Meteor Shower ✯ calum hood

✯one✯

"The fúck do you mean I'm out of the band?"

Luke swallowed nervously. "We had a band meeting--"

"--and I wasn't invited?"

"For fúck's sake--Calum, it was about you--you couldn't have been there!" Michael exclaimed angrily.

I glared at the three boys across from me.

They had sat me down after our interview telling me they had important news. As it seems, I was kicked out of the band. The band that had just finished their first world tour, dropped a newer, revolutionary album, had a combined total of almost thirty million followers on Twitter and won more awards than I could count on both hands. Well, fúck them.

"Do I not have a choice in this?" My voice was calm, unwavering, and held an undertone of malice and sarcasm. "Of course not. I'm just the bassist. You could easily replace me." A dark laugh bubbled it's way out of my throat.

I stood up from the ratty brown couch that had witnessed too many dog piles and was about to storm off the tour bus when a voice stopped me. Always the voice of reason, Ashton blurted, "It wasn't our decision."

Turning and facing the faces of my old best friends, I raised an eyebrow, a gesture to make him continue.

The brunette cleared his throat. "It wasn't us. It was management. Too many bad choices, they said, you were making."

"Like what?" I scoffed. That was untrue. I was a wonderful person.

"Getting drunk and pissing on the Sydney Opera House," Michael pointed out.

"That was one time," I groaned. "And I was hammered as balls."

Ashton named another time, "Leaking your nudes again, even after what happened last time."

"The girl was hot and showed me her boobs--I wasn't going to leave her hanging," I defended.

Michael snorted. "So you took a picture of you hanging out?"

I glared him. "This isn't even that bad."

"Cal, you got caught smoking weed on Good Morning America," Luke reminded him.

"You would point that out, Mr 'I've-smoked-a-weed-before'."

Michael laughed at the flustered Luke across from him. "I think he said it was two weeds, actually."

I scowled at Michael, who immediately sobered up from my heated stare. "Don't get off topic," I advised him. "This stuff isn't even that bad--our fans don't care--they love us more. In fact, I'm sure they're further up our asses than they were six months ago."

"This isn't about them being wrapped around our finger," Ashton said angrily. "We're role models for people. Little girls listen to us, Cal! You can't go around doing this shit, telling ten year old girls it's okay to do drugs, send nudes, and drink alcohol!"

I rolled my eyes and looked over to Michael, knowing he would agree with me. "This is stupid, right?"

Michael shrugged. "I agree with Ashton. I don't give a fúck if you're snorting crack, but at least do it when there's not twenty fucking cameras around."

I glanced at Luke for help.

He shook his head. "You have to understand, Calu--"

"Oh, I do," I responded in mock happiness. "You've all wanted me out of the band for a while, and guess what? Your wish is my command." Stepping away from them, I bowed to them sarcastically, and then began backing away towards the tour bus door, grabbing my phone and wallet off a table before leaving. "You're all going to regret this! Watch!"

+++

This is shorter than my non-existent dick, but I've had this idea and this may or may not be the only chapter in Calum's point of view.