• Saine entered the room, it was crowded but not full. But he didn't expect it, he wasn't very good. They were probably all there for the first band, something like that. He pushed through a group of girls who giggled stupidly when he was momentarily circled by them, He rolled his eyes accordingly.

    As he made his way to the bar he could see the stage more clearly. His nerves came faster. He ordered a coke, still underage and not interested in intoxicants even if he weren't. He drank it slowly, hoping if he did he could relax a bit. His try was unsuccessful as he saw a scrawny man with a beard, who seemed to have a different drink choice than Saine, come his way.

    "You the solo act?" he asked gruffly.

    "Hmmm," Saine replied, quietly.

    He lifted himself from the stool and, holding tightly to the nylon strap of his acoustic guitar, he dodged through the crowed again, to the stage. He stepped up the stairs to the microphone. It was directly in the center of the small black area.

    He stood there, surveying the crowed. He was their guest. He was the guest and they were all his hosts, if that's how you see it. It could be the other way, put them in the shoes of the out of place. They all looked pretty lost to him.

    He was becoming uneasy, he was supposed to sing to them, to play to them, share with them himself. His words were not abstruse, everyone went through things. Every person in the room could probably 'relate' in some way to him. They didn't know him, however, and that's what he feared. His words would be judged by every sober person in the place.

    A boy, no older than 16 who was playing his role as 'hardcore kid' well enough, shouted from the back of the room. This was Saine's cue to begin.

    He tried to think of something witty to announce himself to the audience, be he failed.

    "I'm, uh, Saine. So… Here." He began strumming. First slowly, then more rapid. His heart beat each time a finger touched a string. He sung. His voice raspy and full of anguish. He remembered what his words were for. Who they represented and how much pain they had brought to him in the past.

    He had no reason to hold onto it but he had no way to leave it. They were there to stay, no longer a prediction but a realization. He had been caught in something he hadn't prepared for.

    From the moment the other boy had entered the picture he had nothing left to say. His voice cracked and he couldn't speak. Everything to him was foreign and unintentional. Saine had stuttered his words. He had let everyone know everything. More than he'd ever wanted to. He had told them all, his family, friends, teachers, mentors. He had let them know his feelings, when he knew they should have stayed tucked inside of him. It ruined him. Up until a year ago Saine had been an honor student, a drama geek, a band nerd. He had friends and was content. But when Oliver came to school it all changed. He knew what he felt, the moment he saw him. Like Saine was now Oliver was simply a guest. The school, the town, the people were Saine's turf, Oliver was trudging on his dirt. But Saine was okay with that. He was glad to show Oliver around. Too glad, he had begun to think a week into it.

    It was a long time ago. Not a long time ago, but enough that it was the past. Saine Eriks had fallen in what he had hoped never to succumb to. He had fallen in love, with a boy. A boy who did not feel the same way. A boy that told everyone when Saine told him. A boy that Saine was wrong about. A boy that Saine had ruined his life for.

    And now he sung to his hosts, telling them all the story of his fall. They wouldn't be able to comprehend it though.

    He said "The smile faded and he laughed me away". They translated as him being bullied. He growled "Far to close to over and nothing was changed, he mocked". They smiled at the persistence of the intimidator.

    He, Saine, was becoming agitated as the mob grinned at his loneliness. He loathed the way they laughed amongst each other. He sang louder, guitar rift becoming more poignant. It held no effect on them.

    Saine grabbed tightly to his shagged hair, letting go of his instrument and thrashing himself from side to side. He moaned in frustration. Why don't they understand. He asked himself. Why am I so different. Inside he was yelling. Aren't they supposed to be courteous? Supposed to welcome their visitor with understanding? The room had gone silent. Everyone around was paying direct attention to the peculiar newcomer onstage. He didn't notice though. He was in a fit. He now knocked the mic. stand aside, it fell with a thud to the floor beside him. He stumbled, hands still holding his face tightly, he fell foreword off the stage. His guitar pressed him between itself and the hard cement beneath him. He felt a drop of blood on his head, a result of the fall no doubt, but he did nothing.

    He lay there. Quiet. Done with caring, done with Oliver done with these people. Here he was to start new. When he got up he would leave. He wouldn't look back. He'd leave this party early, ignoring customs, and go on to better things. Screw all the people who were skeptical of him now. If they didn't see him because of his feelings then he didn't want to see them. The world was now his host, and he was no longer a guest, but a permanent fixture.

    He eased up now, first to his knees, then to his feet. He stood and wiped the blood from his forehead, then began to exit. He smiled as people stared.