Smoothies, Cigarettes, & Alcohol.

All Alan really wanted to do was go home, probably get naked along the way to the bedroom, proceed to collapse onto the bed and (most likely) half atop his girlfriend and go to sleep. Then when the sun rises, or when either of them actually properly wake up, they would have great morning sex and then kiss and cuddle and kiss some more. Then proceed to have more sex. He wasn't asking for much, was he? It was barely anything, honestly, because he's tired and after months of being on tour with a group of guys and other bands (whose members are also guys), he just wants intimate female contact with this girl that he's in love with.

But, of course, he doesn't get what he wants. He understands, though. Like, he can't always get what he wants, yeah? But did life have to be so fucking cruel, to the extent that he makes it through to the 'get naked along the way' part, only to see that the bed's occupied with two people and that his jeans are pushed halfway down his thighs?

The ginger blinks, rubbing at his eyes as he tugs his jeans back up. Leaves it unbuttoned, though, because he's hoping that his eyes are playing tricks on him and that it's really just Maddie and some pillow cuddle buddy that she's made.

He rubs at his eyes again. It's not. It's not a pillow cuddle buddy. It's an actual human being, and it's not a girl. It's a guy. And, like, he'd understand if it was platonic cuddling, or whatever, because sometimes he platonically cuddles with his mates who are girls, too. But. The sheets are only covering her bottom half, so he sees that her back is bare and that there's an arm wrapped around her back, and she's cuddle up to this guy. Platonic cuddling should not involve any nakedness.

Alan gulps. His t-shirt's still in his hand, so he tugs it over his head, eyes almost unblinking as he stares at the two unmoving figures on the bed – save for the slight movement that indicates that they're both alive and breathing.

He opens his mouth to say something, but no sound comes out. All he wants to do is ask. He just wants to ask her why. And a very large part of him also wants to start yelling, start raging out at the bloke in bed with his girlfriend, but it takes two to tango and all he can manage right now is an embarrassing whine that sounds like he's a prepubescent kid going through puberty and having voice cracks every time he starts a sentence.

It wakes her up, though – the sound. She'd always been a light sleeper. She was someone who considered sleeping to be a hobby, yeah, but she was a light sleeper, nonetheless. She lifted her head up slightly, gazing at the bloke next to her, then she brings her other hand to gently stroke at his cheek and Alan literally feels his heart crack into a million tiny pieces because he remembered when she used to do that to him. She'd be so delicate, with no intentions of waking him up, because all she wanted to do was touch him and reassure herself that he was there and he was real.

And now she was doing that to him.

Alan opens his mouth once more. Nothing comes out. He gulps, watching as she lowers her head back down onto his arm, and the guy unconsciously cuddles her closer, and Alan can see, from her body movements, her letting out a contented sigh.

"Why," he finally manages to get out, and it's soft – so soft, but Maddie hears it. Almost bolts up into a sitting position, eyes wide and face illuminated by the moonlight. And Alan fucking hates it because she's still so goddamn beautiful and though he wants to be angry, he can't, because all he wants to do is kiss her, but he can't.

Her lips part in shock, then she's turning to look at the bloke next to her, then back at the ginger standing in the doorway with wide eyes. "Alan, I – " she starts, making a move to get off the bed, but he shakes his head, taking a step back. She halts her movements and he swears that he sees her gorgeous eyes turn glassy. She has no right to cry. She has no right to cry. "Alan..."

"Don't," he says, shaking his head again. Alan wants to sound hostile. Angry. Because he is. But, he can't. He just physically cannot because he's more hurt than he is angry, and it fucking sucks. His voice sounds strange even to his own ears because it's soft and weak and fragile and he fucking hates it.

"Please don't," he mumbles, then he's turning on his heel and walking back out into the hallway and towards the front door.

Alan hears shuffling behind him. Maddie's getting out of bed. Probably going to put on some clothes and then chase after him. So he runs. He proper runs, picking up the bag that he'd previously literally dumped by the door, and slams the said door behind him – uncaring of whether it'll wake the neighbours or not. He doesn't know the neighbours anyway. He hasn't exactly been home enough to get to know all his neighbours.

