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Word count: 1 264
A/N: Time I spent at uni today plus time I spent studying today = eleven hours. I'm done, my brain is mash. I want to sleep but it's too early, and I still have to write memory cards for five lessons, and finish writing two scripts summarising the lectures. And I should actually study the memory cards at one point or the other. Got my exams on Monday and Thursday next week. I mean, it's fun to study, but knowing there's a deadline, and I will have to write an exam is stressful.
The deep sounds of the bass made the floor vibrate underneath your shoes, and every beat of the drums was like a punch in the stomach. You stood rather far away from the stage, a soft smile on your lips that did not match the aggressive rock music that flooded the venue. Watching the audience, you nodded along to the rhythm of the song you did not know.
Originally you had come for the opening band, but since you were always open for new music, and you had paid for the ticket, you might as well educate yourself a little on this other band. The venue was not big, maybe three hundred people when sold out. It was a basement, deep underground, with ancient looking, huge pillars supporting the vault's ceiling. You loved this specific place especially for its great atmosphere; the contrast between the almost medieval seeming room equipped with modern light and sound systems always sent a shiver down your spine.
Scanning the room again, you found that most of the people had indeed tried to be as close to the stage as possible. Only a few people were on their way to or from the bar, and a handful of people, including you, were sparsely spread over the last meters furthest away from the stage. Looking at them, your eyes met those of a stranger, who shot you a lopsided smile. Black hair hung into his forehead, and over a dark band shirt he wore leather jacket.
He was pretty, you noticed, beautiful even. You smiled back, and turned to look at the stage again, but after a few seconds you felt a strange tingle at the side of your face, the same tingle you got when you felt someone was watching you. And indeed, when you looked around the room once more, you found the black haired stranger was still, or again, looking at you.
When your eyes met his again, his smile grew a little, and he tucked his hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans, before starting to move over.
"They're pretty good," he shouted over the music the moment he was close enough to you.
"Yeah," you answered, "kind of a raw energy. Do you know them?"
He shook his head no.
"No, was here for the opening band."
"Me too," you laughed.
"Really? Do you know the guys?"
This time it was you who shook their head no.
"Not personally if that's what you mean," you explained, "been a huge fan of their music though for a long time."
The stranger nodded enthusiastically.
"Me too! They have some of the best tracks to-" he continued speaking but the music suddenly got louder, and drowned his voice out.
Furrowing your brows, you placed your hand at your ear, signaling him to speak up. Instead he leant in closer to you, his head right next to yours.
"I said, they have some of the best tracks to get lost in your own mind to," he repeated, making you nod.
"I don't know how many hours I spent just dreaming away to their music! And it's still so fucking angry all the time," you laughed, but this time the stranger just copied your movement, so you repeated yourself, but he just shook his head. The music was so loud that there was no way to have a conversation here. For a moment he looked around, as if he was considering something, before pointing to something behind you.
Turning, you realised he was pointing to the door that lead up the stairs to the court of the old building. You nodded, agreeing to his proposition of going somewhere more quiet, and lead the way up the stairs.
In the court it was freezing cold, the winter breeze being a welcome change to the stuffy air in the vault. Quickly you pulled your pullover, which had been tied around your waist, over your head, and turned around to the stranger. Only a few other people were standing out here, most of them to have a smoke.
"So, what did you say downstairs?" His voice sounded so different, now that he did not have to scream anymore.
"I don't know how many hours I spent dreaming myself away from the world while listening to them," you explained, your voice sounding strange in your own ears after the loud music, "and yet they still sound so fucking angry."
The man laughed.
"They do, don't they? What's your favourite song of theirs?"
You continued talking to him, finding out his favourite album was the one you had first heard of them, that his name was Gerard, and that he loved music just as much as you did. For ages you were discussing best songs, which songs should be made into a medley, why the new album was very important concerning the current political climate, and many other things.
By the time you ran out of things to talk about, you realised that the music of the band that had played, had stopped, and instead old rock music was sounding in the venue downstairs. Agreeing that it was time to go downstairs, not only because it was late, but also because it was cold, you made your way back to the vaults, where a little party was going on for the guests that had liked to stay.
Gerard and you decided to both buy something from the merch table, and even got the chance to talk to the band, which you had come to see, for a couple of minutes. They recognized you from a few other shows, joking around with you a little.
On your way back up the stairs towards the exit, Gerard made fun of you, in a sweet way, and you felt like he was almost a little envious, but you were not sure if it was because they had known you but not him, or whether it was because for a while your focus had not been entirely on him. When you reached the exit, Gerard nervously started tucking on his sleeves, making you raise your eyebrows questioningly at him.
"You okay," you asked, watching him fiddle around with the zipper of jacket.
"Yeah, I was just- I was just wondering if I could see you again sometime," he confessed, his eyes not meeting yours.
You could not help the sly grin on your cheeks as you felt yourself blushing.
"Got a pen?"
Confused he looked at you, but pulled a black felt-tip pen out of his back pocket. Taking it from him, you grabbed his wrist, and pushed up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing a pale forearm.
"This," scribbling down a few well known digits, "is my number. Give me call?"
Looking back up at him, you found Gerard was grinning and nodding happily.
"If you're okay with that?"
"I wouldn't give you my number if I weren't," you giggled, and handed the pen back to him.
"So... can I call you to ask you out for coffee some time?"
"You can even call me just like that, or you can ask me out for coffee just like that," you shrugged, amused by the stupidly happy grin on his face. It was adorable.
"I think I'll do that," Gerard laughed.
"That would make me very happy," you nodded.
You kept talking and flirting for a while longer, until the night really got too cold, and you said good bye, going your separate ways home. But not before Gerard had officially asked you out for a date first.