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Alex supposes it was only a matter of time before a tour happened.
He’d already written with the 5 Seconds of Summer boys and had a damn good time doing so, although the songs they’d written were far from his best. They’d all become friends, especially as each member of the two respective bands seemed to pair up with another almost unconsciously, and it had really only been a matter of time before Alex had sat down with Rian, Zack and Jack and said – why haven’t we brought them on tour yet?
The only answer anyone had been able to give was because we haven’t checked if they give good blowjobs yet (Jack, of course), which had been ignored. So it had been decided with their management – get the 5SOS lads on tour, as soon as possible.
It’s a good tour, too. It’s the first one they’ve had where every single night has sold out, although Alex can see some people leave as soon as 5SOS have finished their set. He doesn’t mind, though, would take his fans over the 5SOS fans any day. It’s good in terms of the bands getting on, as well, spending all their time together, not because they have to but because they want to. Zack’s been teaching Luke to skateboard, to take pretty photos of sunsets and weird hipster photos of like, leaves or whatever, and it’s sweet to see the two of them together, quiet but content. Rian and Calum have been hanging around a lot too, although Alex isn’t quite sure what they’ve been doing –teaching each other how to not be annoying bastards, maybe? As for Jack and Michael – well, they’ve been pretty much inseparable since the tour began. It’s cute to see Michael following Jack around everywhere but Jack’s been spending less and less time with Alex and more and more time with Michael and Alex can’t help but feel a little irked, although he knows he has no right to.
It’s done, he reminds himself. It’s over, and he was the one who chose it to be.
(That doesn’t stop him having to swallow a biting remark when Jack bounces in, happy grin on his face, and starts excitedly telling the story behind some inside joke with Michael, though.)
Alex has been spending most of his time with Ashton. He sees a lot of himself in the younger boy, in his bright, hopeful eyes and beaming smiles, and it’s kind of like hanging out with a twenty-year-old version of himself (albeit with a lot less tragic hair). They aren’t glued at the hip like Michael and Jack seem to be, but they tend to drift towards each other both in group situations and generally.
So it’s not really a surprise when Alex decides that now is a great time to write a song and pushes open the door to the back lounge on the ATL bus to find Ashton already in there, cross-legged on the floor with a guitar in his lap and a piece of paper and a pen in front of him. He looks up at the sound of the door opening, and grins at Alex.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hey,” Alex says, sitting down on the couch because he doesn’t think his skinny jeans will let him emulate Ashton’s pose (he doesn’t even know how Ashton’s managing it, actually). “You writing?”
“Kind of,” Ashton says. “Just playing around, y’know. Not the best with chords.”
“Let’s face it, chords don’t tend to be the most important thing in a song these days,” Alex says, and Ashton laughs.
“They can be, though,” he says. “I liked the changes in Try Hard. And in Paint You Wings. And a lot of your other songs.”
“Try Hard isn’t mine,” Alex points out.
“True,” Ashton says. “You can’t write lyrics that bad to save your life.”
“Hey, I don’t know,” Alex says, “how about ‘Let It Roll’?”
“Shut up, you’ve never written bad lyrics,” Ashton says. “Stop trying to get on my level.”
“I’m just trying to be hashtag relatable,” Alex says, grinning.
“You can hashtag shut up,” Ashton says, mock-angry, but he’s grinning too. “You type like an old man on Twitter anyway.”
“I am an old man,” Alex says. “Twenty-six, sixty-two, what’s the difference?”
“Thirty-nine years,” Ashton informs him, and Alex chucks a cushion at him, making Ashton squeal (manfully, he later insists) and roll to the side. The guitar falls to the ground with a hollow thud, and Alex winces at the sound.
“Don’t break my guitar, you asshole!” he shouts, launching himself at Ashton, who starts laughing, but it turns into screams as soon as Alex picks up the cushion and starts hitting him with it.
“Abuse!” Ashton yells, between half-giggles half-screams. “Child abuse!”
“You’re twenty, you dickhead,” Alex says, but he relents and sits back on his heels, laughing. Ashton struggles into a seated position, blowing his hair out of his eyes, and glares at Alex.
“Still six years younger than Mr Ancient over here,” he says, and Alex pouts.
“I’m wise,” he insists, rolling off of Ashton and picking up his (not-so, since it’s nearly a decade old) precious guitar. “I’m like, Gandalf or some shit.”
