5sos Imagines

The Passport M.C (Part 1)

Present Day

I had my arms folded in front of me with a defiant scowl plastered across my face, the husky security guard scanning over my significantly smaller body with his assessing gaze. Wanting desperately to roll my eyes at his perusal, knowing that I couldn't have gotten where I was standing now if I posed any threat to the band currently performing. However, the hefty man glared at me with a harsh, dominating stare that seemed to pierce into the depths of my soul. If I wasn't so wired and nervous, I'd probably take offense to his cold glares but I had bigger problems on my plate.
Digging my plum painted nails into the soft flesh of my arms while mentally singing along to the familiar lyrics that I used to hear day in and day out, I went over the speech in my head another time. Breaking out of this thought, I realized that I had been there when they had recorded the song currently playing; I was even there when they wrote it. The memories of sitting in on their writing sessions brought back painful memories that caused me to flinch involuntarily. They were always full of laughter and light in the process of writing. Normally, they would go to the studio in pairs so I normally accompanied Michael and Ashton. Sometimes we spent the entire day writing joke songs about balls or the euphoria that comes with getting a blow job. I even felt myself beginning to crack a smile at the memory of my boyfriend at the time trying to come up with a word that rhymed with"deep throat."
The security guard broke my deep concentration with the sound of him clearing his throat.
"Are you positive you're supposed to be back here?" He asked, his question dripping with malice and distaste directed at me. I shook myself out of whatever reverie I was in and rolled my eyes.
"Yes, didn't you see me just talk to their manager like a second ago?" I asked, my voice escalating in volume as the screams emitting from where the band was playing began to pick up.
The scenery of this setting was only too familiar to me, having felt like I was in this position just yesterday when it really had been almost three months. Nothing had really changed much since the last time I had been waiting on the sidelines of the stage. Besides the fact that the lead guitarist was no longer flashing me silly faces during a set or making inappropriate hand gestures that brought a blush to my cheeks. In his defense, however, he was unaware of my presence tonight. Something I wasn't so confident he would take well. Saying that we ended on "bad" note would be considered a huge understatement. We both knew that our relationship was over; the titles of boyfriend and girlfriend no longer having to be added in front of one another's names.
There was still a large amount of negative feelings directed towards each other, or rather just directed towards me. He never wanted to break up in the first place, we hadn't even been experiencing the common symptoms couples usually show that foreshadow the inevitable separation. We were that couple people were jealous of and we knew it. That annoying couple that couldn't keep their hands off each other; even until the bitter end. Which was exactly why I stood in this very spot, observing the show from stage left behind a dark curtain.
Michael and I had agreed that since we were going our separate ways, we had to wait to have the "can-we-be-friends-again" conversion. He had claimed that if I didn't want to be in a relationship with him anymore, I had to go all together. Apparently it was all or nothing with him. He claimed that the thought of taking what we had and turning it into a friendship was too painful. However I convinced him that a little was better than nothing, meaning that if we gave each other space to recover from the break up maybe we could consider becoming friends again. He was reluctant at first but eventually gave in claiming that he didn't like thinking about a life that didn't have me in it somehow. Sometimes I look back at the night that was burned in my memory of when I revealed my desire to separate.
"I'm breaking up with you." I said, my words echoing off the walls in our bedroom.
Michael had looked like he got hit by a bus, the impact of my words seeming to hit him like a bullet to the stomach. His first reaction was laughter, although his eyes seemed guarded for whatever I would throw at him. When I assured him that it wasn't joke, that I truly wanted to break up, that's when the anger came in. Of course he threw a fit, hurling insults at me while trying to angrily hide the frustrated tears rolling down his cheeks. I remember feeling a twinge of pain each time he rapidly blinked his eyes in an effort to stop his emotions. However once he had yelled enough to make his voice hoarse, his hair was going in all different directions, and the sports bag full of clothes he had angrily tossed in laying beside his feet, he was quiet for a few moments.
