Summary: When an idealist enters a city where potential is smothered, he attracts attention from unexpected fields. A more experienced boy takes the budding youth under his wing, showing him lessons in life, love and survival. With hopes to become a name on everyone's lips, the games continue until an ugly truth is finally revealed.

Rating: R, because some people are creeped out by gay people, and also because there will be language, drugs, and sex.

Disclaimer: As just stated, language, sex, drugs...the works. If you're uncomfortable with those things, you're going to have a tough time with this story.

Dedication: Bright Eyes...Joel and his freckle...Drunk girls...Queer as Folk...Poughkeepsie?

Small Note: This is not the first time Conner and Drew have been together in a story...but it's the first one they've been posted in. Reviews are much encouraged, as is criticism...after all, feedback makes a writer. But kindness is a must, por favor.

Chapter One: Old Floorboards Creak the Most

Conner's POV

I grunted as I set the last of the boxes down on the slightly dusty wood floor. I slowly stood up, putting my hands on my hips and stretching my aching back. There hadn't been that many boxes, but doing all of it by myself had been an adventure. I mean, you try carrying a whole mattress and bedframe up three flights alone.

I took a deep breath, glancing around the place I had chosen as my new home. It would need some cleaning...some major cleaning...but it was nice. There was one bedroom, big enouch for the bed I had dragged along with me, and one bathroom, which actually had a huge window next to the shower. Kind of creepy.

But the best part was the big picture window, in the other room. There was a windowsill big enough to fit three or so people, and it looked right down onto the street. I was looking forward to sitting there, and playing my guitar nonstop.

Deciding that unpacking could wait, I reached for my guitar, taking it out of its case. Why wait, huh?

I had to step over the boxes to get to the windowsill. I paused though, when a small gleam caught my eye. I hesitantly set the guitar down, crouching to fish out the picture frame.

I retrieved it, and brought it up to examine the flawless smiles that belonged to my parents. In this picture, we all looked like a happy three-piece...even though I had been slightly young when it had been taken.

In truth, the picture was one of my favorites because it showed what we had really been like -- happy.

I didn't really know when...or even if any of that had changed. I knew that they had been proud of me when I got into one of the most prestigious schools in the country.

But I knew they hadn't been proud of me when I dropped out at the end of my freshman year, to move to the big city of New York, to try and get myself a record deal.

I don't think I'll ever forget the stuff I said to my dad, or the stuff that he said to me. All I knew was that here I was now, alone and with barely enough money to support myself for a year. And you'd better believe that the money in my pocket had come straight from my own savings, which I worked for all through high school...no, this wasn't Daddy's money.

But now I wondered if my parents would ever even talk to me again. I had no phone...but even if I did, I was sure they wouldn't want the number.

But it was just another motivation to help me along. Maybe when I had proven successful, they wouldn't be so angry at my former shortcomings as a son.

I set the picture back down, letting out a soft sigh as I stood up, brushing the wrinkles out of my pants and reaching for the guitar once more.

As long as I could remember, I'd wanted to be a big rockstar. And even though the title was extremely cliched now, I still wanted to be famous, and make music that would ring in people's ears long after I had gone.

That dream had been on hold for so long. But after a year of college, I just knew that school wasn't for me. My calling was in music. It was my one true love...probably the only thing that got me through a boring four years of high school.

Now I had high hopes. I didn't want to get them too high, or let my ego explode, because that wouldn't help anything. I had to try and keep a level, practical head, make the right decisions...do nothing to jeopardize my career.

Plus, it wasn't as if I could just sit around and wait for my career to take off. I had to stay level-headed, because I had to support myself.

Just because my parents were well-off, didn't mean that I was feeling the benefits of it. As I'd said before, they weren't even speaking to me. So that left me no choice but to work...and probably more than one job.

Luckily for me, I already had one...and a prospect for another. They were at pretty cool places, places that I felt would get me a good idea of the city. I had to head down later, to see if they wanted me at the record store. Plus, today was my first day at the pizza parlor.

But that wasn't for another couple of hours. And before that, I planned on playing my guitar, taking a shower, and maybe setting up the TV.

Dipping my hand into my pocket, I pulled out the well-worn pick that I'd used since day one. It was only too appropriate to be using it now, when I was just beginning a new and very important phase in my life.

I sat on the edge of the sill, taking a moment to stare out at a cloudless sky, and the slightly dingy buildings that made up the city.

I let my eyes travel down to the strings of my guitar, gently letting my pick elicit a creamy noise from its hollow.

Moving to the city might prove to be the best thing to inspire and move me up on the ladder...but it was going to be hard work.

I just hoped I was ready for the challenge of living on my own, and that I wouldn't do as my parents predicted, and fail miserably and having to come crawling back home.

I was determined, and I could only hope that that was enough.