Tweek stood in front of the complimentary breakfast tables along the far side of the hotel dining room. He shifted his weight back and forth, staring at the food, unable to make a decision. A muffin or a bagel? A piece of fruit or cold cereal? Should he take the time to make an omelet, or is that going to make everyone else late? Something as simple as picking out a breakfast food morphed into a complex math problem in his head when there were too many options.

Tweek yelped with a start when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Jesus Christ! Fuck!"

Tweek spun around so he could see the face of his would-be kidnapper, flinching when he saw that it was actually the person who he most and least wanted to see.

"Woah," said Craig, stepping back and holding his hands up in front of him. "Sorry! I was just going to say good morning."

Tweek held clenched fists up under his chin. His eyes were wide and his face was panicked. He gradually softened as the reality that he wasn't going to be abducted set in. His body stayed on high alert, however, as Craig's presence still made him nervous.

He really wanted to try his best to be professional. He didn't want his dick to get in the way and potentially ruin the band's big break. He definitely didn't want to scare Craig off before they were able to do this major interview. Casually saying "hey Craig, I think you're hot and I'd love to bend you over this table and fuck you right here at the continental breakfast buffet" would definitely make Craig run away screaming. Immediately after he slapped him with a restraining order.

Tweek realized he had been silently staring at Craig for what felt like minutes. He inhaled sharply.

"Ah! Uh, it wasn't that good to begin with. Thank you for apologizing though. I'm, ah, not great with being touched if I can't see the person and don't know who they are. Like the whole 'guess who?' game where someone puts their hands over your eyes from behind? Yeah, I've elbowed many a motherfucker who've tried that on me."

"Duly noted," Craig replied. "So why is your morning shitty?"

"Nggh...can't figure out what to have for breakfast. Too complicated."

Craig scanned the tables and was honestly underwhelmed. It looked like almost every other complimentary breakfast that existed. Apparently Tweek really did have some issues. Craig made a mental note to not give him too many options when setting up the interview.

"Yeah. It is pretty difficult," Craig said flatly. He waited for Tweek to react to his sarcasm, but he didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't care.

Craig moved over to the hot water and began to make himself a cup of tea for the road. While it was steeping, he chose a whole wheat bagel, toasted it, and spread on a thin layer of cream cheese. When he was finished, Tweek was still standing in the same exact spot, still without food.

"Hey dudes!"

Craig looked over his shoulder to see the remaining members of the band file into the dining room. He took a small sip of his tea as he watched Clyde and Kenny stuff several bagels, muffins, and fruit into their luggage. Jimmy and Token behaved like civilized people and took one or two items from the table.

"It's not like the venue doesn't have some sort of catering," said Token to his greedier friends.

"I'm never going to pass on free food, Token," replied Kenny. "When you grow up not knowing where your next meal would come from, you learn some habits."

"I'm just always fucking hungry," Clyde added.

Token shook his head at his friends, but didn't bother to say anything else. They were hopeless cases when it came to food.

Tweek felt a rush of panic when it looked like everyone else was done picking what they wanted. Meanwhile, he was still undecided. He frantically looked at everyone else, hoping for some inspiration. Token came up to him and handed him a large cup of black coffee. Tweek gave him a look that was somehow both confused and relieved.

"You looked like you did that time you were invited to Annie's wedding and you couldn't decide between chicken, fish, or vegetarian on the RSVP."

"Yeah, that sucked" Tweek laughed. "Thanks for the coffee. You always know what I need, man."

"I just pay attention. One of us has to." Token chuckled to himself and headed out toward the bus.

Tweek took a sip of the hot coffee and practically melted in the middle of the dining room. It was exactly what he needed. He sighed and looked around the room for his friends, quickly realizing that he was alone. He groaned, grabbed his suitcase, and headed outside.

Craig had just finished loading his luggage into Wendy's van when Tweek finally appeared. He looked over at the singer and noticed that he only had a cup of coffee in his hand. Craig furrowed his brow. Had he been serious about not being able to make a decision on breakfast? Or did he consciously make a decision about the coffee, thinking it would be enough to last him the entire day? From the little that Craig knew of Tweek, he assumed the answer was yes.

Wendy returned to the van after briefing the band and the bus driver on the day's plan. She buckled herself in, started the engine, and sped out of the hotel parking lot before Craig could get his belt fastened.

"What the fuck, Wendy?" he asked as he frantically pulled down the belt.

