Crack Attack: A Collection of One-Shots and Other Disturbing Shit

Superstar (Locklan)

Written to the tune of "My Heart" by Different Heaven and EH!DE, released by NCS. We write things like this because we love these guys. I swear.
---------------

"Hey, Mitch? How long's he been in there now?"

"A while."

"Whaddaya think he's doing?" Mitch looks over at me with his displeased bitchface and pulls his phone out of his pocket to scroll through Twitter for the millionth time. Lachlan's been in the guest bathroom for like forty minutes now without a peep. Either all that Chipotle's catchin' up to him after a month of eating pretty much nothing else, or he's up to no good. No matter what, it's not lookin' good for the poor toilet. "He was already dressed, so I don't think he's gettin' all dolled up in there. He acts like he's a fucking supermodel."

"Maybe he's putting his makeup on."

"Wait... Lachlan wears makeup?" Mitch snickers at me and locks his phone with a click, tapping his bare feet impatiently on the floor in front of him. The only time we ever use the living room is when Lachy's here and we're waiting for him to get his ass in gear. We don't even use the TV in here.

"No, Jerome, Lachlan doesn't wear makeup. At least, not as far as I know. Maybe you should go ask him about that and tell him to get a move on."

"Pfffft. I'm not goin' over there, Mitch. I'm not that stupid. I don't wanna die. Have you ever had the displeasure of walkin' behind Burrito Butt?" Mitch just blinks at me. "Didn't think so. A Bac knows-"

"Ready?" Lachlan yells down the hall, his chest rising and falling rapidly like he just ran a mile. What the fuck was he doing in there that made him all breathless? Maybe I don't wanna know.

"Yeah, 'course. Hey, you okay bud?"

"Brilliant. Let's go get some food, boys!" Mitch and I look at each other and he shrugs, slipping his flip-flops on to follow the big blonde kid running out to get in the car. We wait until the door shuts behind him before Mitch turns to me with a smirk.

"He spent all that time doing his hair. His gorgeous golden locks," he cackles, jokingly running his fingers through his own carefully spiked hair with a disgusting kissy face.

"Yeah, so? I mean, we knew the guy was vain, but-"

"Don't you get it, Jerome? He didn't take anything with him into the bathroom. And no one keeps their stuff in there."

"What're you trying to say?"

"I think Lachlan uses organic hair gel." With that, he's gone, following the Australian supermodel out to the car. Wait, so he spent all that time... Oh. Ugh.

"Dear god, Mitch. There's no way that could be right."

"Why don't you pet him and find out?"

"I'm not gonna go out there and pet Lachlan, Mitch. Who the fuck do you think I am? Rob?"