A/N: I tried to find a quote for this part but I can't and I don't have the words. I'm exhausted after writing this. I've only ever spoken about this incident once, so this one was extremely difficult to write. But here it is.
If anything sounds jumbled or doesn't make sense, let me know. I was also kind of having a panic attack in the middle of this, so some of it might sound like gibberish. I'm too tired to edit, but I will one day.
I didn't get much sleep last night after writing this, so I'm off to take a nap.
**There's a panic attack in this, toward the end, just a heads up.**
WHAT SENDS HER BACK THROUGH HELL
Taylor and I couldn't stop laughing as we were walking beside one another. I forgot what even happened, but it sent us both into uncontrollable laughter, which of course makes it hard to walk to class. And then we both realized we had to pee.
Needless to say, we're running late for class. She's running late for French, and I'm running late for Spanish, but neither of us really care that much. We needed a good laugh, especially since the choir concert is tonight.
I'm still stressed about it. Micah tries helping calm me down by quizzing me on the lyrics to my music, and cues to the best of his ability – bless him for being such a sweetheart.
Despite this, though, I'm still stressing. Thankfully Taylor and I had a good laugh, but as we part our ways into our respective classes, the stress and anxious thoughts return.
I walk through the door of my Spanish class a few seconds before the bell rings. It's a new sight for me, to see the class so full when I walk in.
My eyes find my seat, only to find that Micah is sitting to the left of it in the desk that is normally empty.
Oh boy.
I try not freaking out as I walk over to my desk, sliding into the chair and sitting my bag beside my feet as usual. "Hello there, stranger," I say to him, smiling briefly as I pull out my notebook.
I see him smile back. "Hey."
I don't reply, instead busying myself with the warm up on the board. It's a simple one regarding the verbs we learned yesterday, so it doesn't take me too long to finish. I actually try reading my notes every night, and unfortunately – maybe thankfully – with all the stress I've been feeling, I've tried studying for other classes to take my mind off of it. Distractions work best, and last night Spanish was my distraction.
When I finish the warm up, I place my pencil down, grabbing my phone and replying to Taylor's text. She had to apologize to her teacher in full French in order to get out of silent lunch, and succeeded. She seems pretty proud of herself.
I shake my head to myself, placing my phone face down on my desk. I try not to use it too much during classes.
I prop my chin in my left hand, grabbing my pencil again to draw along the edges of my paper. The classic sign that I'm bored in a class.
A few moments later, I hear Micah's voice. "You're a good artist."
A half-smile tugs at my lips as I exhale sharply through my nose, continuing to drawing. I mean to answer him, but then too many seconds pass and it gets too awkward. The rest of the class is silent too, so that only adds on to the awkwardness.
"Hey," Micah whispers, leaning over toward me slightly. I hate that I involuntarily inch further away from him. "I wanna come to the concert tonight. Is that okay?"
He's asking if it's okay? He's too sweet; I don't deserve him in my life. I furrow my eyebrows thinking about it, tilting my head slightly to look at him strangely.
"Yeah. Why?"
"I dunno," He says quietly, shrugging his shoulders. Thankfully he leans forward on his desk, back away from me. "I didn't know if me being there would stress you out more or somethin'."
Again, I don't deserve him. I smile slightly at the genuine concert written across his features. It confuses me and makes my chest feel warm at the same time.
"S'fine," I assure him with a small nod.
I drop my left hand back to my desk, my other hand wanting to draw some more, but there's no space left. I've drawn on the page already before today.
"You okay?"
I don't look at Mic as I answer him with a nod. "Yeah. Stressed."
Without hesitation, he says, "You'll do great."
I exhale sharply again, propping my head back up. The stress is tiring me out already. "If you say so."
"I do," He says pointedly, sounding like he's already convinced himself of the fact. "You'll remember all your music, and you'll sing flawlessly."
"Now you're spreading lies," I say dryly.
"I'm spreading optimism."
"You're being silly," I smile, rolling my eyes.
I see him shrug half-heartedly, like it doesn't matter. "Yeah, but it's worth it."
I turn my head to ask him what he means by that, but then our teacher is greeting the class, so I never get a chance to ask, and I forget about it a few moments later.
+++
When I get in choir, all the chairs are stacked in the back of the room as usual. They get stacked up on days when we need to use the risers built into the classroom for practicing before the concert.
As I pass the piano, I hear Madison asking Miller if we can use our music during the concert. The only snippet of his answer that I catch is him saying we'll talk about it in class. I can feel my stress levels rising already.
I toss my stuff in the front of the class, next to Taylors, before walking back and sitting down next to her on the risers. She's on her phone, and I sneakily look over to see her texting Tyler. I smile slightly, wondering if she's asking him to come tonight.
