I'm Anything You Want Me To Be.

Kennedy's still asleep.

I'm still awake. I've dozed off for a couple of hours but dreaming about my father only makes me have a mental breakdown, so I decided to just stay awake.

I've been staring at my wrist for over 2 hours now. Staring. I haven't moved a muscle since I moved my bracelets down so I could look at the one thing inked permanently on my own skin.

That one word.

Live.

In my father's scrawny handwriting.

The night before my dad died, we were watching a baseball game on TV.

I was sitting on the floor with him, and I finally got the guts to ask about what he had on his wrist. He was a good man, no drugs, not a lot of alcohol. And he was definitely not the one who influenced my smoking.

There was one thing about my dad that seemed the slightest bit off because of all his integrity.

A tattoo on his wrist.

I asked him about it and he just smiled at me, and then he went on about how this one word kept him going from when he was in his younger years.

He was, as he wasn't afraid to call himself in front of me, a fuck-up. And meeting my mother saved his life. He didn't elaborate on how, but he made it clear that the word meant a lot to him.

It was in my mother's handwriting, Dad's tattoo. He said that once I was old enough, he was going to let me get my own tattoo. That night, he wrote the word on the back of a receipt of a pack of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese.

That's one of the reasons I hold Kraft Mac & Cheese with some sort of sentimental value. But it's not really important. It's stupid, if anything.

Then he told me to keep it, because he wasn't ever going to write it again for me. He told me that when I was old enough to get a tattoo, he was going to look for that paper from me and take me to the tattoo shop and get it tattooed on my wrist.

I didn't know he was going to be so literal about the part of him not ever planning on writing it again. I didn't know he was going to pass the day after.

When I took Dani so she could leave for college, I got really sad. Who wouldn't be sad in my place? My sister, you know, the only person I had because my parents left, was leaving me. Sad is a major understatement. At first it was just pain, then it turned to anger, then I was just sad and empty.

And I was so desperate to get the hurt out of myself, and since I had that paper, I stopped at a tattoo shop. And I got it tattooed on my wrist, thankfully, without any questioning. And I went over to the bar with my fresh tattoo, not even minding if I knew it would take a while for it to heal.

John even told me, through the slurs I can't find clearance to, that he had the word tattooed on the inside of his lower lip. He was slipping my shirt off when he saw the new tattoo on my wrist, and when I bit his lip, he showed me his tattoo.

But anyway, I did keep that piece of paper. I've kept it clean, and dry, and flat, in a small notebook. I've always kept it there.

And that notebook, I've kept around forever. I always have it with me. Not in the literal way, which is having it when I go to the bathroom to pee, or when I go to the grocery store to buy food. But I always make sure it's somewhere close to me.

And that 'somewhere close to me' right now is inclusive of my suitcase which is in the back lounge. Maybe I should go look at it since I'm feeling all sentimental about my dad, eh?

I heave a sigh and push myself off of Kennedy's lap. I kiss his forehead as thanks for the comfort last night and I start getting myself back on my feet. I put my palms on the wall for support as I start dredging away from here.

When I get to my suitcase again, I decide not to look at the paper anymore. What's the point? I might just cry over it again, so I won't go on.

My head is aching, I don't know why. Maybe my brain got really drained last night with Kennedy talking to me, with him letting me talk to him about my dad.

I still have my hands on the wall for support when I hear Dani's voice in a muse.

"When you're walking backwards, don't be afraid to close your eyes. 'Cause the truth is, darling, that everything,"

I see her teetering herself back and forth on her feet as she watches something she's cooking up.

"Will be alright, alright--"

"Dani?"

She looks up from the pot and takes her earphones out. "Iann."

"Listening to The Maine?" I ask because I recognized the lines she was singing. Color by The Maine, her favorite The Maine song as far as I know.

I stalked her on Facebook, you know. Not in the creepy way, I just got to wondering what she was up to without me in college. Never really interacted with her, though.

Dani nods.

"Making mac n' cheese?"

She nods again.

"That's cool, I guess." I say.

She shrugs. "You okay? You look sort of restless,"

"Restless?"

"Looked pretty uneasy sleeping with Kennedy in there," she says as she points to where I've been.

"I'm good."

"Sure?" she asks. "Really, really sure?"

"You don't care." I reply and peel myself out of my sweater. I throw my sweater on the floor. "The mac n' cheese for your pretty little boyfriend?"

"Don't talk about Garrett like that."

"Who said I was talking about Garrett?" I laugh, knowing I hit her emotions somewhere with the simple teasing.

She starts blushing, again, I don't know whether from the teasing or the anger. But she is definitely angry at me right now for teasing her. "Get out." She points at the doorway.

