Eighteen // 5SOS

Chapter 13

Michael, Kakkii and Megs ran swiftly through people and corridors, following the signs to the exit of the unfamiliar airport. It was 5:30, and there was literally an hour until Michael had to be on stage.

"This way," Michael panted, pointing, flailing, at the door where the light was streaming through, and it was in this light that they emerged out of as they stepped outside.

And all of a sudden they were out in the open, a gentle summer breeze cooling their sweating faces, but they didn't stop there. Kakkii darted forwards first to a nearby taxi, of which the driver was leisurely reading a newspaper. The gang piled in the back, and Megs was the one to speak first.

"Murrayfield," she said to the driver, smacking her hand firmly and repeatedly on the glass to get his attention. "Fast."

It worked, and the man dropped his paper in surprise and started to drive, and they were used now to the drama and hurried atmosphere of these situations. Getting into the back of a car and yelling to drive was something Michael had always wanted to do, to feel for a moment like he was powerful, like he was on top of and commanding the world around him. Though in these moments, when it was all real, intense and happening, this was not how he felt. He was helpless and lost, and he wondered for a moment if his heroes felt the same. In a Will Smith movie, did Will Smith feel as helpless as he did, even when he was defying the odds and defeating his demons? He had never thought about it before.

The taxi made it's way steadily down the street, but they turned a corner and stopped. The taxi driver groaned from the front and began tapping his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.

"What's happened, why have we stopped?" Kakkii asked.

"Traffic," the driver replied. "We're gonna be here a while. Some big concert on."

Michael shot a wide-eyed expression at the others, spinning his whole body around to face them.

Shit.

- - -

"You could've been a little more considerate!" Calum yelled at Steve, forcing the large arms of the security guard off of his own.

"No Calum, you could have been a lot more considerate," Steve stated, fuming, pointing a stern finger at the boy. "We don't even have time to discuss this right now, there are thousands of fans already out there and here you show up, an hour before showtime like nothing happened! Do you have any kind of explanation for where you've been? And where the hell is Michael?!"

Calum gulped and stood back. The boys turned to Ashton, as they always did when they were in trouble like this. But that was it, they had never been in trouble like this. And to everyone's surprise, Ashton was on the defence.

"We just wanted to be free for once, do you have any idea how suffocating this can all get, Steve? We haven't had a break in months, so saw a chance of escape and took it. I actually had one of the best nights of my life, but I'm so sorry we ruined your precious schedule," and with that, he strode past them all, to a nearby door with a paper sign labelled "5SOS dressing room" on it, and it was this door he opened. Before entering, however, he stopped. "Michael's on his way back from Paris. Now excuse me while I untangle my strings, I've got to continue being your fucking puppet."

And with that, though the door slammed behind him; the jaws of everyone on the other side of it remained wide open.

- - -

"We could play I-spy?" Michael suggested. They had been in traffic for twenty minutes and were going no where. The stadium was now visible, and the dull roar of a crowd was now audible out the open window of the taxi on Megs' side. Though the truth was that he was not bored at all, but needed something to distract him from the anxiety. Waves of it were crashing over him, waves that sounded like the boo's of disappointed fans. It subdued every time he breathed in to only wash over again; rising in volume and intensity, always rising.