I get out my phone as well, busying myself with a game when a text comes up on my phone, from the one and only, Micah Anderson.
>Mic: do you have any grapes?
I nearly roll my eyes, but instead furrow my eyebrows in confusion. I have no idea where this one is going.
>Um...no?
He replies back almost instant, and this time I really do roll my eyes.
>Mic: how about a date?
>You're hilariously stupid.
>Mic: at least it made you laugh
I smile, putting my phone in my pocket after that. I don't know what to reply to him, and thankfully Miller is starting class, so I don't have to worry about thinking of one.
"It's concert day, ladies," Miller announces, perching himself upon his stool – that he stole from a science class, but continues to use 'borrowed' instead. Everyone collectively groans before he continues speaking. "We're more than prepared for this concert, and I think you all are going to perform wonderfully."
"I'm glad you think so," I murmur. Miller glances down at me, smiling warily, but doesn't say anything. Thank goodness.
"I know it's the first concert of the year, so it's nerve-wracking as...heck." Kidding, he is going to say something. "But I think you all know your music well enough that there is nothing to be worried about. I don't wanna get too deep before we rehearse today, but I do want to say that I know confidence is hard – especially with anything in the arts. Being confident in yourself, and trusting yourself that you know whatever it is you're performing is a tough place to get to. And I know many of you struggle with this. But you've got to believe in yourself," He pauses, fiddling with his fingers. We rarely have deep conversations like these, so when we do, it can also be nerve-wracking. "If you don't believe in yourself, know that I believe in you. And I believe you're going to do great things, not just tonight at the concert, but in life as well."
He stops after that, and we sit in a comfortable silence for a few seconds, taking in his words. Like I said, we rarely have these deep conversations, but when we do, they are powerful and they stick with us longer than Miller probably expects them to.
"Thank you, Miller," Taylor speaks up from beside me, her face serious but tone gentle.
"Mhm," Miller nods, standing up from his stool. He grabs the stool and walks it around to the backside of the piano, placing it down and sitting on it once more. He draws out a chord on the piano, letting it ring out into the room.
We all stand, ready to warm up our voices and rehearse for the concert tonight.
I feel slightly more at ease after Miller's pep talk, but the underlying nerves are still there, bubbling in my stomach. I suppress them, though, or try to. Tonight is going to go smoothly, and we're all going to do great. Even if we mess up, we're still awesome because we're performing music that we've memorized in a mere six weeks. We are going to be fine. I am going to be fine.
It'll be okay.
After we finish warming up our voices, we stand in our four rows and rehearse for tonight's concert. Everything goes surprisingly well, and no one forgets their music – not even me!
We finish a little early than usual because Miller doesn't want our peak performance to be in the classroom; he really wants it to be at the concert, so he always stops us when he can feel us being too good. Not because it's bad, but because he wants to save it for the stage.
"We still ridin' together?"
I turn my head to look at Taylor incredulously. "Uh, duh. We always do."
She snickers, "Just makin' sure you remembered." She goes to grab her phone, and then gasps, realizing something. "Can I do your makeup?"
I look at her warily. "Tay..."
"Pleaseee," She whines. "Just this once. I won't do a full look 'cause I know you hate that, but at least let me do your eyeliner."
I narrow my eyes. Eh, what the hell? "Fine," I cave. "But you can't do lipstick. I hate that stuff."
She cheers loudly, and then nods understandingly. "Got it. No lipstick." She studies my face for a second. "And no foundation either. Your skin is so clear."
I scoff. I can point to at least five different places on my face that are a mess. "You're a liar, but thank you."
She narrows her eyes at me, but doesn't say anything. We have small battles like this normally. We both equally like some parts of our faces and dislike the others, and we always tell each other how absurd our dislikes are. We're so much like sisters that we make ourselves laugh sometimes.
+++
True to her word, Taylor does my makeup after school.
We ride home together and grab food on the way home, so we can eat before the concert. Our call time is six-thirty, so we don't have too much time beforehand considering traffic is horrific where we need to go. We'll have to leave probably half an hour in advance to make it on time.
Once we're home and finished eating, I let her do my makeup. She doesn't do a wild look, and I'm actually extremely happy with how it looks. It's soft, with only some concealer under my eyes, a thin eyeliner and wing, and then some gentle, shimmer eyeshadow on my eyes.
We step into our dresses and fix our hair. I straighten mine and pin some back, while Taylor curls her hair – which is the usual for her. Taylor touches up her makeup before slipping into her flats as I do the same.
We're leaving by five-fifty, which is amazing timing and a lot better than we usually are.
