Not A Day Goes By

Chapter One: Fireball Flame

I'm just wandering down an unfamiliar American street, trying to make myself believe that this is real, I'm here, in Boston... when my phone dings.

"Hey, you check in at your hotel yet?" Mark asks tiredly.

"Yeah," I mumble, dodging people as I start back for my hotel. "Do you know The Western?"

"The Western? I think I know it... 'Cause I'M IN IT!" He laughs lightly and I join him. It's easy to tell he's exhausted.

"That's pretty cool. So, I guess I'll see you in a minute then?"

"Yeah, I'm in the lobby. I'm the one with the sick muscles."

"Mark, I know what you look like," I smile.

"Are you sure? I'm apparently four-foot-seven."

"According to The Wiki anyway," I take a deep breath before approaching the front door of our hotel.

"Yeah." He says. I can almost hear his annoyance. "I'll have to change that."

"I see you," I mumble, my heart pounding as I step into the gold and white decorated lobby. He spins around, cheeks rosy from the cold. He's wearing a large sweatshirt and a thin green and black scarf with blue jeans. A few suitcases surround him, making me wonder if my one suitcase is going to be enough.

"Hi," he breathes into the receiver, and I can just barely hear him from the door. Our eyes meet and I hang up, blindly shoving my phone in my jacket pocket. I cross the room to him, taking long, steady strides. I finally get to meet him. "Uh, hey-" he whispers into the phone, then, realizing what he's just done, fumbles with it, trying to hang up. "Uh, hey. Hey Ja- Sean? Do you mind Sean?"

I smirk, "call me whatever," and extend my hand out to him. He makes a face, and at first I think I've offended him in some way, but then he pulls me into a hug.

"Good to see you," he pats my shoulder, his hand lingering.

"Good to see you too," I can't help but grin at him. He's only like an inch taller than me. I would have thought he'd be much taller.

We stare at each other for a moment before he seems to snap back into reality. "Wanna carry my bags for me?" He gestures at the suitcases around him.

"Ha, sure." I grab two.

"Oh, I didn't actually expect you to- ah I'm not gonna complain." He leads me to the elevator and we ride up in awkward silence. He's on the floor above me, I make a mental note of it.

"... And this is my room," he swipes the card two times before he manages to unlock the door.

I put his suitcases by the edge of his bed and yawn. This time difference is going to mess with my head. "When are we meeting everyone?"

"Uh..." He drops his suitcase and sits, sliding back against the headboard. "In a little bit, Yami is supposed to text me."

"Hm, well, it's nice to finally meet you," I say, not sure if I should sit on the bed or leave.

"Here," he pats next to him, answering my question. "Tell me how your flight was."

"Heh, long," I cautiously leave an inch or two between his leg and mine. "Pretty good movies though."

"Yeah? That's good. You tired?" He closes his eyes, laying down fully.

"Very," I yawn again. "It's nearing my bed time back home."

"Hmmm..." He seems to sink into the pillow.

"How was your flight?" I mumble.

"Good, good. Got extra peanuts."