Kristopher

The boy lies to get out of things. He lies to his mother, to his father, to his friends, and even, surprisingly enough, his Katy. Kris can't help but guilt over it; he can't help but focus on how dirty he is. In his chocolate eyes, he finds himself ugly and irritating.

He hurts others, his friends, his ma and pa, his Katy, even his dog. And for what? Nothing, that's what, he doesn't know why and he's not exactly sure he cares enough to know why.

Teeth nibble tongue and hands smooth down pants. He's nervous, that's apparent, with his constant wobbling and fidgeting. He can't help it and he feels as if the whole street is looking at him, pointing out his flaws and bad acne scars – that are usually hidden – on his face. He starts to fidget more. He knows it's silly and knows it's trivial, yet, he can't stop. He feels sweat bead under his pits and undoubtedly knows that it'll leave a stain on his white shirt.

"Kris, dude, calm down."

And he hears someone – he doesn't care to know who – mention to him, probably noticing his nervous and skittish behavior. He sighs and tries to stop for appearance sake.

"Sorry." It just comes out as barely spoken, but he doesn't care. He looks down at the sidewalk as he continues to trot behind the three, sometimes looking up at them to make sure they don't walk ahead and leave him behind.

"I know you miss her, man, but you'll see her again."

He knows it's the redhead – the loudly unspoken girl that loved to know what is up with him. He sighs and stuffs his hands in his pocket. He wishes to be alone, but doesn't want to be rude. He hates this town and his friends and people in general. He even dares to admit that he hates himself.

What the hell do you know, pig head?

"Nah, I'm fine," he smiles for their sake, for his sake. He doesn't need the questions, the concern, the sympathy. He doesn't need it. He doesn't need them. And, for the time being, he thinks he needs only himself, he wants to be alone, and he continues lying when said redhead looks at him, "Honest,” he tries to smile, he doubts it's believable though.

As he continues staring at the back of their heads, he feels urges that he shouldn't. Something like fury, and maybe even a little envy too. He knows he doesn't like these feelings - he feels as though he wants to tear their heads off and stuff them in the closest trash can. He needs to calm down, he wants to calm down, that's for sure. If Katy were here, what would she think? What would her expression be; sadness, sympathy, disgust, disappointment? All these emotions run through his head, right through his left ear and out his right. He can't even notice when someone bumps shoulders with him, he doesn't even mutter a sorry.

“Watch it buddy.”

That's about when he finally snaps out of this damn haze and looks up with a jerk, “What the hell was that?” And they stared at him like he's grown a huge nose - no they stare at him as if he were the devil himself.

“What?”

And they just stare and stare. Kris wonders if he did really grow a huge nose - he even touches it with his hand.

“Nothing, let's just go,” Danny says making him frown and mutter another 'what the hell' to himself before trailing on behind them.

“Hey buddy,” and just like that, Lambert is next to him, grinning down at him, “so, when this is over, I say we should all get together and have a party.”

Kris glances up at him - Lambert was by far taller than him - and smiled, though it was only an attempt of one, “Sure, sounds great.” Of course he's not sure, when Idol is over and depending on the results, if he wants to celebrate. As anyone can tell, Kris isn't the most outgoing and courageous of the mansion residents, he also isn't that pretty looking, either. Honestly, he doesn't see any reason as to why he is as far into the competition.

“Awesome,” Was all Lambert said before jogging up to catch the other two.

I'll make it, that's for sure.

Kris lies and like the rest of the times, this time isn't any different, but like always, he can't help it.