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The incessant ringing of Michael's phone crumbles down the mount of concentration he's been building up on playing the video game on the screen, and he lets out a string of curses as his character explodes and body parts scattered all over the ruins the game is set in, the block letters across the screen yelling, "MISSION FAILED." Michael takes a deep breath to calm himself down and jabs a button on his controller to pause the game, the sound of the suspense-inducing music cutting off abruptly. He picks up the phone on the sofa beside him and looks at the caller I.D.
"You literally just made my character fucking die, Ashton, did you know that?" Michael's throwing the controller aside, frowning at the screen still advertising his apparent failure in video gaming.
"Oh my god, chill, Mikey, it's all pixels," Michael can almost hear Ashton's eye-roll on the other side of the line. "You need to come over, stat. Cal's having an episode."
"Episode?" Michael asks, confused. "Are you asking me over for a TV series marathon?"
"Nooo," Ashton sounds annoyed and exasperated as though he's explaining a very complex theory to a five-year-old. He sighs. "Calum just got dumped. And it's not looking very pretty."
"It's that Kate girl, isn't it? I knew there was something up with her, she seemed bitchy."
He has a type, that Calum. And Michael is always on his guard whenever the younger boy sets his sights on a girl, particularly ones that just seemed plain mean and altogether plastic to him. He's going to have to resist saying a big, "I told you so," to Calum's face, but if he's having that big of an episode, Michael supposes he can hold it back. Or at least, until the storm passes.
"Michael. Just come over. He needs us."
There's a deafening crash in the background, and Michael's just about to demand in panic about what the heck just happened, but Ashton cuts in quickly, "It's alright, he's crashing on my drum set for a bit to let go of it all. Hurry up, okay? Luke's on his way, too."
Michael promises he'll be there in five, cutting off the call and soon he's nothing but a flurry of movement, dashing around the vacant house in search of car keys and a jacket to ward off the cold. He remembers to lock the door and does a double-check before he gets into the beat-up secondhand car his dad had bought him just a couple of months ago, driving off into the streets and onward to Ashton's house.
The convenient thing about having band mates from the same school is that they're all located, at most, a few blocks away from each other, and a half Kings of Leon song later, Michael's already pulling up in front of Ashton's driveway, cold vapour rising off of the asphalt as his car screeches to a halt. It's a particularly cold winter night, and he's reminded of sad, lonely Christmas songs, images of Calum bawling his eyes out to them start to swirl around his head and even if the idea of it seems pretty ludicrous at the moment, he can't help but wonder if that is the sort of situation he's going to find himself facing as he stands on he porch, rubbing his hands together for warmth after pressing the doorbell.
The door swings open too fast, the Christmas wreath on it swinging hazardously, threatening to fall right off.
About damn time, Michael thinks almost subconsciously, Christmas was two weeks ago.
"There you are, come in," Ashton's wearing a serious look on his face, not at all matching the sweater he's wearing, one that features reindeer that Michael is pretty sure (but not thoroughly convinced) Ashton had gotten from his grandma, who is notorious for her knitting skills, or so Ashton had claimed. What Michael really does know is that the Irwins had always been the type to celebrate holidays with a full-on gusto, to the point where it's almost ridiculously funny. A smaller version of a Christmas tree, complete with baubles and ornaments, is still standing right next to a potted plant in the hallway.
"How bad is it?" Michael asks, stepping in and letting the warmer inside temperature engulf him like a welcoming hug.
"See for yourself." Ashton leads Michael to the living room, and he can make out the sight of Calum slumped on the sofa, face buried in another suspiciously Christmas-y pillow, dejection emanating from every single bit of his body language. Luke's sitting next to him, looking unsure of exactly what to do, and as the two older boys walk in, he looks up at them with relief.
"Calum?" Ashton calls his name like he's coaxing a vulnerable animal out of its hiding place. "Michael's here."
Calum doesn't lift his head to acknowledge his presence. His shoulders continue to shake with muffled sobs and Luke's patting his back somewhat awkwardly.
Michael and Ashton settle on the sofa opposite of Calum and Luke's, leaning forward to try and get him out of his blues by muttering words of comfort (in Michael's case, it's not all that comforting when he's basically throwing a bunch of insults in Kate's way). Luke gets in a few words as well, but nothing rouses Calum to stop crying and start talking to them again.
Luke makes a gesture to Ashton, mouthing, "What do we do?"
Ashton seems to have hit the dead end - letting him almost damage his drum set isn't working, calling up all his band mates isn't working, attempting to get him to swear it all out isn't working. He's doing a helpless little shrug, and it is at the very moment when Michael gets a brilliant idea, one that he hopes can actually lift Calum's spirits up a whole lot better than a heart-to-heart discussion he figures Ashton has planned in his mind.
He was initially looking over at the mantelpiece, strung with socks with cartoon Santas and elves and he noticed a stray plastic Easter egg right next to a little Power Ranger figure he guessed must be Harry's, thinking of how absurd it is that they still have an Easter egg on display in freaking December, when it hit him.
Eggs. Eggs. Eggs!
"Calum, bro," Michael says, grabbing him by the shoulders. Calum lifts a hand to swat him away but he blurts out, "Let's go egging!" and the room falls completely silent. An aghast Calum, all tear-streaked face and bloodshot eyes and snot-filled nose, is looking at him with disbelief. Luke's expression screams what the fuck, and Ashton's mouth is literally hanging open.
"You need to let go of that misery and frustration and anger, man," Michael says, "And you're mad at her, this Kate, and you know what I think you should do? You should go up to that bitch's house, and let her know that she screwed you up like this, and now she's going to pay for it." He's staring into Calum's watery eyes with intensity, and the grip he has on his shoulder is probably hard enough to emphasise his point.
