Evermore

Standing alone in a crowd of people.
It’s too loud, but not loud enough to drown out my thoughts.
Is it weird that I am here alone?
Are people judging me?
Pitying me?
I don’t care, I decide. 
I don’t need anyone, anything, to be enough.
I can have just as much fun on my own.
On my own. All alone.
The first set finishes.
The lights rise, the crowd moves around.
I stand in my place, firm.
I am enough, I don’t need anything, anyone.
I scan the groupings of concert goers.
It’s all the same unfamiliar faces at every show.

Across the floor I see him.
He glances away quickly, but I caught him.
A sense of familiarity rushes over me.
Do I know him?
No.
But he feels so, known.
Don’t look over again.
But I do.
I can’t help it.
Those eyes.
I feel like I have lived there.
The lights begin to dim.
The crowds are gathering back, thicker than before.
I stand in my place, resolved.
This band is heavier, and the testosterone fills the air.
People throw their bodies around at each other in an attempt to feel something.
I just want to feel the music.
A sweaty, tank top wearing man filled with misguided rage barrels his way towards me.
I move from my place.
Not so resolved after all.
As he is absorbed back into the crowd of flailing bodies I notice a new one now in front of me.
Is that him?
The owner of the familiar eyes?
The back of his head is less familiar,  I guess.
And suddenly I need not worry about raging tank-tops flying my way.
As I have a wall of protection in front of me. Who does he think he is?
I am not some delicate flower who needs protecting, I lie to myself.
A sense of gratitude overwhelms me, despite myself.
I watch him shove countless moshers back into the pit.
As he stands in his new place, dedicated. 
The set finishes.
I am disappointed.
Not in the show, but in the prospect of my wall moving.
Will my protector disappear?
As the crowd moves about, he does not.
Do I want him to?
Do I want him to talk to me?
Yes.
No.
Yes?
I stand in my place, frozen.
He talks with his friends.
I take shelter in my phone.
Is time even moving?
I glance up, then away quickly. 
He caught me.
He is facing me within his circle of friends now.
Those eyes.
Damn those calling eyes.
How can they be beckoning me so?
I want to call back to them.
He smiles.
Am I smiling?
Did I just smile at him first?
Why do I feel so sweaty?
Am I still smiling?
“Hey, I’m Brian. “
“Hi, Megan.”
The lights fall and my heart soars as we stand in our place, fixated.