I was dreaming, though it was more of a memory than anything.

"This movie is really weird," Tristan said, sitting next to me on the beige leather couch that was on my tour bus.

We were currently watching The Matrix, a movie I couldn't believe he had never seen. The true plot had just began to unfold, Agent Smith arriving at Neo's workplace.

"Sh," I tell him, grinning, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. "This is when it gets interesting."

"All I know about this movie," Tristan replies quietly, "is that scene where the people are being shot at, but then time slows down, and--"

"Sh!" I insist again, laughing. "That doesn't happen until way later."

"Oh, so it is that movie. I thought I was--mmrmph!"

"Shhhh!" I say through my laughter. I had made a bowl of popcorn for us to snack on, and I had just unceremoniously crammed some into his mouth. "You're going to miss something!"

Tristan, looking bewildered, spits some of it out. Blinking at me in disbelief for a moment as he chews and swallows, Tristan then cracked up. "What the Hell, man?"

"You won't shut up," I whined at him through my giggles. "I had to get you to somehow. This is my favorite movie--" I cut myself off, and pat his forearm wildly. "Okay Trinity's back, now pay attention!"

Tristan is still looking at me, I can see him out of the corner of my eye, though my own are glued to the screen.

"You're weird, man."

That got my attention, and I had looked at him. I was still smiling, though. "Good weird or bad weird?"

Grinning his perfect smile, Tristan answered honestly. "I'm not sure yet."

Rolling my eyes, I looked back at the movie.

I can feel myself starting to stir from my sleep, but I don't want to wake up. I'm fighting it tooth and nail. I knew how the rest played out. Tristan had quieted after that, only gasping in surprise a few times.

That wasn't the important detail, however.

The important detail was the fact that I kept catching him looking at me. At the time I thought it was my imagination. Perhaps, it was my anxiety over meeting someone new. Now I know he was checking me out. During our watching of The Matrix, at several points I had to fight the urge to snuggle him. I wanted nothing more than to just lean into him, or perhaps even rest my head in his lap. But we weren't there yet, so instead we spent a good portion of the movie stealing awkward glances at one another.

And as I open my eyes, and I can see it's still dark out, I can feel tears threatening to spill out of my eyes. I sit up, swinging my feet over the edge of the bed, and wipe them away before they fall.

How long was this going to go on for? How long was I going to be plagued with thoughts and dreams of Tristan? Shaking my head in annoyance, I look over at the clock. It was 3:24AM. I reach over to my bedside table, grabbing my glasses and my phone. I vacillate between seeing if Ben or Jake were awake.

The meeting at EMI had gone well. I had told them about my plans to do a live interview. After we hashed out the details, every one of them voiced their concerns for me.

I surprised myself; last year, had the conversation gone like that, I know I would've been pissed. But now? Now I was happy and grateful. It was nice knowing that these three people in this room would always have my back, forever.

A thought popped into my head, and I quickly pulled up my contacts menu. After a quick search, I hit call.

"What's wrong?" Scott's worried voice asks in my ear.

I can't help but laugh. "I don't know what time it is over there, but I knew you'd be awake."

"Well, I don't know what time it is over there, either, but I know it's early as shit. What's up?"

The thought of making up some stupid excuse flutters through my brain. But this was Scott. So instead I sigh. "I had a dream about Tris and it woke me up..."

"Egads. Mate, I am so sorry."

"Eh," I say, trying to play it off, even though I'm picking at my comforter viciously.

"No, really," Scott tells me softly. "You have it so bad for her."

"Yeah, I know. Just...Tris is perfect."

"You should call her."

I laugh. "Hell no."

"Why not?"

"What good would it do? I broke up with Tris, remember?"

"What good would it do you if you just sit here and wallow?"

Yet again I sigh. "I don't know."

"Bauwens."

"Yeah?"

"Get off the bloody phone with me and call Tris."

Scott hangs up on me. I'm shocked, screwing up my face at the phone. "Rude!"