"Um, Mike," Ashton mumbles, sounding meek. "Are you sure...?"
"Let's do it."
Ashton shifts nervously in his seat, and Luke's looking half-amused and half-worried. Calum's eyes are suddenly filled with manic resolution, and he's actually straightening up and wiping his face with his sleeves. He runs his fingers through his tousled dark hair and heaves a deep breath.
"Let's do it," he repeats, looking at Michael and nodding, still sniffling a little from his runny nose.
Just a few minutes later they're piled up in Michael's car, Ashton still a slight bit hesitant, Luke looking like he's hiding the enthusiasm Michael knows is just simmering under that indifferent expression of his, Michael driving at Calum's orders and the music blasting from the radio like it's a party they're heading off to.
The ride takes about ten minutes, their destination being a little further than the distance from each other's homes. But before that they stop over at a local market to buy the most vital ingredient of tonight's brew for chaos - a good couple of egg cartons straight off of the shelves, alongside a pack of gum (Calum's) and a can of Redbull for each of them. It's late on a Wednesday night, but the middle-aged man at the counter doesn't seem too bothered, because it's the Christmas holidays and kids these days are always up to something. He eyes the egg cartons skeptically, but doesn't say a word.
By the time they get there, the street is empty and there's barely any signs of life except for the flickering of one of the dimmer streetlamps, and the occasional shadow crossing the curtain-covered window of Calum's ex's house. It's the quiet part of the suburbs and Michael's reminded of how much he hates quietness in general, and even though this is all about Calum and his revenge and his quick escape from grief, Michael can't help but feel a little excited, too.
"Go on, Cal. Do what you need to do."
Calum's hesitant at first, probably thinking of all the possibilities that might happen if they get caught but then one look at his friends' expectant expressions and he grabs hold on one of the eggs from the carton. He aims. He throws.
The splattering sound of the broken egg against the windshield is like a catch of fresh breath to him. He's starting to feel his heart beat rapidly again and by the time he picks up his third egg he's on fire - his arms flexing faster and faster with each throw, sometimes two at a time, and he's imagining the gloriously horrified look on Kate's face and he's angry and heartbroken and feeling good all at once, which is a pretty superb feeling, to say the very least.
He's starting to laugh now, because Michael's picking up an egg and contributing to the mess that was once Kate's beautiful, polished car.
Ashton, meanwhile, is doing a 180 from his initial worries once he sees the words being put into action.
It's vandalism at best, really, because seeing Calum being relieved of his distress is actually taking the burden off of Ashton's own shoulders, but it's also childish, rude and honestly so disrespectful that it makes him giggle with the feeling of immense guilt. He's thinking, poor girl, but instead of it being laced with pity as he intended, he ends up thinking it in a condescending sort of way, which is mean but hey - he reckons there is an unstated law out there permitting you to be mean sometimes, and that law, he thinks, especially applies to the current situation.
"This is going down in history, guys, say cheese!" Ashton takes out his phone and snaps a picture of Calum and Michael, then going on to record a video, the streetlights casting just the perfect amount of illumination on them. He's sticking his head out the window of the car, a gust of wind blowing through his honey blonde locks, burning like sunlight in the glare of the lights.
Luke's finally breaking out of his neutral exterior, and is shouting encouragements, sounding not at all like his usual contained self. He's in the passenger's seat witnessing it like a psychedelic teenage movie playing in front of his very eyes.
"Get it, Cal! Hit it like you mean it! Throw every fucking egg like it's the last!"
At this point, Calum and Michael are throwing with different kind of styles just for the kick of it - there's the basketball shot, the bowling throw, the lasso spin just before the egg flies and lands right at the headlights and Luke's laughing at how ridiculous it all looks, how easy it is to just let out your pent up emotions at something inanimate that can't retaliate or react in any kind of way. Of course, he sneaks the occasional glance at the window of the house, looking out for all of them because he's always been the more cautious type, but the feeling of standing by watching an offence without actually doing it, is surprisingly exhilarating because while he's not actively involved in it, it still feels like being included in all of the frivolity of the moment.
The front door bangs open and it's their cue to make a run for it.
"Go, go, go!" Michael's saying, and the two of them rush back into the car, Michael instantly pressing on the pedal to zip away before they can get into proper trouble for doing what they did. An angry shouting from whoever it is that opened that door is becoming more and more distant, and soon enough it fades away as they turn into a corner and make their way back, the whole car erupting with laughter at the adrenaline rush produced by the narrow escape they'd just made.
"How do you feel now?" Ashton's clapping Calum on the shoulder in the backseat, and Calum smiles, wide and silly and nothing like the boy who was a hell of a mess earlier.
"A whole lot better," Calum admits, reaching over to wrap an arm around Michael's shoulders despite the fact that he's actually driving. "We are definitely doing that again!"
"I'm not sure about that, though, Cal," Luke says, "I think they might have already put you high up on the suspects' list."
"I don't really care," Calum scoffs, not letting go of Michael just yet, clinging fondly onto him like a koala.
"Hey, I'm gonna swerve off the road if you do that," Michael says, laughing. "But it's good to have you back, man. Sad Calum is not something I can get used to."
"Tell me about it!" Calum exclaims, sounding completely disbelieving, "I fucking cried. Over a girl." He sounds like he's being his usual dismissive self again, which is a sure sign that all has gone back to normal. "Oh, well. She was a bitch, anyway."
Michael decides it's time. "I told you so."