“Gandalf was magical.”
“So am I,” Alex says.
“Why don’t you magic yourself a non-bendy penis, then?” Ashton asks.
“Because magicking you a daddy kink and watching you suffer as the rest of your band refer to you as the daddy of the band was a much better use of my time,” Alex retorts, and Ashton scowls.
“I wish I’d destroyed your guitar,” he says.
“Asshole,” Alex says. “What were you writing, then?”
“Oh,” Ashton says. “Uh, nothing much, really. Just, like. I don’t know. Some shit.” He sounds uncomfortable, and Alex knows the feeling – honestly, writing songs is like writing a diary, ripping each page out and yelling it at the top of your lungs in the middle of Times Square. It’s really none of his business, if Ashton doesn’t want to share.
“Cool,” he says, nodding. “You gonna propose it for like, band consideration?” Ashton’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head.
“Too shit for that,” he says, laughing, but it sounds a little forced and like it’s tinged with something else – fear, maybe?
“Okay,” Alex says easily, because it’s none of his business. “Wanna watch a movie?”
“If it’s not Home Alone for the fiftieth time, I’m so down,” Ashton says. Alex rolls his eyes.
“I’m not Jack,” he says. “I have the ability to like more than one movie.”
“Good,” Ashton says, grinning as he gets to his feet. “I always knew I picked the right favourite member.”
-
Alex bumps into Jack later, seeing him without Michael for the first time in a long time.
“Hey!” he says, not even bothering to hide the delight in his voice. “You’re here.”
“Yeah,” Jack says, turning around with a happy grin. “Getting something for Mikey.”
“Oh,” Alex says. “What is it?”
“Just- a little something,” Jack says. “Nothing special. Hey, why, you wanna talk?” He’s switched to looking concerned now, ready to drop everything for Alex like he always is, and Alex’s heart breaks a little bit.
“Me? Nah, I’m good,” he says, swallowing and nodding. “Just- wondered what you were up to, ‘s all.”
“You sure?” Jack says, and Alex nods again, plastering a smile on his face.
“See you at soundcheck, yeah?” he says.
“Mhm.” Jack’s already distracted again, and Alex tries his best not to let it get to him as he pushes past. Jack can do what he likes, he reminds himself. Jack’s not his anymore.
-
The thing is, Alex knows it’s his fault.
He’d been the one who’d chickened out, got scared of feeling that way about a boy, told Jack it was over and they couldn’t be whatever they were anymore. He’d been the one who’d distracted himself with Lisa, tried to almost drown himself in her just so that he wouldn’t be smothered by his feelings for Jack anymore. And it’s too late to turn back now; there are too many tangled emotions, too many different people involved, too much pride that Alex doesn’t think he can swallow. It’s too late, and it’s all Alex’s fault.
The worst part of it all, though, is that he’d hurt Jack. He sees it every day, in every furtive glance Jack sends his way, in every wistful smile. He’d hurt Jack more than he’d even thought he was capable of, more than maybe even Jack thought he’d been capable of, and it still hurts Jack every single day.
Or maybe the worst part is that he still feels the same about Jack as he did when he was sixteen, eighteen, twenty, twenty-two, twenty-four, despite having Lisa to distract himself. He’s still in love – or whatever else it is – with Jack.
He pushes it out of his mind for the eightieth time that day and focuses on the setlist in front of him, on the fans screaming the lyrics to his songs back at him.
(He ignores stage right.)
-
Alex catches Ashton writing songs again a week later.
“Another song?” he asks, and Ashton nods.
“Still no good,” he says.
“Keep trying,” Alex says. “Took me ages to get some of our best.”
“Like what?”
“Like, I don’t know, Stella, for example. I guess it just depends - some of them come easy, some of them come hard.” Ashton sighs.
“D’you ever try and write a song about how you feel but realise that you can’t word it quite right?” he asks, and Alex nods.
“Almost every single time,” he says. “It’s understandable, though, because like…it’s a feeling, y’know? You feel it, you don’t say it. Sometimes there just aren’t words.”
“That’s shit,” Ashton declares, shoving the piece of paper he’d had on his lap away.
“It’s frustrating,” Alex agrees. “It’s not the end of the world though. Sometimes you can write what you can’t say normally in metaphors and shit.”
“I just want to get it out,” Ashton groans. “Don’t want it in my head anymore.”
