Chapter Text
It’s only been two months, and Michael’s certain that Ashton is already driving him pretty insane.
He’d struck Michael as a friendly sort of guy the first time they’d met, about a month since Michael had put up the ad in the newspapers in search of a roommate, at a coffee shop just down the block from his flat.
“Hello, I’m Ashton Irwin,” the curly-haired brunet, standing almost as tall as Michael himself, has a great smile – all-white teeth and dimples that cut deep into his cheeks, small crinkles around his bright hazel eyes. Michael’s little smile in return paled by a hundred shades in comparison. He was easy to talk to; the deals were made without much ado. And he’s charming, because he’d offered to pay for Michael’s coffee, which he’d been thankful for because his budget had been pretty tight that week.
He’d moved in just a few days after, surprisingly not carrying as many things as Michael had expected him to.
All in all, it'd been a pretty quick and easy settle-down for Ashton, and Michael was really mostly just glad the burden of having to pay the full rental for the flat is now taken somewhat off of his shoulders. The first week passed pretty smoothly and it seemed as if Michael could actually get used to living with another person under one roof because generally, he doesn't do well living with strangers, but he'd decided that Ashton's a pretty endurable roommate.
He's got a great taste in music, he doesn't mind going out to get the groceries and is actually a lot more hygienic than a lot of people Michael had encountered before.
(Michael doesn't openly admit this to himself, but he actually doesn't mind a randomly shirtless Ashton walking around the house either.)
Then when the third week came around, Michael had finally found the flaw in him that he'd never took notice of in the first two weeks - Ashton could never, ever, ever keep still. With the exceptions of him being completely worn out by a long day at work and that one time he'd caught a flu, he definitely isn't one to sit around doing nothing, always wanting to release his pent up energy like a puppy demanding for a run outside.
Ashton’s constant state of mobility isn't necessarily bad, though it is some of the time, because Ashton’s just such a livewire and is always up and about even when Michael’s trying to have a peaceful day in. He’ll always find a way to rouse Michael out of his inanimate state somehow, poking his cheek and insisting that, “It’s a beautiful day outside, and we should make the best of it,” when all Michael’s thinking is, “No, the sun is out and I’d rather lie about in the house than get burnt alive by Sydney’s bitchy weather."
Maybe it's his way of trying to 'bond' as roommates, but in all truth and honesty, Michael would much rather be left alone. Sometimes he meets Ashton's demands halfway as an act of compromise, because he sees Ashton trying really hard to get along with him, and Michael appreciates the effort, he really does.
He just wishes that Ashton's attempts would include video games and pizza instead of getting out and about in town like he always does.
At the current moment, Michael’s fortunate enough to have escaped Ashton’s persistent attempts to drag him out of the cave that he calls his home, thumbs jabbing rapidly at a game controller, eyes fixed on the screen with a great deal of concentration. Ashton’s out to buy milk, though Michael strongly suspects he won’t actually be back until late afternoon, after he’s greeted the whole city and made a few stops at his friends’ places, regardless of whether he is welcome there or not.
Though come to think of it, it seems like no one ever says no to Ashton, so Michael cancels out the possibility that Ashton is ever considered unwelcome to anyone’s home.
His phone buzzes with an incoming text message, and Michael pauses the game to check who it’s from.
we’re going out tonight. no excuses! you have to meet my mates calum and luke
So it’s proven that Ashton’s idea of getting more acquainted with a new roommate is to introduce him to his endless list of friends, and it’s not like Michael’s completely opposed to that, it’s just that he’s just recently gotten a copy of Grand Theft Auto 5 and Sunday nights have always been video game night when he was just alone in the house before. His default reaction is an obvious no, but then he considers the fact that Ashton is helping to pay half of the bills, he does the dishes periodically andnever leaves a mess around so he sends back a half-reluctant reply:
fine.
Well, what the heck. Michael supposes it wouldn’t hurt to be sociable for a night. GTA will just have to wait.
*
"You'll like them, alright?" Ashton says as he presses the doorbell, a voice answering, "Wait a sec!" from inside.
