Do You Know What It Feels Like?

3:28 PM, Tuesday.

On the Fall Out Boy & Panic! at the Disco tourbus, headed God-knows-where.

True love (n) : When you drink a litre of coke before you go to bed just so you can lie awake all night thinking about her.
- True love is when you can't sleep at night because reality is finally better than your dreams.

If that was what true love really was, Andy assumed that was what she felt - absolutely and unconditionally. The feeling was, in fact, unfathomable. He cropped up in her mind at every moment, waking or not - while she was eating, sleeping, reading, watching the television, playing a game, texting, plotting future revenge, or just floating off into a daydream.

Forget that. He was, truly, her daydream. No matter what she did, his face was ever - present in her subconscious, embedded into her cerebrum, pushed forward by some uncontrollable force to the center of her attention, of her thoughts. It was more real than an infatuation, more mature than merely an obsession.

Was that why she felt so hollow? Was that why she had been so quick as to leave the bunk area as soon as she had seen something that she wished, now, she hadn't? Probably.

The last photo of them - Jac and Ryan - had been something that had provoked her mind to think an assortment of thoughts. She thought- knew - that Jac was pretty. Laying eyes on her only proved that. But of course, someone as good - looking as he required a girl of equal beauty. Admittance of that fact was in order.

But a new emotion swelled up inside of her. It was tiny, almost unnoticable, but still present, tugging at the back of her heart.

Jealousy.

Facades only lasted a small period of time. As soon as she had exited the room, her nonchalant expression had melted away. Her excitement for him to show her the physical identity of his girlfriend had been minimal. She was half expecting, half wishing he would deny her of her request.

But he had no clue. No clue how that had made her feel. No clue that it would somehow affect her.

He was not to blame, of course. She was. Her head had clouded over with a silly dream, a futile hope that he would notice her attraction to him. And, even if he had, why would he find any reason to return the favor? His emotions lay with someone else, someone prettier, someone better. How would he choose her over his model-like friend? It was impossible.

Spencer chose to come out of the Panic! bunk area at that point, taking a seat beside her. She contemplated in silence whether or not she should say something, but he beat her to it.

"So. You like Ryan, huh."

Andy stared at him. How could he have known? Not even Taylor knew the full context of her feelings for him. She opened her mouth to ask, but different words tumbled out of her mouth.

"Is it that obvious?"

Her tone was glum, flat and unhappily edged. He, on the other hand, managed to let out a chuckle.

"Well, it's hard to miss. Especially after what happened just now." He pointed out.

She leaned back, avoiding meeting his gaze. So Spencer knew, by the way she acted. How much did everyone else know? How much did Ryan know?

"Yeah. But he's never going to like me, right? He's got a pretty girl on his arm, and, after what I've seen, I have no chance anyway."

Spencer didn't answer. She concluded sadly that he was in speechless agreement with her. She could not compete, let alone beat the blonde beauty that Ryan was so obviously entranced with.

Oh, well,she thought to herself. I guess I'll just have to like him from afar.

x

3:30 PM, Tuesday.

Still on that damn bus.

Ryan took up the courage to slide his phone open slowly, pressing the navigation buttons with much deliberation. He watched the screen load up the picture another time. For a time, he fixed his gaze and attention on the beautiful blonde seated next to him in the photo.

And his mind whirled about how much she really quite meant to him.

Being with her was an experience he was thouroughly basking in. Her walk, her way, her speech, everything about her was attractive, inviting, sensual. Knowing she was his, in a way, gave him pride - an ego that swelled slightly, having a girl as enticing as her at his side, though not always physically.

But as he stared on, a part of him nagged and nagged ceaselessly. Proper communication was rare between them. An honest to goodness conversation cropped up rarely when they spent time together.

In fact, any conversation with her was a treat. They spent most of their time lip locking and slightly competing on who was the better kisser. Spending time with her was fun in itself, but the actions list did not exactly consist of anything substantial. Not anything of a good relationship.

He exited the gallery and moved onto his inbox. He was thankful Andy had not read his messages (or so she had claimed), as they contained an ongoing text argument that he had chosen to try to forget about. Now, he was stuck reading her written rants about how he was never there for her when she needed him, and how she accused him, suspected him of fooling around with other pretty girls.

As if he ever had the time to do that.

He had decided not to reply. The argument was pointless, and a waste of his money if he had answered. He expected they would be sorry, make up and continue being sweetly careful around their words and actions when in each other's presence until another fight cropped up again. Classic. Predictable.

If, of course, another fight could manage to squeeze its way through their lengthy make-out sessions.

That was the list of things to do:

1. Make out.

2. Fight.

3. Make up.

4. Repeat step one onwards. Over and over again.

He slid his phone shut and threw it mindlessly to his side. He rubbed his face roughly, feeling as though the bunk bed underneath him was spinning uncontrollably. His head matched its turning, his thoughts spiraling down.

Jac was special to him; no, she was absolutely worthless when it came down to it all. Jac was a waste of time; Jac meant everything to him, and he thought and dreamed of her constantly. Jac was his; He had no control over their relationship whatsoever.

A vibration from his phone indicated he had received a message. Probably from Jac. Definitely ignored.

He groaned and turned over, faceflat into his lumpy pillow.

Jac loved him; Jac hated him.

He couldn't stand Jac. Jac was his heart's desire.

Why couldn't he just stop thinking?

He was stupid. He was confused. He was lost. He was lonely.

He needed love. He needed to love.

true love (n): something that only exists in fairytales.

See heartbreak.

x.fin.x