Torn In Three | Malum, Muke, Mashton

Chapter Eighteen

-Ashton's point of view-
"Guitarist Michael Clifford was arrested for assault of his friend and fellow band member Ashton Irwin last night. Police dragged him from the venue he was supposedly playing in at eleven, and arrived at the station at midnight. The 'punk rocker' has been locked behind bars, awaiting his thousand pound bail."

I slammed the newspaper shut, sick of reading articles on Michael's arrest. Each one told the same story, yet every article I read was more degrading towards Michael than the last.

It wasn't surprising; Michael took it too far this time. My skin was a blanket of scars and bruises. It had only been twenty-four hours since the event but it felt like centuries: without Michael around, the remainder of the band was a broken and lonely mess. Luke hadn't spoken a word, Calum was miserable. I told myself not to get phased - Michael deserves what happened. 'Actual Bodily Abuse' could lead to a long sentence, but unfortunately, he had it easy given it was his first time being arrested.

"When will we bail him out?" Luke finally spoke, walking out of his bedroom. He looked like a mess: unshaven stubble, hair going every direction possible, and pyjamas that I'm sure had not been taken off since yesterday.

"We're not." I replied.

"What do you mean? We can't just leave him there. No one else in this country knows Michael well enough to be willing to bail him out." Luke argued.

"It might do the boy good to spend a few days behind bars, maybe something will snap in his little brain that he's doing something wrong." I stood up from my seat and left the newspaper on a nearby coffee table. The stuffy hotel room was beginning to annoy me - there was hardly any space to move. I walked towards Luke, who I could now smell, and looked into his tired eyes.

"But where else will we find a guitarist for our other shows?" Luke half-smirked, knowing his point practically won the argument.

"I'd rather cancel them," I muttered, still coldly looking at Luke. "Besides. Where will we find one thousand pounds?"

"Our bank accounts?"

Defeated, I nodded and sighed. "Sometimes I hate being successful."

"That's it, we'll do it as soon as possible." Luke jumped up, somewhat excited to be visiting the police station. I remained standing with a monotone expression planted on my face. In any normal situation, the victim would not be bailing his attacker out. But this was a band; we couldn't do anything without the slut. I had no choice, to my dismay.

"No," I grabbed Luke's arm, "after your shower."

**

The police station was a run-down building that looked as though it never left The Sixties. Small windows with bars across them were scattered around the building, leaving small space for the entrance that was a navy blue door saying 'City of London Police'. As the three of us entered the reception area, the distinctive smell of musk and metal came into force and I watched Luke wrinkle his nose - I nearly punished myself for finding it cute.

"Visitors?" A broad middle aged man in police uniform spoke.

"Yeah, we're here to bail too." Luke replied.

"Name?"

"Five seconds-" Calum started with a smile but I cut him off by nudging his shoulder.

"Michael Clifford" I interrupted, already sick of this.

The man nodded and gestured us to follow him: we were taken through a small hallway with a large door at the end of it. There was a window only big enough to fit a sandwich on it with bars once again covering it in diagonal lines.

"The bail is one thousand pounds. We accept cash only." The man put his hand out expectantly. Calum rummaged through his pocket and pulled out an envelope, placing it in the police officer's hand. After it was checked through and approved, he looked through the small window of the cell door and spoke. "You've been bailed, Clifford. Walk towards the door so I can let you out."

A small sigh of relief was audible from the other side of the door and I recognised it as Michael's: when he finally walked out, I looked at how tired and distraught he looked. His hair was an unbrushed mess, the bags under his eyes were dark; he looked terrible. Even more so when his eyes laid upon me. He quickly looked down to the floor as if hoping we wouldn't notice how bad he looked, and mumbled "thanks."

"Let's just go back to the hotel." I replied, wanting this to be over with.

**

"You really fucked up, Michael." Calum said as we walked into the taxi.

"I know. Sorry." He continued to mumble, avoiding all eye contact as if he was a child in trouble.

"It's a little too late for apologies." I said, glaring. The boy was probably fully aware of the consequences that night, and anyway, I was enjoying humiliating him. "You've disappointed the band, the fans, and more importantly: your boyfriends." My comment made Michael blush as he continued to attempt to hide his face; he shut his eyes tightly as if to push back tears, but I felt no sympathy.

"Ash is right. Because of you we're all over the news and people fucking tore up their concert tickets." Calum said, furious. Michael nodded, still looking down.

Luke quickly wrapped his right arm around Michael and squeezed his shoulder. "It's not all that bad, some people are saying we're finally punk rock."

"Shut up, Luke. Nothing Michael ever does is good." I said, batting his arm off Michael so he was once again alone.

Michael sat as close as possible to the window of the taxi while the rest of us sat as far away as possible from Michael. His face showed remorse as he looked at his hands, but I told myself not to break for the boy.

Michael was finally getting what he deserved.

--
Hi sorry this is short but there's a lot more drama and fluff to come soon (oops have I said too much).
Also the beautiful fabulousmuke aka Ruby has started a new fanfic that's about lucid dreams of Ashton so please check it out it would mean a lot and she's an amazing writer so yeah it's in my reading list called 'No Escape' if you're interested :)
Update soon, bye ily
-Celia xx