Ashton: His fingers drum absentmindedly on the steering wheel as he cruises down the empty road, his eyes flitting over to you every so often as you sit across from him, preoccupied by the twinkling stars that take up the night sky. “So, where are we going?” you ask, training your focus back to him, and he looks over, grinning, shrugging. “I dunno. I mean, we can go wherever you want. It’s your night. You wanna go to the park? We’ll go to the park. Wanna go to America? Then we’ll go to America. Your choice.” You giggle, thinking for a moment, before asking meekly, “Could we just go to the beach? It… looks nice when the moon’s out.” “I bet it’ll look better if you’re there too. The beach it is!” he exclaims, laughing, making a right turn in the direction of the beach.
Calum: “Dammit, why are there no pizza places open?” Calum grumbles, as he furiously searches through his phone for the next phone number of the next pizza joint. “Maybe because it’s 2am?” you question, laughing, sprawled across the lounge room floor. He pokes his tongue out, throwing a pillow at you, going back to his phone. You uncover the pillow from your face and watch him with amusement as his facial expression changes from concentrated, to disappointed. After a few minutes he’s sick of his unsuccessful attempts to find any place open, and he throws his phone onto the couch and crawls over to you, sitting on your head. “This sucks. Wanna go get Macca’s?”
Luke: It’s really amusing for you, because he’s all sleepy blue eyes and he’s yawning every two seconds because he’s so tired, yet he insists to stay up with you and watch movies and cuddle and talk because he won’t get to do that for a while. And he’s laughing at everything you say, because when he’s half asleep everything’s so damn funny, and he’ll nod off for a few minutes before springing back to life, ready to build bridges and walk the length of the continent. And finally, at some stupid hour in the morning, he’s finally asleep, curled up on the couch, hair stuck to his face and his breathing heavy and even. And you can’t help but smile at how cute he is, and curl up right beside him and fall asleep also.
Michael: “I just don’t get this!” you whine after losing against Michael for the third time in a row, tossing the controller to your feet. You’re tired, and video games aren’t your thing, so therefore, everything is about a thousand times harder. Michael laughs softly, picking your controller back up and placing it in your hands. “Here, I’ll go through it again, okay?” You huff, nodding, frowning down at all the buttons he points to, trailing your eyes back and forth as he moves the joystick around and jabs at the X and Y and whatever the other controls are. And he puts the game on easy mode, and talks you through it as you press down furiously at different buttons, and y’know what? You end up winning.
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