Do You Know What It Feels Like?

12:21 AM, Saturday.

Fall Out Boy & Panic! at the Disco touring vehicle.

In the back of a lone tour bus, parked in a deserted parking lot, a singular light shone out of the rear window. Dimly, it cast a shadowy figure on the gravel level one of the cleared space. In a fraction of a second, the silhouette shifted position - a jerky, irritated movement magnified by the blurry shadow the back light projected outside.

Inside the bus, Arantxa Taylor fidgeted for the millionth time, unable to close her eyes for even a minute, let alone try to fall asleep. She had been feebly attempting to take a doze, but found she could not even achieve that.

Thoroughly irked at her body's lack of desire to rest, she had decided to just stay until her brain realized it was time to take a snooze. At first, she had attempted to read a book, but found it impossible to concentrate. She had considered sneaking out and tiring her muscles with a walk, but figured she would most likely be caught before taking even a step of her stroll. She didn't want to wake Andy up, no matter that, on the occasion that Andy couldn't bring herself to go to sleep, she would nudge a sleeping Taylor incessantly until the latter was fully awake, and slightly more than a little irritated.

Bored out of her own mind, and utterly sick of her own thoughts, Taylor heaved out a heavy sigh.

"Can't sleep either, huh?"

The once empty door frame was blocked by a lean figure, hovering over her position on the floor.

"Hey, Brendon," She greeted him sullenly. The said individual squatted down to more or less her eye level.

"Why the sad face?" He mimicked her pout, only in a more exaggerated, childish fashion. She couldn't help but smile slightly.

"Nothing, I just can't sleep."

"Why, thinking about me?"

She laughed at the idiocy of the statement, no matter that a small portion of her nagged that, at one point in time, she had done exactly so. "Sure, if you say so."

He took a seat beside her, adjusting himself to a comfortable position. He looked around, then at her, then at her hands, folded loosely on her lap. He fixed his eyes on the golden band, wrapped around her left ring finger, looking a little surprised.

"Hey - you're still wearing it!"

"Uh, yeah." She reddened, and placed her right hand over her left, shielding his view. "It's, uh, nice."

"I still have mine too," He admitted, tearing his eyes away, as there was nothing to look at anymore. She studied his hands, but they were both bare - slightly calloused, but bare, nonetheless. He noticed her trying to locate it, and added quickly. "Oh, I kept it. You know. To be safe."

"To be safe? Are you kidding?"

He chuckled loudly. "Well, yeah, I mean. I bet it was my money - ow!" Taylor reared back her fist for another playful punch at his shoulder, but Andy decided to butt into the conversation.

"Guys, just shut the fuck up and go to sleep already." She reprimanded them, her voice muffled by the pillow over her face.

"We should probably try going to sleep." Taylor suggested, nodding over to her best friend's sleeping form.

"I have been. It's not working." Brendon admitted unhappily. She had to concede - her attempts to sleep had been tragically futile. "Want some coffee?"

"Brendon, not to be rude or anything, but I'm trying to sleep, not stay up all night." Taylor pointed out. Brendon shrugged, stood up, and offered a hand out to the other, who took it and hoisted herself up, a puzzled expression on her face.

"We can be babies and drink hot chocolate then."

x

1:43 AM, Saturday

You can take a guess.

An hour, three steaming cups of hot chocolate and a trip to the Panic! at the Disco bunk area later, two people arranged themselves on the floor of the cold and cramped sleeping space. Brendon's feet were pushing against the small elevation of wall that kept Ryan's bunk from kissing the floor, his bare toes inches away from the sleeping boy's face. Taylor, opposite Brendon, positioned herself into a crouch, her arms winding around her legs, folded up to her chest, with her back against the same wood that Brendon's feet rested upon. Ryan Ross snored quietly on, unaware of the intrusion. For now.

"So why did you and Andy want to come along so bad?" Brendon asked Taylor, leaning over and placing his mug on Ryan's cushion, having not considered that a slight movement of the individual on the bed could cause their midnight demise.

"Why, you don't want us here?" Taylor pouted at him. Sensibly, she set her own drink down on the floor beside her, placing her right hand on its warm, ceramic side in an attempt to thaw out her palm. The boy across her laughed soundlessly - an effort, for him at least. "I dunno. We never do anything at home. We just, I don't know. Hang out. It's really boring." She stared at the mess that the young vocalist had left his own bunk in - pillows squashed, blankets crumpled, and the pair of pants he had worn earlier that day on top of a growing heap of clothes. Brendon, sensing her attention was elsewhere, looked around and reddened at the state of his little nook. Clearing his throat, he reached back pulled the short curtain to sheild the humiliating chaos of his sleeping area.

Taylor looked back at him, taking up her mug. She did not drink, but asked, "Does it bother you guys? Like, me and Andy being here?"

