Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.

I think I'm supposed to say that this story contains drug use. Nothing too hard. I only write what I know. So, only heroin & coke. Maybe I shouldn't joke about that.

Also, quick note: ACL = Austin City Limits. It's an annual music festival in—you guessed it—Austin. A ton of bands perform on 8 stages over 3 days. It's really awesome, super fun, and extremely crowded. Hope you enjoy the story!


Thursday, October 1, 2009
around 7PM

"Why do you look like you're about to cry?" I ask Jasper when he walks into the apartment.

"Fuck you, Cullen," he spits, slamming the door. "You know I never cry."

I pull a face. "Okay," I say slowly. "You're the only human being who has the ability to not produce tears. Congratulations."

He flips me off, disappearing into his room before returning with a pipe, a lighter, and a small tin. He sits on the opposite end of the couch, grumbling as he packs the bowl with weed.

"Bad day?" I ask.

No response. Well, not unless you count the grunting sound he makes. Which I don't. He's clearly pissed, but I let him be. I have no idea what could have brought on this little mood swing, and I don't really care, either.

He flicks his lighter a few times until there's a flame. I fuck around on my laptop and play some music to fill the silence. I'm surprised, but pleased, when he hands me the pipe. He wouldn't let me smoke his good shit if he was actually pissed at me.

"I'm pissed at you," he manages to say with smoke-filled lungs.

I stand corrected. He does let me smoke the good shit when he's mad at me. Good to know.

"What'd I do?"

He exhales, blowing smoke toward the ceiling, motioning for me to take a hit. Bringing the stem to my lips, I suck in a breath and light the bowl. I inhale deeply until my throat burns and my forefinger stings from the flame.

"Damn," I cough, eyes watering.

Smiling this goofy grin, he gives me a thumbs up. I cough again, and it's as I'm taking a sip of my beer that his grin morphs into a glare. He must have remembered he was pissed.

"Spit it out, Jas," I mutter, securing the beer bottle between my knees.

"I was at Garrett's earlier and we were talking about the music festival this weekend," he mumbles, scratching the back of his head.

I already know where this is going, but I act like I don't, just to be an asshole. I've known Jasper for the past nine years, since we were sophomores in high school, and pissing him off has become one of my hobbies. I'm really good at it, too.

"And?" I question, keeping my face blank.

"You sent Garrett your customized schedule for which bands you plan on seeing, but not me? Your roommate? Your best friend?"

"I emailed it to you, too," I remind him, scratching along my unshaven jaw. "It's not my fault you never check your email."

"It's not my fault I keep forgetting my password," he says, and he's dead serious.

Saving my breath, I refrain from making any obvious points, such as: yes, it is your fault you can't remember your password.

I zone back in to what he's saying and manage to understand the gist of why he's upset: after comparing his lineup schedule to mine, we're only seeing three of the same bands this weekend. So when he's at the stage where Citizen Cope is playing, I'll be listening to Arctic Monkeys. And when he's jamming out to Mike Posner, I'll be entranced by Grizzly Bear.

"What's up with that, Cullen?" he asks, staring expectantly.

Refraining from being a complete dick, I try to find a nice way of telling him he has complete shit taste in music.

"Your music taste is offensive to me."

Well. I tried.

Jasper stares in disbelief. "What? You're the one planning on seeing the Yeah Yeah Yeahs instead Kings of Leon tomorrow night."

"Yeah. I know. Kings of Leon's recent music makes me cringe."

He pulls that face again, the one that suggests he's about to cry. I don't point it out this time, because I'm trying to be a good friend.

"How can you do this to me?" he questions quietly.

I'm in the middle of taking another hit from the pipe when he says this in the saddest voice ever, forcing me to cough out a laugh.

"Tell me, Jasper, what does this have to do with you?"

Standing from the couch, he steals the pipe from my hand, and glares down at me. "You know I love Kings of Leon, man. You know I do. You know I've stood by them since the beginning."

"You remember I'm the one who got you into them, right?"

"Bullshit," he says heatedly.

I laugh. "It's true, though."

"There's no way you listened to them first."

"I swear. Bella will remember," I say. "We were all in my car, it was... fuck, it was just before senior year started, in 2003. I had their album playing the night we got wasted and went bowling."

He looks skeptical. "How do you remember all of this?"

"It's a fond memory of mine. It was the night you puked in the bowling alley, remember?"

He picks up the remote from the coffee table and chucks it at me.

I curse, rubbing my shoulder. "Jasper, calm down. Shit. I don't even know why you're pissed. It's not like I'm asking you not to see those sellouts play tomorrow night. You can see whoever the fuck you want. I don't care."

He breathes through his nose. "Sellouts? Are you serious right now?"

"Yes."

"So, you're the one who supposedly got me into them, but now you hate them?"

"Their music isn't the same anymore. They lost their rawness. Their sound is too pop-y. I miss the days when I couldn't understand their lyrics. All of this your sex is on fire shit doesn't do it for me anymore."

He covers his mouth with both hands, as if I just told him I murdered his mom or something.

"So, you're basically saying you aren't a fan of them anymore because they make money now," he accuses.

"Yeah," I play along, because he's annoying me and I want this conversation to end. "That's exactly it, Jasper. I'm bitter because they make money now."

He points at me and says, "It's shitty people like you who make this world a shitty place."

I'm about to tell him that I'd rather be a shitty person than have shitty taste in music, when Bella walks through the door.

"What's up, guys?" she asks, plopping down next to me on the couch. "Jasper, why do you look like you're about to cry?"

"Fuck you, too, Swan," he mutters, then storms to his room.


Hi. Hello. Thanks so much for reading this new little story. It's um... new. And it's a story. I don't know what else to say.

Quick thanks to Kim, Vic, Agu, Debbie, Kiara, Linae, and Kikki for lots of things. Like being my friend. And for reading over the first few chapters for me.

Next update will be on Wednesday. AND I MEAN THAT. Because I have pre-written chapters. Which is cool!