"Why is it so sad?" I asked as I read over Austin's shoulder, him and Alan were writing. And I, being the annoying little child I am, was asking a billion questions. Alan had an electric guitar and was meshing together different things to see if he liked them, I was literally amazed by his skills.
"I donno, I guess this is just the way I get rid of the shit inside, you know?" Aus explained. I nodded, even though I couldn't fully understand.
I didn't have a terrible life with any dramatic milestones; I had an overprotective mother who sent me to California to live with my father, which turned out to be the best decision ever. Now I have loads of friends, even a best friend!
I really wanted to tell mother about my adventures, part of me hoped she'd be proud of how much I've grown and learnt, although the reality is she'd be anything but happy.
"I want to write sad things too." I told them, Alan shrugged and handed me a notebook and pen, I instantly started writing. I tried using similar words as they were, even though I wasn't entirely sure what they all meant.
I read it over a few times, really really not liking the way it turned out, I crumbled the page and tossed it into the corner, where the other pages the boys didn't like went.
Writing was really a process, it's not always easy, at least that's what Austin said. If you're not feeling it, the fans won't either.
"Alan can I read yours?" I asked, looking up at him from my spot on the floor. He quickly wrote a few more things before passing it down to me. I looked down at the book and frowned, they weren't words. "Alan what is this?"
He chuckled slightly, "Guitar tabs." I slowly nodded and handed it back up to him.
"Can you play it for me?"
Alan nodded, grabbing his black guitar pick off the side table.
The song was slow and gave off a somewhat sad yet comforting vibe. It amazed me how much Alan could say through his music, he didn't even need to use words.
"Can I write the words for that song?" I asked when Alan finished, I could hardly contain my jitters as ideas shot through my head.
"Go crazy." Alan smiled. I quickly grabbed the notebook and pen. I stared down at the blank page, lightly tapping the blue pen on the bindings. I replayed Alan's song over and over in my head, and soon enough I found myself writing absentmindedly.
I wrote about how Alan showed me that it's okay to dream and be a little weird, if that's what makes you happy. He taught me that we all dream about different things, and that it's always possible to make those things come true. I wrote about how life is sugar coated, but it can still be lovely if you live in the right frame of mind; don't do stupid things just because you only have one life, do things that make you happy because of course we're all going to die, but that doesn't mean you have to ruin the short life that you do have. It doesn't matter what we have done, it's what we are doing and what we will do. There's always room for change.
An hour later, Alan's eyes trailed down the page, reading my neat printing. I watched the smile on his face grow as he got closer to the end.
"Wow." he breathed, putting the paper down just to smile at me. "You aren't human."
I gave him a weird look. "I can assure you I am, Alan Ashby." I giggled.
He shook his head. "Nope, definitely an alien." Alan concluded.
I pouted a bit. "Mena told me that aliens are ugly and green. Am I ugly and green?" I looked down at my porcelain skin.
"Definitely not. But you're strange, not like anyone else on this planet, so you're an alien."
I looked up at him. "No, I'm normal."
Alan furrowed his brows. "Why are you so obsessed with being normal?"
"I'm not obsessed." I quickly snapped, I felt the slightest bit of scratching on the inside of my head.
"Em, you know I didn't mean it in a bad way." He said softly.
I sighed through my nose. "I'm not different."
"Alright."
"Alright."
-
Tour was nearing its end and I couldn't feel worse about it. Over the past four weeks I've not only grown closer to people, but I've also grown as a person.
But now, with only five days remaining, I'm finding it hard to keep a smile on my face. I don't want to go back to my fathers house, it's miserable there. I wanna live in a bus for the rest of my life, driving from place to place, meeting the strangest people the world has to offer.
Alan said he'd try to take me on the next tour, although he doesn't know when or where it'll be. I hope it's somewhere new, like Australia or South America; maybe the people are even weirder there.
Tomorrow is week nine, which is smoking something illegal. And surprisingly enough, I'm not even nervous about it; if anything, I'm excited.
Alan on the other hand isn't too keen on the idea. He went on an impressive rant about how he didn't want to destroy all of my innocence, and how he doesn't want me to fall into bad habits. The topic seemed to genuinely bother him, like he'd had someone close to him suffer from substance abuse. It made me feel bad for him, he deserves nothing but the best after all that he's done for me.
In other news, me and Alan have been messing around with songs all day. We've been writing together at every given chance, he says I'm a natural.
I hope I'm actually good at it, I don't want to waste his time. I can tell he takes his music very seriously, I really like that about him. His determination.
He always knows what to do and how to do it. He knows how he's supposed react to things. And he can lose himself in a song when he really feels it.
I adore watching him sink in the metaphorical ocean that is music. The way he's so quick to memorize guitar parts, and how his fingers glide and press effortlessly on the fretboard at all the right times; so familiar that he can do it with his eyes closed. A small smile present on his pale face as he lightly moves his head to the desired beat. He puts everything he feels into a melody, and them lets it consume him. It's mesmerizing.
