Dichotomy.

The bus is still moving when I wake up. It’s too early for my liking.

Usually, I have trouble falling asleep, but last night felt oddly natural and familiar.

It feels like I’m back home, even though it’s been awhile since I’ve been in a tour bus.

I hop out of the middle bunk in an admittedly disoriented fashion.

“Morning,” Spencer yawns when I enter the front lounge. He’s typing away on his laptop at the small table.

I nod at him with what I hope is a friendly smile.

He returns it with a sleepy grin, but seems aware enough to sense that I’m not a fan of small talk in mornings.

One distinct noise begins to irritate me for no real reason as settle myself on the couch and stretch.

That noise is Brendon’s energetic voice chatting happily to the bus driver.

He glances my way, sensing my presence.

I absolutely loathe the way he looks at me.

Like he’s picking me apart from the inside.

Like he knows everything about me.

I self-consciously cross my arms as he studies me, first with a hesitant smile that turns into a confused frown under my suspicious gaze.

It’s unreasonable for me to feel self-conscious, of course – I’ll be on tour with him and a bus full of guys for the next few weeks, and I’ve been on many tours before.

The truth is, there’s no room for modesty and self-consciousness in my lifestyle, so it’s just stupid to start feeling it now.

I get up and head for the fridge, just so I won’t have to look at him.

There’s not much in there besides Redbull, alcohol, and random food products, but I rummage through it just so I won’t have to acknowledge him.

“Maybe if you stare long enough, something will appear,” Brendon states in amusement.

“You’re very obnoxious, do you know that?” I scowl.

“Thank you. I’m also told I’m very charming,” he smirks, reaching past me to grab a can of red bull from the fridge. I roll my eyes.

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t believe everything your mom tells you,” I retort. “Trust me,” I add under my breath.

“What was that?” he asks.

I open my mouth to reply-

“Guys,” Spencer groans. “Do you really have to start this early?”

The truth is, for whatever reason, Spencer’s grown on me in the short time we’ve known each other, so I’m trying to hold to the truce as best I can.

I close my mouth, and Brendon smirks.

He thinks he’s won.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I sit on Tom’s merch table, watching everyone busily go by.

It had still been early once the bus stopped at the first venue, so I’d entertained myself by helping the crew carry the equipment inside with Tom meanwhile Spencer and Brendon were at a radio interview.

They’d invited me along out of politeness, or at least that’s what I took it as.

Scratch that.

Spencer invited me along.

Brendon pretended not to care either way.

I told them I’d do the next one; that I wanted to warm up alone before the show tonight.

The truth is, I’m scared.

“Hey, sexy.”

I jump out of my skin at the voice in my ear and hand on my shoulder and instinctively elbow Tom in the stomach.

“Creep.”

He laughs.

“Sorry. You probably thought I was someone else,” he shrugs, hopping onto the table beside me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I raise my eyebrows testily.

“Nothing,” he replies airily. I roll my eyes but don’t question him. His expression quickly turns serious. “How’re you holding up? I know this is all really fast, I mean the band only broke up two months ago and now-”

“I’m fine,” I interject quickly.

The truth is, I can’t even believe my own lies.

I can feel him staring at me, so I pick at the loose threads at my jeans.

But Tom, he calls my bluff with a simple glance.

The truth is, he’s the only person I trust, because he’s unfailingly honest.

“I’m fine,” I repeat in a faltering tone, because I know that if I can’t convince myself, then there’s no way he believes me.

“Bullshit,” he says, and nothing else.

He doesn’t try to drag out an explanation from my lips, like anyone else would do.

He just puts the truth out there, where it should be.

And me, I hate that I can’t be more like that.

“I have soundcheck soon,” I state. He nods.

“If you need to talk about him, I’m here,” he says, but I’m not entirely sure which “him” he means.

“Okay,” I reply anyway.