Michael tries not to be apprehensive, because he's seen the amount of graffiti on the walls of this particular flat and it pretty much looked to him like a vandal's lair. He's expecting a tattoo artist with piercings or an unshaven hippie to open the door - who knew what kind of people Ashton's capable of being friends with, right? - but the boy standing in front of them is far from either personas. He's lanky, with too-long limbs that remind Michael of a giraffe and dirty blonde hair, dressed in a normal band t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans.
"Ashton!" the boy seems surprised by their presence, "You didn't tell us you're coming. Calum and I were just about to go out."
"Well, surprise," Ashton laughs, and turns to Michael, "Michael, this is Luke. Luke, Michael, also known as the guy who's been kind and generous enough to share his place with me."
Damn right I am, Michael thinks, but smiles at Luke anyway. "Hi."
"Nice to meet y-" There's a loud crash that makes the three of them jump a little, then an exclamation from somewhere inside, "Fuck!"
"That would be Calum," Luke rolls his eyes. He steps aside to let Michael and Ashton come in.
The sight that greets Michael upon entering is disastrous - an ironing board toppled over and a dark-haired boy sprawled over the floor, wearing only a white towel around his waist and clutching his foot, muttering curses under his breath.
"Um," Michael manages, but Ashton bursts out in laughter. "What happened?"
"I just decided to give myself a fucking foot massage on the floor," Calum replies with annoyance, "What does it look like to you?" He doesn't seem to be the least bit embarrassed at having visitors see him in a state like this.
"Honestly, Cal," Luke sighs, walking over to put the ironing board onto its original standing position. He helps Calum up, hoisting him up by the hand and Calum winces in pain, "Oww."
"Care to take us into your new flat, Ashton?" Luke asks, bringing Calum over to the sofa. He's still half-naked, leaning against the cushion with a pout, and Michael's wondering why he isn't flustered by Michael's open gaping at him already. "I don't think Cal can handle this small of a space anymore."
The unit is pretty cramped, though still considered sufficient for two almost grown men to live in, but is undoubtedly tiny compared to Michael's. The whole house is probably only just about as big as Michael's living room. Considering the haphazardly scattered furniture around the tiny space, it isn't difficult to see why accidents can happen like this, maybe even on a daily basis if either Luke or Calum is actually highly accident-prone.
"Aww, he's just a growing boy," Ashton coos mockingly, then shrugs. "You should ask Michael here. He's the boss."
"So what about it, Michael?" Luke sits next to Calum on the sofa, chuckling, "Reckon you could handle two more idiots in the house?"
"Hey! I've been a complete pleasure to have around the house," Ashton protests, plopping down opposite Luke and Calum. "Right, Mikey?"
Michael raises an eyebrow at his new nickname. "Eh. You've been alright."
Luke laughs. "Well since we've got visitors now, I guess we'll have to put off going out then. Especially now that you're all injured." He grimaces down at Calum's toe, which appears to be swelling with a fresh bruise against his lightly tan skin.
"Aren't you gonna kiss it better, Lucas?" Calum feigns a baby voice, bringing his feet up to rest on Luke's lap, tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth.
"No, your feet stink," Luke shoves them away, and Ashton laughs, exclaiming, "Put some clothes on, you inappropriate bastard!"
Calum groans, "Fine..." and stomps off, disappearing into a room. There's a slight lingering silence that follows, then Luke gets up to his feet and asks, "Would you like anything to drink, Michael?" It only takes a couple strides, and a couple more for him to reach the small refrigerator that Michael hadn't even noticed was there until now. Luke's holding the door open, eyeing him expectantly.
"Oh, anything's fine," Michael replies, "A Coke would be good, if you have any."
"I'm sure he can find that around their dozens of Redbulls," Ashton remarks, nonchalantly putting up his feet onto the center table and grabbing the remote control, switching the TV on.
"Hey, Ashton," Luke calls, and Ashton swivels around just in time to catch a can of Redbull flying his way.
"Thanks, Lukey boy," Ashton pops the can open and takes a large sip, cheeks ballooned as he holds the liquid in his mouth, eyes concentrated on the soccer match playing on the TV.