I remember having to find every ounce of strength in me not to run to him. Bring his head into my shoulder and shower him with love, assuring him that I'd never do that to him again. But I had to be strong, that type of weakness was the exact thing I was trying to destroy.
He had his hands on his hips, glaring down at his black high tops while rubbing his plump lips together. Finally, he took a deep breath raising his head enough so I could see the watery color of his eyes. He wiped his nose on the gray sleeve of his shirt and I tried to look anywhere but him.
"What did I do?" He asked quietly, his voice so small and pathetic I barely could hold back the tears threatening to spill out. I was hoping that he wasn't expecting an answer but with the way he was looking at me I assumed he did.
I sighed, "I know it's cliche Mike, but it really doesn't have anything to do with-" but he snorted so loud at the exact moment I expected him to. Biting my lip as I watched him hitch his sports bag over his shoulder with a laugh filled with no humor.
"You are so full of shit, you know that?" He rasped, shaking his head while trying to search for his other shoe that somehow disappeared from the door outside our bedroom. "It obviously has something to do with me, so just say it!"
His voice rose with the color coming to his face, switching back to anger instead of sorrow. I sat up in the bed, running my hand through my hair while trying to come up with a reason that would satisfy both of us without having to tell him the actual reason. If I told him why I really needed this, he'd think I was being irrational and try to talk me out of it. The sound of him dropping his heavy bag to the ground shook me out of my thought process and I found him scowling at me.
"You don't even look upset!" He cried, words shaking with emotion while I tried to avert my guilty gaze.He didn't know how hard it was to keep myself from bawling my eyes out but one of us had to be the strong one, and that had to be me.
"Michael, I've felt this way for awhile," Wrong. "And it's just something that I feel like would be for the best." I admitted with a sympathetic gaze but my words seemed to be only fueling his anger. Gritting his teeth, he kicked his bag aside and marched over to beside the bed where I was sitting. I swallowed a lump in my throat while he glared down at me with a mixture of emotions that I couldn't decipher besides lividness and hurt.
"Well here I was thinking that I was living on cloud nine. Fuck, do I feel like an idiot." He admitted, shaking his head with disappointment at himself. "These last few weeks I would even say I was at my happiest. The bands been doing great and we're finally getting some recognition from the critics. And not only that, you seemed just as happy as me! Fuck, I was looking at engagement rings-"
"That would've been a mistake." I stated instantly, the first thing I can actually say I meant. He flinched at my response but I'm glad it got the message across. Marriage wasn't something I considered doing for a long time, even when I was at my happiest with Michael. It was too much of a commitment and if this conversation was any indication that I wasn't so keen on that idea then I don't know what is.
Michael was quiet for a few moments, trying to get his thoughts together it looked like. He scratched the side of his cheek before sighing.
"Just tell me the truth Y/N, was it something I said or did? Is it the band? Because I can take some time off if you feel like-"
I quickly shook my head. Licking my lips, "no, I'd never ask you to that even if it was the reason." This answer seemed to anger him again because he turned away from me, almost as if he couldn't stand the sight of me sitting there completely void of emotion. Finally, he whipped around, fresh tears still in his eyes that caused me to hitch my breath.
"Is it someone else? Fucking tell me, Y/N. Have you been fucking around behind my back?" He growled, looking at me with disgust as if he already confirmed his suspicion. "I swear to God, I'll go crazy-"
Insulted, I narrowed my gaze at him with fury. "Fuck you." I started, trying to hold back all the other names I wanted to call him for thinking I could actually do that. Just the thought of sleeping with someone besides him was something I wasn't comfortable with yet. I didn't know if I'd ever feel okay about that idea.
He heaved a sigh of relief at my answer, "well then tell me what it is. Nothing can be as bad as that so just say it. Maybe we can work through-"
I frantically shook my head, rubbing my hands over my face in exasperation. God, he was relentless but I should've expected it in all honesty. I had been with him for a little over two years and if there's one thing I should've counted on was his determination. He wasn't going to give in until I told him and my reason was definitely not enough to put him off. I knew if I had admitted to the cheating that would've definitely done it but I couldn't find it in my heart to do that to him. It would destroy him and then he would try to get me to tell him who it was and I'd have to lie and make someone up.
