One Year Anniversary/MC Fluff
Requested: Part of Smutastic Halloween Spectacular
“TAKE MY MON-AY,” Michael screamed at the top of his lungs as he flew past the ocean in his BMW, with you in the passenger seat.
Today is the one-year anniversary of the release of his band’s album, Sounds Good Feels Good. To celebrate, the two of you were driving around southern Los Angeles, blasting music and talking. To make things better, it was two in the morning, so there was no traffic.
“I remember when you recorded this one. You came home that night and you were so happy and energetic,” you say, remembering one of your favorite memories of Michael. Some nights after recording, he would come home tired or annoyed. Someone would want a song to sound a certain way while others thought it would sound better a different way, or sometimes the four of them would get fed up with each other. They see each other constantly from sunrise to sunset, even during the night depending on if there was a party or not.
“God, I was so excited to record this one. It’s one of my favorites,” he replied, listening as the chords graced through the speakers. You knew Michael loved the upbeat song. You thought it captured his personality; not giving a fuck and enjoying what life has to offer.
The next song to play was Waste the Night.
“Fuck, I love this one too,” Michael said. “It’s one of Ash’s favorites too. That dude is all about living his life. He hates wasting time. He wants to live the most he can and live his life to the fullest.”
You loved hearing Michael talk about his bandmates. It made you content to know that his best friends made him so damn happy.
He was humming along to the song, his fingers hitting the steering wheel. You watched him in awe, appreciating his own art. His face was focused, slightly illuminated by the dashboard. Sometimes he would smile to himself or bite his lip. You loved admiring him.
“Did you know that Luke thought of the melody for Castaway while he was peeing?” Michael asked as that song switched on.
You’ve heard the story hundreds of times.
“Tell me again,” you say.
“Yeah, so he comes into the studio one day, and he’s all excited about this melody for this song, and he plays it and we hear his stream in the background, and we all fucking lose it. It was so funny!” Michael said, a burst of laugher following.
“Sounds like Luke,” you reply with a giggle.
“That’s probably the most Luke Hemmings thing I’ve ever experienced. That or the years when he was obsessed with those fucking penguins.”
“He’s an interesting one,” you agreed. “What’s his favorite song?”
“Vapor. Put that one on!” he urged. You smiled and changed the song from Michael’s phone. Michael belted out the first few words in an exaggerated, silly tone.
“Who’s this song about?” you asked.
“Our bodyguard, Dave,” he replied.
“You want to print your hands in the pavement with Dave?” you asked.
“Absolutely,” he replied. You could see a big, goofy grin on his face from the dim light. “Nah, it was really about our girls in general. You and I have never really broken up, but the other three have had rocky relationships. They were writing from their souls in this one, I was just helping to add stuff here and there.”
“Are there any where you wrote from your soul?” you ask.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get there,” he assured you.
You listened through a few more songs with Michael going through and explaining them to you just as he has before. You didn’t care, you had such a fondness listening to Michael talk about his own music.
“Cally’s favorite right here!” he suddenly exclaimed, turning up the volume to Catch Fire. He energetically beat his hands (while still mindfully driving) against the wheel, completely capturing Ashton’s drumming sequence.
“When you think about it, it would be really shitty to actually catch on fire,” Michael said.
“Well, why did you write it?” you ask.
“I don’t know. I’ll blame Luke for that one,” he said, “We wrote this while- THE WORDS YOU SPEAK, SURROUNDING ME,” he belted out Calum’s solo. You giggled at his erratic behavior. Michael, especially late at night, had a hard time focusing on things he was saying or doing, which resulted in lots of things happening at once.
“Cal’s like my best friend. Luke and Ash are fucking incredible too, but there’s something about Calum. We have this cool weirdness with each other. I don’t know,” he said.
“It’s good to have that with someone. It’s important to be who you are around someone,” you reply.
“Yeah, I’m lucky with that one,” he agrees.
We stop at a lookout point overlooking the ocean. It’s completely pitch black, but Michael rolls down the windows so you can hear the ocean crashing against the rock. Just as Michael’s about to reach for the phone to change the song, a certain song comes on.
“Hey, this is what I wanted,” he said as you heard his own voice come clearly through the speakers. ‘Everybody’s got their demons…’
“So, this is the one where I wrote from my soul. This is my song,” he says, pausing to listen. He turns it down a bit so you can hear the waves even more. “I’ve got a jet black heart, but you’re my living, beating, warm heart. You’re the one that keeps me going every day. You’re the one that keeps my demons away. You make me happy, and whole, and alive. This song is for you,” he says.
“I love you so, so much. Remember how much I was talking about how I love my boys? Well, my love for you is all of the love for them, but times fifty-seven thousand trillion kabillion,” he finishes.
At this point, you’re wiping away a stray tear. “Michael, I love you so much. I’m so proud of everything you’ve done, and the person you’ve become. I might’ve helped, but you’ve done a lot of it by yourself, and I’m so happy to be that person who you love unconditionally, because you’re sure as hell that person for me.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he says. The song finishes, and it was the last song in the sequence, so you sit there, listening to the waves in silence.
You feel his body come closer to you, and your lips soon touch. You feel the stubble on his cheeks, the ends of his hair tickling your face, and his soft lips touching yours. There is absolutely no place you’d rather be, and absolutely nobody else you’d rather be with.
“I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you,” you repeat, and the two of you sit there for who knows how many more hours, listening to the waves and being in each others’ presence.