"Good to see you haven't lost your reflexes," Luke says, coming back to pass Michael his Coke and holding another two Redbulls for himself and - Michael assumes - Calum.
"How'd you guys know each other?" Michael asks, opting to settle down on a lone green exercise ball in the corner that seems to be a little out of air, a depression forming on the smooth rubber surface right as he sits on it. He winces with discomfort, but he looks around and well, he doesn't really have another choice anyway. There's only one spot left and it's sure to be Calum's.
"School," Luke shrugs, attention apparently fixated on the screen as well. He's popping open his own can and taking a gulp. "Ashton graduated before us and I did, too, a couple of years back. Calum dropped out."
"You say it as if it's a bad thing, Lucas," Calum's back, fully clothed and recovered from the pain, though limping slightly as he makes his way to sit down next to Luke. "I mean, we're doing pretty good now, aren't we? Pulling in cash enough to pay the bills, at least."
Michael frowns in confusion. "What are you doing now? As a job?"
"We're both playing in a band. Doing regular gigs, that sort of thing," Calum replies, then narrows his eyes at him. "You're not one of those pretentious people who think that we're wasting our lives away by doing music, right?"
"No, not at all," Michael's amused by how easily provoked Calum is about this particular subject. He supposes it's something he's gotten a lot from other people whenever he tells them about his profession. "I think it's really cool. I almost dropped out, too, actually."
"Almost?" Ashton's suddenly paying attention to the conversation, ignoring the rushed commentary blasting from the TV. "What held you back?"
"Parents," Michael shrugs, "No one had the same plan as I did, anyway. So I stuck to my parents' plans for my bright future -" he rolls his eyes, "- and got a degree. Now I'm just swinging from job to job but y'know. At least they know I'm not living the wild rockstar life out there."
"I would've thought -" Calum blurts out, but then pauses. Luke peers at him curiously, with an expression that implies that he knows it's not going to be a good thing, whatever it is that he's about to say.
"Hm?" Michael presses on.
"Well," Calum laughs, evidently eyeing something on Michael's head, still coy with hesitance, "With hair like yours, you'd be doing exactly that sort of thing."
Oh. Michael bursts out laughing, hand going up to touch his fuchsia-dyed strands. "Yeah, well, I guess you can take it as a sign of rebellion against my parents. I'm really too lazy to go all out, so this is the least I can do to piss them off."
"Michael the rebel," Ashton says, grinning, "Who knew?" He says it like he's never known about it before, though Michael's pretty sure he's told him this somewhere around the second week he'd moved in.
(Michael's not entirely surprised, though. With so many things going around in Ashton's head, from the mundane to the utterly weird, it's a miracle he can still remember his way back home.)
The truth is, what Michael had told these three boys is really only the tip of the iceberg, because there's a lot more to the story that he leaves out on purpose for various reasons. He'd taken enough care not to mention that his parents were furious about his almost dropping-out, and had driven him to the edge right up to the point when he'd graduated from school. He conveniently had forgotten to mention that the only reason why he's barely scraping through to pay up for his rental bills is because his parents have decided to cut most of his allowance, insisting that he should go out and "get a proper job like everyone else".
And he doesn't say this, but there was a little twinge of envy he'd felt when Calum had revealed that they were in a band. It seemed like a huge and far more appealing contrast compared to his usual everyday cycle of going to work, coming back and playing video games or watch TV until he falls asleep. In short, he'd never really noticed how dull his routine had been until now. He's never had the will to change his ways, because it's something that he's so used to, something that's become part of him but now he's starting to think twice.
"Oh, Liverpool's on," Calum says, sounding delightful. "Game on, lads."
The night goes on rather unexpectedly laid back manner for Michael, and by the time he and Ashton step out of the door with Calum and Luke clapping their shoulders as a goodbye gesture, he'd have to admit that he'd had a pretty good time. They'd mostly been watching the soccer match on TV, which is pretty much Michael's ideal activity had he been left alone in the house (that is, without his new GTA 5, of course). Calum's excitement for Liverpool was infectious enough for Michael to have a good few laughs here and there and the abundance of booze summed up a pretty good night overall.