"No, Michael it's nothing you can solve. Just accept it okay!" I replied, feeling myself getting frustrated which seemed to do the same to him.
"No, tell me. I'm not going to stop until you tell me why you're doing this because you're happy with me. I know you don't really want this, Y/N. I can see it in your eyes!"
I felt myself get nervous at his accusation, after being so confident that I wasn't coming off like that. He couldn't know that this wasn't what I really wanted, I needed to drive the point home. Even if he was right, I couldn't have him thinking that.
"God, you're the most stubborn person on the planet!" I yelled, watching him grow more impatient with me by each passing second. He closed his eyes and asked one more time:
"Y/N, just tell me why you're doing this. Tell me and I'll stop-" but I shook my head and ground my teeth together, balling the comforter into my fists.
"No."
"Y/N-" he started but I shook my head.
"NO!"
Finally, a groan of anger burst through him and kicked his bag across the room. I jumped at the sound it made skidding across the floor. He began to pace and run his fingers through his newly dyed dark hair. I couldn't look at it too long without thinking about us dying it together a few weeks back. Laughing hysterically while I stood on my tippy toes behind him to smear the dye into his scalp. He noticed that I had difficulty getting the entirety of his head so he flipped the toilet seat down and sat on it. Tugging me by my hips so I could stand in between his spread legs. I remember feeling his stare on all contours of my face while I massaged the dye into his scalp. Wrinkling my nose as the potent smell hit my nostrils. He nuzzled his nose against my stomach, his hands caressing my sides before glancing up at me with those big eyes of his to mouth the words, I love you.
I was torn from this memory by the sound of him breathing heavily. He was glaring at me with the opposite expression he had on the night I dyed his hair. I averted my eyes again which he seemed to notice and take offense to.
"You're such a coward, you can't even look me in the eyes and say it!" He yelled. His words seemed to snap something inside of me because all of a sudden I was throwing the covers off the bed and standing in front of him with my hands on my hips. I knew his words were spurned from anger and that he wasn't acting rationally, but I couldn't have him call me that when he had no idea how much strength it took for me to do this.
"You really want to know?" I yelled, watching him nod his head but almost beginning to look a tiny bit nervous at whatever I was going to say.
"Are you sure? Because once I say it there's no going back." I warned him, almost as if I was saying this to myself as well. He rolled his eyes.
"Fuck, yes just tell me! It's probably just another one of your stupid overreactions-"
"I don't love you anymore."
He was cut off mid sentence by the impact of my false statement. His mouth falling open as the color in his face seemed to fade. The look in his eyes complete despair while it took everything in me not to immediately take the words back.
Suddenly, he began shaking his head quickly from side to side. Shaky laughter began to spill from his lips. It seemed as if he wasn't going to believe my statement, even if he would be correct if he didn't. There wasn't a single part of me that wasn't completely in love with Michael Clifford. It was the reason why I had to do this to him. If I continued feeling the way that I did these last few weeks, I'd begin to resent him for it in the future. So rather than lead each other on for years to come, it's better if I just rip the bandaid off. Even if it hurt like Hell to do to him, it was for the best...or at least that's what I tried to tell myself. And right now it was very hard to convince myself that I was doing the right thing with the way he was looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and hope that he was right.
"You're wrong. I know you're lying. You love me almost as much as I love you." He stated with his voice shaky with emotion, desperately trying to convince both of us that he was right. It was almost cruel that I had to pretend he was acting irrational even though he was completely right.
"No!" I exclaimed, trying to stay strong for just a little bit longer, "I'm not lying. I've fallen out of love with you and I'm tired of pretending that I still am. I'm sick of those words and I'm sick of saying them!"
