Public Status (5SOS)

1. Killer hangovers

Ashton's point of view

For what seemed like the 5th time in less than 5 minutes, my phone rang, the caller ID reading 'Management'. Choosing to answer this call instead of ignoring it like I had been previously, I slid the little green phone along the screen, letting out a breath before saying 'hello!' in the cheeriest voice I could muster this early in the morning, attempting to ignore the killer hangover and the stench of vomit filling the hotel room we had been staying in.

I scanned the room as I waited for the receptionist of the building our management was situated in to pass us through to Frank, the bands head manager. The evidence of last night was strewn across the whole room, empty beer bottles everywhere, stains on the once cream carpet from unknown sources, plates filled with food we never bothered to eat piled next to the door,cigarette buts overflowing from the ashtray on the coffee table, a bong Luke had brought lying next to it along with a bag of weed I had provided. It was trashed, but it wasn't my mess to clean, so I simply walked over the various puddles of vomit to the balcony doors, opening them to try and escape the horrific smell.

I heard a groan from behind the curtain that covered the balcony doors, and pulled it back to reveal a very hungover Michael with drool dripping from the corner of his mouth along with a display of different penis drawings all over his face. I winced when  I remembered Calum holding a sharpie when he left the room late last night. Obviously, I had been unaware why he had had it back then, I was too drunk  and too high to ask or even process it, but I still found myself chuckling at the childish, but classic prank.

"Ashton? Ashton, I swear, if you don't answer me, I'm sending the hotel staff up to kick all of you-you hooligans out of your rooms!" Frank's voice screeched through the speaker, forcing me to hold my phone away in hopes that the ringing in my head would ease.

When I heard Frank pause, probably waiting for me to reply at his supposed threat, I lifted the phone back to my ear, repeating the overly cheery greeting I had done to the receptionist when I first answered the call.

I heard Frank sighing, and I could practically picture the old bastard shaking his head in disappointment and frowning that hard, another line appears on his already crowded forehead. "Please tell me you and the lads didn't party last night, and got a good night of sleep for once."

I winced, turning my head slightly to look at back at the suite me and Michael had been sharing, gulping when I processed how damaged it actually was.

"Erm..." I stammered, gulping when I heard Frank take a deep breath.

There was a moment of silence, and I frowned in confusion. Why wasn't he screaming and shouting?

"Are you not sick of this whole 'rockstar' phase? Not just you Ashton, but all of you lads, the whole partying, drugs, sex and alcohol thing is starting to get old, and it's not fair on us, your management, or your fans. It's been over a year since the last album, and although you're all fairly active on all of your social media, people are getting tired of the whole 'bad boy' image you all have going on." Frank paused, allowing me to process everything he had just said?

Sick of partying? It felt like we had hardly partied at all, I mean, every celebrity should be allowed to have a break and let lose now and again. We only finished the tour four months ago, and it wasn't like we were losing fans, if anything, 5 seconds of summer were only growing bigger and more successful. Everything Frank was saying was bullshit, utter bullshit.

When I opened my mouth, ready to cuss out Frank for being completely rational and unfair, he interrupted me.

"We'll discuss this more when you get here. For now, lay low until you're in the taxi's. No one wants to see their idol coming down from a long night of drugs and alcohol." Frank spat, and before I knew it, the phone call had been ended and I was left to my thoughts.