All of my belongings were packed and waiting outside the door of the hotel room. Dennis and I made sure that the room wasn't too messy for the cleaning staff. We picked up towels and made the beds. We just needed to pass the time while the others got ready. They were slow and fighting with eachother over toothbrushes. By the time the other boys were done bickering, we were standing outside the door, double checking our bags. I picked mine up and threw over my shoulder, taking out a pair of large sunglasses and throwing them on my face. I walked down the hallway imagining I was in a movie.
In the elevator I antisipated seeing Harry again. I imagined a nice goodbye where I'd get a chance to hug him, maybe a number to stay intact. But the doors opened, revealing an emptying lobby. A lot of the guests were leaving to go on with their lives and careers. I tried looking into the cafe and the crowds of people to find the messy headed, British boy, but he never appeared. I stood by Kyle and Connor as we checked out. I bit into my bottom lip attempting to hide my disappointment. Quickly, I pushed any thought of Harry into the back of my mind and forgot about our encounters.
I loaded up my things, found a comfy place on our bus, put in my headphones, and listened to music for the first hours. My iPod died after five hours or so. By then it was around 3 in the afternoon. It was too soon to fall asleep and wake up in New York.
I walked into the back room to put my iPod on the dock to charge it. I found Dennis take there reading another novel. In my boredom, I decided to sit down next to him and place my head on his shoulder. I tried reading along with him, but he flipped pages too fast and the text was too small for me to see.
As he quietly read to himself, I pondered a question that fell off of my tongue and into his ear.

"Do you think we deserve all of this?" I asked soundly. The way I said it made me sound ungrateful.
Dennis looked at me with a troubled look. He closed his book and took off his glasses like father figure.
"I think we worked hard. We put our effort and heart into something, now we're recieving the benefits. It's nothing big," he said calmly, "but I'm happy we have a nice tour bus, a record deal, and an award,".
"Okay," I replied simply. Before Dennis could ask why I opened my mouth, I walked out.

I laid down on my bunk which was conjoined to the kitchen. Dakota sat at the table, playing with the laptop. He usually runs our website, facebook, twitter, and youtube page, though we all share it. He posts often and makes "Tour Diary" videos. I was pretty sure he was making one. I heard him talking to himself, thanking fans for all that they've done.
I was bored, so I joined him. I sat down next to him and told him to scoot over. Once I sat infront of the web cam I lost all of my words. I honestly had no idea what to say. So, I just smiled and thanked the fans. I half-assed a thank you.
I ended up lay in my bunk for most of the ride to New York. When I pushed Harry out of my mind, it seems like I completely cleared my mind and left it an empty vessal. I didn't want to do anything. I didn't feel like reading anymore, no one was very talkative, I tried writing but nothing came out, and whenever I tried listening to music I would just skip through every song. Nothing satisfied me. I could only be patient. Patience wasn't one of my virtues though. I found myself sleeping a lot, which wasn't a good idea. I'd wake up in the middle of the night while everyone slept. The only thing to do to pass the time was play on the computer, but that lost it's appeal very quickly. I could read strange Harry Potter fanfiction, go on Tumblr, and frequently check my Facebook, but I got bored hitting the refresh button over and over again. There was no interesting to talk to.
I decided to answer some of the questions in our Tumblr inbox. A lot of them were stupid, no offense to our fans. A majority of the questions asked who I was dating. Was it Dennis, Dakota, or Connor? Who was Kyle dating? Was I secretly dating Kyle? We were dating anyone?
There were a few decent questions such as when were we going to drop a new album, when would we start recording, and how were the VMAs.
There was also some hate mail, which I quickly deleted.