"I'm a woman on a mission, Craig." She quickly glanced at him, then back to the road. "I found out about twenty minutes ago that I had been given false information when I booked those rooms. I'd been told that it was a pleasant ten minute drive from the hotel to the venue. Cut to earlier this morning when I'm on the phone with Leo going over the agenda, and lo and behold, he tells me that the venue is actually forty-five minutes away!"

"You believed that a hotel not located in Salt Lake City would be ten minutes away from a venue in the center of Salt Lake City? You have lived in a city before, yes? And why didn't you check the distance on Google maps or something before you booked the rooms?"

"Goddammit Craig! I'm already stressed enough as it is!" Wendy glanced over at Craig. Her eyes were wide and wild. "Don't fuck with me right now!"

Craig sank back into his seat. He got the message loud and clear. Now was clearly not the time for sarcasm. He tightened the seatbelt around him and dug his fingers into the seat. It was, however, time to hang on for dear life.

"I don't get what Wendy's deal is," said Kenny. "I mean, forty-five minutes isn't that bad, really. And it's not like the gig starts at ten in the morning and we're gonna be late. We're going to have so much fucking downtime before the show."

"I think the p-p-pros call it hurry up and wait," said Jimmy.

Kenny groaned and pulled his hoodie down over his eyes.

"Kenny has a good point, though," said Clyde. "I guess she had to be there early, but I don't know why we're expected there so early. It's not like we're helping set up the equipment. We don't need nine hours to warm-up."

Token laughed and shook his head. "Guys. Think about it through Wendy's perspective. Would you trust the five of us on our own, in a city we've never been before, to not only get to the show on time, but also to not get into some sort of trouble along the way?"

Clyde, Jimmy, and Kenny looked at each other. "Yeah, you're right," they all sighed.

Tweek stared out of the window at the trees whizzing by. He didn't realize a conversation had been going on. His mind was already elsewhere.

How stupid was he? He was so painfully awkward this morning around Craig. Not only did he scream and swear at him, but he was also one twitch away from jabbing him square in the jaw. Not really the best way to seduce someone into your bed—unless they were a major masochist, but Tweek wasn't really into that scene. Then, then, after he told Craig that he almost punched him, he very unsexily explained how he's apparently confused by food choices.

Great. Just great, Tweek, he thought. This is why you never talk to people you're crushing on unless you have a drink in your hand.

Tweek groaned and massaged his temples with his fingertips. Dammit, Kenny was right. Tonight's post-show plan was to get liquored up, and then hopefully get all up on Craig Tucker.

"Okay boys, attention please!" Wendy waved her hands in the air while bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

The band had arrived at the venue and immediately went to schmooze with the road crew. Wendy was glad that they were so close to the people who made the show happen, but she also needed them to stay on her schedule. It had already been thrown off once today, and she was not going to let it happen again.

"I need the five of you to go do some serious rehearsing while the crew gets everything set. When it's time for a sound check, I'll come get you," she continued.

"What about lunch, Wends?" asked Clyde, raising his hand.

"Obviously when the pizza arrives, I'll let you know."

Clyde raised his hand again. "What about-?"

"Dammit, Clyde! Same answer for dinner! But don't eat too much close to the show. I don't want you guys to be sluggish out there. The Hideout was a great show, but since we were at home and comfortable, it was sloppy. This is the first show on the tour that is going to get mainstream attention. You guys need to really bring it tonight, and every night hereafter."

Craig watched as the band slowly shuffled off to another area of the building. Once they were out of sight, he let his eyes wander around the large open space he was standing in. It didn't look like much now, but he could imagine it filled to the brim with a few thousand people. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of the empty room. He uploaded it to Twitter as his first official tour tweet.

craigtucker - The calm before the storm

Fuck, that's cheesy, he thought. It was what it was, though. He didn't care enough about social media to delete it now. Wendy would at least be happy that he was having an online presence in some capacity.

"Craig! Over here!"

Craig turned to see Wendy waving at him from the front of the stage.

"I want you to meet our stage manager, Leo."

A short blond man with a quaffed undercut stepped forward with his arm outstretched.

"Professionally I go by Leo, but my friends call me Butters."

"That's...an odd name," said Craig.

"Yeah, I guess it is," laughed Butters. "It's just a silly play on my last name. Stotch."

"Butters Stotch? I don't get—oh, okay. That's kinda cute."

"Yup, that's me!"

A ringtone echoed through the building.

