paper rings (l.h.)

14

Luke's apartment in LA, 8 months earlier.

It was a gray LA morning by the time that the party had ended and Luke's apartment was trashed. The sun which usually casts it's beams across his hardwood floors and white marble kitchen didn't seem to appear this morning - which the two boys that crashed on his couch didn't seem to mind. They both shared a pounding headache and ringing ears, both curled into separate sides of the couch to enjoy the bit of silence they were allowed after such a loud night.

Silence, all despite the slight melody that echoed throughout the apartment that was much bigger than what Luke alone would need. It wasn't loud, barely there, but the boys were listening to every word.

They enjoyed this the most, despite how crazy a party might get - the morning debrief was the best part. Usually the designated babysitter for the band (tonight, it was Calum) wakes up before everyone else, and sometimes would sneak out to grab breakfast as each boy would emerge from whatever corner of the apartment they had curled into. Most had stain-covered shirts and reeked of sweat and whiskey, but covered in Luke's throw blankets despite it all. Michael's entire body, all besides the red-dyed fuzz attached to his head, was embraced by a red Sherpa blanket that had once been a housewarming gift by his brother.

Calum walked through the front door a few minutes after 8 AM, the rustling of a paper takeout bag catching the attention of the two boys who wished desperately for an extra hour or so of sleep, but didn't mind getting up so much now that breakfast was involved.

"Ash," Calum glanced up at the brown-haired mess that stood in front of him at the kitchen table. He stood there half asleep, bare feet against the cold floor nearly shocked him awake. Calum threw five or so McDonald's breakfast items on the wooden tabletop, Ashton's long fingers sleepily taking one for himself. "Has Luke's come down yet?"

"No," Ashton responds, stuffing his mouth full of a bacon and egg biscuit. "But he's been playing that same song all morning."

"Huh," Calum furrows his thick eyebrows together, unwrapping the same sandwich and bringing it to his pink lips. Michael sits up from his makeshift bed on the couch, resting his head in his hands as he tries to pry himself from it. "All last night too. Did you see him before he went up there?"

"No," Ash shakes his head.

"I did," Michael calls out, eventually finding himself on his feet to waddle over to the rest of his band. He played lead guitar, Calum was lead bass and Ashton was lead drums. They had been best buddies since before they were bandmates, so hanging out as a group only made sense even now - way past their career's beginning. "He was talking to Laila, then they started arguing when we were downstairs. She left after throwing a bottle of beer at his head. That's all I can remember."

There is a silence as the three boys eat their breakfast sandwiches, a brief pause after the end of the song makes the three of them wonder if it would play again. Some 60's heartbreak anthem that any of them had only heard in commercials. Luke had always loved the way pianos sounded so haunting in the old recordings he would immerse himself in. The other three of them never quite understood his love for that kind of thing.

"I think," Ashton continues, his chewing slowed as he tries to recall the events of the night before. He didn't drink enough to forget the entire night, but his memory was foggy even sober. He had once fallen victim to the same vices as his bandmate upstairs, too. "I remember asking him if he was alright, and he just stared at me. Like I wasn't even there. But he said yes anyway."

The three boys pause, unsure of what that exactly could have meant.

"I have to check on him," Calum set his sandwich down onto the wrapper it was given to him in, his feet sliding across the floor as it made it's way upstairs. He dodged the puddle of sticky, dried beer and broken glass dripping town the wall. With each step, the floor creaked, Calum's hand slowly gliding across the railing that had been painted so beautifully by his friend. Same with the walls, and the carefully placed albums he had decorated the stairway with. Luke didn't ever admit it, but he enjoyed shopping for furniture and decorating his home as he pleased. He enjoyed fixing it up, learning new skills with each pipe that would leak or hot water heater than needed to be replaced. There was no doubt that Luke could afford staff to clean and fix anything that could have ever gone wrong here, with money left over to provide a chef and interior decorator if he wanted to. But despite his money and status, he was still a simple man. A simple man who somehow wasn't half bad at singing or the guitar, and who could write kick ass songs.