NINETEEN
It turned out that it took a lot longer to get around on crutches than Noah would have thought. He’d never been injured before, and he’d had no idea what to expect. Getting to the concert had taken longer than he would have imagined, and by the time he did, he was starting to wonder if he would even be allowed in.
It was not a small venue, and yet, there were very few people milling outside at the box office, which meant that everyone had already gone in, and were seated. Noah wasn’t exactly a huge concert goer, so he had no idea how long they would hold his ticket for, or if he would be allowed in.
As he stood, paralyzed, with his armpits aching from the unaccustomed pressure of the crutches which were the only things helping him to get around right now, his ankle throbbing as it told him in no uncertain terms that running around was not exactly helping it to heal faster.
Slowly he approached the window, where a woman smiled at him, cheerful and pleasant, despite the fact that she probably wasn’t even supposed to be sitting there anymore.
“Hi, I’m here to pick up a ticket?” Noah told her, and honestly, it took everything in him to say the words. He had never been all that good at speaking to strangers, and in the past, he was pretty sure that he would have just walked away rather than going up to her.
“What’s your name?” she asked, and in a few seconds, after showing his ID, Noah had his ticket clenched firmly in his hand. He glanced down at it, and he frowned. Backstage access? VIP? What was all this?
“I think that I’ve got the wrong ticket,” Noah started, holding up the lanyard with the backstage pass gleaming, shiny and laminated, on the end of it. It was a big enough deal for him to be at a concert at all, but to be given this ticket, that was huge.
“Noah!” He heard a familiar voice call his name, and he half turned to look before he realized that it couldn’t possibly be Darien. The pounding, throbbing music had started, and Darien was up on stage, not in a position where he could be talking to Noah at all.
It was Justin. Noah hadn’t spent a lot of time with the songwriter, but he was familiar with him, enough to know that he seemed like a good guy. Quiet, like Noah, but more intense, and of course, older.
“Good, you got your ticket.” Justin jogged over to him, and he had the strangest look on his face. Not quite a smile, but there were traces of it, his lips faintly upturned and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Come on. There’s something that I think you’re going to want to see.”
Noah frowned, gazing at Justin, balancing carefully on the crutches which were all that had kept him going through the day. Yes, they could be uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t have gotten even this far without them. And they supported him now as he looked at the older man.
“What’s going on? Why do I have this?” he held up the backstage pass, and Justin reached out, took the lanyard from him, and hung it around Noah’s neck.
“I can’t tell you what’s going on, but believe me, there is something you’re going to want to see,” Justin informed him. “Just trust me. You really need to follow me backstage.”
Trust him. Trust Justin, who he barely knew. The idea sent cold shivers of pure terror down Noah’s spine and radiating through his whole body, and yet, he had never seen Justin do anything not to deserve the trust he was asking for. Noah had liked Justin, had found him to be a sort of kindred spirit, in a way that only very quiet people could understand.
“Okay,” Noah agreed, and the terror receded a little. It didn’t completely go away, but he was willing to put himself out there, to try. To not try to demand that Justin tell him everything, or else he would leave, which was what a panicky part in the corner of his brain wanted him to do.
Trust. It was terrifying, but it didn’t feel entirely wrong, either. Noah let himself be led backstage, let the sounds of the concert wrap around him as he was brought into an area where millions of people throughout the United States and even more worldwide would love to be.
* * *
It was a strange experience, seeing the concert from the wings like this. He got to see angles that weren’t meant for the general public. He got to watch expressions more closely, and see the boys in profile.
Noah watched, and he had to admit that he was impressed. He had never had much use for music, and certainly not pop stuff like this, but all of these men were very, deeply talented. He would have made derisive comments about them, if not for his relationship with Darien, but he would have been wrong to do so.
They worked well together, he realized, as he stood beside Justin and watched the amazing show that the boys put on. They moved so flawlessly together, and their voices mingled, and maybe it still wasn’t Noah’s type of music, but he couldn’t claim that it wasn’t well done.
Still, from time to time, Noah stole little glances over at Justin, who had a sort of smug look on his face. He would be the first to admit that it was a pretty neat experience, seeing things like this, but he didn’t get why Justin had been so adamant about him coming.
And then a song faded away, and all of the lights dropped, except for a single bright, shining white spotlight which illuminated Darien, and only Darien. For just a moment, Noah saw Darien glance over at him, and he looked back, his face, his whole body, feeling like he’d been encased in a block of ice. He couldn’t move. He wasn’t even sure that he could breathe.
There was a look in Darien’s eyes that Noah was sure he couldn’t possibly be seeing. The eye contact was far too brief because Darien had to turn back to his adoring fans, of course. But for a moment, Noah saw an older, more mature, version of his former lover gazing back at him.
Or did he just want that so badly that he was willing to see it even when it didn’t exist? Hope was a funny, tricky, slippery thing. He might think that he had eradicated it, and then it poked its bright little head up again and told him that he was wrong.
Then Darien opened his mouth and started to sing, and everything else left Noah’s mind. All of the pain, the uncertainty, all of it, until all that was left was Darien’s voice and the words of the song.
It was not the polished, overprocessed typical pop song. It was raw and open and emotional, speaking of longing, of desire, and of that tricky little sprite which people called hope. Of a desire for a second chance, and a third chance, and however many tries it took to get it right.
It was not a super happy song. It was a love song, but not an unrealistic, on top of the world, everything is perfect, one person can be everything to another person song. It was more realistic, more about making choices to be together.
Noah stared. He literally couldn’t pull himself away from the raw, emotional power of the song, and what little he could see of Darien’s face showed all of that same emotion. His eyes shone, and his face seemed to glow with hope.
That word again, hope. It was everything, especially in a situation like theirs. Noah couldn’t make himself look away from Darien, who was baring his heart to him, to everyone in the world, right up there on stage in front of everyone who cared to look.
