Dark Withdrawals (boyxboy)

Reacquainted

I spent the past three and a half weeks, practicing heavy for the show. My set was almost a full hour, so I was doing a lot more exercising than usual to make sure that I kept my energy up throughout my performance. It's been fun getting to know the dancers and back up singers, but I still haven't talked to my best friend. It's kind of weird that I'm getting used to not talking to him in such a short time, but it doesn't change the fact that I still miss him. At first I considered everything to just be me blowing it  out of proportion, but after dude didn't even call or text a nigga, it made me question that I could have been right in the first place.

Today was the first day we loaded onto the buses and started traveling. I pulled up to the RV camp and pulled the luggage out of the back of my car, before walking up to the crowd of people in front of the three tour buses.

"Is everyone here?" Mike asked, taking a head count. I immediately noticed Drake wasn't here, yet.

"Drake isn't here," I spoke up, feeling confident to even say his name. I'm sure it's because he isn't here, though.

"Okay, well. Chris, your bus is in the back, so you can go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Everyone else, these are the rules..." I tuned Mike out as I walked off, straight to my bus, waiting for him to finish telling them the same thing I've heard a million times. I walked inside, greeting the driver and taking in the view. The bus was definitely better than most of the ones I've been on in the past. It had a kitchen and a huge common area with a television and sofas lined up against the wall. I pulled one of the curtains back on an upper bunk and laid my bags inside, before popping in the bunk under it and putting on my headphones.

I started listening to a random beat while typing lyrics for the mixtape that we'll probably never do now. I was so into it that I didn't notice my body guard along with another guy loading their stuff into the same bunk I put my shit in.

"Aye, that one's taken-" I was cut off by Drake's piercing eyes. We didn't say anything. It was weird. He just took his stuff out and moved them elsewhere. Why does shit like this keep happening to me? It's like I can't escape this nigga. I felt bad, and I wanted to tell him that he could keep his things there, but there was no point now. Seconds later, Mike entered the bus.

"Mike, I thought I had my own bus?" I questioned, making sure only he could hear.

"No, we separated the acts. Openings have their own bus, headliners have their own bus, and then all the dancers and back up singers have a bus," he stated.

I sighed, "I wish I would've known. I would've gotten my own damn bus."

"Chris, what the hell is your problem? You've been reckless with your mouth lately and I've been biting my tongue. Is it Drake or something?"

"No, no, no, he's fine. I guess I was just thrown off, again," I quickly lied.

"You sure?" he questioned.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," I apologized.

"Well if that's the case, then we'll work on our communication. I don't need you upset with me," he patted my back and I nodded. I wanted to get up and explore the rest of the bus, but I wasn't too comfortable with that idea since I'm sharing it with ole boy. Instead, I closed the curtain to my bunk and prepared to get some good ass sleep.

Hours passed before I woke up, and we were still on the road. The only difference was that everyone was asleep and I was hungry as hell. I got up and made my way to the kitchen to make a sandwich, being careful not to make too much noise. I grabbed a caprisun and walked into the common room, flipping on the television. Wasn't shit on, so I put on a random station that was playing spanish soap operas.