“It’ll still be there,” Alex tells him. “It’ll just relieve it a bit.”
“Great,” Ashton mutters.
“If it’s something personal, I like to write it all out and then burn the paper,” Alex offers. “Destroy the evidence.”
“Might do that,” Ashton says. “If I can ever get it down in words.”
“Good luck,” Alex says, because honestly, he knows what it’s like. “I’ll leave you to it.” He gets up to leave and gets all the way to the door before Ashton mumbles a tentative ‘Alex?’ and he stops.
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Why didn’t you burn some of the songs that made it onto the albums?” Alex pauses.
“Like Therapy or Lullabies?”
“No,” Ashton says. “Like. A Daydream Away, and stuff.” Alex’s stomach clenches. Shit.
“Uh,” he says carefully, picking his next words to make sure they’re honest but still guarded. “Wanted the person it was about to hear it.”
“Was that the only way?”
No, of course it wasn’t. It was just a way to make it permanent, make sure Jack really knew that Alex regretted it, regretted leaving him, regretted everything except the time they’d had together. It was a way to make sure Jack remembered how much Alex loved – loves – him, and a way to make sure Alex is reminded of how much of an asshole he is every time he listens to the record.
“No.” He prays Ashton won’t push it further, and thankfully, he doesn’t.
“Okay,” Ashton says. “Sorry.”
“‘S okay,” Alex says, shrugging. “Good luck with your song.”
-
Alex really doesn’t mean to, honestly, but he stumbles across some of Ashton’s lyrics three days later.
He’s just trying to clear up the back lounge a little after Michael and Jack’s playfight/intense fuck session (given the state of the place, Alex can’t really be sure) and he’s flicking through discarded sheets of paper to see what can be thrown away, what needs to be handed to maybe Vinny to look after (God forbid) and what can be kept in his own back pocket. He’s just found a thank-you letter from a fan that he’d been halfway through reading when Calum and Rian had come in and started arguing really loudly about whether zero is or is not a number (an argument which, Alex had found out, stemmed from Rian winning something and declaring he was the best and Calum sniping zero the hero back at him, to which Rian had retorted that zero wasn’t a number. It’s so typical of the two of them to end up arguing about something intellectual because of something childish) which he tucks into the ‘keep’ pile, when he realises the next page is a little crumpled and torn. It’s got Ashton’s handwriting on it too, and Alex knows he should leave it, hand it back to him in case anyone else sees, but curiosity gets the better of him and he reads the first two lines.
I don’t know if it’s me or you
Putting myself through what I’m going through
It’s not much, and it’s not really great, but it still makes Alex frown. Ashton’s seemed fine lately, laughing and joking with the rest of the bands like normal. What could he be going through?
He decides to pocket that one too, pushes it to the back of his mind and carries on sorting through the papers.
-
“Hey,” Calum says the next morning, when Alex steps off the bus at a rest stop. “You seen Luke?”
“No,” Alex says. “He’s probably off with Zack somewhere.”
“I know,” Calum says, “but no one can find Zack either.” Alex frowns.
“They’re probably skating to a bridge and taking hipster black and white photos of the underside of it,” he says dismissively, because Zack never goes missing for long. “Hey, I haven’t seen much of you recently. How’re you doing? Enjoying the tour?” Calum grins, shielding his eyes from the sun even though he’s wearing sunglasses.
“It’s fucking amazing,” Calum says. “Me and Mikey used to dream about this, y’know, when we were fifteen years old and making out to Nothing Personal.” Alex raises his eyebrows.
“Nice to know you fucked to Therapy,” he says, and Calum laughs.
“Only Hello Brooklyn and maybe Keep The Change,” he says, and Alex pulls a face.
“I’m axing Hello Brooklyn from the setlist,” he says. “You’ve ruined my own song for me.”
“Don’t lie,” Calum says. “You’d love to see fifteen year old Michael and me making out.”
“I’m not a pedophile,” Alex tells him. “And anyway, you’re not my type.”
“Oh, am I not, dickhead? And Michael is?” Calum’s grinning, but it suddenly becomes less funny to Alex when he realises - of course he’s Alex’s type; he’s a mini-Jack.