"I've seen the love in your eyes," he breathed while two fat tear drops fell from his glassy eyes, "I've seen it when you look up at me during a show and when I come home from a long day. I've seen it when you wake up in the morning and you haven't had your daily cup of tea yet. I've seen it when I'm inside of you, when you come for me. I've seen it a million different times in a million different ways and if you're going to tell me that none of it was real then...I don't know what I'll do, Y/N."
I finally couldn't hold it together anymore, the tears that had been threatening to spill this whole time began to fall from my eyes. I tried to wipe them away discreetly, hoping he wouldn't latch on to this as hope for me giving in.
"I'm sorry if I gave you that impression." I mumbled, wincing at how horrible my words sounded even to me. I couldn't even look at him but I knew that he was probably in a state of complete and utter despair. I couldn't hear his breathing anymore, fearing that he might've gone into a state of shock, I glanced up at him from beneath my wet eyelashes.
He wasn't in a state of shock, but his face was distraught. He swallowed, not even trying to hide the tears falling from his bright, green eyes. I couldn't even begin to imagine what was going through his mind. Probably regretting he ever looked at me after what I was now putting him through.
"Is there someone else you-"
"I already told you, there's never been anyone else." I admitted, hoping with everything in me that he believes me. I'd rather him hate me for falling out of love with him rather than thinking I cheated on him. He shook his head though, squeezing his eyes shut.
"No, I mean is there someone else you're in love with? Someone you'd rather be dating?" He asked, looking down right pathetic as he asked this question but I could understand his thought process. Most people don't just wake up one day and decide that they aren't in love with their boyfriend of two years. I knew he deserved a better break up than this, an honest explanation as to why I had to do this. But it truly was better on both of us if we continued the ruse of me falling out of love with him. I'd rather have him hate me for that than depressed and alone in a few years because I left him one day. And I knew that if I continued doing this, I'd end up leaving him one day.
I knew it came out of nowhere for him, but it was something that I had been thinking about for weeks at the time. However, if I told you the reason why I decided to end it, you'd probably laugh in my face.
It was simple in my mind: I was too happy. I felt myself losing touch with the person inside and turning into the type of girls I hated at the time. Those girls that willingly went to sports games because it made their boyfriend happy even though I'd spend three hours in agony. I started not caring when he chose to play video games after a long day of promo. I even began not caring when he started leaving his towels all over the floor and toothpaste splattered in the sink. I was becoming the epitome of what I loathed seeing in girls. Letting a man come into my life and take over every aspect in it. Which was why I needed to get away from Michael because soon I was going to lose touch with every part of myself.
"No." I replied, simply. "There's no one else. I'm sorry, Michael." I meant this.
He shook his head, walking across the room to hitch the bag over his shoulder. He seemed too far gone to even consider what was really happening right now. Truthfully, I had a difficult time processing it too. I knew that I'd probably want to punch myself about this later on but if I didn't do it now, I would've done it eventually. And God forbid it would've been during an engagement or even a marriage. No, it was best if I did it now.
"I'm sorry for misinterpreting things," he admitted sarcastically, obviously trying to send a dig to me which he successfully did. I winced at his words, knowing that I gave him that impression but it felt horrible even to me. I knew that if I was in his position, I would be in a lot worse shape. He was being incredibly strong and I knew that I didn't have half the amount of strength he had.
"Where are you going to stay?" I asked, almost wanting to offer him one more night to sleep here but it sounded ridiculous in my head. He shrugged his shoulders while focusing his eyesight downcast.
"I don't know, probably Calum and Luke's place." His voice hinting at the irony in that statement. Neither of the friends he just listed really liked me anyway, especially since I got Michael to opt out of their housing agreement so he could live with me. They had been planning on all living together for ages but once I came along, Michael started having second thoughts. The day Michael told both of them that he wouldn't be staying with them, I was no longer considered a friend to neither Calum nor Luke. I could only imagine what they were going to think once Michael told them about all of this. I might as well never show my face at another alternative show again, considering that Calum was friends with a lot of my favorite bands.
