all mine | ft. michael clifford

twenty;

IMPORTANT NOTE AT THE END, MAKE SURE YOU READ! X

Dedicated to Ciarnan for her suggestion and hella nice support. (; 

To be able to come on tour, you need a passport. Of course, I had one – I'd used it to get into America but I couldn't exactly use it for this tour unless I wanted the whole of 5SOS and their crew to ask me why 'Charlotte Slater' was printed on my plane tickets, boarding pass, whatever, instead of Mali. And so, naturally I had to lie again and tell them all that I couldn't find my passport and thanked them when they told me that their manager could get me one, under wraps. And guess what that meant? I was illegally about to enter many different countries under a false name with a dodgy passport that actually looked real.

Was I scared? More than you could imagine. Did I want to tell them that my name's Charlotte? No. This whole thing was quickly spiralling out of control. But I'd already had so many great opportunities, experiences and had met so many great people that I felt almost forced to continue on with this Mali thing. Where else could it lead me?

We flew the 12 hour flight in business class because apparently that's exactly how celebrity-fied 5 Seconds of Summer were. I wasn't complaining. The free breakfast snacks were nice and so was being seated in a comfortable leather recliner-style chair next to a red haired boy with too much energy for 5am.

"Mali, tell me how great it is to have the best flight neighbour in the world," Michael chirped, glancing up from his phone to grin widely at me.

I was tired as hell. I hadn't slept very well after my little chat with Veronica. If anyone was going to make me feel better, it was going to be Michael. If he couldn't do it then nobody could.

I shrugged and my lips tugged upwards. "I wouldn't know."

A fake look of hurt crossed his face and he placed his hand on his heart. "Right through my left ventricle."

I fought back a laugh and brought my legs up onto my big seat, bringing my knees towards my chin. I didn't feel fancy enough to be seated in such a luxurious section. I guess the guys were all used to it because they were chatting like they lived on this plane and I suppose they flew often enough that it wouldn't have been too far from the truth.

Beside us, on the other side of the small aisle, sat Ashton and Luke, in front of us sat Olivia and Melissa and in front of Mel and Liv sat Veronica and Calum. I was pretty stoked that Veronica was sitting the furthest from me; I wasn't sure I had the right amount of self-control to stop myself from kicking her chair non-stop if she'd been directly ahead of me. I hadn't told anyone about what had been said between us because I sure as hell didn't want to start anything within the group; I certainly didn't want to start something between her and Calum either although he deserved way more and could do better. It wasn't my place.

"You look tired, Mals," Michael told me, pushing up the folding arm rest that stuck out between us and scooting closer to me. "You should get some sleep."

I shook my head and instinctively leaned against him, resting my head on his shoulder. He wore a white shirt under a red and black flannel and the material was soft against my face. The fact that he smelled good, smelled like Michael, was just an added bonus.

"I'm not tired," I said, resisting the overwhelming desire to yawn at that moment.

I could feel him chuckle and let myself smile at the soft sound.

"Which place are you most looking forward to?" He asked me, his head coming to rest on mine.

I closed my eyes and breathed in, exhaling softly. "Paris."