A Letter Before I Go ; malum

12

I can see the hostility they hold in their eyes as I sit down. It seems they have little trust in anyone who claims to know something about them. Just half an hour later, Calum Hood, 20, says he's going out for a smoke. Michael Clifford, the one who's been making all the headlines, lately, leaves shortly after.

Ashton Irwin, 21, gives me an apologetic smile as he hands me a coffee. "Sorry we're boring; it's mid-tour, you know?"

"What he means is," Luke Hemmings, 19, interrupts, getting off the phone to his controversial girlfriend, "mid-tour is when all of emotions are fucked. A lot of shit goes on."

I try to ask what 'shit' goes on, but they shut me off completely, telling me that sound-check was soon. They disappear and I find them half an hour later getting dressed. Calum and Michael are on the floor laughing like the best friends they always had been.

The strain that the band has with Michael seems to be hidden in that moment as they're talking with him. But, the offhanded comments directed towards him about his disappearance prove that the boys are just being too polite to ask directly.

That night, during encore, Michael apologises to the crowd and locks himself in the dressing-room. Even through the walls, I can hear Michael asking if they hate him, and they insist that they don't.

When I catch Luke and ask him about the current purple-haired boy's disappearance, he smiles sadly, "I've listed every possible reason that he'd do it, but, the truth is, I'm scared to know." His phone rings and he rushes off, eager to get away from me.

The night on the bus includes me waking up at an odd hour of the night to hear voices and a kettle boiling. When I wake properly in the morning, I see it's Calum and Michael that were the ones talking, the pair now cuddled close, fast asleep on the couch. .

Ashton is quick to notice my stare. "They're not like that." He said. "I mean, we cuddle sometimes when we need it. It's so stupid that we aren't supposed to do it, 'cause we're boys, but anyone who tells us that can fuck off."

The boys' behaviour is particularly grouchy, and they all excuse it, telling me that it is 'mid-tour' and no other reason. Even though they're not saying it, I understand the amount of stress they are going through.

That night, there are yells coming from the dressing-room, and one-by-one, I watch them leave with upset expressions. Calum goes out to the smoking area, lighting a cigarette that Ashton had begged him not to light.

"What?" he asks me, not in the mood. "You gonna ask me about Michael, or about the fact that I smoke?"

I notice the conversation about him smoking is popular within the band. Ashton notes how often he smokes, saying he should invest in Nicorette patches. The idea makes Calum scoff.

I say I'm going to ask about neither. He has nothing to say to that.

He hangs his head low. "I just wonder if it was my fault."

"Your fault?"

"Michael running away." He crushes the cigarette underneath his shoe. "He says it's the pressure. And, I want to believe it, but I just don't."

What he says shakes me to the core, and makes me realise just how much their communication is lacking. They may seem like they have it all together, but they are all falling apart. To prove my thoughts right, I see the amount of empty cigarette packs, the empty bottles, and the endless medication labelled for Michael Clifford.