"Ah, sorry! That's mine!" said Wendy. "I have to take this. Excuse me."

The two men watched Wendy run toward the exit, most likely to deal with putting out another fire. Butters turned back to Craig and clapped his hand on his back. Craig lurched forward unexpectedly. Butters didn't look it from his size, but he was surprisingly strong.

"Let me show you around!" said Butters.

Butters led Craig up onto the stage. He introduced Craig to the rest of the crew as he explained his vision for the tour's set design. A few people were working on applying various gels to the lights. Others were busy building the scaffolding that would frame the stage and hold said lights.

Craig took it all in like a little kid. He had been to so many concerts that he had lost count, but this was like a whole other world, getting to see the behind the scenes work. It was like learning how a magic trick works. It was fascinating, and only furthered his respect for road crews.

Butters nodded, seeming content with how everything was coming along. He turned to Craig and smiled. "So yeah, that about covers it for now. Later, we'll start arranging the lights and programming the light board. In case you're interested in watching that."

"Yeah, that'd be cool." Craig hesitated for a moment. "I'm sorry to ask, but your accent. You're not from Colorado, are you?"

Butters smiled. "Nope! Born and raised in North Carolina, just outside of Charlotte."

"So how did you end up here? Like what brought you to this point?"

"That's a mighty loaded question, Craig." Butters voice was somber.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to trigger anything by that."

"No, no, I'm fine," Butters smiled. "How about the quick version now, and if you get a few Chi Chis in me on the tour, I can give you the long version."

"Deal," Craig laughed.

"I had a...let's say difficult childhood. Anyway, I followed some local bands as an escape, then went to Berklee for college. Met Wendy and became friends. Worked around Boston for a year or so after graduation, when one night she calls me and asks if I want to lead a small road crew for a Denver band she was managing. And here I am."

"How do you like working with the band? Like do you get along with them?" asked Craig.

"The fellas? They're great! It's a pleasure to work with them. I even got to work on the recording of their album a little. It was really exciting. I can't say I know them super well, though. There's just never enough time in the day to get into anything deep with them. Except Tweek." Butters' lips curled into a small smile. "I'd say we've gotten pretty close. We bonded over shitty parent stories."

Craig made a note to remind himself to learn more about Tweek's parents.

"Speaking of Tweek…" Craig's voice trailed off. He felt his cheeks flush. He swallowed and tried to will the blood away from his face. "What's his deal, exactly?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, does he…? Is he…? Ugh, how do I put this? He seems...weird."

Butters giggled. "Yeah, that's Tweek alright. He's a mighty interesting person. He can be slow to open up to new people—you know, the anxiety and all—but once he lets you in, he'd be willing to die for you. This one time, after a show, these scary looking fellas were hassling me, and Tweek walked right up, got in their faces and told them to fuck off. I think he was ready to fight them if it came to it. "

Craig hummed. "Interesting."

"Alrighty, I should get back to the stage. It was nice to meet you, Craig!"

"Same, Butters, and thank you. Have a good show."

The Union Event Center had a small upper level that wrapped around the room. Craig decided to make that his perch for the night. He kept his phone in his hand, partly so he could make notes about his thoughts for the nightly diary, but also so he could live tweet the concert. That was a thing, right? He hoped his couple hundred followers would at least appreciate getting music content for a change. The handful of tweets he had written since he joined a few years ago were about The Queer Spotlight or Floof. Maybe this whole forced tweet thing would actually be beneficial to his career.

The band that opened was a bizarre choice. Not bad, but their sound was a sort of industrial pop metal and it didn't gel with Humble Folx sound as well as another band could have. They definitely had the look for their sound, very gothic. Craig tried to remember what their name was so he could tweet about them, but then it dawned on him that they had never mentioned it. He made himself a note to ask Wendy about it later.

The lights slowly went down for the main event. The crowd roared. Craig felt his body tingle with anticipation. He couldn't help it. It was the reaction he had at concerts ever since his first one when he was twelve.

The lights rose quickly as Clyde and Token opened with high energy riffs. Craig couldn't place which song this was, and he got the feeling that a lot of people in the crowd didn't know it either. That was the downside to being a band entering the mainstream with one popular single, and a cover no less—a fair amount of your audience will only be there to hear that song. Ideally, they end up enjoying your other songs, buy your album and a t-shirt, and boom, you've made a new fan. Worst case scenario, at least you sold a ticket that night.

"Woke up next to a stranger this morning, damn I wish it were you."

