You were awake, but you didn't really know why. Your nerves urged you to hop out of bed and get into defense mode, but your swollen, pregnant, body had other plans.
A surge of adrenaline shoots through your body, then, you feel it. The tearing sensation that starts from the bottom of your spine and travels up, gradually building pressure onto your pelvis.
You curse, slapping the side of the bed where your fiance was supposed to be sleeping, but you're met with a cold, Ashton-less sheet instead.
"Ashton!" You scream, bracing yourself for another contraction. You order Siri to call him as you shakily rise from your bed, your knees threatening to buckle as another wave hits.
Luke rushes into your room, followed by a sleepy looking Calum. He runs towards where you were hunched over by your wardrobe and places his hand by the small of your back.
"(Y/n) talk to me, what's going on?"
"It's...time..." You sneer through gritted teeth.
"That's impossible!" Calum interjects, shakily using your phone to attempt to ring Ashton again. "You're not due for another two months!"
Luke stares wide-eyed at the wet spot on your moo-moo. "Oh...it's happening alright."
"Why is everyone here but my fucking boyfriend?" You snap, stabilizing yourself on Luke's hand.
"Rehearsal ran late." Calum explains. "Ash invited us back to his to hang for a bit."
You lose your temper when the least important part of your question is still unanswered. You repeat yourself again, this time louder.
"Where. Is He?"
The phone goes to voicemail again, and Calum looks to Luke for help before murmuring something under his breath.
"For fucks sake." You groan, waddling towards the ottoman at the foot of your bed. "I don't even care anymore, just please get me to a hospital."
"Shit! Right! Shit!." Luke murmurs, placing his hands on his hips. "Ok...Calum, go pull your car around front while I grab her stuff."
Calum's face floods with red, and his eyes dart sheepishly to the ground. "I-I can't do that dude."
You yell out another profanity.
"C'mon dude quit fucking around." Luke warns, his face losing more color by the second.
"I've had too much to drink dude, we both have!"
"Oh my FUCKING god!" You laugh bitterly. "You have got to be kidding me!"
Your husband's bandmates stand motionless in the center of your room, pale, sweaty and confused. You felt like biting their heads off, but you had more important matters at hand, like not delivering your premature daughter on your bedroom floor.
"Don't just stand there!" You cry, wiping the tears from your eyes. "Call an ambulance!"
"On it!" Luke exclaims, grateful to be somewhat of use. He snatches your cellphone from Calum's shaky hands and dials 911, pacing circles around your bedroom.
Calum builds you a cot of pillows and blankets on the floor in attempts to make you more comfortable while help arrives. He kneels beside you, going through the breathing exercises that you'd remembered from your birthing books.
"You're doing great." Calum assures you, wincing at how hard you were crushing his hands.
"Oh Kiss my ass." You hiss.
Luke rushes back in, announcing that help will be here soon, and the relief you should of felt was replaced by anger. Things shouldn't be like this, your daughter's life shouldn't be in the hands of a couple drunken idiots.