Taylor steals the aux cord about five minutes into the drive, causing me to give her a strange look. She doesn't pay attention to me as she opens up her Spotify and starts playing a song.
"It's a song I found today," She informs me, leaning forward to turn the music up. "I really like it."
I nod along to it, actually liking it a lot more than I thought I would when she first turned it on. "What's it called?"
"Ummm," She laughs out, glancing down at her phone. "'Skylines' by Glades."
"Mm," I hum, turning the volume up from the steering wheel. "I like it."
She smiles proudly, sitting back in her seat and beginning to sing along. We listen to the rest of the album 'Skylines' is on while we drive to the venue we're singing at.
We get to the venue a few minutes early, which eases my nerves more because I hate being late. Thankfully we brought a small bag for each other to keep our phones in while we perform. Taylor votes for carrying it this time.
I don't bring my glasses inside with me, and I don't mind because it's a performance. If I can see the people in the crowd, it freaks me out, so I never wear my glasses onstage.
"I'm kind of exited for tonight," Taylor breathes, holding open the front door for me.
I walk through, saying, "Really?" as I pass her.
She nods, walking in behind me. "I am. I dunno. First concerts always give me weird energy."
I chuckle, "That's true."
I walk over to the table set up by the door and sign myself in, pausing to wait for Taylor as she does the same. Only a few people have signed in so far, which is slightly nerve-wracking, but also calming because a huge crowd isn't here just yet. Give it ten minutes, though, then everyone will be flooding in.
Taylor and I sit toward the front of the auditorium, Miller standing on stage and getting the lighting worked out. He's in concert mode, so he barely notices anyone walking in, but that's okay. He's in the zone for the night.
After about ten minutes, a load of people enter the auditorium, loud as ever. Taylor and I turn to look back at them, seeing that most of them are from the freshmen choir, which isn't surprising at all. A couple guys are amongst the crowd, one of them being Luke who doesn't give Taylor and I a second glance.
He's been acting weird ever since Tyler and Taylor started talking more. I know why, but I don't think Taylor does. I think she assumes Luke is being rude, which is so wrong, but she's happy talking to Tyler right now, so I'll let her be happy. We haven't talked about Luke all that much, either, so maybe she doesn't even like him.
I'm brought out of my thoughts by Miller announcing that it's six-thirty, and we need to begin rehearsals.
We do a quick warm up for our voices, but not too much, before he's calling the freshmen choir onstage to work out spacing and such since this is their first ever concert.
They run through a bits of their songs before Miller is calling up the men's choir, then the mixed choir, and finally Taylor and I's group.
After we rehearse snippets of our three songs, we go back into the seating and make our way to our designated sections in the back. The freshmen choir goes onstage because they perform first, but everyone else has sections marked off.
Miller opens the doors for the parents, and we're allowed our phones out until the concert officially starts. Taylor and I start playing games to pass the time, occasionally trying to mess one another up.
>Mom❤️: I'm front and center this time!!
I chuckle to myself, replying to her text before another one comes through, this one from Micah.
>Mic: I apologize in advance for bringing my sister along. She's been dying to meet you.
I smile brightly.
>Well tell her I'm dying to meet her as well. What's her name?
>Mic: Roxie. She likes Rox, though.
That's a cute name. I'm jealous.
>Mic: Hey look up
I furrow my eyebrows, looking up from my phone only to see a very vague looking Micah standing up and waving wildly, down toward the front on the right side. I can make out a younger girl next to him, his sister, and she doesn't look too amused.
>Mic: Oh dammit you don't have your glasses on
I laugh loudly, making Taylor raise an eyebrow, but she continues her game.
>It's fine. It's kinda hard not to see you when you're waving your arms around like a lunatic
>Mic: Rox laughed at that one.
>Sounds like she has my kinda humor
>Mic: Oh trust me, she definitely does
A moment later, the lights are dimming, signaling that our phones need to be put away now.
"Here we go," I breathe, smiling crazily as Taylor stows our phones in the bag.
She grabs my hand, squeezing it excitedly as Miller starts talking, introducing himself and going through the routine announcements.
The concert seems to fly by, as they always do, and then suddenly Taylor and I are standing next to one another onstage, singing our music. We don't mess up, fumble over our words, or forget cues. We sing flawlessly, and the grin Miller gives us at the end of our third song is proof of that.
We exit the stage, going back an sitting in our sections. The mixed choir takes our place onstage a moment later, ready to close out the show.
I take my seat, Taylor sitting to my left, and adjust my dress so I'm not bunching it up in the back. Once I finish, I look up, focusing on the choir onstage.
I instantly feel a chill run down my spine as I do. The panic sets in almost instantly. Was he...was he sitting there before? Please, tell me I'm not going insane.