Tweek pulled the microphone out of its stand and began to work the crowd from his first line. There really was something magical about him when he was onstage. His wild, bright green hair really stood out under this lighting. Craig couldn't help but smile when Tweek brushed away the stray pieces from his eyes. He could've clipped it back with the barrettes he wore during the day, but he chose to let it be a chaotic mess. That was such a lead singer thing to do.

"Hello, Salt Lake City!" Tweek shrieked once the song had ended. The crowd cheered at the obvious pandering that was expected at concerts.

"We're Humble Folx, and that was 'New Kind of High' from our self-titled album. I hope you're gonna have some fun with us tonight." He flashed a flirty smile at the crowd. "Let's keep the good feelings coming all night, this one is called 'Gimme'."

Craig spent the next few songs trying to watch each band member to get a better feeling for how they perform, but his eyes kept going back to Tweek. It was hard not to. Tonight, he looked like a young Robert Plant. His dark blue skinny jeans left little to the imagination, and his decision to wear a button down shirt was clearly so that he could leave it open the whole night. When he wasn't running along the edge of the stage, trying to interact with the fans as much as possible, he was playing with the hem of his shirt while he stood still. A nervous tic, perhaps, or maybe just a trick to draw attention to his waist and hips.

Craig caught himself staring more times than he wanted to admit. Tweek was pretty hot, Craig admitted to himself. There was no harm in enjoying the view, right? As long as he kept everything else professional, there shouldn't be a problem.

Maybe just looking still had its problems.

Craig sat alone in the VIP section of the club, feeling uncomfortably hard up, nursing his drink of choice for the evening - ice water with lime. He decided to keep things sober tonight. It was the only way he was going to keep things professional until he managed to find someone on Grindr who didn't skeeve him out. He was clearly the only one taking this option, as the entire band, and even Wendy, were out on the main dance floor, shaking and flirting their asses off.

They almost didn't even get into this club. The guys had decided that this was the one they wanted to go to, since it was apparently the hottest one in Salt Lake City. However by being the hottest club, it was also the most exclusive. Apparently they had all thought that their status as a hot new band on tour would let them slide right through. They didn't take into consideration that they were mostly men, and that most clubs tried to keep set gendered ratios. The bouncer had stepped in front of the door as Kenny tried to confidently walk in. The other four bunched up behind him like a multi-car collision.

Wendy had quickly swooped in and whispered something into the bouncer's ear before slipping him an indiscriminate amount of cash. The large man simply smirked and pocketed the money before stepped aside.

Craig sat stirring the ice around in his glass with his finger. He wondered what Wendy had said to the guy. Did she mention that they were a band? Did she say something suggestive? If it was the latter, did she give a sexy compliment or did she do something as rash as offering up her body later? From what Craig knew of Wendy, it most certainly wouldn't be something like that. Offering sexual favors to strangers didn't seem to be her style.

However, dancing very close to strangers while intoxicated did seem to be her style. Craig chuckled as he watched her on the dance floor below. She was letting her hair down, both literally and figuratively. She was still dressed in her pantsuit from earlier, but the jacket had long since been removed, and her shirt was unbuttoned enough so that her bra was part of her look. It looked like she was grinding up one some douchey looking EDM bro. The kind of person she would probably tend to knee in the groin, but right now she was definitely into it.

"Hey Craig!"

Craig looked over to see a sweaty Kenny and Clyde coming up the stairs. Their hair was disheveled, with a few pieces here and there matted against their foreheads. They waved at Craig as they passed by, heading straight for the private VIP bartender. Craig was glad for that, as the nice woman on duty wasn't getting much out of him and his water.

Kenny came back over to Craig's spot after ordering, leaving Clyde to wait for the drinks.

"Jesus H Fuck, is it hot in here!" he whined. "Why is it always so hot in clubs?"

"It's usually to encourage people to skimp down to as little clothing as possible," Craig calmly replied.

"Yeah? Well, mission fucking accomplished."

Kenny proceeded to peel his damp t-shirt off of his body. He was long, slender, and had a remarkably toned body. Although he was stone cold sober, Craig still perceived Kenny as moving in slow motion. It was like his dick was directing a pretentious perfume ad for his eyes or something. Why did the members of this band have to all be attractive? Normally, Craig had no problem with being around attractive men. It never made his logical, rational brain shut off as his primal brain turn on. However, he currently seemed to be inundated with it while he needed to focus on furthering his career, and it wasn't a good mix.