Of Mice & Men has been touring so much lately. And, like, they're the type of band to tour a lot, so that's understandable. But lately, when they weren't touring, they were in the studio, writing and recording and then writing more and recording even more. That led to late nights, and early mornings. Which kind of attributed to how he hadn't properly acquainted himself with the neighbours – and when he thinks about it properly, kind of attributes to how Maddie had cheated on him, really.

She's gorgeous, there's no doubt about that. She's funny, she's smart, she's kind, she's loving, she's... well. She's perfect, really, and Alan's just... not. She deserved someone who would be home, someone she could spend time with and be in a proper relationship with, someone who could be there for her 24/7, whenever she needed it, and not through video calls or voice calls, someone to take care of cats with, someone... someone who wasn't Alan Ashby, basically.

Alan slides into the driver's seat of his car, fists clenched around the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles are almost white. He knows what Maddie's life – he knows she's probably going to be in his line of sight within the next two minutes, and he doesn't want that. It hurts, goddammit, it hurts to look at her.

So he drives. Doesn't bother pulling on his seatbelt (until his car started beeping annoyingly then did he, with a huff, pull the seatbelt across his chest) as he takes off. He knows where he's going, and he's not sure that he'll appreciate Alan coming to his house at fuck knows what time is it in the morning, but he hasn't really got a choice and he doesn't know what else to do. He could go to his parents' house, but he doesn't want pity. He needs someone who understands.

He arrives at his destination, then he's stepping out of the car and slamming the door shut behind him with a huff. Kind of wants to scream out in frustration, tug at his hair, but he doesn't because everyone's asleep by now. Alan goes up to the front door, making a fist with his hand and then knocking on the wood three times before taking a small step back and burying his hands in his pockets, head ducked down. Now he feels like fucking crying. Great.

The door's pulled open after a minute or so, and a bleary-looking Austin looks at him whilst rubbing at his eyes. "Alan?" He questions sleepily. He must've immediately went to bed after getting home because he's in the exact clothes that he was wearing when they all parted ways at the airport. "What're doing here? Shouldn't you be home, with Maddie?" He slurs out sleepily, and Alan just shrugs, gulping and finally looking at him in the eyes.

He clenches his jaw tightly, teeth grinding against each other that it almost hurts himself. Alan takes in a deep breath, "Found her in bed with some guy. Mind if I stay here tonight?" He asks monotonously. He's not going to cry. Crying is for pussies, he is not going to cry.

Austin's eyes widen, but then he's pulling himself together and nodding, widening the door and nodding at the younger – inviting him in. Alan mumbles a 'thanks' under his breath and if his voice cracks while he does so, neither Austin nor Alan acknowledge it. Austin understands. He can empathise because he'd been in the exact same position before, even though it was a wife in his situation and not a girlfriend. (But then again, Alan did have plans to eventually make this girlfriend his wife, so.)

"Want a beer?" Austin offers once he's shut the door.

Alan shakes his head, "Wanna go to bed," he mumbles, probably sounding too much like a little boy but he just really doesn't give a fuck anymore.

Austin nods, "Right. Well, uh, you know where the spare room is – " he cut himself off with a yawn. "– feel free to stay as long you need to, man," he says casually, though the looks he gives the younger tells him that he really means it. Alan's really allowed to stay for however long he needs to because Austin knows how much Alan loved loves Maddie, he knows how they'd promised that they would properly stay together this time, through this tour, and he knows how Alan's not one to showcase his emotions openly, best mate or not. So. He gets it.

"Thanks, Aus," Alan mumbles softly as Austin starts to make his way up the stairs – to his own bedroom – while the younger goes to get a glass of water first. Austin responds with a soft, comforting smile, and a nod.

After a glass of water, Alan's heading up to the spare bedroom. He doesn't even bother taking off his clothes as he collapses onto the bed, face buried into the pillow. The sheets are probably dirty, but he really doesn't care. Austin's probably sleeping on dusty sheets, too, so. He doesn't mind. He rolls over so that he's on his back instead, eyes staring up at the ceiling. His mobile vibrates in his pocket, but he doesn't bother to pull it out, check it, because he's pretty sure he knows who it is.

This is the last time, he tells himself. This... This is the end.

And this time, he means it. No more Maddie, no matter how ridiculously in love with her he still is. He's done. He's so fucking done.