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When Michael woke up that morning, his head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton balls, his eyes were crusted shut, and his mouth was so dry it was nearly unbearable. He blearily sat up and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.
"You good over there, Mike?" Calum asked from where he was sitting on his bed in their shared hotel room. He briefly glanced up at his friend and furrowed his brow at how miserable he looked.
Michael nodded and immediately regretted it, "Yeah I think I just drank too much last night." His voice sounded scratchy and hoarse and he coughed in a meager attempt to clear his throat. Calum winced and gave his friend a quick onceover.
"Are you sure you're not getting sick? You only had a couple beers."
Michael waved his hand with a huff. He was fine, dammit. With their intense touring schedule, he could barely even afford to be hungover. Getting sick was absolutely out of the question. He was fine.
Silence resettled over the room, but barely lasted a minute before Luke came barging through the door connecting their respective hotel rooms. He seemed way too energetic for, Michael checked the time, 11:30 in the morning.
Granted, he had decided not to go out the previous night, which probably contributed to his giddiness. Plus, he had probably woken up at the ass crack of dawn to work out with Ashton. Michael hated him. He hated Luke even more when he stuck out his bottom lip dramatically in Michael's direction.
"Awwww," he said patronizingly after taking in his friend's ragged appearance, "you don't look so good."
"Sleeping Beauty over here just woke up," Calum chimed in helpfully. Michael flipped him off.
He muttered grumpily, "I'm just tired and hungover. Fuck off the both of you." He laid back down and rolled over so that he didn't have to interact with either of them. If he couldn't see them, they didn't exist, right?
Unsurprisingly, Michael's temperament didn't improve dramatically over the course of the day. In fact, his mood fouled even more. At one point, he even got Luke to stop making fun of him with a well-timed, incredibly pointed glare.
When he couldn't bear being around his bandmates anymore, Michael stood at the side of the stage and watched Lennon start her set. Calum quickly sought him out, though, and sidled up next to him. He loosely slung an arm around Michael's shoulders and gave him a quick squeeze.
"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Calum asked quietly, leaning closer to Michael in order to be heard over the music. A slight hangover really should not have been affecting him so badly. But Michael just grumbled and pulled away.
"Fuckin' leave me alone. I'm fine; don't worry about it, okay?" He spat out, voiced laced with an unnecessary anger. Calum rolled his eyes and held his hands up in mock surrender. He knew how Michael could get when he was sick sometimes.
"Fine, fine. You don't have to be a dick about it -- I just wanted to help." He walked away with Michael's stare piercing daggers into his back. Once Calum was out of sight, he turned his attention back to the stage and stayed there until it was his turn to perform.
As soon as they were getting ready to go on stage, Ashton bumped his shoulder against Michael's. The former was keyed up, practically vibrating with adrenaline and excitement. He grinned at his bandmate as he started bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Usually, Michael was right there with him, and usually it was Calum who got annoyed and told them to knock it off. But tonight, Michael tried smiling back, and it didn't quite reach his eyes. His head was throbbing and they hadn't even gotten on stage yet.
He didn't feel any better after the show either. It ended up being one of his worst shows on the tour. Maybe even his whole life. He just couldn't seem to be able to make it through a whole song without messing it up in some capacity. Whether it be omitting some notes, forgetting lyrics, or wincing at the crowd's ear-piercing screams, he just couldn't seem to keep it together. He hoped it wasn't bad enough for the audience to really notice, but Calum kept sending him knowing looks from across the stage.
Luke, on the other hand, paid no mind to how poorly the show went. Michael hoped he hadn't noticed at all and tried not to flinch in pain as Luke whooped loudly and ripped off his sweaty shirt after getting off stage. He spun around with his arms outstretched, looking like a flushed and sweaty god. He was drunk on life and didn't seem to have a care in the world.
"I'm gonna stay for Alex and Drew's set if anyone cares to join me," he said before taking off to their shared dressing room without even waiting for a response. Ashton started running after him, eager to catch up and expel some leftover energy.
"I think I'll head back," Calum called after them, grabbing Michael's hand as he spoke, "and you're coming too," he added in a quieter tone that suggested no argument. Michael squeezed his hand back in reluctant agreement. He was going to head back regardless, but he didn't like being told what to do. He wasn't sick, and Calum didn't have to baby him.
The two caught a ride in an Uber and spent most of the ride in relative silence. Halfway through, Michael slumped over, resting his head against the cool window and letting his eyes flutter shut. The car bouncing along the road prevented him from actually falling asleep, but he drifted enough that Calum had to shake him once they reached their destination.
"Ready to admit you're sick yet?" Calum asked as Michael leaned against him in the elevator. His words were teasing, but he was lightly scratching Michael's scalp, so he really wasn't going to complain.
"Hmmmm," came the intelligent response.
Once they got to the floor, the elevator pinged and the duo got out. Michael swayed wildly as he walked, shutting his eyes periodically as if they were too heavy to keep open. Calum looped an arm around his waist to keep him steady.
