don't stop believing - [isabella//tattletale]

The fact that Christian Barrow has walked up these corridors for what seems now to be almost every single day of his life with the rushing of voices and the bustling of schoolbags and shoes as they scuffle across the cold, linoleum floors never eases his jittering, conscious mind. You would think that day after day of the same goddamn routine would make you feel a little less uncomfortable. But if you'd ask Christian, he'd tell you that you were so, so wrong. He'd grown up around these kids. Their friends. Their families. Day after day after day, passing in white-walled halls to reach white-walled rooms. To lunch and to home and, in this case, school. But he'd grown up around the stares and the mocking laughter and the constant, subtle bullying. One day they'd end up working for him, anyway. At least Christian's opportunities were higher than dumping kids in District Thirteen's rubbish rooms for a career. He'll be a star, in Thirteen and beyond - singing and dancing and performing until he dropped whilst they all picked themselves off their lousy ground of incomplete school assignments and wasted potential. Elbows and the floor and grazes and plasters were all school was to him at one point. Picking himself up and dusting down his clothes because 'this was from the new collection, you ignorant assholes' and the last thing he wanted to do was have his clothes ruined. Blood is hard to wash out of velvet, after all.

And then he found the stage. The stage, the glorious stage, where music and dancing and the tap, tap, tap of shoes in time to the beat of the music unfolded and replaced the glares and aching bones and sneers. He could be whoever he wanted to be. Transform from his shell to himself, his real self, and beyond. Sing to his hearts content, until his throat burned and stretched and ached. Dance until he got blisters on his blisters and toes that felt permanently trapped in patent leather shoes that of course matched the rest of his outfit. No-one could judge him. He was unstoppable.

From stages and lights came Glee Club. Of course, the moment sign-ups were pinned up on the pitiful school noticeboard, Christian had his name up there before you could say slushie. And even now, on his way to that very same club meeting, Christian hates the way people push and shove and oh my god move out of the way. Of course, he was born to perform. Born to shine. Even if he couldn't get his rightfully deserved spotlight place in the dusty rooms of Thirteen just yet, at least he was getting somewhere.

It was a little hard to concentrate at times in Glee. What with Abril's constant butting-in and Kaelen's never-ending insults,often he could not stand being in the same room with them all. The only friend he had in here was Isabella, his small but fiercely loyal companion. Time after time, Christian had to keep on reminding himself that the time here would pay off. Someday, he'd look back and be thankful he sat here in this not-so-comfortable seat and tapped his foot in mid-air, wanting more. More and more often it felt like 'someday' seemed to creep further and further away from him with every passing day.

The sound of his name brought the teen back to reality, sucking him out of a wandering thought. Snapping up with a blink of his eye and a subtle adjust of his jacket, the bunch of kids erupted into murmurs and scrapes of chairs. Mind a little fuzzy, he turned to Isabella and smiled with a raise of his eyebrows. "Not going to lie, I completely zoned out of whatever Wheaton was saying. What are we doing?" he asked half-heartedly. If he couldn't even be respected with the rest of his classmates, then how on Earth was fame supposed to earn that? Christian Barrow was a star, and it was beginning to feel like he'd never achieve that in the shiny underground ruins, locked away for safekeeping.