Quiet ⇔ Muke

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Hola I am here with chapter four and I'm very excited, just like all of you! I already have like 700+ reads on this thing like holy wow I just started! thanks guys :D This chapter seemed so much longer while I was writing it and then I looked at the word count and it's actually kinda short... :/ Damn. Still comment what you think about it! I love reading comments :)

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To put it simply, Michael was screwed. Royally screwed.

How was he supposed to know that police were going to stalk him half a mile, force him into the car, and then inform him that he had worried his bandmates sick? He thought no one would notice him being gone! Maybe he left something behind that made it too obvious. Probably his phone.

Michael currently had his head pressed against the cool glass of the window in the backseat of the patrol car, trying to ignore his reflection. The police man was lecturing him acout security and how someone of his status shouldn't be walking around alone, especially in a city, but Michael wasn't listening. Worry was flooding his mind. What were the boys going to say? What if they yelled at him for making them waste time having to find him? What if they insulted him like the fans did?

Tears threatened to spill over onto Michael's cheeks, eventually succeeding. He tried to hide them, but not before the police officer saw. His face softened.

"Michael?" He said. This time Michael actually paid attention. He looked up weakly to glance at the officer through the mirror. He almost grimaced when he saw his own reflection. His eyes had dark, dark circles under them, his hair was dishevled and crazy, and his face was dirty from sleeping on a bench.

"Y-Yes?" He managed to respond to the officer.

"Listen to me, son. Your bandmates are not mad at you. I know that's what you're worried about. All they want is for you to be back safe. If you're having a tough time, please don't wander off again, understood? I'm not going to scold you anymore."

"Okay..." Michael answered, still unconvinced, but the man seemed sincere, so he didn't try to argue with him.

A few minutes later, the car slowed to a stop and the officer announced that they were back at the hotel. Michael's stomach dropped as security members flooded around the car. Why were there so many?

Before Michael had time to comprehend the situation, he was being yanked out of the car by a security gaurd and led up the steps to the building, where flashing lights met him. Paparazzi? How did they know Michael was gone?

"Michael! Is it true you got arrested?"

"Have you been hiding anything? Subtance abuse? Why were you in a police car?"

"Do your bandmates know about your experience with the police?"

Questions were shot at him left and right, but Michael knew that someone must have tipped them off that he was missing, otherwise they wouldn't have been here to see him arrive in a cop car. Boy, the rumors sure would spread now.

Of course, Michael didn't respond to any of the loud mouthed paparazzi and he was acually quite thankful to be pushed through the hotel doors into the quiet lobby. The security guard let go of his arm and asked him if he was okay. Michael just nodded, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

"As long as you're alright, the police officer that took you here wishes to bring you back to your room. Is that okay?" The guard asked, again receiving nothing but a slight head movement from Michael, whose eyes were still trained on the ground. There was a gentle push on his back and he heard the officer's voice speak.