Wallflower [H.S.]

chapter two

HARRY

Today is one of those days that I have to remind myself to breathe. I never properly learned how to control my emotions, let alone how to calm my nerves. Most nights when I felt anxious, I would put in a cassette tape and stare at the blank ceiling, allowing the tunes to consume my worries only to move on after the song ended. This time it is significantly different for many reasons. I have wanted to be a performer my entire life, for someone to finally hear me and see me and maybe even like what I was doing. No one told me that it might be one of my biggest fears. After months of performing in a small garage, it felt as though all of the hard work was paying off, in the most frightful way.

"H, you ready, man? We're on in like ten." I heard Lenny's voice sound from beside me, jolting me out of the anxiety-induced trance.

I nod slowly, unaware of the superficial wounds I had caused by clenching fists so tight that my fingernails broke the rough skin on my palms. My hands were unusually clammy and shaking involuntarily, I felt as if I were suffocating. After singing so confidently in front of my bandmates, I had not prepared myself for the mass audience in Lincoln Town Square tonight. The annual Battle of the Bands contest, where every rebellious teen and rock music enthusiast within a hundred-mile radius came together to watch a bunch of mediocre bands perform in hopes to be something big one day. Nine other bands were performing against us, and I had never felt so out of place. My usual cocky behavior quickly changed to pure insecurity as I watched the confidence and talent radiating off other contestants.

"You look like shit, H. What's going on, man?" Lenny questions, peering over at me with a cigarette sat between his lips as we stood under the shelter that covered the stage and backstage area.

"I'm fuckin' nervous," I admit.

Lenny suddenly bursts into a loud fit of laughter, throwing his arm over my shoulders and squeezing me a little too hard. "Harry Styles? Nervous? Did you do too many lines in the bathroom, man? You're talking mad." He continues to laugh.

I send him an eye roll, trying to hide the grin that had snuck upon my face. Lenny always had a way to joke about any situation, whether it was the right time or not, he didn't care. That's why we got along as well as we did, I cared too much, yet acted like the stuck-up prick I am, and he had never given a shit about what anyone thought but was always there when you needed him.

"Have you guys seen Ace? I'm 'gonna fuckin' kill him." Drew suddenly appeared, his Australian accent thick and low as he scanned all around us.

"We have to go on stage in minutes," I gape, joining Drew as I scanned around.

"Found him," Lenny says, his arms crossed over his chest and staring off into the distance.

Drew and I both furrow our brows and turn to where he was looking, and there he was. Ace Sawyer doing what he did best, mess around with women. I couldn't help but shake my head as a chuckle escapes my breath. Ace stood, hovering over a beautiful girl with long blonde hair as she stood with her back pressed against the side of a building, gleaming up at him and tugging on the hem of his black leather jacket.