Brendon shook his head. "Nah. No one really minds. I think it's cool you guys came along.You guys are pretty fun to hang with. I mean," He added hastily, " Everyone thinks so. Even if you're girls."

"Sorry, we can't seem to control the way we were made," She smiled as he grew redder, having thought back at how offensive his words may have sounded.

"I didn't mean like - I just meant -"

"I know, I know. I was just kidding around. Relax." She giggled quietly as his anxious face slipped off to look slightly embarrassed.

"But, I mean, it's cool you decided to come." He shifted his weight, pushing back on Ryan's bunk. The mug wobbled precariously, but regained its balance as he stopped moving.

"Yeah, I think it's awesome that we're here. Andy really wanted to go. She gets so bored back home - it's really hard to keep her locked up like that."

"That is evident." Brendon shook his head again, this time in a slightly disbelieving manner. He paused, then resumed the conversation. "That day you called -"

"Yeah, I know. I didn't get to apologize for that, I'm sorry."

"I didn't mind." He replied quickly, without thinking. Taylor looked slightly shocked, but said nothing against this. The tension began to build, and they looked away from each other, as if they hadn't been chatting with such gusto just a second ago. "I mean," He continued. "It was cool to hear from you."

Brendon wondered where he was getting this sudden urge to just say the truth. He racked his brain for a reason why he had not lied about being slightly overjoyed when she had rung him that night. It's okay, I don't get cranky when people call me in the middle of the night. Why could he not have just uttered those words, saving himself from a multitude of explanations that would surely follow the subliminal curse that had fallen from his tongue?

Of course, it wouldn't be true - sometimes hearing from his mother when they were in different time zones would irritate him, so much so that he would have to use up all his willpower to battle the urge to just hang up. But it was better than having to want to take back what was said a moment after it had escaped him.

"Uh, yeah." She looked nervous, her syllabication slow. "It was, uh, nice talking to you, too."

Was she just saying that to make him feel less of a fool? It certainly didn't work, and his mental bashing did not do him much better.

"I didn't mean to, you know, make it awkward, really." He followed her words apologetically. She nodded, smiling slightly.

"I know. But can I ask you something?"

"Sure." He chewed on his bottom lip - out of disquiet or habit, he did not know. He waited a bit too long for her question, but, with some deliberation, she opened her mouth to speak.

"When we were in Angels and Kings, when you told me you liked me. Did you mean it?"

"Yes." He didn't mean it to be quick, or too eager. He had expected to take some time to think if he would bluff or not, or even to not answer at all, but continue staring on as if he had heard nothing. He certainly did not imagine he would be so truthful, in any case. Unfortunately, the mortification that would have come before the response did not skip him - he flushed deeply, as if he had dipped his cheeks in rouge.

"Oh." She fiddled with her thumbs, slightly pink herself.

"I don't mean to sound like a creep, or whatever -" He started defensively, but she cut him off.

"It's okay, really. You don't sound, uh, creepy. Really." She laughed at the completely shamed expression on his face, but stopped as she noted he did not join in her nervous mirth. Immediately, guilt ran over her. "Bren, hey, don't be sad. I was just -"

"Did you mean it too? Be honest." He asked seriously. She, luckily, had not had her lips latched to complete impulse. She looked up, thoughtfully, for a breif instant.

"Yeah, I did."

"Are you sure it wasn't just because you were totally drunk?"

"Well, how are you sure you didn't just hallucinate that you liked me when you told me?" She demanded, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, because, I liked you before I got drunk -"

"Then how can you be sure I didn't like you before I got drunk?" Her voice was slightly and eerily threatening - even if it was just out of indignance.

"I'm just making sure - I really don't want to debate with you, Taylor. You look really fucking scary."

"Sorry." The strictness in her tone left her, and she frowned. "I guess I just really look like a freak."

"No, no!" Brendon smacked his forehead. "You - that's not what I meant! I - no, don't cry!" He looked terrified, anguished. Taylor raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not going to cry, Bren, jeez. Keep your shorts on." She rolled her eyes, amused at the horror in his own.

"I really didn't mean it that way. Honest. You - you're not a freak."

"Thank you." She replied cooly. "That cleared up, we can stop feeling bad about it, okay?" She grinned at him, and he looked at his feet. He knew she was staring at his face, waiting for a reaction, a sign that he had let it go. He didn't so much as twich a facial muscle.

Sighing, she freed her legs and, pushing her mug away, crawled over, so that she was beside him. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm sorry, I just didn't mean to say it that way." He apologized smally. She laughed, he assumed, at his idiocy.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm just messing with you. Relax, okay? Breathe." She shook his shoulders slightly, and he cracked a small smile, his somber mood ebbing away. She reciprocated his expression. "Much better." She nodded in approval.

