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The hum of the air conditioner in the Beverly Hills Hilton is a losing battle against the stifling mid-August heat, but inside Suite 419, the atmosphere is loud, chaotic, and thoroughly domestic. Ashton Irwin holds his video camera aloft, the small digital screen capturing the sprawling, slightly messy room that 5 Seconds of Summer has claimed as their temporary headquarters. The world outside is buzzing with their name, but in here, they are just teenagers killing time between press junkets. A sudden, sharp knock rattles the heavy suite door. Ashton adjusts his grip on the camera, pivoting so the lens frames the living area. "Hang out with these losers for a second, guys," Ashton murmurs to the lens, offering his viewers a quick, dimpled grin.
In the center of the frame, Michael Clifford is utterly sprawled across the plush cushions of the hotel couch, his bleached hair stark against the fabric. His thumbs fly across his phone screen with aggressive precision. He is locked in a fierce digital battle against Calum Hood, who is perched precariously on the very edge of the same couch, his shoulders hunched over his own screen in deep concentration. "Stay right there, don't move," Ashton commands the camera, though his bandmates are too engrossed to pay him any mind.
On his way to the entryway, Ashton detours past the hotel’s sleek media hub and cranks up the volume on the docked phone. Katy Perry’s "Roar" explodes through the room’s speakers, a heavy pop beat designed to completely drown out whatever boring, logistical conversation he is about to have with room service or management at the door.
With the music blaring, the three boys left in the lounge area remain blissfully oblivious to the camera Ashton has casually propped up on the cluttered glass coffee table. The lens catches a perfect wide shot of the sofa. Luke Hemmings is sitting right on the edge next to Calum, his long legs folded like a grasshopper's as he leans over to track the frantic movement on Calum's screen. Calum, entirely lost in the rhythm of the game and the music, begins to mouth the lyrics to "Roar" unconsciously, his head bobbing slightly as his thumbs execute a particularly brutal combo.
Luke’s blue eyes dart from Calum’s screen across the small divide to Michael’s face, tracing the intense focus in his boyfriend's eyes. Realizing with a sudden spark of mischief that Calum is actively losing ground against Michael, Luke shifts his weight. He leans backward into the deep cushions of the couch quite suddenly, tilting his head until he is staring Michael down from just centimeters away, intruding directly into his line of sight. Michael continues to tap furiously at his screen for a few more seconds, trying to ignore the warmth of Luke's breath on his cheek, but the distraction is lethal. A bright *Game Over* banner flashes on his screen.
Dropping his hands, Michael looks up, a bright, helpless smile breaking across his face as he locks eyes with his boyfriend of three years. Luke doesn't back down; instead, he playfully leans in even closer, almost brushing their noses together, before jerking back out with a teasing, triumphant grin. He knows exactly what he’s doing to Michael’s concentration. Michael, completely giving up on the digital rematch Calum is already demanding, tosses his phone onto the cushion. He ignores the game entirely in favor of leaning forward and catching Luke’s lips with his own. It’s a familiar, deeply instinctual pull.
Their faces are perfectly obscured from the camera's view by Calum’s broad shoulders, as Calum sits completely oblivious, tapping away on his screen and totally unaware of the romance unfolding a mere inches behind his back. Near the foyer, the heavy click of the front door signals Ashton finishing his conversation, and the booming vocals of Katy Perry suddenly cut to a dead silence. The sudden quiet in the suite makes the room feel massive, save for the soft, rhythmic rustle of clothing on the couch. Ashton’s heavy footsteps echo as he walks through the adjoining kitchenette.
"What do we think of the new Panic! At the Disco song?" Ashton’s voice calls out from the next room, loud and casual over the clink of ceramic mugs.
Calum doesn't even look up from his screen, his thumbs still moving. "It's terrible."
Ashton sticks his head around the doorframe, a look of genuine surprise on his face. "Is it?"
"Is it called 'Ms. Jackson'?" Calum clarifies, his tone deadpan and entirely serious.
Ashton blinks, leaning against the wall. "No."
"Then it's not terrible," Calum fires back smoothly, finally cracking a small smirk as he secures a digital victory over a non-responsive Michael.
Ashton shakes his head, stepping fully back into the living area with the intention of picking up his vlog where he left off. He walks toward the coffee table, but as his eyes track down to the camera lens, his heart drops into his stomach. The angle is wide enough to capture the edge of the couch, and even with Calum’s back acting as a partial shield, the distinct, unmistakable movement of Michael’s hands tangled in the hem of Luke’s shirt is visible. They are completely making out, totally lost in each other, unaware of the digital eyes in the room.
Panic flashing through his mind, Ashton rushes forward, his boots thudding against the carpet as he reaches out and violently swivels the camera lens away from the couch, aiming it safely at the blank hotel wall.
"Guys! You wanna see something cool?" Ashton says loudly, his voice jumping an octave as he tries to break the spell in the room and create a distraction for the hypothetical viewers.
He lunges forward and forcefully nudges Calum’s shoulder with his hip. He is desperately trying to give Michael and Luke some privacy before things escalate any further, fully aware that if left to their own devices, the two nineteen-year-olds will start having full-blown sex right there on the Hilton furniture.
"C'mon, let's show them the coffee machine thing," Ashton insists, grabbing Calum by the arm and dragging him toward the kitchen corner.
The sharp emphasis on the word "them" acts like cold water. Michael's eyes snap open, his gaze instantly darting over Luke's shoulder to the glass coffee table where the camera sits. A bright, burning blush creeps up Michael's neck, coloring his cheeks a deep crimson. A breathless, embarrassed smile breaks across his face, and he gently but firmly pulls away from Luke’s mouth, clearing his throat. Calum, finally tearing his eyes away from his phone screen, blinks rapidly as he finally picks up on the frantic energy in Ashton’s words. He looks to his left, confused. Luke isn't sitting beside him anymore; instead, the younger boy is flushed and breathless, looking pointedly at the ceiling.
The moment Ashton successfully maneuvers the camera into the kitchenette, training the lens on the overly complicated, chrome espresso maker, Calum enthusiastically joins the bit. Calum launches into an exaggerated, hilarious explanation of the machine's buttons, completely absorbing the camera's attention. Back on the couch, the absolute second they are out of the frame, Luke doesn't waste a single heartbeat.
With a quiet, defiant hut of breath, he shifts his weight and climbs directly into Michael's lap, straddling his thighs with an eagerness that makes Michael catch his breath. Michael doesn't hesitate. He carelessly tosses his phone onto the floor, completely forgetting about the expensive tech as it clatters against the carpet.
He brings both hands up to grip Luke's waist, anchoring him close. Michael slides one palm upward, feeling the smooth heat of skin as he runs his hand right under Luke's loose vintage t-shirt, his fingers spreading wide across his lower back. Simultaneously, his other hand dips lower, slipping easily beneath the elastic waistband of Luke’s gym shorts, gripping the curve of his hip. Luke lets out a soft, shaky sigh against Michael's mouth as they dive right back into a deep, bruising kiss. They pull each other flush together, completely tuning out the sound of Ashton and Calum’s laughter echoing from the kitchen, entirely consumed by the private world they’ve built in the middle of the chaos.