[A/N: I really need to do a better job of updating. Yikes. I hope you enjoy :)]

DRIVE

Calum

He hated feeling like this.

He was sitting in his room, his chest rising and falling with increasing speed, his head spinning, his breath leaving him in progressively sharper pants. He tried to curl himself into a tighter ball and calm himself down, but all he was doing was rocking back and forth, his mind going too fast and his heart racing even faster.

He could vaguely tell his fingers were getting sore, but that was peripheral. It was nothing compared to the pure, undiluted fear pumping through his veins.

Shoot.

He could hear himself whimpering, but it was background noise to the scene playing behind his tightly shut eyes.

You're a fuck up. And it's her fault. Shoot.

Calum winced, and another whine slipped through his lips. He thought he could feel hands on him, but he was too far gone. There weren't solutions to panic attacks: there was just a start and an end, with an eternity of hell crammed between.

-

The next time he woke up, he was alone.

He sat up, and he realized he wasn't in his room. There was a soft beeping noise, and that's when he registered the IV in his arm.

He flinched, shocked, and his paper hospital gown crinkled beneath him.

"Calum?"

Calum whipper his head to the side, his head throbbing with the sharp movement.

He could have sworn he heard Rose...

The door opened, and a nurse walked in, her bright blue scrubs seeming fluorescent in the harsh light. "Mr. Hood? Are you awake?"

Calum wanted to snap, no shit, but his throat was dry. "Water," was all he could manage, and she obliged, bringing him a styrofoam cup that he accepted with shaking fingers.

"What happened?" he asked after he'd downed a few cups.

The nurse frowned. "You were having an... episode, and you had to be sedated. You refused to respond to anyone. You were stuck in a state of panic for almost three hours."

Calum didn't need the heart monitor's incessant beeping to know that his heart was racing. "Three hours?" he croaked, shocked.

The nurse tried to be subtle about adjusting his IV, but a few moments later, he could feel the work of painkillers and sedatives kicking in. "No, I don't want to sleep," he mumbled.

The nurse sighed quietly. "You need to," she murmured, and Calum was too tired to protest.

And when he screamed in his sleep, the morphine pinned him down, trapping him in his nightmare.

"No, no, no," Calum moaned. This was worse. This was worse than the usual. He hated this dream.

The dream where he was his mother, watching himself pull the trigger with wide, terrified eyes.

He was on the floor, tangled up in a mess of glass and blood, hair and sweat all over as he looked up desperately at his five year old self. And, beside him, her husband, the man she'd loved. The man she'd supported. The man responsible for her murder.

He watched his father yell at his five year old self, spewing profanities and orders, red in the face. He felt his lips move, and he knew he was mouthing the words his mother had never been able to say:

I love you.

Calum watched his younger self look up at the crazed man beside him with horror before fixing his gaze on the pitiful person on the floor.

Calum woke up just as the gun went off with a bang.

"This isn't working," he heard.

Calum opened his eyes and saw the doctor talking to... Hazelle?

"Sir, you must be able to do something," Hazelle pleaded, looking incredibly worried.

The doctor shook his head. "The panic attacks have only gotten worse. Rehab can't treat this kind of PTSD. They've effectively treated his drug addiction but this... this is deeper. This requires more intense care."

"I'm fine," Calum lied hoarsely, and both the doctor and Hazelle stared at him.

"Cal!"

"Hi."

"You are not fine," the doctor countered, looking disturbed. "Do you remember anything from your sleep?"

"No?" Calum lied unconvincingly.

The doctor shook his head. "You were shouting. Scared the patients in this ward. Mr. Hood, I think we need to consider some options."

"Like?" he whispered, his voice hardly audible.

The doctor glanced at Hazelle. "Like checking into a psychiatric hospital."

Calum's heart dropped. "No, no I can't..."

"You might have to."

"No, please, I-"

"Calum, please. It'll help."

Calum's eyes widened at the new voice.

He knew he wasn't hallucinating this time when Rose stepped into the room.

-

"So you guys kissed?"

Michael blushed. "No."

Hazelle rolled her eyes. "Don't lie to me. You two totally kissed. Was it innocent? Or did you guys-"

"We didn't!" he interrupted, exasperated.

"That's not what Clover said."

"Clover's vapid and doesn't know what she's saying," Michael muttered.

