Kristopher

The brunette boy hates humanity – every piece of breathing filth around him. He can still feel those judgmental eyes on him; he can still feel them watching. And, what's worse, he actually sinks further behind his friends, embarrassingly self conscious. As he walks, with his hands stuffed deeply in his jean pockets, he realizes he doesn't understand any of them. His friends were alien to him, his acquaintances almost non-existent to him. He doesn't understand, he can't understand, he mustn't' understand.

He isn't like any of them.
He doesn't relate to any of them.
He doesn't know them.

Kris mumbles something inaudibly to himself, unsure of his movements and the lingering eyes set on him. He's unsure of his new rising fame – the fame that he undoubtedly won from his recent activities. Just thinking of that fame – and the fame to come – makes his knickers get in a twist. It makes him nauseous and he suddenly stops, kneels down, and puts his hands on his head. Of course, he doesn't go unnoticed by those people – the aliens he calls friends.

"Whoa, buddy – you alright?"

He doesn't know and once again, he's unsure. He doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know how to respond – he just doesn't know. He's aware, but he's not. He's aware of the crowds circling him and the aliens' questioning him, but, he doesn't hear them – they're only murmurs in his mind. His jaw tightens and he becomes aware of the throb above his right eye – it's something he can't ignore.

For a second, he just sits there, his head in his hands and his eyes tightly shut. But, as the few seconds pass, he becomes fully aware of the crowd around him.

He nods and he realizes that he must play it cool.
"It's nothing, just a dizzy spell." And he's beginning to wonder when it'll stop.

Once he opens his eyes, he becomes alert of the aliens near him and he feels the anxiety clawing at his stomach. Fortunately with red head's help, he stands up and walks away.

He's well aware of the flashing lights behind him and the constant noise starting to fade. And, after that, everything goes back to normal – the aliens in front with the dog trailing behind. Still, the aching doesn't disperse above his eye and he knows that a migraine is coming.

He's pained once they approach the mansion when night falls. He doesn't understand, he doesn't understand, I don't understand. Of course, he perfectly understood before – before all of this fame – and he wonders if he's suddenly gone retarded.

Once through the doors, he immediately ditches the group and escapes up the stairs, clearly heading to his shared room. Though, unknown to him – the silly little boy is much too focused on his pain – his absence doesn't go unnoticed.

He walks into the shared bathroom – he shares it with that Lambert boy – and stares at himself. His usually lightened eyes are saggy and his perfectly pink lips are twisted in frustration. Is it that hard to think of a simple answer to a simple question? He scowls and begins to think to himself aloud, trying to comfort himself.

"God Allen, you're such a moron."

But, he can't. He doesn't understand anybody – even his family. He starts to realize that maybe he's the alien and they're the dogs, and maybe he doesn't fit in the equation. He starts to wonder if God's laughing at him. He grins, a wiry and worn out grin, but a grin nevertheless, Hah, so this is why I'm here, huh, big guy? And, he suddenly becomes aware of the knots in his stomach, the saliva in his throat. He feels anger and pain all at once and he can't help but cry.

He can't help it; he makes a choking noise, as if he isn't breathing anymore. His eyes become red from crying and his nose starts to run. He doesn't know why, I don't know why. and, just like before, he realizes that he's useless. The pain and the anger is enough to make him stop and feel the knots roll in his stomach.

The boy is suffering.

He tries not to think of the pain, tries to overcome the anger inside, but all he can do is make a sound – resembling a squeak – and sit down on the toilet. This can't happen to him, he can't do this. He can't do this to his ma or to his pa, he can't do this to his hometown friends, and what will his beautiful Katy think? He closes his eyes once again and tries to forget about his insecurities, yet, he can still feel the hollow holes inside his stomach.

And, at that moment, he can imagine God laughing. He is just a boy, after all.