Shane's PoV
I used to hate myself. That wasn't a secret. I used to absolutely disgust myself. I hated my face, my hair, my figure, my clothes, my glasses, my personality, my voice, my sexuality; everything. I used to sit alone thinking deeply about who I was in reality compared to who I wished to be. Thinking about it, who I wanted to be was the complete opposite of who I am. I wanted to be taller, slimmer, more confident, a darker hair colour, and the ability to see without the assistance of glasses, happy. I wanted to change for you.
We had known each other since we were children. I remember my first day of secondary school; I walked into my form class a bundle of nerves, completely uncomfortable with the entire situation. Unfortunately, the teacher put us in alphabetical order and we had to flail around the room quickly in search for the card placed on the desk with our surnames on. Mine was at the end of the row, one before yours. 'S.Sumner', the card read in a only near-readable scribble. I heard you sit behind me, dumping your bag carelessly on the table as you fell into the chair. You must have been swinging your legs under the table or something because I felt a harsh kick to my back making me jump and turn around towards the source. There you were; blond hair with a long fringe swept across your forehead, wide eyes glistening with the same amount of fear in them as I possessed, a small hand - black nail polish painted on each fingernail - covering your mouth as you stared at me.
"Sorry!" You squeaked out, slowly removing your hand from your face once realising I didn't seem angry.
"I-It's fine." I replied in the same tone, noting the small chuckle you made as you realized we were both as awkward as each other. I wanted to speak to you more but nerves got the better of me and in all honesty, I didn't know what to say that could possibly start a conversation in which both of us would be interested in... So I turned back around, and didn't turn back until three years later.
I had managed to befriend two other people; Laurence Beveridge and Kier Kemp. I met them in two different lessons a few months into studying for our final exams. Laurence was an English 'nerd' who helped me annotate my copy of John Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men when I missed a few lessons due to a family holiday. Kier, on the other hand, accidentally set fire to my shirt sleeve in a science practical exam; To this day I had no idea how, he wasn't even my partner for the assignment but he was kind enough to put it out for me using his bottle of water while screaming. He was also kind enough to take me to the nurse's office after for 'minor burn injuries'. I remember thinking how odd the guy was, not in a mean way, just the way he dealt with what was obviously an awkward situation for the both of us. When I felt out of place I kept myself quiet, silently assessing the situation and wishing I wasn't alive at that precise moment in time. Kier however, was a nervous talker. I remember that no matter how many times I told him that it was fine and accepted his apology, he wouldn't shut up. After a while he stopped screaming apologies and started talking about - now formally known as - his "Krazy ideas"; the 'K' intentional. At that time in his life Kier Kemp could only dream of being a frontman for a rock band, and unsurprisingly, Laurence had a similar dream; We'd spoke a bit about our future in class together. It turned out that those two knew each other; in fact they were the closest people i had ever met. They met when they were in primary school, a similar meeting to Kier and I's in fact. Except it involved a pot of bright red paint and Laurence's brand new marvel trainers. Again, I didn't want to know.
Anyway, Kier and I got talking about his dream. At that time mine wasn't to be a famous guitarist and travel the world proving to people that I had the ability to make something of my own; it was to be an artist, but only the type to have their pieces in rundown coffee shops or bars. The thought of being any more well-known than that terrified me. However, guitar was something that I did whenever a sketchbook wasn't in my hand; it was just a hobby that I didn't really enjoy much because I wasn't good at it. Art was something I felt comfortable doing, I felt confident in my work and my grades said the same. I was talented in drawing, not performing. However, something we've all learnt nowadays, Kier didn't listen. Claiming how he "must hear you play, dude! I bet you're awesome!". When Kier had a plan in mind, no amount of furiously shaking my head or mumbling disagreement would stop him. I had to bring my father's old guitar to school the next day and meet Kier and Laurence in the music room at 3:30pm after school to play for them and see if I was good enough for their 'band'...which I believed would only result in humiliation.