"So, what'd ya think?" Ashton's speech is a little jumbled up as an after-effect of the few bottles of beer he's had. He's got an arm around Michael's shoulders as they walk down to the parking lot towards his car, and usually this kind of close proximity would have put Michael off, but Michael himself is in a lightheaded state, mind a little fuzzy, but not too much until the world starts feeling like it's spinning around, so he doesn't mind. It's a good kind of feeling that has his feet feel a tad lighter and he's thinking that he would be purring by now if he was a feline.
(What the actual fuck, he shakes his head at that funny thought, but chuckles anyway.)
"What did I think of what?"
"Luke. Cal. Aren't they just adorable?" Ashton laughs, stumbling a little as they walk off a curb and fishing in his pocket for the car keys. "Cutest couple ever."
Michael's about to go around to the passenger's seat and open up the door, but halts when he hears the last bit of Ashton's sentence. "What?"
Ashton stares back at his deadpan expression with amusement. "Yeah. They're an item. Isn't it kind of obvious?"
"No...?" Michael widens his eyes, which appears to tickle Ashton's funny bone even further.
"I guess you're not used to them enough to notice the handsiness," Ashton gestures wildly with his hands. He doesn't seem to notice that he'd just used a word that doesn't exist in the dictionary. "You will soon, though, I can promise you that. Or maybe not." He frowns. "They're pretty gross sometimes, too."
Michael can't really comprehend why he's so surprised by this new piece of information. Maybe it's because Luke and Calum seem just like any two typical Australian young men forced to share a tiny apartment together, fresh out of school and in no absolute rush to figure out what to do with their lives. They sure seem like they've been friends since forever, like they know every detail about each other more than Ashton about either one there's definitely an easy bond between them that is just right on the scale of comfortable. But he'd assumed that as merely a sign of long-term friendship - nothing more, nothing less.
He makes a mental note to keep an eye out for the "handsiness" next time he meets them.
"Mikey?"
Michael tries not to cringe at his new nickname, ignoring the prickle of annoyance he's feeling just under his chillingly numb skin. No one's ever called him that, but he's really trying not to snap at Ashton for it, given that he's had a pretty enjoyable night thanks to him. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket, looking at a heavy-lidded Ashton.
"Could you drive instead?" Ashton asks, looking somewhat smiling meekly, "I don't think I'm quite in the right condition to drive. Unless you want me to get us into a car accident." He giggles right at the end of the sentence.
He fucking giggles.
"I'd rather not," Michael agrees, catching the keys flying in his direction in a high arc above the car.
Ten minutes into the car ride home, and Ashton's already snoring lightly with his head against the window.
*
The next weekend, Ashton drags him out again, with an almost manic look in his eyes, saying, "You're gonna love this!" like a mantra, even as Michael's stumbling along to keep up with his pace. They get into Ashton's car again, and it occurs to Michael that the only purpose his own car serves is to transport him to and fro from work and merely to collect dust.
Michael swears he had been a lot more stubborn about staying at home, but Ashton's enthusiasm puts a huge question mark in his head and it doesn't help that Ashton has a pretty effective pouty, puppy-dog look that tugs at his heartstrings at least a little bit, if not a little too much. He's just thankful that he's got enough time to trade his sweatpants out for jeans before he's hauled out of the front door with just his phone in hand and a wallet in his back pocket.
Then Michael discovers that when Ashton's sober, he drives his car like a fiend. They zip through the city of Sydney with the urgency of a man driving to get to his wife in delivery, the passing view through the windows nothing but a blur and when they don't have a choice but to stop at a red light, it's with a tremendous jolt that would've sent Michael face-first into the dashboard had he not taken care enough to wear a seatbelt.
"What - the - fuck," Michael's breathing heavily, heart pumping at an abnormal rate as they pause their bumpy ride right in front of a cafe at a junction. Ashton doesn't look the least bit ruffled, instead he looks over at Michael and laughs. He laughs that annoyingly childlike laugh, throwing his head back and saying, "What? At least I was sensible enough to let you drive last week. Considering that, I think I drive quite responsibly."
