3 Days Drunk, 1 Year Dead

Chapter 1

The music coursed through my veins much like the alcohol. We had just finished writing and recording the third album, planning an upcoming tour and all those mornings of drinking 3 cups of coffee to stay awake and late nights of crashing at the studio at 4am finally paying off.

It would only make sense if we celebrated by letting loose and drinking till our hearts content and being the band with the mental age of a 5-year-old child we didn't fail to be the interesting drunks and filled in every dull moment.

With another bottle of whiskey in hand and vision slightly blurry, I stumbled over to Ashton who was talking to one of the songwriters. "Hey mate. Woah slow down with the drinks Mikey." Ashton chuckled. I couldn't think straight and my focus wasn't the best either right now but I laughed anyway. "This is the best album party ever." I slurred. I tipped the whiskey bottle to my lips and let the fiery cold liquid slither its way down my throat.

The music pulled me towards the mass group of dancing people that became the dance floor. I saw Luke off to the side with Calum holding Luke's sunglasses in place while Luke held a gold disco ball and had his shirt at the nape of his neck and someone else taking a picture. I continued to dance with the other people around me.

It wasn't grinding or anything just twisting my body and trying not to drop my bottle. I took another chug and began grinding on some random girl who was in the club like the surrounding clubgoers. A couple of songs and the last bit of my liquor in my body, I stumbled to the bar where the other boys were. "Hey boys." I slurred. They replied with "hi" or "hey".

The bartender placed four shot glasses filled to the brim with a clear, alcoholic liquid. We each grabbed one and did a toast. "To the album!" Luke cheered. "To the album!" we chorused and downed the liquid, leaving a fiery trail down our throats making each of us squint. I let out a belch and a hiccup following.

My mind had probably become mush from the alcohol and it was taking its toll on me. I was going to have one hell of a hangover. The pounding of the headache had just started and I would only get worse. On cue, my head throbbed profusely and the bass from the music wasn't helping either. "has the great Michael Clifford finally been beaten by alcohol?" Ashton joked. I could only groan in response. "Let's get you home mate." He said.

We got outside the club and the fresh air was a huge help to the pounding headache. Although the overwhelming smells of Los Angeles' streets were enough to push my nausea over its limit thus how I threw up on the curb. Ashton grimaced and hailed a cab while I continued to hurl my brains out.

I slumped into the cab and the cool window did wonders to ease my headache. The coolness and soft hum of the cab engine lulled me to sleep. I would have no problems sleeping tonight. Its tomorrow morning I have to worry about.