“More than you are,” he says eventually, still in a playful tone, but he’s paused too long. Calum’s face has already twisted into one of worry and concern. “Hey, don’t worry, I’m not going after your- your, whatever the fuck he is to you.” He honestly hasn’t a clue – he knows they’re not boyfriends, but they make out and they fuck and they hold hands and they kiss and they love each other harder and more intensely and more than Alex has ever seen two people love each other and really, it’s probably what Jack and Alex could have been if Alex hadn’t chickened out.
“Yeah, Jack might be though,” Calum says, grinning as he scuffs his shoes against the concrete.
“Don’t you get jealous?” Alex blurts, and Calum looks at him.
“Of whom?”
“Jack.”
“No,” Calum says. “I know Michael’s always going to be mine.” He sounds so easy and confident saying it that it makes Alex feel a little bitter.
“Must be nice having that kind of safety and security,” he says, and he can’t help the jealousy that edges into his tone.
“I guess,” Calum says, shrugging. “I don’t know any different, so. It’s normal to me.”
“Cal!” Rian shouts from behind them. “Get the fuck over here.”
“Sorry,” Calum says apologetically. “Promised Rian I’d beat him in- uh, actually, I can’t remember what it was this time.”
“‘S cool,” Alex says, smiling. “Nice to see you two getting along.”
“Oh, we won’t be if he wins this one again,” Caulm mutters. “You might be down a drummer.”
“We can borrow Ash,” Alex says, and Calum laughs, because that’s the dream, isn’t it? Even now, even though they’re on tour together.
“Hope you sort things out with Jack,” Calum says, and then he jogs off to where Rian’s standing, hands on his hips disapprovingly.
“Me too,” Alex says, even though Calum’s already out of earshot, and then he blinks. He hadn’t said anything about Jack.
It’s definitely a whiskey-at-eleven-o’clock-in-the-morning kind of day.
-
(Somehow, Alex finds himself listening to A Daydream Away on repeat and ignoring all of Lisa’s texts as he goes to sleep that night.)
-
Alex has always been a coward. He has always been a coward, is a coward and will probably always be a coward, so it really doesn’t come as a surprise when he texts Jack instead of talking to him, although he knows Jack’s only on the 5SOS bus.
Me
I miss you
It’s not a bad text to send. It could be taken in many different ways, and if Jack doesn’t get the hint Alex can always play it off as a jokey ‘hey, man, where’ve you been? I miss you, bro’ kind of thing.
Jack B
Wanna hang out?
Me
If you’re not naked
Jack B
;)
Alex can’t help but smile at the texts, especially as the door to the bus crashes open and he hears a mumble of ‘fuck, oops’.
“Lex?” Jack calls, and Alex has to supress yet another smile. Jack’s the only one who’s allowed to call him Lex, and everyone knows it. It makes it just that little bit more special when he does call him that.
“Back lounge,” Alex shouts back, and hears Jack leave a trail of destruction behind him before he finally slides the door open, grinning.
“Might have broken most of the kitchen,” he informs Alex as he lies down, wriggling to get his head on Alex’s lap, and it’s so much like the old days that Alex’s heart aches.
“I wasn’t expecting anything less,” Alex says, bringing his hands up to thread his fingers through Jack’s hair. It’s still so soft, as soft as it was when he had that tragic hairstyle he had at nineteen, and it’s nice to see his fingers weaving in and out of the brown and blonde strands. “Miss you.”
“Miss you too,” Jack says, and they both know what he means. Alex swallows, and doesn’t push it.
“I’ve barely seen you since 5SOS started touring with us,” Alex says.
“Mhm,” Jack says. “Mikey keeps me young.”
“I’ve never seen you this active in my life,” Alex remarks.
“I’m a very active person,” Jack argues. “I do activities.”
“If by ‘activities’ you mean jerking off and drinking, yeah, you do,” Alex says, and Jack pouts.
“I give blowjobs sometimes,” he says. “And handjobs. I’m a giving person.” Alex tries not to shiver at that, at the memories the words drag up.
“Is that what you’ve really been doing with Michael?” he teases.
“He won’t let me,” Jack grumbles. “Says he’s saving himself for marriage, or something.”
“Cute,” Alex says. “Didn’t know him and Calum were getting that serious this fast.”
“I think they’ve been married since they were like, fourteen,” Jack says mildly.
“Mhm,” Alex hums as Jack’s eyes flutter shut, deciding he wants to lose himself in the feeling of just being with Jack for the first time in a long time. He misses this, misses it being just the two of them, but knows why it can’t really be anymore.
