Pictures on Silence

No one should go through so many emotions upon waking up, especially within the first four seconds. When I first waked, my eyes slowly opened, widened in shock, eased and slowly drooped, and then bolted open again in mortification. Even I found it complicated, so I will break it down for you in seconds.

First: Wow, that dream was steamy. Pretty nice though. Wink, wink.

Second: Holy shit, I had a sex dream about Brendon! What is wrong with me?! That's so weird!

Third: God, that's embarrassing. Maybe if I go back to sleep, I'll forget about it when I wake up again. It's still pretty early, and this bed is so comfortable and warm. I like this one a lot more than last night.

Fourth: Is that an arm around my waist?!

My whole body stiffened and I slowly looked over my shoulder. A head of messy brown hair, one with perfectly still lids and lashes and a beautiful pair of slightly parted lips, lay on the pillow next to me. I could have screamed, but stopped myself because, artistically, there are precious few images like that one, and spoiling it would break the hearts of artists everywhere.

I pressed my lips together and turned my head back around. No chance of sleeping remained once I'd stared at the red numbers of the clock as they grew by seven. Taking a deep breath, I ever-so slowly slipped out of the bed-- and the loose grip of Ryan's arm-- and tiptoed to my bag.

I drew out some clothes, bath things, and makeup. It might have been five-thirty in the morning, but between my dream and the bed, I needed a bath.

Creeping towards the bathroom, I froze when the floor creaked and Ryan made a sleepy noise. He sniffed and raised his head. "What time is it?" he mumbled, eyes barely open.

Vision adjusted to the dark, I took a few steps back and whispered, "Too early for sleep-deprived rock stars such as yourself to be awake." His head nodded a little and flopped back onto the pillow, freeing me to scurry silently away.

Shutting the door noiselessly, I leaned again it and exhaled. My heart pounded against my ribs. He's just a guy, I repeated over and over to myself. I just wasn't used to waking up next to one, was all.

I turned on the water, slipped out of my clothes, and put my iPod on softly whilst waiting for the Jacuzzi-tub to fill. When it finally did, I eased myself into the hot water and, taking a deep breath, shut my eyes. I scrubbed my skin clean and washed my hair-- all the normal stuff-- before just sitting.

"This shapes up to become a very interesting day," I thought aloud. I ran my hands over my face. "God, I don't think I'll be able to look at either of them."

I sunk lower into the water as the image of Ryan asleep next to me slummed into my head. Why does he have to be so fucking attractive? I thought, annoyed. It's hard to pay attention to what your friend says when you're thinking about sketching him. Not that I don't already have access to a million pictures of him, plus the ones I took.

The sound of the water shifting floated across the bathroom as I lifted one leg above the water. For a while, I merely sat in the bathtub looking at my legs and feet and toes. I shook my head and blew bubbles at the idea of me being a real artist of any description.

That brought me back to the thought of Ryan and I shut my eyes. "I don't have a crush on him," I declared. "I love him like a friend and a fellow member of the human race." As if to taunt me, HIM's "Beautiful" came on shuffle and Ville Valo's voice drifted into my ears.

I squeezed my eyes shut briefly and lifted myself out of the long bathtub. "Life constantly dangles achievable feats barely out of my reach as it knows I am too afraid to reach for them." After dressing, I sat cross-legged on the counter and carefully applied my makeup; and, as my luck would have it, for once I thought I looked good.

With a sigh, I zipped up my bag and gathered up my things. "Like it matters," I whispered. "I might as well not exist for all the guys I know."

~Ryan~
I yawned and sat up, rubbing my eye. What a weird dream, I thought to myself. No more eating fans' cookies right before bed.

Looking around at the empty room, I frowned and then after a moment, slapped myself in the forehead. Angie'd probably freaked out when she woke up. Way to go, genius.

After getting dressed, I wandered into the other room, where Brendon sat on the couch next to a dozing Spence. Oddly, he kept looking away from the television over his shoulder out the window every few seconds. I glanced over: Angie propped herself up against the balcony railing and stared out, unmoving, into the morning.

"She's been sitting there since I got up," Brendon said. "She hasn't moved once."

With another glance, I shrugged. "Don't we have to get moving soon?"