"Okay, I'll box your stuff up for you." I answered, watching as he cringed at my words before giving me a tight lipped nod. "You can pick it up whenever."
"That's very thoughtful of you." He replied, almost sarcastically but he also meant it as well. I knew that what I was doing was going to fuck both of us up and I'd be lying if I didn't say that the feeling I was expecting to get after doing this was absent. I expected to be liberated or at least free of the unnerving feeling I had been experiencing for some time, but if anything I felt worse. Like I was letting my anxiety take over my life and was willingly ruining a good thing I had.
He was slipping his shoes on, not even sparing a glance at me while I continued to chip away at my nail polish. I could only imagine what Calum or Luke will think when he shows up at their place with bloodshot eyes and messy hair. I truly didn't want to be a fly on the wall for that conversation, I'd be the center of that roasting session.
He had his hand on the door and I was preparing myself for the image of him our room one last time before he looked back at me for a second. I hitched my breath, trying not to let my emotions show through as he licked his lips, getting ready to say one last thing.
"Did you ever love me?" He asked, his eyes looking lost and severely hurt. My chest constricted at this question, hating myself for giving him that thought. I couldn't let him leave thinking that, even if I had claimed to have stopped loving him. Which was a big lie.
"Yeah." I stated, sighing heavily. "I did."
He nodded, taking this information in before flashing me a small, sad smile. My heart pained at the sight of it, even physically flinching at the impact of it's beauty.
"Well, at least I was right for a little while."
And as mysteriously as he came, he was gone. After, nothing was the same.
"Hey are you listening to me?" The security guard yelled, causing me to shake myself out of the memory of that night. I glanced up at him with questioning eyes, completely lost as to what he was talking about. I hadn't been listening for quite some time, enraptured with the memory of me losing the best thing that ever happened to me. Over something so stupid, and it hadn't even been the last time we would see each other after that. Which was a whole different problem as is and something that was a mistake, but I couldn't find myself actually regretting it.
I furrowed my eyebrows, "sorry, what was that?"
He narrowed his eyes at me before sighing in exasperation. "Their going to be off stage soon so you should probably back up a ways." I rolled my eyes at this, obviously this man didn't like me at all but I couldn't seem to understand the logic in his warning.
"What are they going to do? Plow me down?" I asked, even though I could understand if the thought decided to cross their minds. There was no doubt in my mind that each one of them hated me, especially over what happened after that night. I shook my head, trying to erase the memory as I noticed the security shrug his shoulders at my question.
"Wouldn't be too surprised." He replied with a small smirk, scanning my body over before shaking his head in disgust. I gaped at him, realization finally hitting me before putting both hands on my hips. Tilting my head to the side, I pursed my lips before swallowing the curses I wanted to yell at this man.
"You know exactly who I am, don't you?" I asked, scoffing when he decided to stay silent at my accusation. I shook my head, rubbing my lips together while turning my attention back on the band playing in front of thousands. They had just announced that it was to be the last song of the night and the opening chords of She Looks So Perfect began to play. I remember the night I was splayed across Michael's lap, his hands covering mine while he tried to teach me the chords to the song. It made me heart leap, and I found myself wondering if I ever thought about that night too when he played this song.
"I'm just saying, you probably shouldn't be here." The security guard said beside me, his words now coming off as a warning, "For God know's what reason, that guy still loves you. It's the rest of them you should worry about. They aren't particularly fond of you."
This wasn't surprising, especially since I already assumed they all hated me and I knew for a fact Michael still loved me. Which was part of the reason why the rest of them continued to loathe me, because Michael still couldn't move on. Especially after what happened when he came to get his boxes but that was something I didn't like thinking too much on.
"Yeah I assumed as much," I replied dryly, "but I come in peace this time. I promise."
