Simon woke up to an empty bed. The warm sun of Los Angeles shone bright and coarse through the small slits in the blinds, with light piercing every inch of shadow that it could find in their small hotel room. Strange, how different the sun worked here - a good strange though, the right change from those lifeless mornings he was used to in England. He could hear rustling coming from the bathroom, and between his half open eyelids, kept a weary glare on the door as he tried to suss out if any movement was about to occur. He noticed how the rustling was starting to resemble brushing, as Simon imagined that Lewis had already awoken, before their alarm, fully preparing himself for a tough new day. Simon just kept on listening, still assessing the white door, trying to picture what state his friend was in behind it. Did he even get enough sleep in the end? Was he still mad? ...Had he showered already? Worst of all, did this mean that he now had to get up and get ready too, when he still had half an hour before he'd be forced to? All he wanted to do was lie there. He needed that chance to exist - the chance that Lewis would walk out that door and get straight back into bed. Just lay there with him. As much as Simon's body wanted to shut down and drift off to sleep just for a short while longer, his brain forced him to act differently. That feeling he experienced while examining his sleeping Lewis the night before still lingered with him. Only this time, there was no stimulus to drive from: only his eager imagination.

He waited. With a small, long sigh, he lay still for a moment longer. Exhausted.

A door unlatched.

"Get up Simon," Lewis's stern voice bellowed. His footsteps now thudding around the room with the same pace from the precious night. "Now."

Simon opened his left eye to a squint. He peeked around the blurry room to see Lewis, bent over and rummaging through a suitcase. His vision then became pitch black in an instance some clothes landed hard on his face.

"Ah, this is much better" Simon's voice was muffled, "I could do with a night mask right about now."

"Don't piss around today Simon."

"But that's what I do best," his voice now clear as he pulled the bundle down from his face.

"I know! But you can save what your best at when we're at the conference, but until we're there, you'll need to actually listen to me, ok?" Lewis stood in front of a tiny mirror next to his side of the bed and straightened his tie, having not looked Simon in the eye at any point. Simon sat up in the bed, wearing his creased outfit from the night before. He put on his classes to examine the clothes that now lay in front of him. Some blue jeans, and an old Yogscast T-shirt had been picked out. Both from his own suitcase.

"Sure." Simon replied.

Lewis was now on the phone to Hannah, trying to sort out the arrangements of when to meet, where, how they're going to travel, and generally planning the day in advance and hoping it would run smoothly. He let Simon do is own thing, and hoped that he'd pull himself together pretty quickly. Lewis himself wasn't a morning person, but half of the secret is just getting on with it: even if it's the very last thing you want to do.

Simon listened in from the bathroom. Everything was so quiet until his friends voice would rupture it every few seconds in reply to the phone call. Running the hot tap fiercely into the basin, Simon watched as the water spun. He could tell that Lewis was still reasonably angry from the tone in his voice, and wished he could think of a way to calm him down. In fact, he knew what would calm him down - following orders to a T. Thing is, it's just not that easy for Simon. His mind wanders so much, he often forgets what his name is, let alone what task he's meant to be doing. As the water trickled and the level rose, he couldn't help but think about his friends sleeping face. He just couldn't believe how a sight so peaceful could turn into one that got so frustrated this easily. Maybe it was all Simon's fault, he thought. Maybe he was nothing but an extra case on this baggage on this already overpriced holiday.

He splashed the water on his face. A few drops hung off his beard - others attacked his shirt. He was exhausted, but nothing was stopping him today. He was going to prove himself.

He stepped out of the bathroom, shirt still a little damp.

"Simon, good, you're ready. Put everything you got out back in your suitcase, we'll need to check out of here soon."

"There's another room booked at that hotel?"

"Not yet. I'm hoping I can sort that out when I meet up with the others." Lewis threw a backpack over one shoulder and struggled to get the other arm through the strap. "They've already left and are on their way to our booth. We'll just have to meet them there and hopefully they'll stall for us." he said, backpack finally secure.

"You're the boss," said Simon, now able to look him in the eye for the first time today.

They just stood there for a moment, looking. Lewis's expression was a dazed one, with his glasses a little crooked, failing to frame his red eyes properly. No matter how much of a fucked up situation they were in, Simon always saw the funny side of it - and in this situation, the funny side was Lewis' messed up face. He laughed in his own head, hoping Lewis would be able to see the brighter side sometime soon, and maybe even shed a smile if all went to plan. Their breathing became shallow. Simon smiled.

"What are you doing?" Lewis whispered, harshly.

Their loud alarm clock finally rung, making both the boys jump from their stare.

"Hah. Oh right. Packing."