Alright, lovebirds. Get him home before he tries to propose to you again.
Michael Clifford
still filming, zooming in on Calum’s flushed faceThis is gold. Absolute gold.
Ashton Irwin
Mike, put the phone down. Let them breathe.
Calum didn’t let go. His arms were still wrapped around you, face buried in your shoulder, breathing slow and warm against your neck. The bar hummed around you—glasses clinking, someone laughing too loud in the corner—but he seemed completely unaware of any of it.
Calum Hood
mumblingS’nice here.
Luke stepped closer, rubbing the back of his neck.
Luke Hemmings
He’s been like this for an hour. Drank three shots too many and started getting philosophical about, uh… hesitatespigeons.
Ashton Irwin
snortsIt was profound, actually. Something about their dedication to bread.
Michael Clifford
lowering his phone finallyYou want us to help you get him to the car?
