Bus Rides.

Two & Two Fourths.

It was 3 A.M when I heard Jason crying on the other side of the room. I walked over to him and shook him, using the wall as a guide since I didn't have my glasses on.

"Jason? You okay, dude?" I asked.

He rolls over and faces me.

"Sleep with me," he whispered, "just this once."

I had of course thought about it before, I never thought of it as like a sexual or romantic thing. This was my best friend in the whole world. It would be weird if we never had some sort of intimate, yet friendly night at least once. And he was "crying", I wanted to make him feel better.

I got into the bed with him. It smelled all Jason-y, like a warm campfire and s'mores and happy memories. I felt at peace in that bed with my best friend, we were about to have the adventure of our life. We were gonna be famous. I could've kissed him for allowing me to share this opportunity with him. But I didn't, because that would've been fucking awkward.

The same day, only later, of course, a big black hummer limo drive up in front of the pizzeria. A slender, shorter dude with sunglasses knocked on the door to the apartment, and Jason's mom answered it. I couldn't tell who it was, I thought it just one of the camp's goons or something.

I heard a muffled conversation coming from upstairs. It was cries of joy and laughter, mostly from Jason's mother.

"Ready to become a superstar?" Jason asked in a childlike voice.

"Dude, shut up and pass my hookah." I don't ever smoke it, I'll be honest, I'm kinda scared to. I still keep it, though. It's all I physically have left of my dad.

He passed it to me and told me to sit on his luggage so he could close it.

"Why? Because I'm fat?"

"No, because you have a fat ass." He smirked and I obeyed. You can't argue with logic like that.

(I know a lot of you are gonna be like, "He flirts too much to be 'just friends' with you." Nah. Jason makes sexual comments to everyone. It's funny because it's a humor that makes you kind of uncomfortable. It's usually stuff like, "You look so much prettier when you're awake," or "Those clothes look nice on you. I wonder what'd they look like in a grave." Shit like that. The only reason he gets away with it is because he's cute and charming.

Oh, I may have forgotten to mention something crucial to this story I'm telling you.

Jason's pansexual.)

He was finally able to close the suitcase and picked me up. It looked as if it were going to explode and whole bunch of items that weren't seen during the process of him packing would be revealed, like a Victoria's Secret bra, bank records for an account he has in Cambodia or drug paraphernalia.

We took one more look around the room, the room that was full of so many memories: the Winter of Leven, the fight his mom and dad had, which, in itself, was a milestone, as that'd been the first time I saw him cry, and when I first got my period: at his house. We did everything together.

The steps creaked under our feet as we walked upstairs. I wasn't going to miss that.

"Lyrii, Jason, I'd like you to meet Mr. Fuentes." I couldn't hear anything after that. I was in shock. I was going to vomit, shit, and cum all at the same time. It was a moment of pure ecstasy, and I hadn't even shook his hand yet. I felt myself shaking and convulsing, I felt my heart pounding, I heard bells and loud noises I couldn't comprehend. But Vic just stood there, as if I wasn't doing anything. I collected myself and put my hand out. That was it. I forgot to actually touch his hand.

He looked at me and chuckled. Vic gently wrapped his strong, yet soft fingers around my limp wrist and shook it.

"Pleasure to finally meet you two." His white teeth shined like the moon in the pitch black night sky.

Jason was about to faint. He got really pale, this was no exaggeration.

"N-nice t-t-to meet y-you to-too," he spat out.

"Ye-yeah, s-same," I said.

"Well, I'm guessing you're wondering why I'm here and why you got an invitation."

We both nodded like brain dead idiots.

"Well, me and the guys- sorry, the guys and me, all saw your guys' YouTube video for your song... um, Her Choice, My Voice. Let me tell you, when I saw your," he pointed at me, "solo, I completely flipped my shit. I've never seen someone play like you do. The way you move your pick in between strings is so weird and cool. It was magic. It was riveting."

"And you," he pointed at Jason, "your screaming and actual singing voice is classic, it's not just anger and anguish, I can hear more than that, it's emotional, it's cries for help. The character you portray in your song is like watching a play, a movie. It's so, like, passionate."

We were both in tears. This man made up our lives. This man made us cry and express ourselves in a healthy manner. Not just him, others too. But, damn it, if he hasn't helped us through a lot.

He looked at us and smiled. "Why don't we start heading over there now? It's already getting a bit late. We don't want to miss orientation."