AN: I want to dedicate this story to jjohnson612. This may not exist if she didn't act so excited about me writing a Tandre. The song they sing is snippets from "Little Things" by One Direction. If Liquid Courage or Unaware are names of real groups...I am unaware and picking those names was unintentional. This will probably turn into just a short ficlet...maybe with just 2 or 3 chapters. Enjoy!

Normal is Boring

I don't know how it happened…or maybe I do.

Everything was going so…normal. For once, things just felt normal.

"What happened?" He asked. The question that changed everything. I tried to ignore it at first, as I hid my face in my hands.

"Normality." I answered, and I knew he would understand. He always understood.

"Normal is boring." Oh, those famous words…the words he used to tell me I was special all those years ago. When I felt like I didn't have what it took. When I was about to let the meanest girl in school shake my dreams. She was his friend first. And yet…he took my side.

Why?

"I know," I respond, because it's true. My life had become normal, but it was such a comfortable normal that I never complained before. "But I just freaked when he asked me to go on tour to be the opening act…"

By he, I meant Mason Thornesmith. He had informed me that the band, Liquid Courage, heard my voice and wanted me to be their opening performance. "Your name will be on the tickets," he said. "It'll give you instant fame," he said. "This is what you always wanted," he said.

"It's a once in a lifetime opportunity," my best friend reminded me.

"Yeah, but there's still school…and normal teenage stuff…and our song we need to perform next month for our last Full Moon Dance…"

And how many lasts will I truly experience?

"You're gonna pass a tour up for that? I can always go solo, ya know," No…I didn't know, "Or recruit someone else for the part."

That didn't fly well with me. Could I be so easily replaced?

Suddenly, it hit me. If I couldn't stay here with him, he could go there with me.

I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him close to me, "Come with me and I'll do it."

His face twisted in confusion, "Hey, he asked you, not us."

"I'll convince him! I'm good at convincing!"

He chuckled softly and wrapped his hands over mine in attempt to ease my grip, "You're not convincing me that you're sane right now."

"The only way I'm gonna stay sane is if you agree to come with me!" I counter, knowing in my heart of hearts that I will eventually get him to consent.

But he only sighed then, "How 'bout we talk to Mason first?"

So we did. No big deal. After performing a few of our songs together, Mason said he would pitch the demo to Liquid Courage and their manager to see what they said.

And the next thing I know, we're riding in the back of a tour bus. Though the band is great, they have their own thing going on while we sit against the wall and try to write new songs.

"Da…dadada daaa…." His melodic voice flows through my ears as he tries to get a beat going.

I urge the inspiration on: "Mmmhmm…mmm, dadadada…daaa…"

He bobs his head to the rhythm, "There ya go," he plays a few notes on his keyboard. We're sitting so close that our shoulders are touching, and I feel the movement of his body as his fingers glide across the keys.

I licked my lips as my eyes watched his fingers, my hand gently tapping my thigh, "I won't let these little things slip out of my mouth…"

A smile lit up his face as he glanced over at me, "All right…" He played a few more notes before he joined me in singing, "But if I do…It's you…"

"Oh, it's you…" his gorgeous voice sings solo, the tune suddenly becoming haunting to my ears, "They add up to…dada da mmmm…" the chorus faded off as our lyrics came to a temporary end.

The rocking of the bus along with his voice made me tilt my head to rest on his shoulder, fatigue overcoming my excitement.

"Why did you want me to come along so badly?" I heard him ask.

I close my eyes, "You don't need to know. If you did, you already would."

I don't know if I'm glad or disappointed that he accepts my words so easily. I feel myself fade into a content slumber as he continues to hum and play.

When I open my eyes, we're standing backstage waiting to make our grand appearance. My hands are sweating but I still wish I had a microphone to hold instead of the one that's attached to my head. He grabs my hand anyway, and I can't help but feel relieved when I realize that his hand is as sweaty as my own.

"You ready?" he asks.

I'm shaking as I smile, "As long as you are."

And then I hear the crowd screaming, and there're people for miles and miles, and I'm suddenly aware of how very tiny and distinct I am.

But not so very distinct. I'm here with my best friend and our voices sound beautiful together.

And the people love us. I never realized that a sound so loud could be so silent. Maybe that's the real definition of deafening. You don't truly experience that until you're standing on a stage in front of a million people. And I'm so glad I got to experience that with him…

We were such a hit that the band invited us to their after party. Liquid Courage started to really interact with us and asked us what we called our two-person team.

We both stuttered over each other's words for a minute, but knew we wanted something to give as an answer.

"Thee, umm…Dynamic…" he started.

"The Dynamic Duo!" I finished quickly, ignoring the disgusted look on his face. Whatever. It's only temporary. We'll think harder on it when we're alone.

He asked me about it later though: "So we're sticking as a team? No solo?"

I didn't turn toward him, "Do you want to go solo?"

There was only a small pause before: "I would choose you over solo any day."

I didn't respond, because there was no way he didn't know I felt the same. I'm the one that forced him to come along in the first place, after all. How couldn't he know how I felt?

I told him a piece of this that night as we stood on the balcony of our hotel room. The busy city lights were still aglow despite the time, but I guess that's why they call it The City that Never Sleeps.

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you," I say, sipping slowly on my glass of wine. We were still too young to drink, but the wine came complimentary with the room, so we figured why not?

"Liquid Courage choosing you had nothing to do with me."

"I wouldn't have said yes if you didn't come."

"Will you give me a straight answer this time if I ask why?"

I shrug, "You can always try."

He looks at me over his own glass of wine. I try to meet his gaze but it's too strong. I need to look away. I take another sip of red wine.