The laptop lost it's appeal so I began pacing the bus, trying not to wake anyone. I did my nails, straightened my hair, and worked my make up skills. I'd fidget in my bunk, twiddle my thumbs, and try to finish one song that played on my iPod. For hours, I faffed about (a British term for doing nothing), learning stupid foreign terms and words on the internet. I flipped through the pages of a few books, but none of them stuck with me. I drank a lot of caffine which didn't help at all. I have an addiction, which I should work on.
Soon the sun came up. It felt like an eternity had passed since I last saw the sun light. It's amazing what boredom can do to you.
Unfortunately, we still had about twenty hours to go.
I crawled back into my bed, slipped under my heated blanket, and tried to get some more sleep. It felt like it took hours to fall asleep, but only minutes had passed. Because I cranked my blanket up too high, I'd wake up in sweats. When I'd put it too low, I'd wake up shivering. My body couldn't get comfortable. My legs would cramp if I laid on one side for too long. I'd toss and turn, which would cause my shoulder to slide around. I kept playing with my bunk curtain. I wasn't happy with it open or closed. When it was open, the light from the sun would catch my eye. When it was closed, it was too stuffy.
The sliding and clinging of the metal must have woke Connor, because I watched her crawl out of his bottom bunk.
He looked at me with one eye open and a scrunched up face. His aqua colored hair was messy and spikey. He looked at his cell phone and then back up at me with a puzzled face.

"I'm sorry," I apologized in a soft whisper.
"Are you okay?" he asked in a tired voice. Connor rarely speaks. In interviews he stays quiet unless asked a question directly. For a person who dresses in outrageous clothing (i.e. torn tank tops, denium jackets with spikes, patches, and markings all over, ripped jeans, neon colors, and leather) he's rather reserved. His clothes usually sqeak louder than he does. He's not mute though, just very shy.

"I'm fine. It's just hard to sleep," I replied, trying to get him to go back to bed. Maybe I shouldn't push him away though, it would be nice to have some company, though I caught a glimpse of his phone and it said 5 A.M.
"Do you wanna talk?" he asked in a yawn.
I did want to talk, but I couldn't keep him up. I just shook my head and let him fall back asleep.

"Maybe if you didn't sleep all day, you wouldn't be up all night," Dakota said. He actually scared me. I didn't know he was listening or even awake.
He ran his fingers through his knotted hair, trying to push it to one side. He had this dark afro going on. He tried combing through it with his fingers.
"Go back to sleep," I responded, "I'm sorry to wake you."
"I've been awake for a little while. You were rattling your curtain," he said, admitting that it was my fault he was awake.
"I'll make coffee," he said. He did. He made a large pot incase anyone else woke up and poured me some with flavored cream. Dakota worked at a coffee shop before joining our band so he knows how blend flavors and make amazing things in a tiny cup. He always makes this caramel, peppermint, mocha stuff for me. I think he's part of the reason I have a caffine addiction.
Dakota and I actually known eachother from Elementary School. He's my longest friend, but somewhere between 6th grade and 8th grade we lost contact because he moved away. When he came back, I didn't recongize him. I knew him as this tall, gumpy, nerdy kid that watched the Matrix and Batman too much. The next time I saw him, he was tall, thin, handsome, with a shaggy beard, and tassled black hair. His wardrobe changed too. He use to not care about appearence. When we were kids he would keep his hair short and average. He'd wear any tshirt with any jeans and some sneakers. Now, as a nineteen year old bassist for an alternative, hardcore band, he maintains a certain style. He has this "hipster" style, as most people would call it. He wears ugly, thrift store sweaters, skinny jeans, shirts and tanks tops with strange designs, beanies, boots, and think glasses. His ears are pierced and slightly stretched. His are at a 2g, while mine are 00g. He has a small nose stud in one nostral and two tattoos. I designed them. They were just pictures taped to my wall until he took them down and drove to the tattoo shop. One is a "Day of the Dead" woman, peaking behind red and purple roses. Her eyes are green and her hair is raven black. It's located on his left biscep. His other tattoo is a lyric from one of our songs. Its on his right, inner forearm and says "The World is Quiet Where Your Heart Lays Still" in type writer font.
Dakota was always a nice boy. He'd avoid conflict and anger by desolving "negative energy" with his calm attitude.

He slipped on his coffee in his mustache mug while leaning against the kitchen table. I took my poison is a TARDIS mug. I'm a proud nerd. I tend to flaunt it.
We didn't talk much. There wasn't much to talk about. Dakota could tell that I wasn't up for a conversation, just some nice company. He'd look over and smile at me every now and again.
He asked our driver where we were. The driver replied with, "Middle of Nowhere, Kansas,".
We still had twenty two hours to go before New York. I needed more sleep and coffee.