"Now you're all mad? I didn't even say a damn thing about Garrett."

"Get out." She stiffens her voice up as she really makes me get out. Then she resumes listening to The Maine.

In the front lounge, I feel weight lifted off me when I see John smiling in his sleep. And that weight is completely gone when I see Jay smiling the same way. Jay's asleep with his head on John's lap again, and John's got his arm around him.

They must've gotten cold because I see the blanket on the floor. Instead of fulfilling its purpose by keeping Jay and John warm, it's on the floor being an obsolete little shit.

So I pick the blanket up. Feeling drowsy, I curl up next to John after putting the blanket over all of us. I bury my face in John's shoulder and he reacts by putting his arm around me so I have a better position to sleep with.

I do fall asleep after this.

What wakes me up is some shaking, and when I open my eyes to a squint, it's John. Before I even have time to think about the fact that I left Kennedy sleeping on the cold floor in the bunks, someone speaks.

"Good morning, angel."

John's voice. Is he talking to me? I think I might be dreaming.

"Sorry. I really don't want to disturb you, but I have to get up now."

I nod. Whatever.

But when I realize he's setting distance between us, I grab his hand.

"Please don't leave me." I mumble as my eyelids fall back down.

I don't see John's reaction to this, but he does do something about it.

I feel his lips on my cheek and he goes on to tell me that I'll be fine without him. And then he really leaves.

I don't have time to react to how that was the first time his lips have made any contact with me since that slur of a party and sex. Because what John did was so familiar.

So familiar, it hurt. It made that weight his smile lifted off crash back into me.

It was that dream earlier, the reason I had decided to stay awake when I was with Kennedy. The dream I have over and over every time I fall asleep thinking about Dad.

Everything John did. From calling me angel, to the kiss, to me telling him not to leave, to him telling me I'll be fine without him.

My dad, my dream. Where he would call me angel when I supposedly wake up, then he'd say he had to go. I'd tell him to stay, I'd ask him not to leave me, and he'd kiss me on the cheek and tell me that I was going to be okay without him. And then he'd really leave.

This hurts. This is pain. This is torture.

How could John do that? How could he have the sense to do that?! And out of everything he could've called me.. He had to call me the one thing my dad referred to me as endearment.. Angel.

No matter how much I try to convince myself that it was all a dream, a part of me is alert and thinking about John's lips. Those soft, thin lips that had just brushed against my cheek.

I still can't get over it.

Angel.

Damn it, John.

I give myself a good 10 minutes to get back to sleep, and when sleep doesn't welcome me back into its arms, I decide to just get up.

John's blanket is still on me. What I don't see here is Jay or John himself. But I do see John's blanket.

I take a few seconds to fold it up neatly and then I'm off to the back lounge. I start concluding that everyone must be there since no one is in the front lounge or in the bunks even.

When I get to the bunk area, the door is closed. So I open it.

Dani scoffs something immediately as the door slides open. She must really be in hatred for me.

"I don't know." are the words I first hear from anyone, and that anyone is John.

Then I see that Dani's video camera is pointed at him.

They must be doing an interview or something.

"Wait a second, John." Dani politely stops him from talking.

Where does she get all her politeness? I don't have any of that shit.

"Iann, weren't you ever taught to knock at closed doors?" Dani scowls.

I pout.

Dani shakes her head and rolls her eyes as she focuses back on John. But she's still speaking to me. "Just be quiet and sit next to Garrett over there,"

I take her request and process it for half a second, then I do sit next to Garrett. "She's being extra bitchy today," I whisper to him.

"Noticed that too. Any idea why?" he whispers back.

"Teased her about you earlier," I laugh.

He laughs at this too, oddly.

Before we can carry on, John gets up as Dani tells him that he's done. He takes a bottle from the edge of the table where he most probably set it and takes a drink.

For a while, no one moves, or speaks. Then Dani says, "Garrett, come on."

Garrett shrugs as he empties his seat and fills up a new one in front of Dani.

"Don't look at me." Dani says.

"What am I supposed to say?" Garrett asks dumbly, ignoring what Dani had just requested and is now actually staring at her.

"Just talk about what's been going on in this tour--" She puts her camera down for a second. "Garrett--"

"You expect me not to look at you while I'm talking to you?" Garrett raises an eyebrow in sarcastic curiousity. "Jeez, Dani, how about you get a little more professional--"

"I didn't apply for this." Dani cuts him off. "Don't you remember that it was you who fucking got me on this bus?"

"I thought you were going to be a little more professional." Garrett says.

"Well, I'm not a professional little fuck, I'm sorry then." Dani brings her camera up again.