“D’you ever miss us?” Jack asks after a while.
“Every day,” Alex says quietly.
“So you think about it?”
“All the time.”
“D’you ever think of me when you’re with Lisa?” Alex’s breath catches in his throat, and he has to swallow it down.
“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “Every time.”
“Every time what? Every time you fuck?” Alex winces at the words. Jack makes it sound like Alex was just looking for a warm hole, just looking for someone to pass the time with, like everyone’s disposable to Alex.
“Every time I’m with her,” Alex says.
“I don’t like her,” Jack says.
“I know.” Everyone knows.
“You could have done so much better.”
“I know.”
“Why not, then?” Because I didn’t deserve it, not after what I did to you, to us.
“She was there.”
“So was I. I still am.”
“I know.” Jack just sighs, gives up on the conversation topic and shifts in Alex’s lap. Alex wants to kiss him.
“Can I tell you about this thing Michael did the other day?” Jack says excitedly, and just like that, the moment’s gone.
-
(When Zack glares at Alex the next morning without saying a word, Alex knows Jack’s told him what happened. He just pushes past Zack and Luke, who are playing a quiet game of FIFA, and coops himself up in his bunk until soundcheck.)
-
Honestly, it’s starting to become a bit of a routine, finding Ashton writing songs in the back lounge of All Time Low’s bus.
“You have your own bus, y’know,” Alex says as he sits down, but it’s teasing and playful.
“I feel like I write better here,” Ashton says, shrugging. “Must be your amazing song-writing vibes.”
“Oh, yeah, those,” Alex says, tossing his head dramatically. “Autographs later.” Ashton laughs softly and pushes the guitar off his lap in an almost thoughtful manner.
(Alex might not be good at much, but he’s good at people, at reading them and understanding them and being sensitive towards their emotions.)
“Can I ask you a question?” Ashton asks, and Alex nods. “Have you ever fallen for someone you think you shouldn’t have? And it scares you that you’ve fallen for them because you don’t want to like them, but you can’t help it? And it doesn’t go away no matter what you do?”
“Uh,” Alex says, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah.”
“What did you do?” Ashton sounds half-desperate, half-wrecked, but his eyes are as fearful as Alex remembers his own being. It’s kind of chilling, seeing that echo of himself in someone so young with so much potential.
“Um,” Alex says. “I fucked up, big time. I fucked it all up for good, actually. I was a huge asshole and I’m going to pay for it every single day for the rest of my life.” Ashton’s eyes widen.
“Oh,” he says. “Did you- did you, uh, tell the person?”
“Yeah,” Alex says.
“Did you, um. How did you get over them?”
“I didn’t,” Alex says. Ashton frowns.
“But you’re with Lisa,” he says.
“I know,” Alex says, but he doesn’t elaborate. Ashton can sense he doesn’t want to talk about it, so he nods and looks down at his paper.
“Were you scared?” he asks after a minute of silence between the two of them.
“Yeah.”
“Of what?”
“Being judged.”
“Was it Jack?” Ashton’s bold question catches Alex off guard.
“Yeah,” he admits quietly after a moment, playing with the string bracelet on his left wrist. It’s safe to tell Ashton, he thinks; he trusts Ashton.
“Were you scared because he was – is – a boy?” Alex nods, not looking up from his bracelet. “Do you- I mean, obviously, this is like, so personal, and I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but like- what happened?”
“I got scared, I left him, I got with Lisa, it got too complicated to fix,” Alex says.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
-
Both bands go out for a meal the next night and Alex finds himself wedged in between Calum and Luke. Luke’s still a little shy around Alex, which is kind of endearing, so Alex ends up making more conversation with Calum.
“-and he was like, that’s not even a fish! Like, oh my God,” Calum says, laughing as he retells something Rian had done yesterday. “Honestly, I don’t know how you put up with him.”
“Hey!” Rian says from opposite Luke. “Is he trash-talking me?”
“Yep,” Alex says, and Calum sends a serene grin Rian’s way, laughing again when Rian puts down his knife and fork specifically to flip him off with both hands.
“See that? That’s dedication,” Calum says, pointing at Rian with his knife. “You care so much about swearing at me that you abandoned your food. That’s true love.”
“Nobody loves you, Cal,” Michael says from the head of the table.
“Good thing I don’t love anybody either then, isn’t it?” Calum says, but he’s grinning and so is Michael. Alex kind of resents that, the easiness of their relationship, their easiness with each other.
