(You're My) Security Blanket| 5sos

Chapter Three

He's running, heart thumping in his chest as he struggles to force the oxygen into his wheezing lungs. The hallway is dingy and freezing with tacky, moldy tiles lining the slick floor his feet are flying across. The wallpaper is stained and ripped in most places, revealing spider webs and strangely enough thousands upon thousands of blinking eyes, staring him down as he races through the halls of wherever the hell he is. He's vaguely aware that someone is behind him, slowly trailing him from a distance, waiting like a vulture flying overhead to pounce on the guitarist once he runs out of energy.

Michael turns the corner with such force that he slams into the left hand wall sending pain shooting through his shoulder as he stumbles back into his more or less steady pace that he clearly won't be able to keep up for much longer. The eyes lining the wall stare at him with such an intensity that he feels that he's burning alive, sweating dripping down his forehead as the lights above begin to flicker spastically. He sees an elevator in the far distance at the end of the hall, and he wills his battered legs to carry him farther, faster down the hall to what he prays will be his salvation. He feels as though he's melting alive as the metallic elevator doors slide open wide, revealing nothing but a desolate, black void. Michael's traveling too fast to stop, and falls, ears ringing as some wild, animalistic laughter assaults his ears.

He's falling, and falling, and falling, throat burning as he screams, plummeting down for what seems like all of eternity. A feral scream erupts from his lips, echoing through the metallic confinements of his untimely doom.

***

"Michael!"

He jolts awake, chest locking up as the stale oxygen blowing from the air conditioner assaults his lungs. It takes him a few seconds of heaving and wheezing to comprehend that everything is fine and that he's still in the van. His stomach is lurching but as he turns his head, locking eyes with a very concerned blonde vocalist, Michael decides not to think too long about contents of his stomach and its fierce determination to force its way out of his battered body.

"Everything alright there, Mikey?" Luke asks after what seems like a century, his eyes blown wide and unblinking. Michael pales at the thought of him thrashing around screaming in his sleep while his bandmates looked on in horror, but he notices that Calum and Ashton are still engaged in a highly controversial argument about whether or not McDonald's actually uses meat. Calum launches into a particularly heated speech about how McNuggets are nothing more than deep fried toothpaste, and the visual does wonders for Michael's aggressive nausea.

"Mikey" Luke calls again, successfully capturing the distracted guitarist's attention.

"Yeah?" Michael brings his palm to his left eye, groaning at the vicious headache pounding on his head like Ashton does to his drums.

"I said is everything alright? You were like, I don't know, shaking in your sleep" Luke moves his arm back around his sleepy friend's waist, pulling him in close.

"Nightmare" Luke frowns at Michael's terse reply for two reasons. The first is the mere thought of his best friend dreaming of anything other than kittens and pizza. The second is the fact that Michael must be positively exhausted if he has totally forgone his usual masculine bravado, and instead has opted for genuine vulnerability.

"Another?" Ashton enters the conversation suddenly, cutting Calum off mid-rant.

"Yeah, I've had a few of them this week" Michael mumbles into the curve of Luke's neck, closing his eyes and reveling in the circles Luke was drawing on his back.

"It's probably all of them bloody video games you keep playing, Mikey" Calum offers. Michael doesn't reply, instead he just nods his head into the crook of Luke's neck.

"Lad, when was the last time you had a proper night's sleep?" Ashton, ever the mother hen, questions, ducking under the seatbelt as he twists in his seat to get a proper look at the mess of limbs in the back seat.

"I dunno" Mikey whines miserably, and Luke waves Ash off, not wanting the ailing guitarist's headache to worsen. Ashton and Luke spend a few seconds in an intense bout of telepathic communication, and silently come to the conclusion that an all-night 5sos cuddle session is in order. The group falls into an uneasy silence with Michael half-dozing on Luke's shoulder, while Ashton turns to check on Michael every minute or so. Calum is content to listen to his headphones, but Luke catches him frowning towards the guitarist after a particularly rough speed bump caused Michael to release an utterly pathetic whimper. The tension in the van is thick what with the band's go-to comic relief nearly in tears every time the driver hits the break just a little too hard, and Luke can tell that Ashton's patience is wearing thin.

Just when Luke was convinced Ashton was going to literally hulk out of his seat and forcefully smother Michael in medicine and kisses, Luke's phone vibrated, attracting the attention of both Calum and Ashton.

Luke quickly toned down the brightness of the phone so not to disturb the already uncomfortable kitten currently in his lap, and smiled as the familiar Brit's name lit up the screen.

New Message from Harry:
hows your boy doing? he seemed a little off tonight xx

Luke glanced at the slumbering form below him, and ran his fingers through his red locks in what, he hoped, was a comforting gesture. Luke never knew where the line with Michael and physical contact existed. The guitarist was a cuddler-that much was obvious. However, he only ever cuddled with a very, very, very, very, very small number of people. He and Mikey could longue out on the couch at the back of the tour bus for what seemed like hours without Michael ever displaying an ounce of discomfort. But there were the days that came so quickly it gave Luke whiplash where Michael would grumble and struggle out of Luke's arms the moment they wrapped around his waist. It was a rare occurrence, but Michael would curse so viciously at him that Luke was perpetually nervous when snuggling up to his older friend.

Michael let out what seemed to be a content sigh, easing Luke's worry, as he rubbed circles on Michael's scalp, struggling to reply to Harry with just his left hand.

Message to Harry:
he's been better but dont worry your curly lil head too much haha

"Luke," Calum whispered.

"Yeah?" Luke closed his phone, sliding it back into his impossibly tight pocket while turning to face the bassist.

"We have a problem," Calum frowned, looking out at the window. Luke followed his gaze, and a sense of dread pooled at the bottom of his stomach as the driver pulled into the parking lot of the hotel they were staying out. The place was a mad house with screaming girls and overly energetic paparazzi flooding the place. Luke was briefly confused, 'we didn't cause all of this now... what gives?', but as he locked eyes on what he assumed to be Zayn Malik being escorted into the lobby, he understood.

Normally 5sos got to the hotels roughly an hour or so before One Direction did, a security protocol that allowed the bodyguards to remain focused on the real prize, and not be distracted by the opening act. The traffic must have allowed 1D to catch up with their ride, and now the entire hotel was in a goddamn frenzy.

As the van coasted closer to the lobby, the conscious members of 5 Seconds of Summer realized the weight of the situation that faced them outside of the reinforced doors of their trusted SUV. The pregnant silence of the van was shattered by Ashton, who finally voiced the concern on the tip of the youngers' tongues.

"How the fuck are we gonna get him inside?"