Sighing, I fling myself back onto my bed, staring up at my posters. Like hell I was going to call Tristan. Instead, I pull up my messages.

3:30AM

JACOB ARE YOU AWAKE?!?!

Sadly. What's up?

Grinning, I move quickly to a window that I know faces his bedroom.

ARE YOU IN YOUR BEDROOM?!

Yeah...

MY HOUSE IS ON FIRE!!!

Seconds later, Jake's curtain flies open and he looks out at me, panicked. Grinning, I wave at him. Jake flips me off, and then puts his cell to his ear. My phone buzzes, and I answer it before it starts ringing.

"Why hello, Mr. Larson."

"You're an ass, you know that?" he laughs, and I'm happy to see a genuine smile on his face.

"Yeah, I know."

"I should've known you were full of shit. Why would you text me that instead of calling 9-1-1?"

"I could've been standing on my front lawn as my life burnt down."

"You would've just walked over and rang my doorbell."

I stick my tongue out at him. "Psh, whatever, like you know me so well."

"So are you coming over or not?"

I can't help but smile. "You want me to?"

"I mean, we're both awake, why not?"

I feel a pang of guilt, and I hate it. I just want him and I to be alright. "Should we see if Ben is up, too?"

"Why?" Jake asks, screwing up his face.

"Alright, fair enough."

Barely three minutes later I'm in his house. "Why are you awake?" I ask.

"I was watching movies."

"If we're going to go on tour, you're going to have to regulate your sleep."

Jake rolls his eyes. "It's too damn early in the day for you to be in Business Orion Mode, okay? I can't handle it right now."

I laugh as we head to his drawing room—not the room we decimated—and take a seat. Jake gestures to the notebook I'm holding.

"You gotta help me," I tell him, quickly turning to the page that has the long song I wrote. Not the one about Tristan—I don't know if that song is ever going to see the light of day. Not waiting for a reply, I toss the book on the table that separates us. He picks it up immediately and begins to read. "I wrote this, and it's about the only thing I've written since I was in rehab."

"Okay," Jake replies, only half paying attention because he's focused on what I wrote.

I'm frustrated, so I get to my feet and start to pace. Jake doesn't look at me. "It sucks, but I don't know what's wrong with it. I mean, I do, it's too long, and I'm rhyming way too much, I sound like fucking Dr. Seuss—"

Jake snorts, still reading.

"And I just don't understand why I can't write! I didn't write a damn thing while I was inpatient, and then I wrote this crap." Deflating with a sigh, I sink back into the chair, dramatically holding my head. "Ugh. What's wrong with me?"

After a few moments, Jake tosses the notepad on the table, so I lift my head. He crosses his arms and shrugs. "I mean, it's not terrible. It's not your best work but it feels kind of...shallow somehow. It doesn't feel like you."

I nod. "That's what I thought, too."

I can tell Jake is starting to get serious. "What was your inspiration?"

I cock my head to the side. "Inspiration?"

Jake laughs a bit and gets more comfortable, leaning back in his chair. "Don't act like you're new to this."

I think. I think, and I think, but I got nothing. "Uh..."

"I mean, this has all the hallmarks of your music, but it feels forced somehow."

I nod. I don't like how he's looking at me, like he wants to say something but is holding back. I can't figure out what he's holding back on, though.

"What?"

"Why are you awake right now?" he asks me quietly.

I look away. "Couldn't sleep."

"Ori."

I look back at him. Jake clearly doesn't believe me. I look at the floor, running a hand through my hair. "I had a dream about Tristan."

"Call him."

I look at him. Jake shrugs, and we're both speaking softly. "Call him."

I laugh bitterly. "Right, like it's so simple."

"It can be."

I chuckle.

"What?"

"You're the second person who has told me to do that in about twenty minutes."

"So then do it."

I laugh again and shake my head. "And say what?"

"'Could we talk?' 'I'm sorry.'?"

"He probably wouldn't even pick up the phone."

"You won't know until you try, right?"

I don't reply.

"I just want you to be happy, Ori."

I look off to the side again. "Yeah. So do I."