Breathe by xkcfanx


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Justin got a hold of his vocal coach within the week and now they were on their way to meet the potential band mate for the guy’s new group. This way starting to be a reality check for Justin. His like wouldn’t be normal any longer. He would have girls at his fingertips. Who wouldn’t want that? The love, the fame and the fortune were just upon his horizon. The guys piled into Chris’ newly purchased van and went down to the airport to meet the new guy. When they arrived his flight had already landed at the airport.

“I wonder who he is?” Justin nudged Jc.

“I guess we’ll just have to find out wont we? What was his name again?”

“James Bass…” he read on the piece of paper.

“Chris call out this name man”

“Why do I always have to do it?”

“Because this was your idea”

“My idea…Justin is the one who brought the guy down here!”

“Chill out jeez don’t have such a cow about it just do it. It’s not like its going to kill you or anything”

“He does have a point. Plus, you are the oldest” Chris growled. He knew he hadn’t won this battle, the ole you’re the oldest shit was always brought to him.

“Fine” Chris mumbled,” James Bass is there a James Bass” a young blonde haired, green eyed man stepped forward.

“I am James Bass, but please call me Lance,” Chris wasn’t sure if he would fit for what they were looking for. He wasn’t very tall, short, medium built, but the talent is what mattered the most at the moment.

“Hi Lance I am Chris, this here is Jc or Josh whichever, that is Joey, and finally there is Justin”

“Hi, very nice to meet y’all”

“Well we are sure glad you decided to come here”

“Me too when I got a call from Jim I just couldn’t pass this up. So when do we start?”

“As soon as possible. We cal all go and pile up into the can and go back to my place. Justin’s mom cooked us some of her favorite barbecue chicken your mouth will litterally water dude”

“Oh okay…well then I guess let’s go?” All five guys went and piled into the van and drove down to Chris’ house where the fun was about to begin.


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