22
Asher
I’d just saved my work on my laptop when Sticks mumbled something in his sleep. Around four this morning, he’d crawled back to his bed, grabbed a pillow, and curled around it, closing his eyes as he helped me come up with a final line. Then he’d passed out a few minutes later.
But I couldn’t sleep. I was too psyched because we’d just finished something that had been taking me weeks to work through. So I’d dragged my laptop out of my duffle bag and pulled up my music program, hoping to concoct the perfect melody for the words.
Sticks had slept peacefully for the past three or four hours, but as he flailed out a hand and banged it against the headboard, he began to come to.
“Wha...?” he finally yelped and jerked his head up to gape at me from bloodshot brown eyes. His hair was
