10 Years On ~ OSL Sequel.

Lexi's P.O.V.

When Michael and I got home he still hadn't talked to me. Unlocking the door, he stormed into the house and straight into the living room. I paused to take my shoes off and then followed him. The TV showed 'Kerrang!' and blared out all the 'old classics' which I listened to when I was a teenager. Currently, 'Lost In Stereo' by All Time Low was playing .

"Michael, do you mind giving me a hand with the bags?" I break the silence.

To be honest, I'd just remebered them. My concerns lay with why Michael was in such a mood with me. Looking down at my feet, I realised I had taken my shoes off, which meant we weren't getting the bags  out of the car anytime soon. 

"Yeah, in a bit though." He replies stiffly. From his gaze, I see he has taken note of my feet as well. 

"I was thinking we could perhaps talk about this first." Michael produces a clear folder from behind him. I gulp and know instantly what it is. 

"Wh-where did you find that?" But I already know the answer. 

"Third draw." He shrugs and pops open the press-stud.

"Listen Michael, I-" 

"Save it!" He cuts me off sharply. 

My palms become sweatier as Michael pulls out pieces of paper. Some of the cuttings are yellowed and tearing at the edges - old. Others are more whiter and with less faded ink - newer. 

"Michael -" I try again.

"Lexi." He warns. 

Soon all forty-two newspaper articles are placed on the coffee table. Sorted in piles of each band member. Ashton has five. Calum has eight. Luke has ten. That leave nineteen about Michael. Carefully, Michael skims each and every single one. The tension is thick in the room and almost suffocating. Finally, he reaches the end of his pile. 

"You don't honestly believe half of these things do you?" He looks up at me. 

"No I don't. B-but I had to make sure you were still okay, somehow." My voice is hoarse from not talking in so long. 

"Listen to me. I'll admit it right in front of you." Michael takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his fading pink hair, it's faded so much now it's almost starting to look white again. 

"No, Mikey. You don't have to do that to yourself." I cross over to the sofa he was sat on and wrapped my arm around him. 

I was relieved to feel him settle into my arm and I slowly let out a happy sigh. 

"No, I want to tell you." He seems stronger than he was five seconds ago. 

"Whenever you're ready." I rub his back. 

He takes another deep breath. "After I'd escpaed from here I chucked all my things into a hotel room and made my way down to the nearest bar. There I met a girl who ... lets just say, took my mind off things for a little while. The next morning when I woke up, I realised I'd only had one drink last night when my intentions were to get absolutely smashed. I made plans to go again that night..."

MICHAEL'S P.O.V.

((okay so this is baisically back in time when Michael was in LA))

I dressed in a plaid shirt and black skinny jeans and headed out to the same bar as last night. Paparazzi snapped my picture as I entered the bar. Sighing to myself, I knew my blue-haired head would be somewhere in tomorrow's newspaper. I made a mental note to buy it so I could laugh at what theroy they would come up with. 

In the bar I shouted over the music and ordered a pint of lager. Propping myself against the bar, I sipped my drink and laughed at all the drunk men and women on the dance floor. They danced like they didn't care, which they probably didn't as they were most definately very drunk. Secretly, I hoped to be one of them in a few hours.