Non-Toxic

[Based on a dream I had in August of 2019]

It was so loud. Of course, I'd known what I was getting myself into.

Somewhat.

It was a concert, so I shouldn't have been surprised by the pounding music or the screaming fans, but I still found myself cringing as my personal space was attacked on all sides. My senses were on overload, though, and nothing, not even the anxiety that had danced up and down my spine outside the arena, was going to stop me from having the time of my life.

I'd never been around so many people before, and this was proving to be a disadvantage, considering my height. When the fans bounced to the beat, I was lost. I wished I'd had a seat right by the stage, but I hadn't been fast enough nor rich enough to afford such an intimate time with the band. The fact that I was here at all was a miracle, so I pushed my selfish thoughts aside, and focused on the stage.

A hour passed. The audience remained engrossed by the talented group, including myself. As the concert came to a close, the songs got progressively less wild. It was late, the sky having darkened a long time ago, and now the sea of phone lights around me joined the stars in the sky.

The song playing at the moment was causing my vision to blur with emotion, and I didn't clear them. Allowing streaks to form down my cheeks, I focused on the feeling in the building. I felt like I was with a huge family I hadn't known I had. I felt comfort and peace, and a sense of belonging. I was supposed to be here.

But then, all at once, the feeling vanished. The atmosphere hadn't changed, but my stomach dropped. My eyes widened and I couldn't focus on the music anymore. It was like my ears stopped working, sending the room into a frenzied silence. My eyes fled the stage, to the corners of the arena, and I realized how dark it seemed now. Something was very, very wrong. But what? All seemed right. Everyone appeared happy.

A flurry of motion caught my attention. Someone was standing in the aisles. No one should have been up, though, unless they were headed towards an exit. This figure showed no intention of doing so right then. I tried to make out a face, but the lights around me prevented my eyes from adjusting.

The song ended, and in the moment that the fans turned off their phones, and the arena lights hadn't brightened, all was left in darkness. When the lights turned back on, the figure was gone. My gaze went immediately to the exit, in time to see someone go through.

My body sprung up, and made for the glowing green sign. Nearly tripping a few times, I kept a hand on my bag, and darted up the aisles. It hadn't occurred to me how big the arena was until now.

Suddenly grateful that I'd chosen to wear a black hoodie (a decision I'd been regretting ten minutes ago), I slipped through the exit, and out into the surrounding halls. Turning to the left, I saw the figure head into a side room. Fully aware of how sketchy this whole scene was becoming, I followed and slowly poked my head in.

The room seemed to be a cafeteria of sorts, boasting several tables with connecting benches, and a glazed wooden gym floor. The figure walked into the farthest corner, where the streetlights outside couldn't reach through the windows. As they passed through a patch of light, I was able to see the outline of a tall male, slightly hunched over. My gut told me to approach, while my brain fiercely opposed the idea, wanting to rejoin the concert I'd somehow been able to attend.

My feet went forward, then stopped as the man took off a jacket, and threw it on the ground, with a huff. The zipper made a small clinking noise against the ground, but the silent atmosphere made it seem louder. I watched the man curl up on a bench against the wall, his knees against his chest. I remained silent and still, my eyes wide. Maybe I shouldn't be here, I finally let myself think. But I couldn't turn. I couldn't tear my eyes away from a person who seemed so distraught. I forced my feet to go forward again.