"Almost there, bud," Calum said as they entered their shared room. He ushered his bandmate to his bed and Michael flopped down face first without bothering to do so much as take off his shoes.
"Cal I don't feel good," he complained, voiced muffled from where his mouth was pressed into the pillow. Calum rolled his eyes fondly, though Michael couldn't see him, and sat down on the bed as well. He started lightly scratching Michael's head again, and Michael practically started purring.
"C'mon," Calum said after a few minutes, "let's get you up and in the shower so you can change and go to bed." Michael grumbled incoherently into his pillow. Calum paid him no mind, though, and gave him a couple of light taps to get him up and moving.
Begrudgingly Michael rolled out of bed and headed towards the bathroom. He made sure to throw his sweat-dried t-shirt at Calum's head before he walked in.
"You'll thank me in the morning!" Calum yelled through the closed door. He heard a garbled response that easily could have been 'fuck off' but he decided to let it drop.
When Michael finally emerged from a cloud of steam, Calum was on his phone idly playing a game to try and keep himself awake. Michael flopped directly on top o fhim, laying his head on Calum's chest, and dislodging his phone in the process.
"Stop! You made me lose," he protested feebly as Michael managed to worm his way deeper into Calum's embrace.
"Shhhhh," Michael muttered, "I'm tryna sleep." He pressed his hand across Calum's mouth as if that would be enough to stop him.
Calum gently pushed him off, "For real I still gotta shower and get ready for bed." He got off the bed and started heading for the bathroom.
"And then you'll cuddle with me?" Michael whined petulantly. He was already burrowing into the warm spot that Calum left behind. He looked so pathetically sick and sad that Calum couldn't help but frown at him.
"And then I'll cuddle with you," Calum confirmed. Michael let out a pleased hum and curled his blankets in around his shoulders.
However, by the time Calum came out of the shower, Michael was fast asleep in Calum's bed, and Calum debated whether or not he should join or take the empty bed. After going back and forth he figured it was probably for the best just to let Michael sleep, so he slid into the empty bed, plugged in his phone, and let sleep overtake him almost immediately.
He realized what a mistake this was, though, when he was woken up by a large Michael-sized weight dropping on top of him. He groaned and tried to wiggle so that he and Michael were in a more comfortable position, but Michael refused to help in any way. Instead, he burrowed his nose into Calum's neck, sniffled, and fell right back asleep. He was a completely dead weight and Calum did what he could to get them into an arrangement that was good for the both of them.
But with all his friend's sick and sleepy noises so close to his ear, Calum couldn't make himself sleep again even though it was barely past 7 in the morning. He turned to his phone and scrolled through it for a couple hours, hoping that maybe the monotony of it would help lull him back to unconsciousness. When he had refreshed everything as many times as he could bear and didn't feel any closer to sleep, he made the executive decision to go seek out breakfast.
He carefully extracted himself from Michael's octopus-like grasp and got out of bed. He stared at Michael for a minute just to make sure that he wasn't going to wake up and start demanidng more cuddles, but the sick boy hadn't even moved a muscle. Calum got dressed, patted his pockets to make sure he had his phone and wallet, and left a brief note regarding his whereabouts for his friend on a piece of hotel stationary before leaving and closing the hotel door with a quiet click.
Calum returned holding two bags -- one from a local convenience store and one that contained enough food to satisfy two. An unimpressed Michael pouted at him from where he was sitting up in bed. Now that he could really look at his friend, Calum noted that he looked worse than he had the previous morning.
"You left," Michael told him after Calum had been staring at him for a beat too long. His voice was so gravelly that it sounded like it was painful to talk. Calum held up the bags apologetically.
"I brought you food and medicine," he offered in return. Michael seemed placated enough for the time being. He sat and tracked Calum's movements as he took his time getting everything set up and organized before crawling in bed beside Michael.
Calum rubbed his back as they both picked through the food set before them, "You ready to admit you might be sick?"
"Yeah, yeah," Michael relented, preferring to lean more into Calum's side than start an argument. Calum mussed up his hair with a grin. He knew Michael must have been feeling like shit if he wasn't putting up a fight, but it also meant that he would let Calum coddle him all day.
"Good," he said, "I'll text the boys and we can make sure you take it easy today."
Michael pouted, "I'm not that bad, geez." As soon as he was finished talking, however, his own body betrayed him and barked out a couple of harsh sounding coughs.
"Let me take care of you!" Calum cried, lightly punching Michael's shoulder. Michael sighed dramatically like it was really some sort of hardship, but didn't respond. It was kid of an open secret that he liked it when Calum went out of his way to take care of him.
The two sat in a comfortable silence for a while after that. They finished up breakfast and Calum made sure that Michael took his medicine. Michael felt his eyes getting heavier and he laid his head down on Calum's lap and let himself drift off.
"Just go to sleep, Mikey," Calum murmured, running a hand through Michael's hair, "I'll wake you up when we need to get moving."
"Love you," Michael responded, laying all his weight on Calum, voice already heavy with sleep.