You should be focused on getting a nice deep dicking, said a surprisingly loud voice in his head.

Craig shifted in his chair. Kenny was just a shirtless guy! Guys were shirtless all the time! It shouldn't be getting this reaction out of him!

"Hey, Kendoll, here's your drink," Clyde announced as he rejoined them.

"Kendoll?" asked Craig.

"Yeah," Kenny giggled. "It's my nickname when I'm drunk."

He brought his glass up to his lips, trying to catch the straw in his mouth without the use of his hands. He it took him a moment to figure it out, and in the process, he caused the tiny umbrella in the glass to fall onto the floor.

"I'll get that for you, bro!" Clyde offered.

He bent down at the waist and tried to aim for the paper umbrella. His jeans stretched tight over his thick ass. It was the kind of juicy ass that Craig wanted to use as a pillow, and—dear god, what was happening now?

Clyde had missed when he grabbed for the umbrella and it threw him off balance. He staggered forward slightly, and grabbed onto Kenny's hips to regain his footing. He stayed in the awkward position for a moment, looking up at Kenny and grinning.

"Sorry, dude! My bad!"

Kenny looked down at Clyde, whose mouth was mere inches away from his groin, and didn't flinch. "No problem! You're such a good friend." Kenny stroked his hand through Clyde's hair and patted his head.

Craig's eyes were wide with—wonder? he was going to go with wonder—at the spectacle unfolding in front of him. He wasn't sure if these two realized just how homoerotic they were being at the moment, or whether they cared or not, but it reminded Craig of the opening to a gay porn. He bit into his knuckles, doing his best to hold back a groan.

"What's g-going on guys?"

The three of them heard Jimmy coming up the stairs before they saw him. It gave Clyde and Kenny plenty of time to stand upright without falling over.

"Hey Jimjim!" Kenny raised his glass as his friend finally made his way over.

"Hey Kendoll!" Jimmy replied.

The three bandmates stood in front of Craig, conversing and laughing like he wasn't there. There was a reason that no one ever wanted to be the only sober person at a party. Craig didn't mind though. It gave him more time to stare at Jimmy's ridiculously cut arms.

Craig was almost afraid that maybe he hadn't been drinking water the whole night. Did Jimmy have these arms yesterday? Obviously he did, but he'd apparently been hiding these guns from everyone. Right now he was wearing a sleeveless shirt that showed them off. It made sense for Jimmy, especially if he was trying to score tonight, but it was driving Craig crazy. He wasn't even an arm guy, but his body had been marinating in hormones for weeks and he couldn't seem to help it.

Craig closed his eyes. He breathed slowly in and out. He drowned out the sound of the others chatting, the dance music, everything. He focused on his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Good. He could feel himself relaxing.

"Heeeeey Craig."

A shiver ran down Craig's spine. A deep, velvety voice rumbled into his ear. He peeked open one eye and found Token grinning at him like a fool.

"I just wanted to make sure you hadn't fallen asleep, buddy," he said.

"How could I ever fall asleep here? I'm just having so much fun," said Craig, flatly.

Token had already moved on to the bar before Craig could finish his sentence. Luckily for Craig, the others followed his lead. He watched as they picked up the shots Token ordered, clinked them together sloppily, and threw them back. It took another ten minutes before they headed back down the stairs to the main floor when some new song got them pumped up.

Craig sighed. He had finally regained most of his composure. He had a fresh, cold water in his hand. He'd moved to a plush black leather chair that was in a more dimly lit area of VIP. All that was left was an erection that he just couldn't seem to will away. He laughed to himself. Except for the fact that he was in some high end nightclub right now, this scenario didn't feel that much different than how he had been spending his nights back at home. He closed his eyes and listened to the thrum of the bass beneath him.

He felt a shift in weight on the arm of the chair. He opened his eyes and gasped. Tweek was leaning over the chair's arm, his face obnoxiously close to Craig's. He was clearly drunk, as Craig could never see a sober Tweek getting this close to anyone. Tweek suddenly placed his hand on Craig's thigh. His fingertips curved around the inner thigh, and were painfully close to Craig's erection.

"Can I help you?" Craig forced out.

Tweek just sort of patted his hand against Craig's thigh. Craig suspected that Tweek thought he had his hand on Craig's knee, which would have still be awfully personal, but less directly sexual in nature.

"Aww," Tweek slurred. "Where's your martini, Mr. Journalist?"

