5SOS preferences

Hotel Ceiling: Rixton

Ashton:

On the TV they say they have reported you dead

You sit in your hotel, listening to the news while scrolling through Twitter.

"And it seems as if the Australian pop-rock band, 5 Seconds of Summer's tour bus has crashed," the news reporter states.

Her words catch your attention and you sit up, focusing your eyes on the TV.

"Three are reported dead, including one of the band members, Ashton Irwin."

You let out a shaky breath, setting your head in your hands.

Your boyfriend.

The one who's been there for you, the one who you were waiting for.

Is dead.

Luke:

I guess I'm only acting in the way that you do

Your friends let out a laugh at your cheesy joke and you smile at that reaction.

The smile fades when the realization dawns on you what you're doing.

Your boyfriend, Luke, used to do this all of the time.

Telling little jokes to make you laugh.

A sickening feeling sits in your gut.

"Hey guys, I'm gonna head home, I don't feel so good," you tell your friends, standing from the booth and slowly making your way out of the coffee shop.

You drive home cautiously, so you don't make the same mistake he did.

Calum:

How does it feel to leave me this way

All that you have's been lost in a day

You wipe the tears from your eyes, even though no one's present to see you.

You recently got the message that your boyfriend, your world, committed suicide.

A sob escapes your mouth at the thought and you cover your mouth, not wanting to make any noise.

Everything that you had was him.

Everything that you did involved him and now he's just gone.

In the few minutes it took him to die, you lost everything.

"Why did you leave me? Especially like this?" You let out a shaky whisper, staring down at the ugly floral blanket on the hotel bed.

Home reminds you too much of him.

Michael:

I've been staring at the hotel ceiling

Drinking everything I've found this evening

If you drink you'll forget.

If you drink you won't be able to remember how much it hurts.

The thoughts ring over and over in your head as you chug down the bottle of wine, setting it next to the other three bottles.

You stare up at the ceiling, and it's like you're staring at him.

"I can't do this," you mumble, reaching for another wine bottle.

"I can't remember. It hurts too much."

As you tip your head to get the last drop, your eyes focus on the yellowing ceiling.

And they remain there, even as the glass drops to the ground and shatters.