I lean to the side cautiously, goosebumps attacking my body at every turn. I narrow my eyes from the darkness, faintly making out the side of his face and – fuck, I wish I hadn't done that.
I immediately press myself back further into my seat, away from him. My body goes rigid.
That's Miles. Sitting in front of me. Miles. It's fucking Miles.
Taylor notices my discomfort and tries helping me, but all I can do is shake my head, blankly staring forward. She grabs my hand again, squeezing firmly for support, but then she lets go.
I swallow thickly, trying to calm myself down, but I know I'm on the edge of a panic attack. I can feel how shaky my body is and I know I'm probably white as a ghost right now. But I can't help it.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, trying to control my breathing. I don't want to draw attention to myself. I can't let him know I know it's him. He feeds off of fear. I know he does. I know how he works. Apparently he knows how I work, too. He knows this is a weak spot he can prod.
I shift once more, sitting on my foot. Wrong choice. As soon as I shift, Miles turns his head, glancing back at me, and that's all the confirmation I need to know it's him. It's him. He's right in front of me. Fucking hell, he's right there.
I take in a shaky breath, trying to regulate everything and not pass out, but good lord, I feel so lightheaded. I don't know what to do. I can't just get up and leave because what if he follows me? If I make a run for the bathroom, he'll come after me and finish what he started in fifth grade. I can't do this. I can't—
"Thank you for coming, and goodnight," Miller's voice echoes through the auditorium as the lights come up, illuminating everything – including Miles' face as he turns and looks back at me once more.
I'm going to puke. I think I'm actually going to vomit.
I half-cough, half-gag, staring down at my shoes as I do so. Breathe, breathe, breathe.
"Hey, hey, look at me," Taylor's hands are on my shoulders, forcing me to look her way. "Are you alright?"
"I'm—no, I need to—" I swallow the lump in my throat. Don't you dare cry. You're not weak. You better not cry. "I need t-to go. I—Can I have my phone?"
"Yeah, yes, of course," Taylor nods, unzipping the bag and handing me my phone. "Where's your mom?"
I shake my head, biting my lower lip to fight the tears. I can see Miles in the corner of my eye, still staring at me. Another chill runs down my spine, causing me to shake violently. His mom is next to him, but she's still sitting down. What the hell is he even doing here? Am I friends with his sister through choir and I don't even know it?
I turn my head and spot my mom walking up the isle toward me. I jump from my seat, nearly puking when I see Miles start walking toward at the same time. I sprint toward my mom, Taylor hot on my heels. Mom gives me a strange, concerned look as I grip tightly onto the back of the seat she's standing next to. I need it for support. If I let go, I might fall to the floor.
Taylor squeezes my hand once more before waving to my mom and leaving, knowing that I need space. I make a mental note to thank her later.
I turn around briefly and look, not seeing Miles anywhere. I look back up at the seats. They're vacant.
Did I just imagine that?
My eyes are wide and wild when I look back to mom, and I see an immediate alertness pass over her features.
"C'mon," Mom links her arm into mine, beginning to drag me toward the back doors.
My steps stumble as I walk, my mind trying to regain proper functioning, but it can't. My knees are threatening to give out as we make it through the back doors. I'm gasping for air, my eyes watering as I clutch to my mom like a lifeline, hoping she won't give out on me like I'm about to do to myself.
We get to her car and I lean against it, rubbing my arms viciously to get rid of the goosebumps, but they still remain. I don't see Miles or his mom anywhere.
I take a few deep breaths, trying to combat zoning out and the panic attack that is taking its sweet time with ending.
"Here," Mom unlocks the car and opens the passenger door, ordering me to sit. I obey her, sitting in the passenger seat and bringing my knees up to my chest in a last attempt of protection.
The tears are gone from my eyes as I stare blankly ahead, not focusing on anything, but thinking a million thoughts that I can't even process. A million 'what if's that are sending me deeper into nothingness.
+++
According to my mom, she closed the passenger door and then drove us home. I don't remember any of this. My car is still at the venue.
I'm currently sitting chin-deep in a bubble bath, candles lit around the edge of the tub and soft music playing through my phone. I'm still a shaking mess. I still haven't answered anyone's texts – besides Taylor; I did let her know I was okay when I got home and regained consciousness.
I still haven't figured out if I really saw Miles, or if my mind was playing tricks on me. It has been known to do that. I've gone out to the store before and seen a guy with a vaguely similar haircut, and completely flipped out. So this wouldn't be the first time.
But it would be the first time that it has felt so real.
I swear it was him. There's no way that it wasn't.
But God, if it was him...he's still around. He's near me again.
Cue another panic attack.