#anyway. in this loop they're both in the anger portion of the grieving process

[allsassnoclass]

Say…two people break up, right? But Fate thinks that’s bullshit so it creates a time loop and the couple is forced to relive the day they broke up multiple times, in different alternate realities, until they kiss and make up. The universe’s version of couple’s therapy.

OH i read a pretty good buddie fic with a similar premise, found HERE for my 911 friends.

anyway!

On the 11th day, Michael runs.

He wakes up alone, of course. Ashton is an earlier riser, and Michael wouldn't want to stay in bed with him and the memories of the past 11 loops, either. The bunks on the bus are a tight fit on the best of days, but they're suffocating if you've just broken up and have to keep breaking up over and over and over again.

Michael checks the date on his phone, sees that it hasn't changed, and barricades himself in his bunk, covers pulled over his head and only offering grunts to anyone who checks on him.

The bus pulls to a stop at 12:43pm, just like it always does. Michael could time everything down to the second now, the comforting routine of tour made eerily exact by the loop. It means he knows exactly where he needs to be.

At 12:57pm, he exits the bus under the guise of unloading, turns left instead of right, and ducks into the first alley he can find before breaking into a sprint.

In the 11 loops they've taken, he hasn't been out to explore the city. It's easy to get lost, and it's equally easy to blend in to the crowds, head down and hat pulled low. No one is expecting to see Michael Clifford wandering around by himself, so no one does. He ducks into a coffee shop that looks somewhat interesting and nurses a mug in the back corner for a while, people-watching and steadfastly not making eye contact with anyone.

It takes 15 minutes for his phone to buzz, everyone too wrapped up in the hustle and bustle of unloading and setting up for soundcheck to notice that he's not where he's supposed to be.

It takes 20 minutes before someone calls, and another 5 after that for him to decide that he's still entirely too close to the venue and needs to keep moving.

Luke and Calum's name flash across his phone screen with equal enthusiasm, with the occasional call from someone else on the crew. Michael sends I'm fine to the band groupchat, but declines every call.

It takes 56 minutes and a trip to McDonalds before Ashton's name appears.

"What?" he answers, careful to keep his voice cool and level.

"You don't get to run away from this, you ass!" Ashton hisses. "Get back over here and play the fucking show like a mature adult!"

Right, because Ashton is the mature one.

"Why?" Michael asks.

"Because we have fans out here who have paid a lot of money to see us! We promised when we got together that we wouldn't let our shit impact the band or the fans!"

"They'll still be there tomorrow," Michael shrugs. "No one is going to remember this. I'm not impacting anything."

"It's impacting Luke and Calum right now!" Ashton says, sounding very close to exploding. Michael can perfectly picture him running a hand through his hair, jaw hard and eyebrows pinched in that one frown that he only ever brings out when Michael has seriously, catastrophically pissed him off.

"Tell them I needed some space after the breakup," Michael suggests, picking at his fries. They're getting cold, but Ashton hates when he chews while talking, even though he does it himself, the hypocrite.

"There hasn't been a breakup, dipshit! You never broke up with me this time!"

Michael hums.

"I think it's your turn, actually," he says.

"I fucking hate you," Ashton seethes, which. Duh. Obviously. That's probably at least half the reason they're in this mess. "Just-- Come back before Luke and Calum call the cops, okay?"

"No," Michael says. Ashton growls, actually growls at him. "At least it'd be something interesting to break up this monotonous hell we're in!"

"I hate you," Ashton repeats, landing just as hard the second time as the first. Michael tries to shake off the stabbing feeling in his heart and somehow misses Ashton hanging up in the process.

Michael eats a fry. It's cold and a little soggy.

He puts his head down on the beige, probably-filthy McDonald's table and desperately wishes for the day to end.