@empathists
his palms began to sweat the second the mc announced his name, guitar nearly slipping out of his hands as he made his way to the stage. all eyes were on him and he was shaking like a leaf. “uh, hi,” he spoke into the mic. “i’m asher. this is my first time at one of these things so... well, not my first time coming, but my first time performing. you know how it is.” he was rambling, and the audience was clearly tired of it judging by the bored looks on their faces. “anyway... this is called ice cream. i wrote it about a girl i knew. or, i guess i didn’t know her. but i wanted to. ok, i’ll start now, promise.” one last deep intake of breath before his fingers strum the first chord. the lyrics flow through him easily, as if he was born musically talented. it was going better than he ever imagined, that is until his gaze landed on the last person he’d expected to see there. his throat went dry, the words he was about to sing firmly stuck there. after a few moments of petrified stuttering, the boy muttered an apology into the mic before all but running off the stage and to the back door. once he was outside he set his guitar beside him, leaning over and resting his hands on his shaking knees. if he didn’t know any better, he’d think he was going to throw up, but instead his eyes became glassy with tears.