The silence passed once more. Deep breathing filled their ears. The smell of hot chocolate wafted around them. Her face hovered over his, eyes staring alertly at his face - grey on brown. Her palm rested unmovingly on his shoulder. His heart thudded, and he was sure she could hear it too. Or maybe it was her heartbeat pulsing in his ears.

"I think I should get to bed."

"Me too."

Fluidly, she stood up, and helped the boy up onto his feet. They stood, in the middle of the bunks, still not making an effort to leave each other's company.

He felt something brush his fingers, slip into his grasp. He squeezed her hand lightly. He raised his free hand to cup her chin. She did not refuse, her eyes closing slowly. Slightly parted, their lips met - in a nervous trial at first, then a gradual but overwhelming sweetness as it deepened.

Neither knew how long they had stayed that way, but both knew how it had come to be that they had jumped out of each other's heady presence.

"FUCK!"

It had happened in a shift of weight - Ryan Ross had, in his semi-REM state, heard murmurs floating around him. Disturbed, he began to surface into consciousness and found himself uncomfortable in his sleeping position. He moved in an attempt to make himself better arranged, but the long-forgotten mug of chocolate had tipped over and spilled its searingly hot contents onto the groggy guitarist's arm. Swearing loudly, he sat up, bumping his head on the low wooden ceiling. His blurred vision traveled around to land on the couple watching him with wide eyes.

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head, and opened them again. Brendon looked apologetically at him, and maybe a tad bit scared.

"Is this yours?" Ryan inquired angrily, indicating to the fallen mug and the brown contents that had emptied itself onto his throbbing arm and once-white bedsheets.

"Sorry, I didn't know - I mean, I forgot it was there." Brendon bit his lip, cringing marginally at the deadly glower Ryan shot at him.

"What're you doing up, anyway?" Ryan stood up, rubbing the tender spot where his head had collided painfully with Spencer's bed. Brendon didn't get to answer, as, at that moment, Ryan's eyes landed on the girl, her back pressed against the column of wall beside the doorway.

"Taylor, what exactly are you doing here?" Ryan shot her a puzzled look. She glanced at Brendon, then blushed deeply.

"Oh, God, please lust for each other at a better hour." He grumbled.

"We were just going to go to bed." Brendon informed him.

"Great. That'd be good. Good." He ducked clumsily into Brendon's bunk, his mind too clouded to register that it was not his designated bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he breathed deeply and fell back into his slumber.

Taylor picked up both mugs, staring at the chocolatey stain. "You can always stay outside with us."

Brendon nodded slowly, still dazed at all that had happened. Cautiously, they tiptoed past Panic! at the Disco's sleeping members, crossing to Fall Out Boy's bunks. Brendon went ahead, braving the threat of the shifting and snoring band. Taylor was not as timely, her foot hitting the edge of a bunk.

"Wha-?" The person sat up, narrowly missing Ryan's fate. A pale face gazed blearily up at her. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She whispered desperately. Patrick rubbed his eye, sleepily observing her face, scrunched up into fretfulness.

"Taylor, what're you doing up?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," She apologized, ignoring his query. Brendon popped his head back in, looking around in the gloom.

"Tay, come on, before you wake - oh, hi, Patrick."

"I'm just going to go back to sleep and pretend this never happened." Patrick lay back down, turning over. "Night, guys."

Both bade him a soft goodnight, and movement ensued - Brendon stepping away from the door, Taylor walking, and Andy grunting in his sleep.

"I'm sorry," He heard her breathe, and her footsteps padded away, into the main lounge, into Brendon's arms.

x

Patrick stared at the wall, wide awake. Of course, he had heard their conversation, lingering on the part when they had childishly confessed feelings under their breaths - though not quite as softly as they should have spoken.

He sighed. If she had been available before, she certainly wasn't now. And who was to say she had liked him more than she liked Brendon before? Who was to say she had been attracted to him in that way at all? He was certain the camaraderie did not go further than finding him as a good companion, someone to fill in the space when Brendon did not occupy it yet.

Turning again, he punched his pillow and buried his face into it. His thoughts zoomed around, senseless. Her voice rung in his ears, the quiet apology that he wished had meant more regret for breaking his pathetic heart than for waking him up from useless slumber.

Love wasn't meant for someone like him - it came along to torture him, play with his feelings, then crush him underfoot. He had vowed not to knock on its door again after what had happened before. Allowing him to feel something for Taylor was another human mistake, and he had paid the price painfully - in a different manner, yes, but still the same result.

Feeling hollow, he closed his eyes, trying to force his mind and emotions to go dead. It echoed one more time, in his head - "I'm sorry." He wished he could have replied, even if the purpose for the apology meant different things to them.

Me too.

x.fin.x