³⁷when a fool falls, he falls hard

                                    

                                          
luke
                          
"Okay, wait, so it's 'meet me downtown in the dive-bar' yeah?" Ashton asks, typing down the words on his phone and occasionally looking up at me.
                          
I nod, knitting my brows together as I look out the window of the car, eyes following a blue Toyota that's been driving beside us for a good five minutes.
                          
After a whole day of rehearsing and performing yesterday, my body feels like one of those colourful worms, absolutely wriggly, shapeless, and limp.
                          
The boys and I pranced around the stage, besides Ashton of course, singing our hearts out to a crowd that echoed back the words we wrote.
                          
Interview after interview from city to city, I can't believe I'm still able to tell a simple statement apart from a question.
                          
The last city of our promotional tour is New York, which means that I'll be in the same city as Clementine... who I haven't spoken with in quite some time.
                          
Though she was barely mentioned in tour, she ran my mind all throughout like an uncontrollable plague, corrupting my every thought and holding it hers.
                          
Dramatic, I'll admit, but it seems unfit to just say she was constantly on my mind. She deserves the theatrics.
                          
It astounds me how taken I am by her even though I've barely known her for so long. I keep running back in my mind the memory of her profile against the night, eyes to the sky with a smile gracing her rosy lips.
                          
Could anything be more spectacular than the sight of her?
                          
Perhaps it's the rose-coloured glasses that's tainted my perception, but either way, she's still one really beautiful person that manages to keep me in her hands.
                          
As we flew from the previous city to New York, Calum helped me pen a new song from the uncomfortable places of our plane seats.
                          
Scribbling in a notebook that was practically breaking down, the bumpy ride didn't help the fact that my handwriting already looked like absolute shit in the first place.
                          
Nevertheless, we got to half of the song before Michael and Ashton decided to contribute.
                          
Since we had an acoustic guitar there, Michael played while Ashton transcribed my handwriting into actual words and into his phone.
                          
Now, on our way to Ackerman's studios with our team, we more or less have a finished song in our hands. This would be one of the few that's just written by us four, unless a producer might have some thoughts later on when we record it and change something.
                          
"What's the title?" Ashton asks.
                          
I shrug, though knowing I based the song around Clementine's comment on that Saturday we spent together.
                          
Michael peers over Ashton's shoulder and reads as the latter types the lyrics in his notes. "You got issues, dude," Michael comments before darting his eyes to me.
                          
I tilt my head in interest as he chortles and shakes his head. "What?"
                          
He snorts and shrugs. "This might as well be named Clementine Part Four," He snickers as he watches Ashton continue to type.
                          
"Ash, title's Kill My Time," I tell Ashton and he nods.
                          
Calum shakes his head from beside me. "Nah, Best Years is Clementine, Lover of Mine is Tangerine, then Lonely Heart is Mandarin," He says teasingly, nudging my shoulder.
                          
I let Michael and Calum's teasing fade into the background as I focused on the blue Toyota, eyeing the 'baby on board' sticker on the trunk.
                          
As soon as the light turns green, our vehicle drives straight while the Toyota takes a right, leaving me to sulk at other cars as we make our way to the familiar street of where Ackerman studios sat.