Bus Rides.

One.

You know that pain you get right when you've been holding in a pee for an hour? That right there is how I feel about telling this story. Uncomfortable.

It was a Tuesday. A really bright Tuesday. It was the week after school ended. I was coming back from my last meeting at the Y. I did something stupid, but that story's for another day.

I walked to the bike rack, picked up my skateboard and jetted off. I headed straight for the local pizzeria where my bestfriend Jason works. I love going there; free pizza, Italian mothers, gambling, and a whole bunch of love. Its so free. They're so accepting.

I walk around the back and enter through the basement, where Jason lives. Jason noticed last year that nobody uses it, so he packed up all his stuff from his shared bedroom and moved down there, where it had everything he needed; a kitchen, electrical outlets and heat. And its totally soundproof. It used to be a soup kitchen like 30 years ago, and his family never used it for storage.

I walked in to see Jason blogging. Not phased, I turned on the light and sat next to him.

"Hey, dude."

He got off the "Soul Eater" tag and looked at me. "People invented knocking for a reason you know."

"I'm not a person. I don't understand your alien rules here on Earth."

"Hey, I'm not an alien. I'm human. Your the alien.", he says, closing the Death The Kid fan art blog and clicking a new tab for Netflix, leaving that the only tab open.

"I'm not sure what your species calls its self, but to me you're an alien."

"Whatthefuckever, dude." He clicks on AHS, a show we started last week and already got up to the last episode of season 1. Evan peters is the first celebrity crush I've ever had, probably because he's like a younger Gerard Way, but just a bit cuter. We sat on his mattress and watched it for a while, a while being 2 hours, when he finally asks me about going home.

"So... am I telling my mom you're sleeping over again or are you gonna go home tonight?" He hesitantly asks this question and bites his lip, as if he thinks talking about "home" is forbidden.

"I still have my pajamas, I'm sleeping over."

He nods. "Cool. So do you think tonight can be the night you finally trust me and sleep down here?"

I look at him with a little bit of confusion. "Why wouldn't I trust you? I mean, I sleep up there with Ma and Tony because its warm up there, but if you want a cuddle buddy, I'll stay down here with you." I smile and get my clothes. He was right, I never slept down there because I was scared. Not scared of him... the basement was colorful (as colorful as band pictures and tributes get) but it still had this eerie feel to it. That nobody goes down here for a reason. Or maybe I was just over-analyzing things again. I tend to do that a lot.