A lot of the time I think he knows I'm staring at him, but that doesn't alter the way he acts. Seeing him like that makes me thankful that he's in my life. He makes me thankful for lots of things. Like push button lighters, pants, space heaters, pet hotels, fruit platters and Netflix.
Alan tells me that the little things make a bigger difference than we note. Like hearing a good song on the radio, that can set you in a good mood for the rest of the day.
These are all the things I couldn't witness when I was under the harsh patrol of my mum, and I regret how I always followed the rules, they're so much fun to break.
I can't wait until I see her again, my piercings would be enough to make her faint. I don't know why I want to make her angry so badly, she wasn't a bad mother; she was just strict. But something inside me just wants to see her disappointed. I'd been doing what she said for so long.
"You should stop that."
A voice snapped me out of my fuzzy thoughts. I looked up and saw Austin.
"Stop what?" I quizzed, sitting up a little straighter in my spot on the couch. I'd been sitting alone and zoned out in the back lounge for a while now.
Austin sat down beside me. "You're over thinking, that's not good." He informed me. I slowly nodded. "If you over analyze things then you'll always end up making the wrong decision. Trust me."
And with that, he got up and left. He was sitting for all of a minute, which I thought was pretty funny.
The presence of Austin was soon replaced with the presence of a lost looking Alan. He flopped down on the couch next to me and dropped his head on my shoulder.
"Have you listened to Nirvana yet?" he asked randomly, I giggled lightly.
"No, are they on my phone?" I quizzed, resting my head lightly against his.
He paused to think. "Don't think so, but I could buy you a few of their songs. Gimme your phone." I didn't take my phone out, I just thought over what he said. "December?"
"You have to buy music?"
"Mmhm." Alan hummed, reaching into the pocket of my hoodie and pulling out my phone.
I watched as he tapped in my passcode without hesitation. "How'd you know the code?"
"It's my birthday."
I could practically hear the smirk on his lips; it was true. My passcode was 0522, May twenty second. Alan's birthday.
Soon enough I had a few new albums on my phone. "Which song is the best?" I questioned as I scrolled down the list of titles.
Alan shrugged. "I like lithium." I nodded before locating the song, playing it out loud.
I listened to it for all of thirty seconds before turning to Alan. "I wanna learn this on electric guitar."
I watched the smile seep onto his face. He grabbed my hand and pulled me off of the couch and into the front lounge.
Everyone else was already in their bunks, due to the fact it was already one AM. But since we're driving through the night I knew I wouldn't be sleeping.
Alan grabbed the guitar case that was sitting on the couch, unzipping it and pulling out a matte black electric guitar, it's had a big name with loads of weird numbers in it but I could never remember it.
He sat down and patted the spot next to him, I plopped down beside him. He placed the nearly sacred item on my lap and proceeded to rant about his love for the instrument, how it helped him through so many things.
-
"Am I doing it right?"
I felt Alan's breath at the back of my neck, "Perfectly."
I smiled. We were now sitting on the ground. Alan's legs were on either side of me so he could reach his arms around me to put my fingers in the right places at the right times; he was a spectacular teacher.
I shifted so I was facing him, I was smiling widely while Alan had his signature smirk.
"Play it for me."
I nodded, looking down at the guitar and placing my fingers in the places Alan had taught me. I was immensely proud when the song came to an end without me screwing up at all.
Alan ran his fingers his hair as he yawned, I glanced over at the clock, it was three AM now. "I'm gonna go to bed." He stood up.
I nodded and tried to hide my disappointment, I don't like staying up all by myself. I obviously could talk to the bus driver, but by now I'd heard all of his stories, two times over. "Goodnight Alan Ashby."
He quickly bent down and kissed my cheek before moping into the bunk area. I got up and put Alan's guitar back in its case, sitting next to it on the couch.
I spent about ten minutes of silently watching the scenery pass the bus window as we sped down the freeway, before I was brought out of my thoughts for the second time this evening.
"December?"
I heard my name being whispered, I looked away from the window to see Alan standing in the doorway of the bunks, no shirt on, sweatpants, and messy hair.
"Yes?" I smiled, glancing back outside.
He walked over. "I don't like it when you stay up all night." He admitted, sitting next to me.
I shrugged, still not looking at him. Not because I was avoiding him, I just liked watching things ease past until they were out of sight.
The next thing I knew, I was being pulled into the bunk area, and boosted into Alan's bunk. "What's happening?" I whispered when Alan joined me.
"You're gonna sleep." Alan decided. I smiled at his stubbornness.
"But this is your bunk." I noted, he nodded.
"The more the merrier." He shrugged, although it was kind of difficult because he was hunched over so he didn't strike his head on the roof.
Alan laid down, pulling me down with him. He was laying on his back, my head on his bare chest. He pulled up his blanket so it covered both of us before wrapping his arm around me so I was closer to him. His comforting scent flooded into my system as I let his warmth consume me.
I practically forgot that the bus was moving, all I could pay attention to was the way Alan's chest raised and fell with every breath he took; I managed to sync my breathing with his so we were completely in tune.
I'm not ashamed to admit that I had the best sleep I've had in a long time.