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You were standing against the wall towards the front of the stage, cranberry and vodka clutched slackly in your left hand as you swayed, eyes closed. You were close to the stage, maybe one a couple feet from the band, but you were careful to keep away from the pit for fear of getting swallowed in a sea of people. Their set had been going on for about a half of an hour now, and you were finally lost in the music. You had been anxious, shaking and asking yourself ‘what the hell am I doing?’ over and over again in the beginning. You were conquering one of your major fears; alone and vulnerable, two hours away from home. After breaking up with your boyfriend of two years, you vowed to get out there, to experience things and stop letting your anxieties hold you back. It was hard, really hard, and it took thirty minutes of meditation and deep breathing in your car before you could ready yourself to even enter the building. But finally, you felt at home as you let the lyrics to “I’ll let you down” chase away your uncertainties. You knew you were safe among your peers now, knew that you had common ground and a shared love for the music. As the song came to a close, you opened your eyes, gazing up at the band with an almost drunk grin though you had only had two drinks. Frank was scanning the crowd, throwing bottles of water to fans in the pit and handing guitar picks to those in the front row. He smiled at a few people and brushed a few hands as his eyes skimmed from left to right before settling on yours. It took you by surprise at first, instantly wiping the smile off of your face with self-consciousness, but Frank only smiled wider at you before holding out you pick and winking at you. He fucking winked at you. You felt your face flush red as you carefully took the pick from his hand, fingers touching for just a moment. And then Frank was back standing straight, wiping the sweat from his forehead and announcing that there would be four songs left in their set. Everyone groaned, but you just closed your eyes, the smile back to lighting up your face, and waited for the music to start again.
When the band had left the stage and Frank announced that they would be taking a few minutes to collect themselves and then would be in the front to meet fans and sign autographs, you were back to being full of unease again. The lights were on, too bright and too revealing as you searched the crowd behind you. There were so many people, too many people. The venue was small, could only hold about four hundred or so, but to you that was far too many. You finished off your drink and walked warily behind the mound of people that were lining up to meet the band. You couldn’t chicken out now; you couldn’t just leave, even though you briefly considered it. You had brought your Parachutes vinyl for Frank to sign and even your original painting of Sweat Pea that Frank had ‘liked’ and said was ‘Rad RT’ on twitter. You had spent hours on it, perfecting it, before tweeting a snapshot of it to Frank. You didn’t expect him to notice it, but he did, and so you brought it as a gift tonight. You stood towards the back of the line, prepared for a long wait, and hoped that Frank would still be willing to see fans after he got through a hundred or so people. That was possibly the only downfall to being in the very front row; the entrance was farthest from you.
So, you waited. Your phone died about 15 minutes into standing in line, and you were frustrated that not only did you not have a distraction anymore, but now you couldn’t even take a picture with Frank when you got up there. I guess that was the price you paid for taking 8 videos and countless amounts of pictures. Oh well, a signature and a hug would be more than enough for you, not to mention the satisfaction of knowing you did this all on your own. You finally got in view of Frank sometime near midnight, and you watched as the people in front of you, one by one walked up to him giddily and had their albums signed. He looked tired, but he gave everyone a genuine smile and didn’t rush them as they took a picture and said their thank-yous’. Finally, it was your turn, and you smiled at him happily as you walked up to him. He shot you a toothy grin as you stood in front of him, something like recognition in his eyes, and that made your heart flutter in a way you couldn’t describe. You were meeting an idol of yours, in person, in front of you. Even exhausted and sweaty still, in stained loose clothes and bags under his eyes, he looked fucking beautiful. For so many years, the music he had created comforted you and empowered you more times than you could count. My Chemical Romance fulfilled your teenage angst and made you feel at home, Leathermouth made you feel strong and angry, Death Spells made you happy and energetic, and the Patience made you feel grateful and calm. How could you ask anything more of him? He had already done so much for you without even knowing it and here you were, handing him a record to sign when he was exhausted and likely just wanted to go home. Suddenly you felt guilty and you bit your bottom lip, face dropping slightly as you approached him, and Frank noticed. He placed a hand on your shoulder and asked if you were ok before even saying hello. “I am.” You answered confidently, though your eyes betrayed you as you looked towards the floor. Your anxiety was back in full swing, making you feel inadequate and completely self-conscious. But, Frank took his time. He took the album and painting from your hand carefully and placed them on the table in front of him before stepping just an inch or two closer. “What’s your name?” He asked, smiling sweetly at you. “READER” you replied shyly, chancing a glance back up to his face. He locked eyes with you again, before clutching at the painting you handed him. “This is so fucking good.” He grinned, tracing gentle fingers over the paint strokes. “Yeah?” You couldn’t help but probe eagerly. “It really is, READER. You tweeted this to me a few months back, right?” He asked, eyes still scanning the picture. You were taken aback, you couldn’t believe he remembered. He remembered the painting, he remembered you. “I did.” You said through a wide smile, unable to hide your glee. A moment or two passed of Frank looking at the picture and you started to grow apprehensive again just before Frank shot you that heart melting smile once more. You hadn’t neglected to notice that he seemed to be taking an extra-long time, and had yet to sign your record. You couldn’t see it, but you could practically feel other people getting impatient behind you, their eyes boring into the back of your skull. “Did you want to take a picture?” He asked finally, putting his arm around you. You stuttered a bit before sighing “Actually, I don’t have anyone here to take one, and my phone died anyway.” You laughed nervously. Frank smiled thoughtfully before looking over your shoulder at the remainder of the line behind you. “Tell you what.” He supposed. “Do you have anywhere you need to be or can you stay for a bit longer?” He asked with a cocked eyebrow. “I…uh…I can stay a while.” You choked out quickly. Frank waved an arm for one of the security guards to come over. He picked up your album and signed it quickly with an ‘xoxofnk’ at the bottom and your heart did that flippy thing again. You assumed he was going to hand it back to you and you extended your hand, but he ignored it and put it under the table instead. You looked at him confusedly and he grinned cheekily at you in turn. “Collateral” he said with a smirk. He then whispered something into the security guards ear, which apparently was entirely unexpected as the guard shot him an unreadable look before asking “are you sure?” Frank nodded swiftly before waving him off. The guard shrugged and turned to you “follow me” he commanded, and you did so eagerly, waving at Frank as you walked away.
