Yours // 5sos

Chapter 17

Sleep is impossible.

Back on the bus on the road to Philadelphia.

Could I hate this any more?

Only one thing could possibly make it worse.

"Sami. I know you're up."

That's it.

I draw the curtain to my bunk over and see a familiar red-head sitting on his bunk across the way. I let my legs swing off the bunk, the hall so tight our knees are close to touching. "How did you know I was up?"

Michael shrugs. "Lucky guess." He tilts his head. "Do you mind helping me with something?"

"Depends what it is," I say tentatively.

He rolls his eyes. "It's not like I'm going to have you help me by pleasuring me or anything. It's a night on the bus. Truce time."

I raise my eyebrow. "I thought that was a one time thing."

Michael shrugs again. "I changed my mind."

I cross my arms. "So what's the something I have to help with?"

Michael holds up a finger, disappearing behind the curtain of his bunk. After about a minute, he pulls out a box. I grab it out of his hands and read it over. I glance up at him. "You dye your hair?"

He gives me a look. "You think the red is natural?"

I shake my head. "No, I meant you dye your own hair?"

"No. That would be stupid. That's what I need help with. You're going to do it," Michael states.

My jaw goes slack and I stare at him in disbelief. "I can't dye hair! I've never done it before in my life!"

"It's easy, all you have to do is comb it through my hair. It'll do the rest by itself," Michael snorts.

I pause.

"How many boxes of hair dye do you have in there?"

"A few."

I shrug. "Let's just do this."

Once the box is ripped open and latex gloves covering my hands, I am out of my element. Glopping the goo all over in his hair feels very unnatural.

"Michael? Am I doing this right?"

"Sam, you're doing fine just don't miss any spots or I'll have streaks of red in my hair still."

"God this is so weird."

Basically you just put it on and then after a while he'll rinse it out. Super easy. But it's still weird.

"Why do I need these gloves?"

"So your hands don't stain blue. Obviously."

I smack him on the ear and I can feel him glaring, even though he can't glare directly at me because I'm behind him rubbing gunk into his hair. "I'm sorry. Why couldn't you ask one of the guys to do this?"

He shrugs. "They have done it so often I decided to give them a break."

I frown. "How often do you color your hair?"

He shrugs again. "A lot. About every month or so."

"What?? Isn't that bad for your hair?" I question.

"Probably."

I run my hand through the last patch of hair and make sure it's coated. I rip off the gloves and place my hands on my hips. "Alright. You're done."

He nods. "Alright. Now the box says keep it in for 45 minutes. You can go back to bed now if you want."

I shake my head. "I couldn't even if I wanted to."

I eye the empty box of color on the ground. "How many colors do you have?"

"A lot of different shades of blue, a few reds, a couple blacks, a pink, and some brown and basic bleacher for more natural looks," Michael lists off.

"And you've had most of those already put into your hair before?" I ask in disbelief.

I tiptoe over to his bunk and peek inside. At the foot of the bunk, boxes of hair dye are neatly stacked. "Woah."

"I don't use the brown often. It doesn't look good on me. That's why I changed my hair in the first place," Michael mumbles behind me.

I peer behind me at him with a look. He shrugs, going in an instant from in his head to "cool" fuckboy. "Well and brown isn't as punk rock."

"Punk rock my ass," I mumble so he can't hear me as I finger the box of pink hair dye.

I stop for a second. "Michael?"

I turn around and look at him, his red hair fading slowly.

"What?"

I suck on my bottom lip. "Why are you so intent on fucking me?"

"You ruined my record," Michael says. "I need to set it straight."

"Why?"

Michael's jaw clenches. "Because it's punk rock."

"Michael."

"It is."

I shake my head. "It's not. And you know it. You probably aren't even a fuckboy. You just play off as one."

Michael glares at me, but does nothing. "We're not supposed to be talking about this. It's a truce."

I glare back at him. "No. I want to talk about it. I want to stop it. I want to put an end to it."

"You can't. I'm going to fix my fuck record whether you like it or not," Michael states.

"This is ridiculous! How is fucking me going to make you feel better? It won't! If anything you might feel guilty eventually, which you have a right to," I argue.

"I'd stop where you are before you make me pissed, princess," Michael mutters, still not with the same threatening tone.

"I just wish I could trust you like I do Ashton and Calum and Luke. Don't you just want to have one less thing to worry about?" I ask exasperatedly.

"Have sex with me. Then we might have a chance at being close like you are with the other guys," Michael offers.

"No. Not a chance," I mumble.

After s bit of silence, Michael says, "The other day on the bus you were talking about how you'd never been to DC before. And you hesitated as to why before saying because you didn't like politics or whatever. You were lying. I could tell. What were you thinking?"

I look away. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sam."

"Michael, I said what I said."

"But it was a lie," Michael states.

"No it wasn't, just stop."

He stares at me searchingly. "Sam, what are you lying about?"

I glance at him, throwing my arms up. "My dad doesn't have a lot of money, okay? Happy? You grilled it out of me."

"...I'm sorry Sam."

I sigh, leaning back against the wall of his bunk. "It's okay. It's just not something I want to talk about."

"Okay."

I shake my head. "Could you do something for me before the truce is up?"

Michael sighs loudly and dramatically. "I guess I could."

I disappear behind the curtain of his bunk.

Before I even reappear with my plan, Michael quickly says, "Yes."

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A/N:

Quick updates for all you peeps. I hope that's all good with you guys. I'm determined to keep the quick and quality chapters coming so vote and comment on them even more to keep reminding me I have a story to write for people. Love you, Fam. x