We were drunk to the point of a black out. It was the first, real blowout we'd had since tour started. Even then it wasn't the biggest party we were going to throw, but it was a good one. Of Mice & Men was extremely fun. Especially Tino Arteaga.

He was the kind of person with a big laugh and amazing sense of humor. The kind of humor that made you feel inadequate. So I was dancing with Mike Fuentes when I really began to feel the effect of the alcohol. Mike was an absolute trooper.

He was still going nuts, speaking perfectly logical things...I wasn't sure how he did it. I drank all the time and I always ended up crying in the end. But there came the real onset of drunkenness.

I began to sway towards the wall. I saw Jack and Austin out of the corner of my eye, and it made me feel sick. I could feel my lips part as a breath was let out and I fell towards the wall. A cold, small hand wrapped around my wrist.

It was pale and flawless, not a single blemish on it. It was perfectly smooth, not bony like most hands. I found a strange fascination for them. The nails were manicured, curved and cared for by another's careful hands. And they were Robin's Egg Blue.

"Nikki," I rasped, swinging my head around. She was kneeling on the couch beside me, her head cocked. Her hair fell to the side in a waterfall of curls.

"Alex, are you okay?" She asked quietly, her surprisingly soft voice dancing into my ears.

"No. I'm gonna puke," I swallowed. The nausea was really setting in. "Help me get outside or to the bathroom or anything, I don't care." I begged. "Outside. Then we won't have to clean it up," I swallowed again. "Come on!" Nikki began to gently pull me away from the wall, her face quite serious as she began to lead me towards the stairwell.

"Ugh," I moaned, covering my mouth with my hand. "Oh God." I felt tears come to my eyes. I suddenly wanted to laugh and cry, and confess my deepest fears to Nikki, right then and there. That was when I threw up. My hand was plastered to the outside of the bus, as Nikki stood nearby, her back turnes to me. I heaved once again, emptying all of my contents onto the grass below. I could feel it was over. For the time being, at least.

"Nikki," I sighed. "I'm sorry you had to be around when I did that shit." She waved her hand.

"It's fine. I'm used to it by now."

"I'm sorry," I repeated. I looked down at my masterpiece.

"Ew. Look!" I shouted to no one in particular. "Look at what I created!"

Suddenly, Nikki was there, her arms around me, her head buried in my chest. I lowered myself and rested my chin on the top of her head, breathed her in.

"You smell like booze and vomit," Nikki mumbled into my chest, "but I'm okay with that."

"You smell pretty," I said numbly. She laughed. I smiled and hugged her tighter, released her, and locked my hands with hers.

"You're beautiful," I admitted. "I might be drunk and on the verge of tears, but it's true."

"Thank you," Nikki blushed heavily, and bit her lip. "Really."

"Can we go someplace that doesn't have a stinking pile of upchuck or possibly gay drunks?" Nikki burst out in laughter, swinging our hands. I smiled.

"Our van?" She cocked her head questioningly. I nodded. I still wanted to cry. The perks of being a sappy drunk. So she led me to the van. To the home-away-from-home. It was clean for van standards. But it felt lived in. And it was most certainly loved in.