France
The rest of the ferry trip went pretty swiftly and before I had a chance to decipher my own thoughts, we were back on the coach. I couldn't help notice exactly where Caleb was sat, his white t-shirt seemed to stand out now from the rest of the band and the seats seemed to be positioned perfectly so I could see his face when I lay against the window in an attempt to try to fall asleep. Being in France now, I could understand all the signs and it wasn't long before I started having a fluent conversation with Sam; nobody else could understand us.
"Ca Va?" He asked. (Are you okay?)
"Oui, mais, J'aime un homme." I replied. (Yes, but, I like a guy.) I could see some confused looks from around the coach, some were even trying to translate what we were saying with Google translate.
"Serieousement?" Sam practically yelled.
"Oui! Calme!" I yelled back. (Yes, Quiet!)
"Qui?" (Who?)
"Chemise blanc et cheveux noir." (White shirt and Black hair.)
"Ah! No way, you should have told me earlier." Sam started speaking in English again, too curious to begin trying to translate it. Glaring at him I shoved my headphones back in and ventured into my own thoughts. Most of them were filled with dreams of being further down the coach, joining in with his conversations, listening to his music. Beside me, Megan began to fall asleep. Good. At least she wouldn't question me like Sam had tried. Slowly, I watched the sun set and the moon rise into the centre of the black blanket of night that covered us in its shadow. The coach's lights were dimmed and even I, being the nocturnal person I am, felt myself being pulled into a happy dream. Unfortunately, it was impossible to sleep.
Everybody else had brought a pillow and, after Megan had moved from next to me to find her own seat; I was left to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in. It was around midnight that I decided to climb into the space at the back of the coach that drivers usually used when they were travelling alone overnight. It was a cold space, but I could lie down properly there. Cold and hard, the floor tried to leave red marks along my face and arms but soon enough, I was too asleep to care. Above me, French stars shone and looked over us all asleep. Security wrapped its safe arms around me and for the first time in forever, I felt at home. This is where I wanted to be, on tour. I didn't mind the tight, enclosed spaces or the small chill of condensed air that seeped in from the window above me. I didn't mind the fact that I'd probably wake up feeling dirty and grouchy. I didn't mind the fact that the only form of warmth I had came from my 'My Chemical Romance' jacket and I'd probably wake up to find everybody taking pictures of how stupid I looked when I slept. I didn't mind at all.