He led you down the hallway of the venue and into a backroom. Inside there were two couches, a television, tables with filled ashtrays and guitar cases lining the walls. “Wait here, Frank will be back in a little bit. Don’t touch any of the gear.” The guard commanded with a pointed finger, clearly irritated with babysitting duty. You sat stiffly on the smaller of the two couches, crossing your legs. You nodded, but had second thoughts right as the guard opened the door to leave. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way Frank winked at you during the set, and the way he seemed to spend just a little extra time with you. You were flattered, truly, but hesitant. Did he do this with a lot of people? Make them feel special and interesting only to string them a long? What about Jamia? You hadn’t seen her tonight even though the show is in Jersey City, as close to their home as possible. You couldn’t help but second guess what was going on here. What if he was one of those celebrities who just did whatever they wanted, fucked whoever they wanted, hurt people for shits and giggles. You couldn’t imagine Frank being that way, but…“wait!” you yelled before the guard could leave through the door. He turned around and made a grumbling noise, prompting you to continue. “Does, uh…does Frank do this often?” You continued timidly. He laughed and pinched the bridge of his nose before sighing. “Kid, I’ve been touring with Frank for eleven years.” He replied and you swallowed hard, anticipating the answer to be something along the lines of ‘and it’s a new person every night.’ but that answer never came “and I have never seen him do this. Ever.” He said simply before disappearing out of the room, leaving you in a hopeless, blushing mess on the couch.
You must have pulled out your phone hoping occupy your racing mind about five times, forgetting each time that it was dead. So, instead you stared around the room, taking in the surroundings, the gear that was littered around the room nonchalantly. You presumed that perhaps that guard was telling the truth. You doubted that the band, namely Frank, would leave valuable equipment lying around if he knew he was going to have a random stranger alone with it for who knows how long. Because your phone was dead, you had no clue how much time had passed. You were thinking it was probably something along the lines of 20 minutes or so when the doorknob twisted and clicked open. You quickly stood, straightening out your shirt and plastering a smile on your face to greet, hopefully, Frank. “Hey.” Frank said with a smile, stepping into view. The security guard was close behind him, and Frank turned around, annoyed as he went to shut the door but was blocked by his presence. “Do you really think READER looks that threatening?” He joked, waving his hand for the guard to leave Frank be. He complied, but not without glaring at you for a moment. Frank shut the door behind him and chuckled to himself. “Sorry about that.” Frank said, sitting down in the couch across from you, setting his bag down on the floor. You sat back down in your seat and carefully crossed your legs, trying to look as poised as possibly. Why though, you weren’t sure. “No worries.” You replied. “He’s just doing his job.” Frank nodded at that. “I brought your album back.” He said, pulling it out of his bag and handing it to you. “Thanks.” You smiled and couldn’t help but blush as you took it from his hands. You tucked it safely next to you, glancing only momentarily at the signature on the cover. “Smoke?” Frank asked, pulling a pack of Marlboro’s from his jacket pocket and subsequently sticking one in his mouth. “Sure.” You said. You were only a casual smoker, sometimes having a few when you were drinking with friends, but you certainly weren’t going to pass one up now. Frank nodded and lit the cigarette pursed between his lips; he took a short drag to properly light it before pulling it away and holding it out to you. Your heart did that stupid flippy thing again, and you could have sworn your face was ghostly white on account all of the blood rushing to your feet as you took it from him with a shaky hand. Frank apparently wasn’t done giving you small heart attacks, though, because as you brought it to your lips nervously, he fucking winked at you again. Again. You were absolutely positive that your cheeks were beet red now. Frank pulled out another cigarette and lit it, this time for himself, before sitting back on the couch comfortably. “So.” He started, picking at the zipper on his jacket. “How come you came alone?” He asked, and for a moment it made you nervous. In any other situation it would have felt predatory, but Frank didn’t seem like he was meddling, just making conversation. You couldn’t deny that you were here by yourself, he had seen you alone in the crowd, and then again at the signing. You sighed and took another drag. “It’s kind of a long story.” You said, dancing around the subject, but there was that Frank smirk that had you practically melting into a pool on the floor and your mouth opened before you could stop yourself. “A few months ago, my boyfriend and I of two years broke up.” You started, and Frank gave you a sympathetic look. “I’m really afraid of crowds, and being around a lot of people sometimes makes me really anxious. I always kind of used him as a crutch to, you know, keep me safe.” You continued, looking around the room, anywhere but Frank, really. “Since then I made a promise to myself