Page 80 of Runes To Rain
Honestly, there isn’t going to be anything intimate about it. That damned outdoor venue was massive, so we had to cancel a lot of tickets. Hopefully, this will be the end of it. However, I will admit, I’m looking forward to performing again. It’s been too long.
This concert has been a good thing to focus on because another month has passed, and I don’t feel likeI’m any closer to finding the demon stronghold. I thought I had a solid lead, but it was a dead end. Even if it was the correct building, the damned lift was broken or something because the buttons didn’t work. I’m still working on locating the godsforsaken place, but it’s beginning to feel rather hopeless. I don’t know what to do with the emotional agony that accompanies that feeling.
Anyway, I’d better go get ready since the concert is just a few hours away now. Hopefully, these fans aren’t too angry about the canceled tickets, so we can all enjoy the concert.
LET’S START A RIOT
Somehow, I’ve survived the past couple of hours. My emotions are swirling. Trying to pretend to browse at various shops and getting some food from a little deli did nothing to calm them. I picked out a sandwich, but then couldn't make myself eat it.
Finally, I am heading to the concert venue. It is odd to be going there by myself rather than as part of The Boys’ entourage.
I have been wondering how I’m going to get in. I am hoping not to need to threaten anyone. That doesn’t seem like a good start to the night.
When I’m nearly at the door to the venue, though, fate is on my side. A man is standing near the entrance selling his tickets. The others passing don’t seem interested, so by the time I make my way over to him, he still has them. I’m prepared and have a small amount of money that’s mine. Luckily, the cost is less than what I have, so I am able to purchase a ticket from him.
I approach the door, hoping the people at the entrance won’t try to take my sword. Thankfully, they simply take my ticket,make a mark with ink on the back of my hand, and allow me through.
I move with the crowd until I am standing somewhere in the middle, centered on the stage. I ensure my hood stays up to hide my unusual pink hair. I have no intention of revealing my presence to anyone.
I’m jostled by the crowd as is familiar, but all the practice with footwork from sword fighting, and my experience at past concerts, keep me standing easily this time.
As The Boys finally walk out on stage, the experience is both like and unlike past concerts. This time, I’m a part of the crowd in a way I have not been in the past. However, unlike the crowd, I don’t scream and cheer.
If I were to open my mouth at this moment, I think I might vomit.
My heart races.
Dio shows up on stage last. My first thought is how immensely glad I am to see that he seems to be healed and is looking better than he has in a while. However, when he looks out at the crowd and introduces the band, I see the dark circles under his eyes. As I stand quietly in the screaming crowd, I also notice that his suit doesn’t have its carefully pressed creases. He looks almost rumpled.
I don’t have much time to worry about him, though, because at that moment the band begins to play and I am forced to focus on keeping my feet as the crowd surges. The momentary distraction is helpful, as with the physical effort, I manage to regain some of the internal stillness I had been clinging to.
Just as always, The Boys’ performance is glorious to watch. The focus and joy are clear on their faces as they perform songs that I now know by heart.
The band eventually breaks for intermission, and I stay where I am. I keep my spot as the crowd shifts, and other fans leave to get refreshments or try to find a better spot.
When the band appears on stage again, I see that Dio has removed his suit jacket and vest. His sleeves are slightly rolled, his collar open, displaying the familiar hint of tattoos. My heart pounds in my chest. My palm sweats as I run my thumb along my finger in the familiar movement.
I glance at the others and see that they have also stripped off layers. I can hardly blame them. It is hot in here with all the bodies, and they’re working harder than the crowd, even though we are constantly trying to maintain our feet.
The Boys start the next set, and again I’m pulled along by the music as they perform one of their most popular songs. The crowd is screaming out the words with Dio, and I am completely surrounded by the sound. Suddenly, I’m pulled from the moment as I realize Dio is looking directly at me. I meet his eyes and watch as he stills, losing a few words in the song before starting back up again.
He doesn’t look away from me.
I can’t read his expression, emotions seeming to riot across his face as he stares at me openly while singing.
He manages to sing a few more lines but seems distracted, the words stilted, and his voice tight. Then, suddenly, without warning, he stops singing, lets go of the microphone, and jumps off the stage into the crowd.
The crowd in front, nearest to him, is screaming at a fever pitch. Back where I am standing, people are beginning to grumble as slowly the rest of the band stops playing and the music fades out. I watch as Reem, Lent, and Fem move to the edge of the stage, looking out at the crowd as they try to determine what happened to their lead singer.
I tip my face down, not wanting to be seen by them. I attempt to make myself turn and leave, but freeze as I have a flash of memory of Dio telling me to be careful as I stepped forward to fight the angels in the street.
As I hesitate, the louder, feverish screams from the crowd move closer to me in a wave. Then Dio emerges in front of me. His chest is heaving, and his shirt is slightly torn.
We’re standing in a small break in the crowd, and somehow the sound of them fades out of my awareness. Dio blinks at me as though shocked that I’m still standing here.
My heart pounds in my chest.
He steps forward, closing the distance between us slightly. He reaches out and gently pushes the hood off my head.
