5sos One Shots

Michael BGM - Empty Wallets

~A/N~ Our school has introduced a new 22 inch skirt rule because the teachers can't help perving on our legs but it's so stupid because a 22 inch skirt on me goes down to my ankles (almost) but on my friend it's still above the knee
Enjoy the chapter!
Leila xx

Michael (20):
Stop digging in your heart, 'cause tonight is on me
Tonight is on me

"Nope, not tonight," Michael threw a cushion at you, pulling you up from the sofa. "Tonight we're having fun."

"We were going to have fun anyway!" you protested. "This is supposed to be my date night for you."

Your boyfriend smiled at the neatly arranged cushions over your sofa, a bowl of microwave popcorn on the table and a pile of DVDs ready and waiting.

"It's cute," he admitted, "but we do this every time. We should go out."

"Mikey," you pulled him into you arms, flushing slightly. "You know I can't afford it."

"Pros of being in a big band, baby," he said with a grin. "Back in the day we couldn't go out, but now I've got a steady income and I can afford to blow a bit of it. And I want to blow it on you."

"You really shouldn't," you hesitated, your financial brain running into overdrive. As a broke, starving Uni student with a bad job there were so many risks, but if Michael was paying, who were you to deny? You wouldn't even have to flirt with strangers to get them to buy you drinks.

"Let's go?" he asked, heading to the door, and you nodded reluctantly.

"But only once."

***
Get you high when I'm high
So we see eye-to-eye, woah oh
Take the high with the low
And away, and away we go

You watched Michael's bright eyes warily as he handed you the shot.

"Go on, let loose!"

"I don't know..." Your logical brain told you that if Michael was drunk, you shouldn't also be under the influence, but there was something else, a stronger tugging sensation in your gut that told you to have fun.

So you ignored the sensible instinct and downed the shot, cringing at the awful aftertaste and haze that already flooded through your brain.

"Another?" Michael grinned, and you took it with less hesitation, following it down with more alcohol until you and your boyfriend were stumbling through the club, giggling and grinding and living your student years to the fullest.

And if you were sober, you would've noticed how much Michael was spending on drinks and drugs, and you would've stopped him or protested, but your fuzzy intoxicated self understood exactly how he was feeling and encouraged it.

When you stumbled back to your student halls, you regretted none of it.

***
Living our lives,
Dancing on empty wallets
Spend it all on you

The clubbing didn't stop - you and Michael were riding high on this newfound joy of 'living it up' without worrying about your bank accounts. Gone were the cosy date nights with cheap popcorn and the same DVDs over and over again; you couldn't imagine going back to the same boring routine and leaving the nightlife you had discovered.

"I love spoiling you, baby," Michael slurred in your ear.

"I love it when you spoil me," you giggled back. "It's new."

"It's better."

And you were sure you would never stop.

***
Sugar coated brain
The fluid ain't to blame
For the sugar coated pain

"Are we going out tonight?" you asked as Michael trudged into your flat for the weekly 'date night' that had long since stopped being a date night, more crazy clubbing and spending more money than you could afford.

"Baby, we can't."

"What do you mean?" you didn't mean to sound so desperate, but his words annoyed you slightly.

He sighed. "I'm broke."

"What?"

"We've been spending more than we thought. Whenever we're sober, there's always the worry of spending too much which is why I always get us both high or drunk as soon as possible, and the alcohol makes me spend. And now it's come back to bite me."

"The alcohol isn't to blame here," you stood up, growing more stressed by the second. You should've realised, you were so financially conscious, how could you have let this happen? "It's us. You were sober when you suggested going out the first time, and you were always sober when you made the decision to get us drunk or high. You knew, and you let this happen."

"I'm sorry," he said sharply. "I just wanted to spoil you. We both knew the film nights were boring, we weren't really living."

"I don't need spoiling," your tone softened. "I just want your love. And microwave popcorn was enough for me."

You didn't give him time to reply as you strode out of your flat, picking the familiar route to the student library. It was dark and late, but they would be open.

You needed time to think, and with your empty pockets and empty wallet, the library would have to suffice.