyways, I got us some sandwiches for dinner."

My smile, may you Rest In Peace. 6:34-6:35pm.

Calum and Michael scream in excitement, I think. It's difficult to hear anything over the string of panicked curses swarming through my mind.

He tosses everyone their rightful sandwich, all except for me. Instead of throwing mine, he walks towards me and hands me the sandwich gently, saying "I got your regular. It's whole grain bread with turkey, lettuce, and tomato, no mayo."

I stare at the wrapped food carefully.

It's a lot smaller than the rest of the sandwiches, but why would mine be smaller if- no.

No no no no no.

"You don't have to eat it, you know, if you don't want to or something."

He knows.

How does he know?!

"How did you know?" I ask him weakly, looking at him in disbelief.

He frowns at my words. "How did I know what?"

Huh. Maybe he doesn't know.

"How'd you know exactly what I want, d'you read minds or something Ash?" I quickly speak, attempting to sound playful.

If he thinks he knows anything about my eating habits, then I'll just have to prove him wrong.

And that's exactly what I did when I ate the sandwich, despite my inner thoughts.

What are you doing!

This was not planned, you didn't intend on eating this today.

You're ruining everything!

Stop! Why aren't you stopping?!

You're destroying yourself!

You're trying to prove a point to Ashton, but is it worth it Luke?

It's not.

You fat fuck.

You're pathetic.

And then the sandwich is gone, which Ashton seems happy about as he leaves to get his hair messed with.

I finished the same time Ashton did, even though his sandwich was twice the size of mine. But it'd usually take another ten minutes for me to eat something the same size of what I just ate; someone should give me a medal for that.

The only medal you'll be getting is a medal for being a worthless, good for nothing, fat ass.

Now I'm alone with my thoughts as my only company.

This is your fault.

Fix this.

"Hey, where are you going?" Calum asks me while I make my way towards one of the exit doors.

Don't respond, just go. Fix this now.

"I want to ask the sound tech guy a question."

Get out of there!

And before Calum could answer, I rush into a back hallway bathroom, throwing myself into the first stall.

As soon as my knees drop to the floor, my mask melts away. I'm vulnerable, I'm weak, and I couldn't stop the sobs that escaped me as everything came back up, splashing into the toilet.

I didn't even try. I felt sick, like my stomach was refusing the food. The last few days I've ate nothing. Maybe an apple here and there, if I feel like I may pass out. But besides that, my stomach is empty. How could my stomach be refusing food?

Wait, I'm absorbing all the calories. Fuck, how many calories are there? Where did Ashton get the sandwich? What if they used mayonnaise? God, WHAT IF?

My rapid influx of worries was enough to make my throat burn as the stomach acid forced its way out of me without effort.

It's a good thing I didn't need to put in effort too; I don't know if I would have been able to make myself sick. It's been a few months since the last time I've done that.

I tried though, tried to get it all out. It needed to be all out, I had to be sure.

Everything's okay now. There's nothing to be afraid of now.

I struggle as I try to push myself up from the dirty floor, pulling my grip away from the cold toilet.

It's gone now, you did good. You should be proud.

I walk over to the sink, washing my hands and rinsing my mouth. Then I rip some paper towels from the dispenser and run it under the stream of cool water.

Leaning up against the outside of the stall nearest the sink, I rest the cold damp paper towel over my eyes, hoping to reduce any red or puffiness I may have caused.

"I feel disgusting," I whisper out loud.

"I don't want to live like this anymore. I want to be happy again."

You'll be happy when you're perfect. You're getting there. You'll be happy soon.

I take a deep breath, shaking off my thoughts I believe are true. I need to stop thinking about all of this. If I don't, I won't be able to stop my emotions from spilling out of my eyes, again. I can't break down. Not here, not now.

Breathing in deeply to calm myself down, I carefully piece my walls back together before sluggishly walking back to the dressing room.

When I walk through the door, everyone turns their eyes to me. Am I late?

"Where the hell were you! We go on in less than two minutes Luke!" Michael shouts.

"You can't do this Luke. You need to be here ten minutes before stage time to prep, you know that," Lisa says gently, one of our stage managers. She walks towards me with my in-ears in one hand and guitar in the other.

How long was I in there for?

"Where were you?" Ashton asks meekly, suddenly by my side. His words made him sound so small and sad. If he really believes I'm not eating, then he knows where I was and what I was doing.

I tried to make myself look decent, but my eyes are a dead giveaway. Fuck, this isn't suppose to happen.

I step away from him before speaking. "Cool. Now why don't you lot shut up. I'm here now."

No one responds to my outbreak, but I can tell they were taken by surprise. After all, wasn't I happy and full of laughter not even half an hour ago?

"Sorry Lisa, I didn't mean to direct that towards you," I assure her, grabbing my in-ear and setting it up.

"It's fine, don't worry about it," she tells me, squeezing my shoulder in reassurance.

Once I'm ready to go, we line up to go on stage. Calum and Michael are glancing between me and themselves, sharing a confused look, while Ashton sympathetically stares at me.

I can't stand here and let everyone judge me silently. So I push past the three of them and walk on stage, 30 seconds earlier than I was suppose to.

Fuck the rules.