Hazelle smirked. "You and I both know she's neither of those things."

"Okay, so Luke and I might have... whatever. We were drunk!"

"Your one day visiting the world out of Rehab and you guys go get drunk?" Hazelle asked, still amused.

Michael grinned. "Yeah."

"And kiss."

"Oh my god, I'm going to kill Clover for telling you."

Hazelle giggled. "You two are so cute."

"Stop."

"I mean seriously, can you two get any cuter?"

"Hazelle, shut up."

"Luke's so awkward and you're so cocky but I bet you got really shy-"

"Hazelle, if you could kindly shut your face, that'd be great."

"Is Luke a good kisser?"

"Oh my god, it was literally nothing."

"I bet he uses tongue."

"Ew."

"Oh come on-"

"Hazelle."

"Fine." She pouted. "But the sooner you two admit you guys like each other-"

"I don't-"

"Oh don't even think about it, Clifford. I'm friends with Harry, remember? I know when a guy likes someone."

"Harry loves his schizophrenic other half," Michael pointed out.

Hazelle pursed her lips. "I guess that's kind of poetic, isn't it? He created his other perfect half."

"You are such a Pisces."

Hazelle giggled. "You're such a... What are you, anyways?"

"Don't know, don't care," Michael answered, focusing more intensely on his game.

"Hey guys," Luke said, walking in and sitting next to Michael.

Michael wanted to wipe the smirk off of Hazelle's face, and maybe push her off the couch. "Hey."

"Hey Luke! How was your trip outside of the prison?" Hazelle asked brightly.

Luke blushed. "Good?"

"Shut up, Hazelle," Michael muttered under his breath.

"I'm just saying-"

"Hi lovebirds!" Clover said, sitting on Hazelle's other side.

"Oh god please shut up," Michael said, mock sobbing as he furiously mashed at the controller buttons.

"Your boyfriend is sassy," Clover told Luke.

Luke flushed deeper. "Leave it alone."

"Whatever you want, boo."

"Don't call him that," Michael interjected, biting his lip and leaning towards the TV.

Clover rolled her eyes. "Whatever, babe."

"Hey!"

"Jealous lovers," Hazelle noted, winking at Luke, who looked away from her. "Clover, want to come visit Harry with me?"

"Again?" Clover asked, and when Hazelle elbowed her, she nodded and said, "Oh, yeah, of course-"

"Bye you two!" Hazelle chirped, grabbing Clove and dragging her away.

"One kiss," Michael said, shaking his head. "We were drunk! How did that even happen again?"

"Well, we went to the bar, and then-"

"The kiss part, moron," Michael said, grinning.

Luke shifted on the couch. "No idea, honestly. I just remember being really drunk."

"I don't even remember that," Michael said, and Luke nodded absently, staring at his knees, bottom lip trapped between his teeth, lip ring poking out. "I wonder why Clover is so hype over one little one second drunken kiss."

Luke scratched the back of his neck. "Um... dunno..."

His tone made Michael pause the game and turn to look at Luke. "Luke?"

"It wasn't just a second," Luke muttered. "We were drunk and uh... you... got really into it?"

Michael's mouth dropped open. "No."

Luke was bright red. "Yeah."

"Oh god."

"Yeah..."

"I'm..." Michael cut off and coughed. "Huh."

Luke couldn't even look at Michael when he said, "I should have pushed you off..."

"You were drunk too."

"Right."

"So like, it's okay."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

They both made eye contact, and Luke giggled, his cheeks still flushed. "So like, we're going to pretend that never happened, right?"

"If only Clover and Hazelle would leave it the fuck alone," Michael sighed, starting a new game and chucking a remote at Luke. "Meanwhile, let's enjoy the peace and quiet until they come back to harass us endlessly."

-

"Ashton?"

"Yeah, Niall?"

"What do you think of bedtime stories?"

"I think they can be really nice, but they could also not be nice. I like the ones that send you off to beautiful places before you go to sleep."

"Can I tell you a bedtime story?"

Ashton shifted onto his side to look at Niall. "What kind of bedtime story?"

"My kind."

Ashton wasn't sure what that meant, but he nodded anyways. "Okay."