I repeated the same words I told their manager to get me backstage. He certainly gave me hard time as well, understandably so. I was beginning to think that even the lighting technicians and fucking sound crew hated me, and by the stares I was receiving from some of them I wasn't too far off. If they only knew how much I regretted what I did more than anything, they'd hopefully understand. However, even though I had regretted it and wanted Michael as my boyfriend more than anything, that wasn't the reason I was here. I had promised Michael that I would give him space, even if it killed me, but I intended to keep that promise. That was until something urgent came up and I couldn't think of anyone else to talk to. My friends wouldn't understand, they said they were on my side at the time but once I explained the stupid reason for it they had looked at me differently ever since.
"Well I hope so for your sake, because their coming this way." The security guard announced and nodded his head in their direction. Feeling panicky all of a sudden, I moved aside so they wouldn't see me right away. I didn't want to ruin their moment of excitement, especially Michael's.
Calum was the first to skip off stage, a huge smile on his face as he walked right past me without noticing I was standing by the curtain. His dark hair was slightly damp with sweat, only a few remaining blond streaks interlaced through his hair. Stretching his arms out while laughing with one of their sound guys. Ashton came off next, in his usual way that always screamed confidence but exhaustion as well. The rest of the stage workers moved aside, throwing a water bottle at him so he could hydrate himself. He mumbled a thank you and shuffled over to the backstage area. People usually assumed that Ashton was a jerk by how he acted when he got off stage but he was really just completely exhausted. I wasn't surprised he didn't notice me there as well, not only because I was huddled in a dark corner but because he was in his own world half the time.
All of a sudden, I heard a familiar voice and I whipped my head around to see Luke and Michael running off stage together. I didn't even notice the blind lead singer, my attention completely focused on the light haired guitarist laughing along with something he said. My breath hitched in my throat, drinking in his appearance after gone almost three months without seeing him. He still looked just as attractive to me then as he did now, only there was sense of sadness in his eyes. Hs hair was platinum now, a sadness settling into me when I noticed that he must've done it in an effort to erase the memory of me dying his hair dark. It was in it's usual disheveled state, looking effortlessly sexy as always. His plain black t-shirt showcased his arms, still not very defined but I always found his lack of muscle tone cute. He matched his dark shirt with an equally as dark pair of skinny jeans and converse. Only now he was throwing on a dark jean jacket and I found myself blushing at the thoughts running through my mind. He knew what that jean jacket used to do me, what it still does to me.
He didn't show it at the moment, his mouth spread into a proud smile while tilting his head back and forth to stretch his neck out. Besides the subtle look in his eyes, he seemed almost back to normal. I'd be lying if I said I didn't keep up with them after we had had our break up. I still watched their live performances and always observed his state with worrying eyes, for awhile it looked like he was dead on his feet. Hardly ever cracking a smile and sporting dark circles under his eyes, rumors of drug addiction had even surfaced as an explanation for his demeanor. But soon the news of our breakup was discovered by the fans which would've put me on about 5 million teenage girls' hit lists on twitter if I hadn't deleted it ages ago. I was just about to muster up the strength to approach him when a familiar voice was heard from beside me.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" an angry, dark haired bassist asked. I whipped my head around to see Calum with his tan arms folded across his chest, a furious look on his face that had his nostrils flaring. I gaped at him, trying to figure out what to say and hoping that we weren't going to cause too much attention to ourselves and put on a show for the whole backstage to see.
"Y/N?" I heard Michael call from behind me but I couldn't take my gaze off Calum's death stare he was giving me. He then flashed Michael a warning look, holding his hand out to stop him from coming any closer to the two of us.
"Michael, I'm going to get rid of her so don't even think about pulling any of your shit." Calum announced before looking at the security guards scattered around them and flashing them angry looks.
"Alright, who let her in?" Calum asked, eyes blazing as he glared at the security surrounding them. They seemed confused, none of them willing to answer the bassist's question which seemed to frustrate him even more.
"Why are you even here though?" Luke wondered out loud, looking at me judgmentally with a rude glare. I swallowed, trying to stop myself from pummeling him at his invasive question.