The Grean Household

34: The End of Something Great

Sammy adored the attention he got as a 12-year-old playing in a band run by a 16-year-old. It was hilarious to him, even more so when he managed to get more solos than the older boys got. Connor always seemed to have him as first pick for everything, which always flattered him. Though, Sammy always shot down the thought of ever trying to love Connor more than he already did, almost always feeling a little guilty for having a crush on a straight boy.

He became the equivalent of a celebrity at his school, girls always sitting next to him, asking when he'd perform again. Some even got crazy and asked him to sign papers for them. Sammy would often decline, excusing his dismissal as his inability to craft a stable signature- he just didn't want to do it.

Sammy found himself squeezing through crowds, feeling uncomfortable as people touched him. It started to drive him crazy, suddenly becoming short tempered as more hands started to graze up against his arms and chest. The girls in his grade were seemingly lining up to talk to him, to which he would practically cower behind his sister, hoping they'd go away. Willow would tease him, poking at his shoulder.

  You have a whole fanbase. Sammy would grumble gently at the comment.

  Yeah, I didn't want one though. 

Willow seemed to notice how much it bothered him and stopped her teasing, hoping that he'd keep coming to her as a safe space to escape his new fans. Sammy liked the fame, but he didn't like what came with it. Girls offering their numbers, staring at him as if he were a prey and they were the hungry predators. They'd flaunt anything they had, hoping to catch his eye, but Sammy would often look the other way. 

Maybe it was the memories that popped up when unknown people touched him without him fully being okay with it. It made him shake, made everything in his brain go haywire with alerts as he passed through the hallways. Sammy began to run in between classes, hoping not to get caught in the traffic, but no matter where he went, they all seemed to get to him. It began a short road to his thin patience.

Sammy felt horrible for feeling angry all the time, even when he tried to calm himself in the safe presence of his sister. But that soon became a hostility-inducing space when she suddenly started "dating" the guy Sammy knew had the hots for her: Michael Marshell. 

"A sanctimonious dickhead" as Sammy would describe him. 

It was the middle of the periods changing and Sammy was still trying to avoid the extra unwanted touches, quickly dashing through the hallways. That was before a rush of people came and crashed into him. Sammy hid his face in his hood, dipping his head in his shoulders, quickly pushing through people. Suddenly, a voice stopped him. 

"Why you hidin'?" Sammy's patience withered exponentially at the sound of his voice. 

"I don't need to explain it to you." He said flatly, trying to move past. There was a sudden force on his collarbone, drawing a shiver from him.

 "What's that mean?" Sammy pushed Michael's grip from his collarbone, groaning gently. 

"It's pretty self-explanatory. Move, I have to get to class." Michael's touch was back, this time lower, right on his sternum. Something was beginning to crack in Sammy. Muscle memory of vicious fighting started to pool adrenaline into his bones, lubricating his joints for fast movement. 

"Why are you so weird?" Sammy's hands were quick and he slapped Michael's grip down, looking at him right in his eyes.

 "Don't touch me." He said firmly. Sammy tried to walk through.

"Is it because all these girls like you?" He held his breath, trying not to let the coil of whatever was keeping an unknown emotion contained snap. 

"I don't have to explain it to you, Michael. Move." Sammy shoved his shoulder through. Freedom was within reach, his feet briskly carrying him to where he yearned to be.