"Driving at 180 kilometres per hour doesn't count as responsible driving," Michael replies through clenched teeth.
"Trust me. I've got a clean record. I know what I'm doing."
The red light turns green. Michael squeezes his eyes shut. The rush of adrenaline starts again. Thankfully, it turns out to be a rather short trip to a small pub, an underground, dusty place that looks like it was formerly a basement, but Michael gets out of the car with shaky knees and a desperate need for an asthma pump.
"Please. Spare me the horror of actually dying on the way back home and let me drive," Michael pants as he and Ashton make their way down the steps to the pub, the neon lights hanging above their heads dim, spelling out, Carson's Pub.
"Aw," Ashton pouts, "You're no fun." He takes the lead, Michael tailing him with a certain amount of wariness toward the shady-looking place. He has to shake off the thought of the possibility that he might be brought down here to be ambushed and drugged to unconsciousness, and that Ashton actually turns out to be a mentally ill serial killer that's been aiming to murder him all along.
This is ridiculous, shut up.
Michael decides that he should lay off all the Amnesia he's been playing on the computer for the past week.
"Hey guys, good to see you!" A familiar voice greets them, and Michael looks up to see Calum on stage, a bass guitar in hand.
"I got your text about the new song," Ashton responds, "Thought Mikey here would like hearing it first." He turns to smile at Michael, who gives Calum a display of teeth and a thumbs-up.
"We might play it later on the real show but we wanted a few outsiders' opinions first, so," Luke says, shrugging on the strap of his guitar and tapping the microphone to test it.
The few outsiders consist of Michael and Ashton, and two other guys who happen to be close friends of the drummer and the guitarist respectively. They sit at a round table on high chairs, the obligatory bottles of beer on their table already at least one-quarter finished even though the band hasn't even started playing.
"Hello, I'm Niall," a young man around their age greets in a thick accent, the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose suspiciously like a pair of Raybans with the shades taken out. He's smaller in height and breadth compared to both Michael and Ashton, but he's confirmed himself as the loudest as the band starts out, the brown-haired guitarist strumming a few chords before Luke launches into a strong solo.
"That's my boy, Tomlinson," Niall's saying over the loud music, pointing at the guitarist. "Liam here is buddies with the drummer, uh - what's his name again, Leemo?"
Liam hadn't said much the whole time, being somewhat preoccupied with his phone, but he then acknowledges Niall's question with a reply, "Zayn. You wouldn't believe how quiet he usually is though."
On stage, Zayn's behind the drum set and hitting away at the cymbals like a beast. Michael honestly can't imagine him being anything other than the very instrument he plays, but he knows well enough that looks can be pretty deceiving.
"The funny thing is that, Liam and Zayn and me and Louis - like, we never knew each other before this," Niall says, taking a swig of his beer, "I mean, me and Louis do, obviously, but we'd never actually met Zayn and Liam before. And, well, Luke and Calum. It's like a social union of sorts, plus good music, you know what I mean?" He raises an eyebrow and nods at Luke. "He's mad talented, this lad."
Michael has to admit that they're pretty decent for a band that's only started out about a year ago (this piece of information supplied by Ashton whilst on their way here) - their sound is at par with the other local bands he's known though there's something lacking, but he can't quite put a finger on it. He observes the amount of energy on stage that creates a buzzing atmosphere around the room, and he can almost predict a successful future lying ahead of them. The only thing that's hindering him from being sure is the lack of people in the room, but he supposes it's probably just not the pub peak hour, or that it generally isn't a place a lot of people would go to.
"Isn't Louis quitting soon, though?" Liam looks up from his imminent scrolling, frowning.
Niall sighs, as if it's him that the decision is made upon. "Yeah, he won't be around much longer, going back to London to do a degree and stuff like that. I say it's a waste. If he sticks it out a bit longer, they'll be big. I know they will."
"You could join the band, then," Ashton suggests, "You play the guitar."
"Nah, I've got other commitments, and besides I prefer staying by the sidelines," Niall grins, braces on display, "Sort of like a cheerleader."
