Credit (fourvoices)
Luke: "Luke, c'mon!" Calum yelled, for what had to have been the millionth time. Luke groaned against your shoulder, as he gently detached himself from your back and looked around for his guitar. You could hear him muttering barely audible phrases for a good three minutes. "Luke?" You opened your eyes to see him covering his mouth with one hand, "Hm?" "What exactly are you doing?" He sighed, glancing at the clock before he started pacing. "My guitars seems to have... disappeared? I think?" "You..." Your eyebrows furrowed at his response, "think?" He anxiously nodded. Michael knocked at the door before opening it slightly, "Luke, we have to go. What're you doing?" "Looking for my guitar. Give me a minute or two, I'll be out soon?" His explanation came out more as a question than a statement. This was common with Luke - he was always losing things backstage. Due to his constant walking around and moving from one place to another, he never remembered where he left something. It was a bad habit of his.
Calum: "She looks so perfect," Calum belted out a note as he strummed on his guitar, "standing there." Calum was known to mess up the lyrics from time to time, and to say it was slightly embarrassing for him would've been a major understatement. He was now practicing as much of the set list as he could before the show started, in hope of memorizing the lyrics perfectly. You hated seeing him so stressed out about perfecting every little thing about him from his singing to the wrinkles in his clothes. "If you mess up a lyric or two, it's not a big deal." You came up behind him, rubbing his shoulders gently. "You know that, right?" Calum nodded, "I just don't want to mess up. There's nothing wrong with practicing to be the best you can be. You know that, right?" A hint of sarcasm was evident in his tone. He ran his fingers through his hair, "I'm sorry, that was rude. I just really want to try to perfect the lyrics. I'm sick of messing up, even if it's not a big deal. It doesn't boost my confidence at all when I'm constantly slurring my words." "That's understandable, I guess. Just know that not everyone's perfect. You can practice a song a million times, but you won't master the skills. Little things can mess you up, but that's life. You're perfect to me, anyway, whether your messing up lyrics or not."
Ashton: Ashton was probably the loudest backstage. He was constantly running around, singing at the top of his voice, purposely trying to annoy the hell out of his band mates. "Do you believe in life after love?!" He screeched, trying his best to reach the seemingly impossible high note, "Doo, doo, doo!" He skipped past you and a grumpy Michael, who was scrolling endlessly through Twitter. "What are you even singing?" He groaned. "I think it's Whitney Houston?" You piped up from next to him. Ashton turned around, a dead serious look on his face. "Whitney Houston? Who even are you?" He slapped his face jokingly and collapsed onto the carpet, rubbing his eyes. "Whitney Houston. Whitney Houston. She said Whitney Houston. It's a Cher song, Y/N."
Michael: When backstage, Michael didn't do much. He either strummed aimlessly on his guitar, or spent his time on Twitter. This sometimes had the tendency to annoy you. "Michael?" You asked in a sweet tone, burying your head in his neck. "Yes?" He muttered. You snatched the phone from his hands as he let out a groan, knowing exactly what you were about to do. "I think you're addicted." "Addicted? To what? Wanting to be in the know of things?" "To your phone in general? Here's a wacky idea." You whispered in his ear slowly, "Why don't you interact with human kind for once?" He put a heart up to his chest as his mouth formed an 'o' shape, looking slightly shocked. "Excuse me? I do talk to people!" "Yeah, once every decade." "You know what," He pulled his phone out of your grasp and stood up, "I don't need to be surrounded by negativity. I don't need this, Y/N. I'm off to find someone who likes me for me and doesn't try to change who I am. You don't see me trying to tell you what to wear, because let's be honest, your clothing choice hasn't been on point lately.