Definition [ot4]

nineteen

((This was going to be ot4 smut but then a shitty thing happened and I felt shitty so I'm venting hA don't hate me

-Mel))

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Calum's tired. Or something.

Maybe tired isnt the right word, because he wakes up tired and he falls asleep tired. He thought it was just the tour at first, but now they're back in Sydney on break and he knows its not. He hasn't done anything in a week, letting his mom wait on him hand and foot and sleeping the days away.

He's called Ashton once, only to fall asleep to the sound of his voice after four hours. Michael's made sure to stop in everyday and crawl into his bed for a bit, and even Luke's come by to give Calum a plate of cookies. Besides those three and his family, Calum hasn't had contact with anyone. He hasn't checked any social media, he knows everyone's talking shit about him as usual, and he's not even sure what he'd post. Maybe some song lyrics or an old picture of Ashton, but other than that, he has nothing to say. He's sick of expelling all the rumors circling around him and he's sick of trying to educate people about his gender.

He misses Ashton, considering they haven't seen each other in a week, and he misses falling asleep to his band's snores. He misses cuddling with all of them and he misses Michael's lips against his neck and Luke's fingers on his waist and Ashton's chin on his shoulder.

Which is ridiculous, because he literally saw Michael less than ten hours ago, Luke two days ago, and Ashton a week ago, but he misses them. He's starting to think maybe he is too weird after all, maybe they can't stand him anymore. Maybe the break wasn't because the tour was getting too stressful, maybe trying to deal with Calum was too stressful.

He can't remember if he took his hormones this morning or not. He thinks not, because he's supposed to take them with food, and he can't remember getting out of bed yet.

He huffs in frustration and rolls over to grab his phone. There's a missed call from both Ashton and Luke, along with a text from Michael saying he'll be over in an hour or so. Calum figures he should get up and like, make himself presentable or something, but he can't. He can't find it in him to move his limbs or sit up in the slightest, he's starting to think his bones are going to rot and he'll be left a hollow body on his bed. He doesn't really mind, at least his band will be free of him, then. They won't have to deal with him or the stress of keeping up with him.

Calum sighs again and stretches, rubbing his hands down his face in annoyance. He's being paranoid, he knows he is. Of course Michael fucking likes him, he's not the type to stick around if his patience or attention span run thin. There's a tiny part of Calum's brain telling him Michael's just sticking around so the band doesn't break up, or he doesn't want to hurt Calum's feelings, or something. He's not sure what to believe anymore, and suddenly he's crying and curling into a ball to hold his knees so the sobs don't wreak havoc on his stomach muscles.

He's sobbing and crying because his best friends probably don't even like him, maybe they talk shit about him while he isn't around. Maybe Luke and Ashton are together right now, complaining about him.

He tries wiping the tears away but more just fall and stain his pink cheeks. There's arms wrapping around his body suddenly, fingers digging into his waist and lower back, pulling their chests together and whispering quietly. His eyes fling open and search frantically until they meet Ashton's, then Luke's where he's standing at the end of the bed, then finally Michael's in the doorframe.

"Hey, Cal, its okay," Ashton says quietly, rubbing his back gently. "We're here, its okay princess."

Calum shakes his head, because this just makes it so much fucking worse. They're trying so hard to tolerate him, and he drags them through this shit.