to try new things, let go of my insecurities, take chances. This is the first concert I’ve ever been to alone.” You said with a shrug before flicking the ash from your cigarette into the nearest tray. Frank was silent for a moment, but then he leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees and looking right at you. You had no choice but to return his gaze, and once you did, instead of feeling nervous and uncomfortable, you just felt safe. “That’s fucking awesome.” He said with a wide grin, and you smiled too. “You made a promise to yourself, and you kept it. I feel honored that you chose one of my shows.” “Thank you.” You replied, unsure of what to say next, but you didn’t have to ponder long as Frank started again. “Can I tell you a secret?” He asked, and you nearly choked with the sincerity in which he asked his question. “Of course.” You said instantly, making eye contact with him again. It seemed to be getting easier with time. “Jamia and I have been separated for a few months. Our divorce will be final in a few weeks.” His face fell slightly. “I’m so sorry.” You said quickly with a sigh, unsure of how to comfort him. “It’s alright. It was a long time coming, honestly, I don’t think we ever had a very good relationship, but it was…steady.” He said before continuing “I liked the certainty of it, knowing that during my crazy life she was stability. But, truthfully, we were never very much in love.” You nodded understandingly and reached forward to stub your now spent cigarette into the ashtray. You had a similar relationship with your ex-boyfriend, and it felt nice to know someone else felt the same way. “I remember you.” He said quietly, almost unsurely. You were confused for a moment before remembering the flash in his eyes when he signed your album. At the time, you assumed it was you being show-drunk and creating things in your head, but now you weren’t so sure. You looked at him perplexedly for a moment, trying to gain traction on your thoughts. “May I?” He asked, standing and gesturing to the seat beside you. You nodded, again, still in a daze. He sat next to you carefully, and you couldn’t help but shudder as his knee brushed against yours as he sat down. He turned to look at you, closer than you ever though you would be to someone you admired so much. “When you tweeted me your painting.” He clarified. “I always take an interest in my fans, every one of them, and if I have time it’s not unusual for me to take a peek into their profile. Read some of their tweets, look at their picture – you know, put a face and personality to the name.” He kept on. Oh god, you had to be positively red. You could only imagine the kind of things Frank saw on your twitter feed. Let’s just say you were no stranger to retweeting pictures of him, sometimes with an embarrassing comment about how hot he was. Not to mention the personal stuff, you bitching and moaning about work and oh god…that video of you drunk. “I don’t remember all of them, obviously, but…I remember you.” You matched his gaze for a moment, still flushed with embarrassment before he swallowed hard. “You know, I think I made a similar promise to myself when Jamia and I separated. I don’t regret our marriage, but I do regret not taking chances on finding someone that I connected with truly and deeply.” You were swooning at this point, high on his words, but he didn’t stop. “Do you remember being a kid and getting a crush on someone?” He asked with a nostalgic smile. “How your heart would flip when you saw them, or how you’d read and re-read their name and feel warm inside?” He practically giggled, and you barely had a chance to nod before his hands were on your face, cupping your cheeks softly. You essentially melted into his touch, nuzzling into his hands on instinct as he pressed closer. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve felt that, and I thought I never would again.” He said, honesty showing in his glassy hazel eyes. “Until I saw you tonight.”
Your breath caught in your throat as his face was now only inches from yours; you shut your eyes in anticipation. You could feel him staring at you, and all you wanted was to lock eyes with him but you were too afraid. You were so scared that you would open your eyes and wake up and none of this would be real. “I have to take a chance.” He whispered, barely audible, before pressing his lips lightly to yours. He was so hesitant, so careful and unsure. You pressed back gently, just a brush of lips against his. Your hands unconsciously moved up to his neck, clasping in his messy hair. It was sweaty, dirty from performing, but you didn’t care as you gently fingered the locks. The kiss was short, tentative but perfect. You rested your forehead against his when you broke away, and opened your eyes finally to see him biting at his bottom lip, eyes trained on your face still. It was silent for a moment before you couldn’t help yourself from speaking. “Why me?” You questioned, your hands still tangled in his hair. He smiled at you, bright and contemplative, as if a thousand thoughts were running through his head. You took the moment to take in his features, the small hole where his lip ring used to be, the barely visible laugh lines at the corners of his mouth, the sincerity gleaming in his eyes. You were lost in a sea of affection. “Why not you?” He finally spoke, and you were certain in that moment that Frank would forever be there to remind you that you were worthy; perhaps now, in person.