"You know, Dani, when you were flying to Phoenix, I could remember you were actually really excited to be touring with The Maine." I butt in.

"Yeah? Well that was before I fell for the douchebag everyone calls Garrett Daniel Nickelsen again." Dani answers me nonchalantly. Then she talks to Garrett. "Come on, Garrett, tell everyone what you've been up to this tour."

I get shudders from how cold Dani's becoming in this span of short seconds. She just said it! She's fallen back in love with Garrett Daniel Nickelsen. And now she's acting like this wasn't a big deal.

I look at Garrett and he doesn't at all seem fazed with what Dani just said.

Now, I'm confused. Because Dani just told everyone, every fucking one of the people in that area, inclusive of me, and Jared, Pat, John, and Kennedy, and Garrett, that she's in love with Garrett Nickelsen again and no one's reacting.

"The red light means it's recording, right?" Garrett wonders. But he's still not reacting.

Dani nods.

"Well, okay." Garrett looks into the lens. "Hi, guys. I was asked to tell everyone what I've been up to this tour.. So here goes: I fell for the bitch everyone calls Daniella Renee Jones again."

Dani puts her camera down after a minute, and she stares at Garrett for another minute while he stares back. Then she shakes her head and takes her camera again. "Okay. Now, Garrett, say something you mean."

"I just did." says Garrett. "I'm pretty sure I just meant what I said."

"Take it back." Dani commands. "Take it back, Garrett."

"No." he replies with a shrug. "I meant what I said, Dani, and I'm not taking it back."

"Did you really mean it?" Dani asks. But not in a curious way. In an unfriendly way, really questioningly, and I know that if Garrett answers with a yes, she'd have something prepared to shoot at him with.

Garrett simply nods.

"I don't want you to fall in love with me again," is what Dani says to Garrett.

"Well, I've already fallen!" He bangs his fist on the table. "I don't even understand why--"

"Why are you being as difficult as John, Garrett?! How about a decent fucking answer to the stupid question for the stupid interview?!" Dani spits, countering his frustration. You're being difficult--"

"Excuse me?! I'm being difficult?! No, Dani! The entire reason you couldn't get John to say anything that made any fucking sense is because you're--" Garrett's voice is shaking in so much anger right now. "You're being a stupid arrogant bitch!"

Dani bites her bottom lip and gets on her feet.

I see the tears forming in her eyes. I can see she's offended. I can tell she's trying to stop her tears from spilling over, but she's not moving. I know she wants to get out of here. But somehow, she can't move.

When Garrett opens his mouth again is when Dani finds the sense to exit the area. "I'm sorry, I didn't--"

I realize that everyone else but John has left the area when Dani and Garrett started throwing the hurt at each other.

"Dani, wait!" Garrett yells as he exits too.

"I'm still right about the trainwreck." John boasts casually as he shakes his head.

I purse my lips, not exactly sure how to feel. I don't know if I'm going to laugh or just cry about this. Laugh because it's not my problem, I'm not the unfortunate little bitch misery is setting fire to.. Or cry because Dani's getting hurt now. Because even though it's not me getting soaked in gasoline to be lit, it might as well be, because Dani getting hurt hurts me.

"This is the most rocky restart to a relationship I've ever been a witness to. Aye, Iann?" John goes to Garrett's just emptied seat and occupies it.

"Aye, John." I agree as I occupy Dani's seat.

"I don't understand. Pat and Kenny and Jared did fine in the interview.."

"And you didn't make any sense?"

"I guess I just don't make sense to a lot of people." John shrugs.

"But you make sense to me." I say.

"Since you're there, and since I do make sense to you, maybe you could do the interview with me." John suggests as he pushes the camera into my hands.

I look down at the camera, then at John again.

"We set a deadline for this, it's supposed to go up tonight. We're talking about going back into recording after this tour." He pouts. "Please?"

"What about Garrett?"

"We'll fix that up later when he calms down about the whole Dani fiasco. I just gotta get my part done."

I nod. Then I hit record. "Do you bank off of guide questions?"

"Nawh, I can talk." says John. "It's Garrett who usually banks off of guide questions."

I nod again. "So we start?"

"Yeah," John shifts slightly.

I stare at him for a while because I feel some entropy with something he's doing or something. I can't explain it, something just seems off with John right now. I try my best not to think about what happened when I woke up as I say, "So, John, tell us about this new record."

He smirks at how mediocre I'm being but answers anyway. "We've done a first batch of recording before this tour.. Showed the record label. And.. Well, the record label didn't think it was.. "Us." As if they knew us better than we did ourselves. So the band made quick decisions and.. Well, we ditched the record label to get this record going in our own direction."