Niall was lying flat on his back, eyes closed. "Once upon a time, there was a boy named Ashton," he started, his soft voice already lulling Ashton to sleep. "Ashton was in love with this girl named who had the same name as his little sister, a pretty girl named Lauren. And Ashton also had a best friend named Niall, and Niall didn't ever really like Lauren."

Ashton's heart rate picked up, and he kept shaking his head. "No," he whispered, but Niall kept on.

"He didn't trust her, you see. Niall didn't want Ashton to get hurt. Ashton knew Niall was right, but he ignored him, continuing to take Lauren out on dates... buy her nice things..." Niall sighed heavily before continuing, "But all Lauren did was cheat on him with this other guy."

"Stop," Ashton whimpered.

"And so one day, Niall and Ashton walk home to see Lauren with another man! And what does Ashton do? At first, he's just going to kick the guy out, but no, Niall knows something more has to be done."

"Niall-"

"They need to die. They need to be eliminated so that they can't hurt Ashton or anyone else anymore. So Niall tells Ashton to kill, and being a smart boy, Ashton carries through."

"I-"

"Of course, they get arrested. He's got blood on his hands, hasn't he? So he gets arrested and then they take him to jail and the lady starts to question Ashton. And they tell Ashton that Niall isn't real," Niall said softly.

"He's not... You're not..."

"But Ashton knows, that while the rest of the world might not be able to see Niall, he can. And he wants to. Who doesn't want to see their best friend?" Niall asked, his tone turning darker. "And yet, when the doctors try to help Ashton see like the rest of the world, help him not see Niall, Niall expects him to refuse, not down the pills and wipe his best friend from his mind."

Ashton was sobbing now. "Niall, please, please-"

"It takes a long time for Ashton to realize he's done the wrong thing," Niall said. "And now that Niall's back..." Niall brushes a hand along the wisps of hair at the base of his neck. "He's not leaving again."

Ashton whimpered again, and Niall sighed softly.

"Wherever you go, I'll always be with you. Always."

-

Honestly, Luke wasn't sure how much more he could handle.

Zayn had left, having recovered from his drug abuse enough to leave, as long as his girlfriend kept a careful watch over him. Calum had left, hospitalized because of a severe panic attack. Rose was still gone, and it didn't look like she was coming back. Harry had left, relocated to another asylum, where he would probably spend the rest of his time. And it looked a lot like Ashton was headed the same way.

So that left Michael, Hazelle, and Clover to hang out with.

Hazelle was alright, but she spent most of her time worrying about Harry, worrying about Ashton, and trying to get better herself. Her problem was the least apparent: she was just prone to panic attacks, and if everyone avoided her triggers, she was fine. She was normal. She just... couldn't leave yet. So Hazelle was okay, but she was always asking him about Michael and grinning and he was pretty sure sure she had the wrong idea. Or maybe it was the right one.

And then there's Clover, who's still pretty much into Michael, because she also talks about Michael all the time, and honestly, Luke is kind of over it, he doesn't know why, but he is. He sees Michael and he talks to Michael and he doesn't know why he has to listen to all her stories, but he does because he has nothing better to do.

And then there's Michael.

Michael, who hated him for a few solid years because of a misunderstanding. Michael, who tried to make amends afterwards. Michael, who was proving every day to be a better friend.

Michael, the boy Luke had written songs about.

Michael, the boy Luke roomed with.

Michael, the boy Luke was fairly sure he was feeling things for that he shouldn't be feeling.

He knew Michael was incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of Luke liking him, so he kept his mouth shut. He still talked to Michael and laughed with Michael, but he pulled away from Michael when the now blue-and-blonde haired boy tackled him into hugs. He kept physical contact at a minimum.

But sometimes he'd catch him staring at his lips, remembering how Michael had been much drunker than he had been, how Michael had pulled him close and whispered, "Can I kiss you?" and then kissed him with alcohol on his breath, how Michael had gotten way too into it and how Luke had done nothing to stop him.

Basically, Luke wanted it to happen again.

Which was wrong, so wrong, but he grabbed onto anything he could get, honestly. So every time they got to go out of the rehab center, Luke would quietly suggest going to the local club, and Michael would enthusiastically agree. And they'd get drunk, and Michael would get crazy plastered while Luke stayed just tipsy, just drunk enough to push aside inhibitions as he sat on Michael's lap and felt Michael's finger hold him through his belt loop.

Yeah, he was fucked.