“I don’t love anybody either,” Rian declares. “I’m the manliest in the band.”
“Hey!” Zack protests. “I’m definitely the manliest.”
“You take weird hipster photos of nature and shit,” Alex says through a mouthful of rice. “You’re definitely not the manliest.”
“Well, neither are you,” Zack says defensively. “You dyed your hair pink.”
“It was a streak,” Alex says. “And anyway, pink can be a manly colour.”
“It was pretty girly,” Luke says, and Zack throws him a pleased look.
“Michael dyed his whole head pink,” Alex says, and all eyes swivel to Michael.
“Yeah, but look at him,” Luke says. “He’s the most feminine in the whole band.”
“Excuse me?” Michael says. “I’ll have you know I’m outraged at this.”
“Being feminine isn’t a bad thing,” Ashton says. “I’m feminine.”
“No you’re not,” Michael says. “Stop trying to steal my title.”
“What happened to being outraged at it?” Alex asks.
“Times change,” Michael informs him. “I’m proud of being the most feminine in my band.”
“Well, Jack’s clearly the most feminine in ours,” Rian says, and Jack beams.
“And proud,” he says, spearing a sausage on his fork. “Who needs men in this world?”
“Me,” Michael declares. “I need my boy.”
“You two are sickening,” Alex says when Calum grins down at his food. “I’m going to have you separated.” Michael shrugs.
“Makes for better reunion sex,” he says, and the only person at the table that isn’t groaning or shouting I don’t want to hear about that is Jack, who offers Michael a proud high-five.
“I’m going to go back to the bus,” Ashton says after a moment, pushing his chair back and standing up. “I’m full and tired.”
“Weak,” Alex says immediately. Luke stands up too.
“I think I’m going to go too,” he says, and Alex doesn’t miss the suddenly stricken look on Ashton’s face. “Night, lads.”
“Night,” Zack says, smiling up at Luke.
“See you tomorrow,” Luke says, smiling back at Zack. “C’mon, Ash. Let’s go.”
“Uh, yeah,” Ashton says. “That. Let’s do that.”
Alex seems to be the only one who’s noticed anything at all, but he shakes it off and tries to enjoy the rest of the meal.
-
Ashton’s been spending more and more time with Alex and less and less time with his own band, Alex notices after two weeks have passed. Before, Ashton would often hang around with Zack and Luke and watch them skate, but now, he’s constantly at Alex’s side. And Alex doesn’t mind it, not at all, because he loves Ashton’s company, but he’s starting to wonder whether Ashton’s spending time with Alex for the right reasons.
“So, like, if I go from a C to an F minor, it won’t sound weird?” Ashton asks him for the fiftieth time, trying it out as he speaks.
“No, it’ll just sound really emo,” Alex says. “Listen to that, c’mon. You need some seriously dramatically sad lyrics to fit that.”
“I’ve probably got some,” Ashton says, huffing out a wry laugh. Alex pauses.
“You know,” he says, before pausing again, trying to find the best way of wording what he’s about to say. “You’ve been spending a lot more time with me recently.”
“Oh,” Ashton says, eyes widening. “Is it annoying? I’m sorry, I’ll-“
“No, it’s not annoying, shut up,” Alex says, cutting him off. “It’s- just, like. Are you sure you’re doing it just because you want to spend more time with me?”
“Yeah?” Ashton says, looking confused.
“Are you sure it’s not because you want to spend less time with Luke?”
The silence hits the two of them like a freight train, just as Alex had expected.
“Oh,” Ashton whispers. “I didn’t think you-“ he cuts himself off.
“I had Jack, remember?” Alex says. “I tried distancing myself from him too.”
“Does it work?” Ashton still sounds so ridiculously hopeful that Alex kind of wants to hug him and tell him yeah, yeah it works, I promise. He’s only twenty, after all. And Luke’s only eighteen.
“No,” Alex says.
“Oh,” Ashton says. “What does?” He sounds kind of tired, the exhausted kind of tired, and kind of like he wants to give up. Alex knows the feeling exactly; it’s how he felt when he started trying to pull himself away from Jack, when he freaked out because Jack’s a boy, Jack’s got a dick.