Ashton suddenly has his eyes wide, and Michael senses an incoming idea whirring in his head. He's hoping it won't have anything to do with involving him as a sideline cheerleader as well, despite the fact that he's growing to like the band's music with every passing second of the song they're currently rehearsing.
"Mikey, you play the guitar, don't you?" Ashton turns to him, "You could substitute Louis, then!"
"Um," Michael laughs nervously, "I don't think -"
"That's an idea," Niall nods in agreement, "I'm sure Luke wouldn't mind having you in the band."
The song comes to an end with a wicked riff from Luke's guitar, and the couple of people at the bar stay silent, completely ignoring them while Niall leads the raucous round of applause, indeed living up to his self-proclaimed status as the cheerleader.
"So what'd you think?" Luke calls out instead of using the microphone, obviously knowing that their target audience is just the ones at the table right in front of the stage.
"I have an inkling that Harry wrote that," Liam muses aloud, "Am I right?"
"That is correct," Louis replies, laughing, as he wipes a bit of sweat on his brow with the back of his hand, "He just has his signature style, doesn't he?"
Ashton helpfully mutters to Michael, "Harry writes a lot of their songs. He's also kind of like their manager."
"It's great, you should really perform it later tonight," Niall comments, "What do you think, Michael?"
Michael has a feeling they're all under the same conspiracy to gang up on him, considering that he's the new guy. Well, if they want the truth, I can give them the truth. "It's... a little off at some parts," Michael says, "Like maybe if you could break down the parts and let me see the structure of the song, I can point out the mistake or two."
"Hm yeah, that's what I thought," Luke nods, a look of amazement on his face at Michael's ability to pick up the faults. "You've got a good ear for this."
"Which is exactly why we have a proposal to make," Ashton butts in, the grin on his face all-knowing. Michael is oddly reminded of the Cheshire cat.
"And what is that?"
"Louis, we know about you leaving the band. We're incredibly sorry to see you leave, but obviously we need a substitute so we were talking just then and since Michael plays the guitar as well... We figured he could maybe replace you when you go?"
Louis snickers. "Can't wait to get me out of the band, I see."
"No, no, no," Ashton is flustered, his cheeks reddening, "We just - you know, early plans. We thought you wouldn't mind."
Michel restrains from kicking him under the table for the insistent use of "we". He never agreed to it in the first place.
"I'm kidding, Ashton, cool it!" Louis laughs. "I don't know," he shrugs, "It's up to Luke."
"Sure. Why don't you come over to our next practice and point out the mistakes in the song?" Luke asks, "I didn't know you play guitar though."
"Welcome to the band, mate," Louis winks.
And just like that, Michael's got a spot in Luke's band. He doesn't really know what to make of it, if he's being honest.
The band moves on to rehearse their other songs and the bottles of beer are now empty, Liam and Niall deciding that they should go over to the bar and get something before the crowd starts filing in.
"By the way Michael, that's a really sick colour for your hair," Niall nods, standing up, "I'm considering on getting mine dyed lilac but eh. We'll see. Liam thinks it'll look crazy but I reckon it'll look alright." He shakes his head and Liam just huffs out a laugh in response, moving away towards the bar. Niall follows suit, leaving Michael and Ashton alone at the table.
“See? I’m just trying to be friends with you,” Ashton grins, leaning across the table and bopping Michael on the nose.
“Did you really just bop me on the nose?” Michael says stoically.
“Yup! I know you like me taking you out, don't lie."
"And why the hell would you think that?"
"You could've always told me to fuck off, but you never do."
Michael opens his mouth to blurt out a furious rebuttal, but Ashton's already bouncing away, a playful glint in his eyes as he looks back. "I got you into a band, so thank me for that later!"
Michael rolls his eyes and swivels in his high chair a little, keeping his face neutral as he takes a sip of his drink, but mind racing with explanations for his submissiveness toward Ashton lately. He ends up entangling his messy thoughts between the lyrics sung from the stage by Luke's band (which, he then realises, is also his band), and sometime in the seconds of 7:16 pm, he unwillingly concludes that he really is coming up short on excuses.