Balls [5sos ot4]

hotter balls

Michael pov:

*time skip because I'm lazy and evil af*

Calum is loitering around backstage, trying to find something to do while the guitar tech is tuning their bass. I stare at them until they meet my eye. And when they finally do, I wink at them. They smirk back. Tonight's going to be great.

I look away quickly, wiping away the matching smirk in exchange for a more neutral expression. No one can find out what we're planing. My wandering eyes catch sight of Alex entering the toilets. Perfect.

Walking towards the door, I carefully check no one's really paying attention. They aren't. I push the door open slightly. "Alex?"

"Peeing," he says. I walk in.

"Excited for the big night?" I ask as I walk to the sinks. The need to wash my hands from touching the gross door was getting too much.

Alex laughs. "Fuck yeah. It'd be crazy not to be." It's silent for awhile, slight awkwardness fills the room after I nod to his words. "You know, it's really cool how you're doing this."

"Doing what?" I ask, already knowing what he's going to say.

"Continuing to perform after Luke and Ash died. It's brave in a way. I don't know how you do it. I mean, I'd never be able to if Jack died. I'm also glad you forgave us for being shit people and invited us into a band," Alex explains, coming up next to me.

"I'm all about forgiving." I force a smile, looking his way.

He smiles back. I can't tell if it's genuine. "Sweet. See you on stage," he says, leaving without washing his hands.

I turn around back to the mirrors and squirt some soap onto my hands.

Fucking nasty. But at least he's not expecting anything.

***

The screams are incredible. Who would have thought so many people would like a band called The Highest Winter? A band made up of half of All Time Low and half of 5 Seconds of Summer (and a drummer, but no one really cares about her)? A band who plays only covers of their former bands and not new original songs? I didn't, that's for sure. But it's good it worked out this way. It's great.

Being on stage is amazing like always but it feels different without Luke and Ashton. It feels empty. And I know that there's still four people. And even one more. But still. It still feels odd even if it's been almost a year of touring with this band.

I hate it. I hate them.

But not Cal, never Cal.

As we finish up the last song (Runaways), I glance over at Calum. They're already looking at me. I give them the signal: a rub of the nose and then a hand through the hair. It's simple, doesn't cause any suspicion. It's also stupid but we're stupid so it makes sense.

They make their way off the stage first and everyone else trails behind. We get backstage and the crew is all over the place. I check my back pocket. Still there.

The roaring of the crowd behind us makes me smile. So many people tonight about to see exactly what we planned. Looking over at Cal, I see them grab two water bottles from my bag. They hand me one.

"Okay boys," Calum cringes as our manager walks up to us, "let's do this shit. Last show of the tour. Last encore. Make it a great one."

"No worries, boss. We've got it covered," Calum assures him with a tight smile.