Liberation II

   Countless lights stain the night. Colors mingle, struggle to light the stage. I've just been pulled from nirvana by one of my friends.

   "Why the hell are you sleeping while watching a concert?", he asked me with a tone lathered with teasing.

   "I wasn't sleeping." I answered with a straight face. He asked me if flutes needed to be tuned beforehand. I said I didn't know. I wasn't being mean. I really didn't know. I warily looked back at the stage. The stage lights still strain my eyes but I wanted to watch my friend perform. I always knew he was a great drummer, from all that I've heard at least. Though, I've never seen him perform on any live gig. This was my chance to witness his prowess, I wouldn't want to miss it.

   He had his eyes closed, just like I was moments ago. Because of that, I thought, maybe we were feeling the same thing. But looking at him closely, I knew we weren't. His euphoria is more...potent so to speak. His was more pure. More raw. And by far, more beautiful. He pounded the drums with certainty, even with his eyes closed. I could tell his bandmates were in the same euphoric state. The vigor they display while playing amazed me. Just how much energy are they being filled with? What emotions are they invoking within them while playing their piece? As I am now, I can only wonder.

   I became curious on how other people were feeling during that moment. I looked around me and to my shock, there were more people inside the venue than when we came in. There were already people behind me without me noticing. I suddenly felt embarrassed. I was sure I was headbanging while I was closing my eyes and the guy behind me must have seen the entirety of it. I looked away hurriedly. The line of 10+ people to my right side were all my friends that came to watch the concert. They too came to cheer for the drummer playing up on the stage. Or I'd like to think that they are. In any case, I could see them all being absorbed into the performance and that in itself was an amazing sight for me.

   And there you stood on the other side of the line. Even with the loudness of all the speakers booming around us, I can still notice how quiet you are. A gentle aura in the midst of a roaring hurricane of energy. The eye of the storm. A safe point. That's just like you. Or to be more specific, that's just like the you that I perceive you as. I smiled at the sight of you. Part of you, at least. I almost can't see you because the person beside you is blocking my view. I sighed lightly and turned to the stage. The psychedelic lights haven't stopped; it still looks like a rainbow-bombed dream state.

   Seconds into watching, the music playing has already infested my heart. It dug up emotions I've been struggling to suppress. Frustrations I've always wanted to eradicate. Feelings I've so long wanted you to notice. To the beat of the bass, I turn to you. To the riffs of the guitar, I start walking towards you. The band's rhythm escalates as I move closer to you; their energy matching mine. I pass by one person at each step, shortening the distance between us. As the performance reached its peaked, I stood beside you. As the band crashes the song to its last note, the piano solo remained and the crowd goes wild. You notice me, and looked me in the eye.

   "What's up?" Your smile ensnares me. The music that consumed me just minutes ago simply pales in comparison to the music of your voice. It engulfs me more than any song, moves me more than any instrument.

   Without breaking my stare, I grab you by the hand and pull you towards my thin chest. The piano solo ends and the band slams down for a final burst. I wrap my arms around you tightly and rest my head on yours. All the times I simply wanted to hug you is realized by this single moment. I stroke your hair slowly. I close my eyes. The liberating sound of all the instruments playing as one, the intoxicating scent of your soft hair, the warmth and fluff of your small body pressing against mine. This is enough proof for me that heaven exists. The song dies down. The vibration of the guitar remained.


 
   The rate at which the colors changes dies down. It settles on a constant white light. The absence of ridiculously flashing lights snap me out of my daydream. I looked from left to right, everyone's still looking at the performance up in the stage. The song is not finished. I'm not on the other side of the line and you're not in my arms. Feeling somewhat disappointed, I still let out a sigh. But I thought to myself, the song isn't finished yet. One day, I'll be able to walk that distance separating us and by the time the piano solo ends, I'll be able to show you just how much I