"That's interesting, John, isn't that risky business for the band?"

He takes a while to absorb this question. "I guess it is. But it doesn't have to get more complicated than how we even flew off as a band. We got big doing shitty songs at a shitty studio in Arizona with a shitty record label, so what's new with forging our own tracks? Improvised as they are, they are our own tracks."

"Not scared at all?"

"We're the pioneers." John says. "I mean.. We're not stressing anymore.. Because we're setting our own deadline, we've got all the support we need and more, plus we are forging our own tracks. No stress."

"Are you speaking in behalf of the band when you say there's no stress or is this all coming from your own perspective?" I ask.

He raises an eyebrow while he thinks of an answer. "Yes, I'm speaking in behalf of the band. It was equally everyone's idea to ditch the record label."

"Any idea what to call the new record then?"

"No idea yet." He licks his lips. "Maybe when we go back into studio, we'll find a decent record title. But for now, we're sort of just letting ourselves sink into the idea that it's not in the record title. It's, we're guessing, in how heartfelt these songs are. How, well, how much these songs mean to us. And no matter how shitty the record label thinks these songs are, we're not going to listen to them. We're sort of just jogging on our own lane, at our own pace."

"That sounds great, John."

"It is." He nods. "The support we're getting is tremendous, and we truly believe this isn't going to blow up in our faces. Besides, how can something that comes from the bottom of our hearts end up turning into disaster, right?"

I'm amazed at his words. If these are the things that Dani finds no sense in, then I should start worrying, because this makes a lot of sense to me. And now, I can see another one of the reasons Dani has grown with this band. Because they take chances, ditch labels, forge their own tracks. Because they are the pioneers and they know what they're doing.

I shake this thought off for a while. "Do you guys have any idea when you'll finish recording and release this?"

"Maybe we'll finish recording by October or November, then release on December or early January. I really have no clue."

I look for something more to ask, but find nothing. So I choke out, "Anything else to say?"

John shakes his head.

"Then we're done." I say and put the camera down. Then I realize what was causing the supposed entropy with John. It's the way his shirt is buttoned.

He missed a buttonhole at the top and there's one extra button at the bottom.

I don't say anything, but I do go and sit next to him.

He wonders why I'm here now.

So I speak up. "You buttoned your shirt up all wrong."

He looks down at where my fingers are pointed and he actually looks embarrassed. "Oh gosh." He chuckles as he unbuttons his shirt and then he starts buttoning from the top again.

I start helping him and button from the bottom. I quickly do this and say "Well, we just did the interview. Now you're going to have to live with your fans knowing that the amazing John Ohh can't even button his shirt properly,"

His hands meet mine at the button in the middle of his shirt and he retracts them.

I button it up and it's only when I look up to fix his collar too that I realize how close we actually are to each other right now.

My heart starts racing when he asks "Did you just call me John Ohh--"

And for a while, I'm confused at why he cut himself off.

But I figure it out a split second later.

Words can't roll off his lips. Not now. Not when his lips are on mine.

He tastes the same. And he still hasn't learned that he shouldn't breathe through his mouth when he's kissing someone. But he has learned to go slow. He's not going into lip-biting or making lip-lock with me, or even trying to get some tongue going.

But he does taste the same. Just a little more alcohol, and a little morning breath.

When our lips interlock, a tingling sensation fills my chest and my head starts feeling light.

I feel his fingers brush on my cheek, then he pulls me closer and deepens this kiss.

I should stop him, or at least not kiss back, but I can't help myself from wrapping my arms around his torso and entertaining this feeling.

This feeling. So.. Familiar. Like John's taste, his eyes, and even the way he kisses.

I feel his tongue skim across my bottom lip. He asks for entrance and I allow it.

When he bites my lip, I get enough sense to stop. Because this familiarity is going to hurt me. So I take my arms off him and let him jerk away when I yelp a little.

I thought I had convinced myself not to be surprised because I know John was that guy at the party, but no evidence can come close to making this all hit me like a shit ton of bricks from construction at least a thousand feet high.

John doesn't make eye contact with me.

I wonder if he knows what I'm thinking, and I wonder if he's thinking the same thing.

He gulps, and I see terror in his eyes when he spots something.

I follow the direction of his eyes, but his hands beat me to the destination.

His hands mess around with the bracelets I didn't bother to fix properly to cover my tattoo. "Live." he mouths.

It's out.

"Riannon." is the first, and only, thing John says to me after the kiss.

I don't know what to say, so I don't think about it. I let impulse take over for the first time. And I let impulse make me say it. "John Ohh."