"Why?"

I must have been expecting this question too eagerly because words quickly spilled from my mouth: "Because you're the one that walked into my life and made me realize why nothing else ever worked out before."

He took a large gulp of wine on that note, "We writing a song that I'm unaware of?"

"Could be," I consider, trying to think if maybe I did pull the line from a song.

Nodding, he clinked his glass against mine, "Then that's our name. Unaware."

I giggled, and I almost hated myself for giggling like I did. Was I drunk or something? "Catchy."

He smirked and I nearly melted. I looked out at the city of lights one more time before turning on my heel to head back into our room. Standing out there with him…thinking about how people may have viewed us up on stage…it couldn't be trusted.

And we've come too far to mess that up now.

But he grabbed my wrist before I could walk away, and when I turned my head to look at him, my hair that fell like silk over my bare shoulders suddenly made me aware of my body. He only had to give me a look…just one deep look…and my feet were pivoting to join him once again at the railing.

"It's three in the morning," I remind him.

"We can sleep on the bus tomorrow," he says to excuse the time, "But we only have now to enjoy this."

I smile and nudge his shoulder gently, though it's only an excuse to get our bodies touching again, "Sentimental much?"

"If there's one thing you need to remember on this tour and for the rest of your life…remember to slow down and enjoy the little things," As he said the last two words, it reminded me of the song we were currently working on together, causing my lips to pull, "Your life will never be normal again."

A sip of my wine, then: "A wise man once told me that normal is boring."

"Hmm…might have to meet this man one day," he jokes with me as he wraps a warm arm around my shoulders. "Does this wise man have a name?"

I bite back a bigger smile, "I'm unaware."

"Ah, but see…you're only half of Unaware. The other half of Unaware is all me."

I give a short chuckle, trying to hide my smart remark behind my glass as I take a quick sip after, "Only half?"

"Care to elaborate your meaning?"

"Naaahhhh…" I say as my face scrunches up because I drank too much wine at once and the bitter taste was lingering too long on my tongue and in my throat.

I think he noticed that I was trying to down my drink. So he dropped the conversation.

We didn't end up finishing that song for a couple more cities. We wondered if we should sing it on stage, however. It was a slower song, and our job was to get the crowd pumped up for Liquid Courage. But when we pitched it to the crew and their manager, they told us to go for it.

"Worst that can happen is the crowd hates it. But if they boo you off stage, Liquid Courage will go out and make 'em happy again. Problem solved."

Not sure if that really raised our confidence. But whatever because I had him and he had me and if they didn't like us, then at least we had each other.

"Your hand fits in mine…Like it's made just for me…" I hear Andre's voice echoing in my ears as we step on stage again and he begins the song…our song.

He takes my hand for effect, and I can't help but get goosebumps as I hear my own voice resonate in my ears: "But bear this in mind…It was meant to be…"

Though it was silly, I just then became very aware of the lyrics and what they meant to me and what they may mean to anyone in the crowd. Something I learned about myself: my mind goes on autopilot while performing. I don't even realize the song is over until the last line escapes through our lips:

"It's you…It's you they add up to…I'm in love with you…and all your little things…"

And then I'm wrapped up in his arms backstage again. I'm vaguely aware of him repeating We did it, we did it, we did it in my ear, but my heart is still trying to come down off of a high I wished I never got used to. We were both sweating and our clothes clung to our skin like a second layer, but it somehow felt good.

I could hear the band out on stage: "Give it up for Unaware! Their name definitely describes them, don't you think? Can you believe those two are just friends?"

The crowd went wild with shouts and whistles and applause.

But I try to ignore all that for now and focus only on my high. It looks like he's trying to do the same.

We focus on this for a whole six months. Traveling in a tour bus and sharing a hotel room every day and every night is starting to make me miss my personal space. Living with him was getting harder and harder, if only for the sole reason of that awkward tension.

Even after all those years of being best friends, this was taking everything to a whole new level. He was there for every meal I ate, and I was there for every shower he took. He was there for every cranky tantrum I threw, and I was there to see every crazed fangirl. He was there to hear every word I spoke, and I was there to listen to all his responses.

I'm sure I talked in my sleep. I don't think my mind shut down the whole time we were on the road. I heard his haunting tunes in my dreams, and he told me that he heard my voice singing to him in his dreams. Whether we liked it or not, we became a bigger part of each other than we ever thought possible.

Truthfully…I like it.

I think he likes it, too.

Then…I don't know how it happened…or maybe I do.

I remember dancing on my hotel bed and singing into my hairbrush. I was wearing a loose shirt with pink sweatpants and my hair was a wild mess. We had seen each other so much worse that it didn't even matter.

I don't even think I was singing a real song…or anything that could be made into a real song. And my dancing merely consisted of me jumping and running around the corners of the bed.

But he was sitting against his headboard and laughing like I haven't heard him laugh in awhile, and that was all that mattered.

Then I did a dramatic, splitting jump over to his bed and whipped my hair all over the place as I breathlessly laughed and sang and swallowed dryly. My legs were feeling weak from all the exertion I was using, but when my knees gave out, they landed on either side of his legs and my shoulders slumped forward despite my continuous laughter.

I was very aware of his hands on my hips to help calm me down.

My breathing was labored and my hair was sticking to my forehead, so I stuck my hairbrush out to him and asked in broken increments, "And what did…you think…of that performance?"

He put his lips close to the brush, but kept his stare on me, "Encore."

I groaned as I threw my head back as if I was completely exasperated, but all that was forgotten when I felt his right hand travel from my hip and up my back to my neck. He pushed against it and as soon as I lifted my head, he crashed his lips onto mine.