“Listen,” Alex says seriously, and the sincerity of his own tone kind of scares him. He loves Ashton, sees Ashton as his little brother, and he’s going to do what a good big brother would do. “Don’t do what I did, Ash. Don’t hurt yourself – and him, probably – like I did. Don’t ruin your life when you’re twenty years old, fuck. Tell him how you feel and don’t be afraid of it.”
“I am afraid,” Ashton says, and it comes out small. “He’s- I’m straight. He’s a boy. It doesn’t work.”
“I know,” Alex says. “But it’s Luke, right? Don’t think of it as oh, he’s a boy. Think of it as oh, he’s Luke.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Ashton says. “This is such a mess, Alex. I’m such a mess.”
“Does he know?”
“I hope not.”
“Tell him.” Ashton looks up at him.
“Are you mad?” he says incredulously. “I can’t do that. I’ve spent the past two years yelling about boobs everywhere to try and convince myself I wasn’t falling for him.”
“He’s bi though, isn’t he?” Alex says, because he remembers Michael shouting something about Luke losing his virginity to a boy and Luke flushing red and refusing to look Alex in the eye. Ashton looks unsure, but nods.
“Doesn’t mean he’ll go for me, though,” he says.
“Stop making excuses,” Alex says, a little irritated. “It’s not him, it’s you. You’re the one who’s scared, and you’re the one too proud to admit you like a boy.”
“Who the fuck are you to tell me that?” Ashton says hotly, colour rising in his cheeks. Alex knows he’s hit the nail on the head.
“Get over yourself, Ashton, or you’ll end up the same way I did,” Alex warns.
“You’re fucking a pretty girl,” Ashton says bitterly. “Doesn’t sound like too bad of a deal.” Alex groans.
“I gave up what might have quite possibly been my fucking soulmate because I was too scared of his genitals,” he says, voice rising in frustration. “I gave up being happy for being content. I gave up seeing Jack happy. I ruined his life and my life in one fucking blow, why is that so hard to understand? It’s a fucking terrible deal, Ashton, ‘cause I’m not happy and neither is he and we probably won’t ever be again. And the worst part is it didn’t fix anything. I’m still just as in love with him as I was when we were eighteen.” He’s met with stunned silence at his outburst, and hopes in exposing how he really feels about it, he’s given Ashton some food for thought.
“I’m going to get some sleep,” Alex says after a moment, and Ashton doesn’t even try and stop him as he gets up and walks out – straight into Jack himself.
“Have you been listening?” Alex asks tiredly, because he’s not in the mood. Jack nods.
“Is that really how you feel?” he whispers, and Alex nods too.
“Let me go,” he mumbles, because he doesn’t want to deal with this right now, doesn’t know if he can. Jack stands aside, and Alex starts walking off, planning on maybe talking to Calum or Rian or someone who’ll understand right now.
“I love you.” Jack’s voice is quiet, soft, a little afraid, but still so confident and honest and raw and so much like the old days that it makes Alex’s head spin.
“Even after all I’ve done?” Alex can’t help but choke out.
“Yeah, Lex. Always will, no matter what you do.”
It takes all of Alex’s self-control to carry on walking and not spin around, kiss Jack, tell him how much he loves him too.
-
Calum’s not difficult to find, not when he’s screaming at Rian for cheating on FIFA and Rian’s nearly choking himself to death with how much he’s laughing.
“Cal?” Alex asks, as soon as he steps onto the bus, and Calum whips around.
“I want Rian kicked out of All Time Low and preferably the United States,” Calum demands. “He’s a filthy cheat.”
“It’s called being resourceful!” Rian protests. “I had to look up the cheat and everything.”
“I didn’t even know you could cheat at FIFA!” Calum says, sounding scandalised. “Why were you trying so hard to beat me?”
“Cal,” Alex says again, and Calum and Rian immediately both die down.
“Yeah?” Calum asks, in a normal tone this time.
“Can we talk?” He spots Rian shooting Calum a worried look, but Calum shrugs and hands his controller to Rian.
“Practice not cheating whilst I’m gone,” he says, getting up and shrugging on the hoodie he’d been sitting on. Alex walks back out of the tour bus – thank God it’s not a travelling night – and waits for Calum to follow suit.
“Is it about Jack?” Calum asks, as soon as they’re clear of the bus. Alex shakes his head, and then nods.
“Yeah,” he says. “I mean. Like. I don’t know. It’s kind of about Ashton, too.”
“Oh,” Calum says. “Is it Luke?”
