Deception (Michael Clifford)

Twenty Nine

I cling helplessly to the bag over my shoulder as we make our way through the swarm of teenage girls. They push at my sides, trying to get past. Ahead of me, I can only just see the soft blond hair of Luke being bear bugged by security, who try to lift him up out of reach. I hunch my shoulders and push harder.

The screaming doesn't affect me too much anymore, that's not to say that I've gotten used to it. The way their arms reach out and their eyes dance widely still makes me thinking I'm in an episode of The Walking Dead.
How do they do this?

Finally we reach the huge glass doors that lead out to the back of the airport, I squint in the sudden brightness.
Being stuck on a dim airplane for 11 hours has it's effects.
I follow exhaustedly behind the marching line of the crew as they make their way over to the vans, parked patiently under the gleaming sunlight.
I can't help but slow down. I'm exhausted. More mentally than physically, but my body doesn't seem to know the difference.
I wonder if its possible to have caffein withdrawals?
Squinting harshly, my eyes catch the familiar slanted shoulders and black hair of Michael, walking next to Calum, who's definitely the more athletic looking of the two. He walks with the certain sureness about him, like he could out run a lion and not break a sweat, not that the situation would ever arise.
I tug on the heavy strap digging into my shoulder, and look uninterestedly at my shoes. A plane soars by overhead, ascending into the clear blue sky.
Michael came back last night, thankfully. I don't think anyone even noticed he'd disappeared, because he came back a few hours later as the band stumbled back into their rooms. And not a word was said.
He must have walked all the way back to the pub, I think to myself.
I dodge a small crack in the smooth pavement.
They were dead to the world this morning. A smile tugs at the corner my mouth. Woken up at 6am for the morning flight, hungover and sleep deprived. They fell asleep as soon as their butts hits the seat on the plane, except for Michael.
I'm staring to get the feeling that he never sleeps.

"Hey!"
I jump as someone comes up beside me.
"Sorry," he laughs, and I turn to see the familiar soft blond hair and hazel eyes of Ashton, "you fell behind, just making sure your okay."
A small voice asks why he should care? But I push it down, he's just being considerate.
"Yeah I'm fine," I sigh, the exhaustion clear in my voice, "just a little tired, you know, late night..."
"Yeah," he chuckles, "felt that this morning, knew going out last night was a bad idea."
"Didn't you suggest it?" I query. He walks for a few more moments.
"Yeah," he shrugs absently, then smiles down at me.
I look up. The crew has slowed down for now, spreading out a bit more across the path. I can't say this looks familiar. I notice the lack of places to park, and cars, and people. Where is everyone?
"So what have you got planned for whilst your in LA?" He asks, changing the subject, "it's been awhile since we were last here."
I readjust the strap on my shoulder, realising I've lost some of the feeling in my arm.
"Um, not much," I answer truthfully, "don't really know anyone here." We keep walking.
Then it hits me, I look up with a jolt, "although..." I start, "my friends band is playing a show down in the city next week." He looks at me sideways. "I guess ill be going down to see that."
I look ahead in a bit of a daze. Of course, Kellin is in Los Angeles. I could hang out with him, and the guys! Maybe I won't be as bored as I thought,
Except, he expects me to bring a friend, but I have no one to go with...
"I'll go with you," I look at Ashton in surprise, then realise I said that out loud.
"Wha- I mean, really?" I stutter. He looks at me calmly, the sun dancing across his face. I wonder how anyone could remain so friendly and calm, even when his best friend was having a seizure on the couch, he didn't break that eerie, yet reassuring sense of stillness.
"Sure, why not?"
I blink. Well, exactly, why not? But for some reason a part of me is still in disbelief. I would never have thought of asking Ashton, maybe because he always seems to be busy with band stuff, he doesn't seem like the sought of person who usually has spare time, unless you count going out for a drink with the crew each night. More than that, asking him to go with her to a concert, it's sought of like...
I look at Ashton, his hair picking up slightly in the cool breeze.
... A date.
No.
I push the thought away automatically, and the uncomfortable feeling it brings with it.
This is not a date. Dates don't work like this. Dates are cute movies and dinners at quaint little restaurants and laughing at the policeman in the parking lot scoffing a box of donuts and then staring up at the stars as you point out the constellations.
This is not a date. This is a friend, offering to keep you company as you both enjoy some decent music.
I look back to Ash.
"Yeah, alright," I say, reaching my conclusion. "Why not?" He smiles at me then, a warm smile.