Dynasty Decapitated

Are you free or are you being borrowed?

((Title from how do you feel by the Maine because I went to warped tour this summer so now I'm cool and edgy))

"Okay, Alright, listen," Calum flings himself through the already smashed open window for the second time in twenty four hours. The jagged glass cuts his skin open and spreads gashes along his biceps and shins. Michael smells blood.

He sighs heavily and watches from where he's curled up in a blanket nest, only head and hands showing through the mound, holding his brand new (stolen) Nintendo DS. He pulls it closer to him at the sight of Calum. Luke is sitting on top of the counter, swinging his feet into the cabinets below and running over some notes for work with an apple in his hand. The steady beat of his heels stutters and then stops altogether at the sound of Calum's voice.

They watch as he storms across their studio apartment, dressed in a simple shirt and hello kitty pajama bottoms, clutching an indiscernible amount of markers in his hand. Calum marches over to the front door, unlocks it, and flings it open. He easily shoots a web into the hall, then whips his wrist back to wheel a massive whiteboard into the already small room.

"Oh my god," Michael says under his breath.

"Why didn't you just come in the front door?" Luke raises his eyebrows.

Calum huffs at them. "I am under a great deal of stress right now. Mind your business. Also, you wouldn't have let me in."

Michael glances at Luke, trying to convey that he would, in fact, do everything in his power to keep Calum out of his home. Luke shrugs and says, "Fair enough. But, the elevator is broken and we live on the 12th floor, how did you get that thing up here?"

Calum shakes his head as he closes the front door and starts placing markers on the shelf in front of the board. "Sheer willpower."

Michael snorts. Calum looks too busy to even be pleased by the response. Which, really, is unacceptable. Everyone should be thrilled when Michael gives them any sort of positive reaction- his snorts are far and few between.

Calum starts drawing and writing on the whiteboard, but the back is facing Michael, so he can't be sure what he's writing. He ignores it, ignores Luke tilting his head curiously at the doodles, and returns to his Pokémon game. Calum whips a marker into his forehead when he starts humming the theme song, then shoots a web to bring it back to himself.

"Fucker," Michael whispers.

Calum ignores him. Luke gives him a chastising look, but offers no further comment.

"Okay, listen," Calum repeats. Michael sighs heavily to show his displeasure, dropping his DS and sarcastically offering Calum his full attention. Calum spins the board at a 45 degree angle, so they can both see what he's written. An astounding amount of nonsense in thirty seconds.

"Yes," Luke looks extremely alert for a bitch, in Michael's opinion.

"This is Ashton," Calum points to a crudely drawn ashton at the top, left corner of the board. It seems to be a stick figure with big, almond eyes, and a mess of curls on top of his head.

"No nose," Michael notes.

Calum shoots him an annoyed glare and then returns to his incredibly detailed drawing. Stick Ashton seems to be walking down a dark street (Michael can tell, due to the scribbled in background and one, solo street lamp erased into the mess).

"So, Ashton decides to go for a walk around midnight- see? It's dark- and I woke up around one to find him gone," Calum moves onto a immaculate drawing of him in a bed, eyes massive and webs coming out of his wrists for seemingly no reason.