Spencer sniffed and lifted his head. "Joy. Another fantastic eight hours on the bus."

"You guys go wake up Jon," Brendon suggested, hopping up. "I'll wake up Miss Mute."

"Does anyone else find it weird that Angie's curtain has been closed for the past five and a half hours?" Spencer asked, coming in from the bunkroom.

The three of us, playing cards, looked up. "Really?" I asked. Come to think of it, the bus had been strangely devoid of feminine laughter. Aside from Brendon.

"I kind of wondered why she didn't come out when we stopped," Jon voiced. "I figured she just wasn't hungry."

"What do you think is wrong with her?" Brendon enquired. "Did anyone say something to her?" We all shook our heads.

Staring at my cards, but not really seeing their value or suit, I considered that it was my fault. But then again, I didn't actually do anything. This girl confuses me. More than other girls. That line of thinking brought me around to my ex, and I leaned on my elbow to stare out the window.

"Oh, now don't you start," Jon ordered, pushing my elbow off the table. I glared at him and reordered my cards.

"Well, aren't we a party," Brendon said, tossing his card down after about ten minutes of silence. "Angie shuts herself up in her bunk and the rest of us get the emo-plague."

"She does have an infectious personality," I reasoned. "And the emo-plague is a mass killer."

"Weird how we've only known her two weeks. Seems like we've been friends forever."

"Yeah."

Another five minutes passed.

"Okay, if someone doesn't put down a card or something, my head's going to explode," Spencer said, making us laugh. Jon got up, saying he'd be right back. Brendon flicked a card at Spencer, but missed, so I hit him with one.

Jon came back and we watched him walk to the fridge and pull out a bottle of water. "She's just laying there, listening to music," he said in disbelief. "I asked her what was up and all she said was, 'I'm thirsty'." He shrugged and went to give it to her.

I drummed my fingers on the table. "What makes Angie happy?" I pondered.

"Music," Brendon offered, leaning back.

"Which would be why she's listening to it," Jon explained, sitting back down. "Photography."

"Ruling us at video games," Spencer laughed.

I crossed my arms and looked at the ceiling in thought. Maybe I should just go talk to her. It probably has something to do with me. Taking a deep breath, I stood up and announced, "I'm going to go talk to her."

A shudder ran through me when I laid eyes on her; replace the bunk with a hospital bed and the headphones with an IV, and she could have been a terminal patient. I sat next to her on the floor and waited a moment before looking at her iPod screen. I'd never heard of Nine Black Alps, but Angie must have really liked them by the way she only moved her thumb to replay "Intermission".

"What's the matter?" I asked, exaggerating my words so she would understand with headphones on.

"I don't want to talk about it," she stated blandly, not looking away from the ceiling.

"All of us are worried about you. We've never seen you so quiet and unhappy."

She turned her head and stared unnervingly at me. "Yes, you have." I didn't reply. A sardonic smile glimmered on her face. "You've seen me at all my worst times, which is strange because the only other person who has is my mom."

I laughed quietly. "Interesting selection."

"I thought so. But for some reason, I trust you." Angie's eyes held a thoughtful expression, and I decided that I probably hadn't caused this bout of antisocialness.

"I'm honoured," I said with a smile.

"You should be," she told me honestly. "You're a minority in the vast numbers of people I know." She snorted. "Well, don't I sound conceited?"

I shrugged. "Not really." Angie's smile lit up her face, and that made me feel good about myself. "So are we done sitting alone in our bunk all day?"

She swung her feet to the floor and turned off her iPod. "Yes, I suppose we are."

"Good," I said, getting up, "Because the rest of us are fucking bored and you're like walking entertainment."

Angie laughed. "Well, I feel loved." She stood up and gave me a hug. "You're such a nice guy, Ryan. You can always make me feel better." Huh. That's what all my ex-girlfriends told me. "It's easy to see why all those girls are crazy about you." Is she freaking psychic, or what? I wondered. Angie grinned. "Now let's go ask when we're stopping, because I'm fucking hungry and in desperate need to shake things up."

"Do you swear?" I asked, laughing at quoting myself.

On the way out, Angie turned and grinned. "If you swear to listen," she replied. "Oh wait, you already did." She and I both laughed, which made Jon, B-den, and Spencer all cheer when we entered.