The Grean Household

33: The Stage

Sammy, if he was being honest, believed that talent shows were stupid. Though he couldn't complain now.

They practiced every day after school. At first, Henrik was skeptical, but was quickly okay with it once Sammy explained what he was doing. Every day, Sammy would listen to them argue about who was getting what. He soon learned that Connor was one of the oldest ones in their small band and was probably going to be the one to pick the solo for them. To Sammy's quick flattery, Connor chose him for the solo of the song they were covering.

Sammy was never the one for stage fright, rarely getting it. He was born without any anxiety in his body, and the fears he had now was inflicted by a monster he wasn't seeing anymore. 

It was about mid-November, this talent show being held as a final "fun day" activity for all grades before they went off on their breaks. Sammy was holding his guitar tight to his chest, foot tapping the floor to the sound of the metronome that was stuck inside his head. Despite his lack of anxiety, he began to feel it. It was eating him from the inside out, and only grew when he was near Connor.

When they practiced, Sammy would steal glances at him, noticing how he would put his entire body into playing the drums. His long hair would curl and get ratty as it flopped around. Sammy noticed how Connor would sweat each time, breathing heavily, drumming with passion yet keeping the beat the entire time. Sometimes, Sammy would lose the thought of the cords, too focused on discreetly staring at Connor. Though it felt like he was getting caught every time they ended the song, he never did.

They were filing onto the stage, guitars in hand, voices ready to be heard.

When Sammy told Willow about his show when it came to the school's pointless talent show, she was instantly on-board. 

I'm watching and cheering the loudest. Sammy shook his head, hiding his face in small embarrassment. 

Please don't-

It only got better for Willow when their father's interest suddenly piqued and he stopped taking a sip of his beverage. He asked Sammy to repeat what he explained to Willow to which he hesitantly did.

  Can parents come? Sammy wanted to withhold that information, though, a major part in him wanted his father to see what he fostered.

  I think, yeah. 

Now, he stood onto the stage, the people out in the crowd looking at them. Sammy felt the awkwardness settling into his bones. He was in the back, thankful to not start in the front. His eyes scanned the crowd. First, he found his sister's face, then he scanned through the parents. At last, before they started, Sammy spotted his father. As if they knew where to look, their eyes met. Henrik gave a small nod to which his son simply nodded back, taking a breath, fingers at his strings.

The opening of the practiced song was intense. Connor's drumming next to Sammy was echoing in his ears, almost keeping him in rhythm. The metronome was clicking in his mind, his body swaying with the nasty riff of the guitars combined. They played together, Sammy popping in when they sung as back-up vocals to the lead singer. The words were second nature to him temporarily. 

Sammy's eyes glanced to his right, noticing how Connor's sweat was beginning to drip below his brow, shorter hair still moving with the intense movement of his body. He was listening for his part, slowly making his way to the front. Sammy could feel eyes on him, though he didn't care. He was focused on how fast his fingers were moving and switching between the position of cords. Taking a breath, Sammy heard the part coming up. The part where his guitar would be the main thing vibrating out into the crowd, with the other two only being equivalent to background noise.

The nodding of his head was making his hair ratty, though Sammy couldn't care. It was a good thing, Sammy believed, that he grew it out. His fingers moved efficiently, smoothly, switching effortlessly through cords as his solo came out. Gasps from the crowd were able to make their way to his ears, but Sammy couldn't hear anything now. There was adrenaline rushing through his body, making him feel good to be the center of attention and to bring shock and amazement to people.

Sweat was dripping down his temples, his hair leaving his skin, eyes closed as he blew a strand out of his face. When he opened his eyes, his part continuing on into the next chorus, Sammy instantly notice that some of the girls were drawing closer to him. He looked to his sister in comfort, watching as she already began to clap, amazement in her expression. Sammy didn't move from his spot. He was mimicking what the other boys were doing, their body jolting and moving with the music as their stance supported their movements. Then, Sammy looked to the back of the room, meeting eyes with his father.

It was Henrik's expression that made it worth so much more. That proud expression, eyes crinkling with a smile as shock and amazement flowed through the way his eyes brightened whenever he watched his son strum the strings of his guitar.

The music was beginning to die down, Sammy slowly stopping his passionate strums against the strings, now slowing into a whisper of a vibration that eased them to the end of the song. He was breathing heavy, they all were. Sammy pulled his hair away from his face, small droplets of sweat on his temple and face. He looked winded, but maybe it was how he looked that made more girls get closer, cheer louder. Sammy and the rest of the band bowed. He gripped the neck of his guitar firmly, his breathing finally catching up to him, the adrenaline beginning to wear off, leaving him with the high of the performance.

As they left the stage, Connor tapped Sammy on the side of his arm. He looked back, seeing that Connor was grinning, offering a fist bump. Their skin met, a smile creeping to Sammy's face. 

"That was amazing man!" Connor said, his voice still muffled from the cheer in the gymnasium. 

"Thanks," Sammy grinned, suddenly feeling confident in his high of performance.

He packed up his guitar, quickly going to the bathroom to wash up his face. There was a determination and a crazy idea that was coming to his mind. It was so crazy that Sammy thought it should come true. So crazy that it made his heart flutter and his stomach do backflips.

Sammy came out of the bathroom, going to fetch his guitar before he looked down the hallway. Leaning against the wall was Connor, and a girl was in front of him. Her blonde hair tied back, revealing the look of appreciation. Sammy paused, feeling suddenly awkward, watching as Connor seemed a smiling mess in her presence- in Willow's presence.

He began to hide himself behind the wall, looking down the hallway secretly, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him. Sammy couldn't hear them, but he could see them. Could see how Connor nervously touched his hands, how he gulped and tried to talk with a seemingly dry mouth. Sammy straightened, back to the wall. He stared straight ahead, suddenly breathing heavily. First it was disappointment, then jealousy, then nothing at all. 

It began to dawn on him. Looking down at his scarred hands, Sammy wondered if that feeling, the feeling of his heart speeding up and his brain malfunctioning at the sight of him, was something he rarely experienced. It seemed little and insignificant, almost laughable. To double check, Sammy glanced back down the corridor. He watched Willow touch Connor's hand, to which, Sammy could see, he went red in the face. That was enough for him and he straightened against the wall again.

Fuck-! Sammy thought. There was no anger, not even at his sister, nor Connor. It was just disappointment, though it wasn't aimed at anybody. It was an odd feeling-a sudden realization that Sammy failed to realize sooner. 

Fuck... He wanted to slide down the wall and sit, but the adrenaline in his body kept his legs strong. Now, it seemed obvious to him. Connor never looked at him the way Sammy stared. It became painfully obvious for Sammy, and he let his head hit the wall, huffing. So painfully obvious, though it didn't necessarily bother him.

Sammy just knew that not everyone was like him, and he was willing to accept that.