Tweek giggled and shifted his position so that he was now perched on the arm of the chair, leaning most of his body weight into Craig.

"I've chosen to stay sober tonight, on account of being professional," said Craig.

"Mehhh...that's no fun," Tweek pouted.

He was silent for a moment. He didn't move, either. Craig thought that he might have fallen asleep against him. Then, without warning, Tweek repositioned himself again, turning to face Craig.

"Hey, can I tell you something?" he asked.

His mouth was dangerously close to Craig's ear. He could feel the heat of his breath against his neck, which was one of his stronger erogenous zones. Craig swallowed hard. He was so glad that he had moved to a darker corner. If he were sitting under better lighting, even a drunk person would have been able to tell that his cock was straining for dear life against his pants. He let out a staggered sigh.

"Sure, Tweek." He tried to keep his voice as cool as possible.

"I really liked it when you were watching me the other night. That's why I didn't bother locking the stall, ya know? It's really fun to fuck in public spaces."

Craig licked his bottom lip. "I thought you said you normally didn't do that sort of thing. And what happened to not talking about it? To being professional?"

Tweek rested his head against Craig's and groaned. "That was sober Tweek talking. He's an anxious neurotic motherfucker and he sucks. I'm way more fun."

"Well, I like sober Tweek. He seems to make much better decisions-"

"Psh, he can't make any fucking decisions," Tweek interjected.

"-and speaking of better decisions, I'm gonna make one now."

Craig stood up from the chair, causing Tweek to slump over into the warm seat. He headed down the stairs to the main dance floor, glass still in hand. He found the bathroom and headed in, finding a stall and making sure it was securely locked this time.

Craig placed the glass on the floor and quickly unfastened his pants. He pulled out his dick, just glad that it was no longer confined to its cotton blend prison. He stood over the toilet bowl, debating about how he was going to get rid of this large problem. The easiest way would be just to jerk off and get it over with, but Craig was already getting really fucking tired of jerking off every night.

He could just wait for it to go down. Bathrooms weren't the sexiest of locations, and hearing people pissing only a few feet away would eventually kill any dirty thoughts that were lingering in his head. He looked down at the glass of ice water on the floor. He could always pour that on his dick and try to speed up the process. It would be awfully painful, though. None of the options seemed ideal.

Craig decided to not pick any of those options. He carefully put his dick back into his pants and went to leave. He reached for the door, but before he could grab it, it swung open from the other side.

Tweek almost bumped into Craig. Craig had kind of wished that he had. That's how pent up and touch starved he was feeling.

Tweek sidestepped out of the way, holding his hands up in front of him. "I'm just going to take a piss, I promise!" he laughed. "I don't have anyone to go down on me tonight."

Craig laughed weakly and made a beeline out of the bathroom and onto the dance floor. He ducked and dodged through the sweaty dancers until he found Wendy, now grinding between two women.

"Hey," Craig yelled over the music. "I hate this. Can I have the keys to go back to the van?"

"Yeah sure!" Without missing a beat, Wendy reached down her shirt and pulled out the keys from inside her bra.

"Thanks," Craig muttered.

He turned on his heel and headed straight for the exit.

Once outside, Craig felt like he could breathe again. He ambled back to the venue, where the tour vehicles were still parked.

When he arrived at the van, he unlocked the back doors and sat on the edge. He leaned back on his hands and let his feet swing back and forth. He needed this. He needed this moment of calm, this moment alone. It was only day two, and he had confirmed that tours were no place for introverts. It wouldn't be so bad, but there's barely any time or space to be alone and recharge your internal battery.

He scrolled through his phone, looking at twitter to see that some people had actually replied to his live tweets. It felt kind of cool, having people directly comment on something you wrote. Okay, that was a lie—it felt very cool.

He closed the app and saw the time on his home screen. Just after midnight. That was it? It felt like he had been in the club so much longer than that. Craig pursed his lips. He didn't really want to go to sleep right now. Even though he felt much calmer than before, he was still pretty riled up. If he lied down now, he'd be staring at the van ceiling for who knows how long.

Craig's eyes drifted to Grindr. This would be a good time to deal with this growing problem of his. The band is out and he's alone. He could get his rocks off and get back to the van before they returned. It's not like he was going to need a lot of time to finish. He bit his lip hard, playing mental tennis on the subject.

Salt Lake City, he thought. It probably won't be hard to find a closeted Mormon guy for something quick and anonymous.

He opened the app and began to scroll, in the name of professionalism.