“How do you know?” Calum shrugs.
“I think I can just…tell, I don’t know,” he says. “Mikey doesn’t know.”
“Is that how you knew about me and Jack?”
“Kind of,” Calum says. “It was just. It was obvious, from the way you looked at each other and stuff.”
“How do we look at each other?”
“Wistfully fondly,” Calum says. “Like a little kid would look at a lollipop behind a glass screen.”
“I told Ashton,” Alex says. “About me and Jack, I mean.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing,” Alex says. “Jack heard, though.”
“Oh,” Calum says. “Did he say anything?”
“Yeah,” Alex says, scuffing his shoe against the concrete and not looking at Calum. “Told me he loved me. Said he’d always love me, no matter what I did.” There’s silence for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” Calum says eventually.
“So am I,” Alex says, and Calum sighs, opens his arms and pulls Alex into a tight hug. He doesn’t say anything else – doesn’t need to – and Alex is suddenly so, so grateful he’s there, that they’re on tour with 5SOS. Calum understands. Calum knows what to say and what not to say, when to talk and when to leave it, because Calum’s got Michael. Rian’s good, Rian tries his best, but Rian doesn’t get it, not like Calum does.
“Fuck,” Alex whispers into Calum’s shoulder. “You’re only eighteen and you know so much.”
“Weighs me down, sometimes,” Calum says. “But we all get through it.” Alex nods, squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face further in Calum’s shoulder, wishing he’d never have to let go and that Calum could keep him protected from his own stupidity and his own feelings for the rest of his life.
-
Alex supposes he should be happy when, at a rest stop three days later where both bands and crews are stretching their legs, Luke and Ashton walk off the bus holding hands. They’re both blushing fiercely, but their fingers remain laced together and they’re walking kind of proudly and kind of nervously.
“Hey,” Calum shouts, “hey, Mikey. You can find out what I’ve been hiding from you now.”
“What?” Michael yells from where he’s running after Jack. “Are Ashton and Luke holding hands? Did Luke fall over, or something?” He stops and runs back towards them, slowing to a standstill in front of Ashton and Luke and frowning.
“You can let go now,” he says.
“No,” Ashton says. “Mine.” Michael’s frown deepens, and Alex waits for the penny to drop – that, there, yep, that’s it right there, in the way Michael’s eyes widen and his jaw drops.
“What?” he asks. “You’re not even into boys!”
“I’m into Luke,” Ashton says defiantly, and Alex feels a kind of proud feeling shoot through his veins.
“Why didn’t you tell me, you arsehole!” Michael demands of Calum. “You’re meant to be my, like, thing.”
“It’s none of my business!” Calum says. “It’s none of yours, either. Anyway, if you weren’t as thick as you are, you might have noticed Ashton sending wistful glances at Luke all the time.”
“What?” Ashton splutters. “I do not do that.”
“Keep telling yourself that, honey,” Calum says, throwing him a patronising look.
“I can’t believe this,” Michael says. “Who else knew?”
“Me,” Calum says.
“Alex did,” Ashton mutters.
“Zack knew,” Luke mumbles.
“What sort of nonsense is this?” Michael asks, sounding outraged. “Half of another band knew before me?”
“You’re just not important enough,” Calum tells him, coming to stand next to him so Michael and Calum are facing Luke and Ashton. From where Alex is standing, he can see Calum reach for Michael’s hand behind their backs and link their little fingers together. “C’mon, let’s leave the lovebirds to it. Let’s have a game of soccer.”
“I’m on your team,” Michael says immediately.
“Young love,” Rian coos. “So cute.”
“Nah,” Michael says, grinning. “He used to play for like, the Australian Youth Team or some shit. I’m only on his team so I’m not gonna go down.”
“Not what you said last night,” Calum says, grinning as Michael swats at him. “C’mon.” The four of them plus Zack and Rian set off for the stretch of concrete a little further up, and Alex watches them go a little sadly, watching the way Luke and Ashton cling to each other and whisper into each other’s ears like nobody else is around.
“Yeah,” he hears a heavy voice say from behind him, and he doesn’t even need to turn around to know it’s Jack, to know Jack’s looking at Ashton and Luke and thinking exactly the same thing.
“That could have been us,” Alex says quietly.
“It was us,” Jack says. “For eight years. It was us.”
(For the first time in two years, his fingers find Alex’s, and Alex doesn’t pull away.)