Star Signs ✮ Malum

Pain

A/N: Helloooooo everyone, it's been a while since I updated this fic, to be fair I wanted to give you some of you guys a cool down because I released an Extra to Stranger.

One more thing, my lovely friend meowchalclifford just posted a lashton fic called HemmoBeauty1996, and it's already pretty great. The main focus is on Luke and a little bit further in the book he ends up a beauty guru on YouTube. I don't want to spoil anything, but if you like fem!luke or lashton feel free to check it out, show her some love because she gets all excited when you comment on it. Enjoy x

"What's the difference between a dirty bus station and a lobster with breast implants?" I ask, as soon as Ashton opens his eyes.

In hindsight, maybe it wasn't the best idea to wait five minutes until he woke up, especially about three inches away from his face.

He doesn't even react, he blinks twice and then looks at me expectantly.

"Well one's a crusty bus station and the other's a busty crustacean." I grin, happily awaiting his reply.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero.

Absolutely stone cold nothingness.

"You're kidding right? That was comedy gold." I whine, finally retreating to a good two feet away.

"I admit, it was a little bit funny." Ashton shrugs, pinching his fingers together to show me how unfunny the joke was.

I scowl, "I'm not going to stop until you laugh at one of my jokes!"

I stomp off, headed up the stairs, "You hear me? I will not stop!"

"Calum, will you stop and make breakfast for our guests? I need to run out for a bit." My mum calls, bustling down the hall while stuffing things into her handbag.

"Mum, it's like nine. The sunset was four hours ago." I whine, taking cautious steps up the stairs at such a slow rate that hopefully I can escape my responsibilities.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning." She continues, ignoring my complaints and walked out the door.

I gape, 'run out for a bit'? She just said she'll be back tomorrow morning.

"Forgot my keys," She announces, rushing through the door to the hooks that adorn the wall next to a circular mirror at the end of the hall.

"Condoms are under the sink in the bathroom." She feverishly whispers as she strides past me.

"Mum!" I shout in disgust, my only response being the door slamming shut behind her.

"Good morni-Holy crayfish!" Michael's sleepy time switches into surprise when he turns the corner at the top of the stairs and crashes right into me. I lose my balance all at once and we tumble down the stairs in a mess of limbs.

When we make it down all twelve steps of seriously slippery evil, we unanimously decided to lay there in a pile of arms and legs and just groan.

Those twelve varnished steps of pure spite had it out for me.

"Crayfish?" I ask, once the pain subsides a little.

"Yeah," Michael groans, finally shifting to remove his elbow from my ribcage. "I worshipping seafood in my spare time."

"That's hot." I comment, sitting up to look at him. More specifically, the back of his head.

The movies always depict the two main characters falling or tripping directly into one another's arms, or falling on one another on the ground and it looks like clumsy love. From what I could see from my place under Michael, this did not look like the clumsy love in the movies.

It was clumsy for sure, but I guess love, much like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. To anyone else, it looked like Michael was straddling one of my arms, and had laid across my torso so he could rest his head against my calf.

But to us, it looked like Michael was straddling one of my arms, and had laid across my torso so he could rest his head against my calf. Except it was induced by falling down the stairs.

There wasn't going to be any of that in-the-moment kiss the two main characters share, there wasn't going to be the barely audible 'oh' from the clumsier main character.

There was just going to be Michael's short burst of giggles for some reason.

Before I could ask what he was laughing about, he began tickling the foot closest to him.

Sometime later, after several fits of laughter, I ended up on top of Michael and was tickling him.

He was no longer laughing, nor giggling, he was laughing so hard that he was emitting nothing more than loud breaths and high pitched squeaks.

"I can't breathe." He wheezed, grabbing my wrists in an attempt to get me to stop.

I halted for a moment to let him catch his breath before continuing to tickle him.

He shrieked, batting at me with his sweater clad hands. He must have realized that his attempt to fend me off was feeble because he stopped a moment later, his hands came to rest against my chest with the slightest amount of force, it was like he wanted me to think he was going to push me away, his little fingers just barely peeking out of the sleeves of his magenta knitted sweater.

He'd changed out of his casual wear into something that must have made him more comfortable, he was definitely much more relaxed now that he'd dropped his media fuelled act as a Hollywood Bad boy.

He now wore light wash blue jeans that were rolled neatly at the end of each pant leg, his socks didn't pass his ankles and had vibrant zigzags on them.

It was quiet now that I had stopped again, you could only hear Michael's dishevelled breathing.

The pleasant silence is suddenly cut in half when white hot pain shoots up my body, I let out a cry that shatters what was left of the quiet moment.

"What's going on out he-Oh my god don't have sex in the hall!" Ashton squeaks, voice travelling from somewhere to the right.

"You just punched me in the dick!" I shout, cupping my manhood to make sure that it was at least somewhat intact. It seemed that everything was still in the same spot so I began to settle down.

Michael shrugged innocently and let out a small giggle at my expression.