hater ⇔ c.h.

ten; when i see you again

The three boys who continued to laugh followed in pursuit of their friend. Everything went silent as they watched me curiously.

What the hell is going on.

The boy with curly hair eyed his friend suspiciously. The one who I recognized clearly just stared at me and looked as if he was trying to say something but couldn't find the words.

I couldn't quite wrap my mind around it either.

His band is the one who sold out the arena within twenty four hours. He offered tickets to this show.

I recognized their faces as soon as I examined them more closely.

Now I feel even worse; I probably should have known them and I'm assuming that they are very well known around the world.

"Um," the boy with the blonde quiff cleared his throat. "Are you-"

"I'll be right back," I interjected quickly, hoping to escape because I clearly wasn't ready for anything of this sort. I dashed out of the room and collapsed on a nearby water fountain, leaning on it and trying to stay calm.

It had to be his band, didn't it?

It could have been any other band in the world, but no. It had to be the stupid stranger in the alleyway's god damn band.

Why do these things always happen to me? I never did anything wrong. Well, I tried to sneak into a stadium the other night, but I work here. It's technically not breaking in.

I wasn't prepared for a random high-end band who's name I didn't even know, how do I continue on with something like this?

"Dammit-ow, dammit-ow, dammit-fuck, that hurts." I began repeatedly hitting my head off of the wall, once again feeling confused and worried and not understanding what is ever going on in my life.

What the hell am I going to say?

Hi, my name is Tegan and your friend here is the reason for my face looking like a black whole of I-don't-even-know.

Because that will go over greatly with my boss.

The only option I really have is to go on with this band as a professional. Pretend I have never seen any of them in my life and keep things strictly business. How hard can it be?

I ran a shaky hand through my hair and took a deep breath, my eyes closed in frustration.

"Come on now, Tegan. You got this-we got this." The pep talk I gave myself sounded like I was preparing for some sort of sporting event. Dealing with celebrities and bands should be a sport.

I would loose that game.

I pushed myself off of the wall and walked back to the stage door, peeking timidly into the room.

The four boys were standing around in a circle, talking to each other in hushed voices. "Do you know that girl?" said the boy with black hair to the boy I knew all too well. "Nope. Never seen her in my life." They all rolled their eyes at him; something I wish I could do without fainting.

I walked in awkwardly and they all turned around.

Standing to the far left was a guy with a blonde quiff and baby blue eyes. Next to him was the one with curly blonde hair and very, very noticeable dimples. He was checking me out. Then it was the boy with black hair and matching black attire. At the end was him. The tanned boy with brown eyes, who stared at me with such worry and concern it made it obvious we weren't complete strangers. They all wore band shirts and ripped skinny jeans; all very tall and very attractive. Two of them even had black and white Chuck Taylor's. It's when I looked down at my own attire that I realized we were all basically matching.