www.whyville.net Oct 19, 2015 Weekly Issue

Veteran Times Writer

Real Life Fan Fic

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I had been excited for this concert for months, and the day was finally here. My friend and I eagerly streamed into the venue along with the rest of the concert goers, and made our way towards the stage, securing a spot just the right distance away. As excited as we were for the opening act and the headliner, it was the middle act that really brought me to this show. I just felt like something important was going to happen with them, and that I had to be there for it.

It was a feeling I had had for a while. Although I had listened to the band in the past, it wasn't one that I had paid a lot of attention to, or made the point of learning all the band members names, faces, personalities, etc. For me, this band was all about the music. But that started to change during the summer.

A friend and I were driving back from the beach, and one of this bands songs started playing on shuffle on his iPod. This started a discussion about the band, which was my friends favorite. He went on and on talking about how much he admires this band, and how it's crazy that the lead singer is our age and so talented. As soon as my friend said this, a weird feeling washed over me.

Something is going to happen . . .

What a peculiar intrusive thought. Where did that come from?

I pushed the thought aside, and didn't revisit it for weeks.

But the thought came back. A few weeks later, a concert was announced for September with the headlining band being one that I had liked for a while. Great, I was sold to go. After purchasing my tickets, I decided to take a look at who the opening acts were. And there, listed as the middle act, was THE band. The same one that had come into conversation weeks ago.

Something is going to happen . . .

What a strange coincidence. Nothing more, right? But maybe it wouldn't hurt to look up the band online and actually see what these guys look like, right? I mean I'm a fan enough of the music, might as well go full fangirl and learn about the band too.I typed my search into Google, and clicked on the first photo that came up. And froze.

Something is going to happen. . .

This was stupid. What was I even doing? Nothing was going to happen. I was just acting crazy. I closed my laptop and refused to think anything more of it.

Then there we were at the night of the concert, in the crowd. The opening act had finished, and they were almost done clearing the stage for the next band. THE band. Of course I was excited, I loved their music and was stoked to listen to it live and rock out to it. But there was that weird feeling again.

Something is going to happen. . .

And the lights dimmed. The band took to the stage and began their performance. It was honestly amazing. They were absolutely incredible live and my eyes were transfixed to the stage. Then, the singer of the band looked out into the crowd . . . and our eyes met.

Something is going to happen. . .

We both stood there, looking at each other. Until finally I, feeling quite awkward, broke eye contact. That was so weird. But singers always do that. They always make eye contact with members of the audience, it's called a good stage presence. There was nothing special about it.

Until it happened again.

And again. . .

And again.

Was I doing something weird? Was I staring too weird at the stage, or dancing funny, or something? WHY WAS HE STILL LOOKING AT ME? WAS I DOING SOMETHING WRONG? The bands set ended, and they made their way off the stage, the singer threw one last look over his shoulder and once again caught my eye.

After a while, the headlining act came on and I had almost forgotten about the strangeness of the last act. I pushed all thoughts of singers and eye contact to the back of my mind, and focused on the band performing in front of me. About halfway through their second song, there was a tap on my shoulder. . .

Something is going to happen. . .

I turned to look at the hooded figure behind me, who gestured my friend and I to the edge of the crowd. Once we followed him away from all the people, he lifted his hood.

It was him.

The singer.

Something is going to happen. . .

"Hi. I couldn't help but notice you in the crowd. I was just wondering if maybe you two wanted to hangout after the concert? I'm not trying to be creepy or anything, and no pressure if you don't want to. I just really had to ask."

My friend and I cast each other a look. We couldn't really discuss it with the blaring music, and him standing right in front of us. He must have caught our look of uncertainty.

"How about I give you my number, and if you decide you want to hangout, cool. Text me. If not, don't worry about it. But I had to try."

He entered his phone number, then made his way out of the crowd and backstage. My friend and I just stared at each other dumbfounded. What were we supposed to do? On one hand, that is every fans dream in life. . . how could we say no?! On the other hand, what if this is really creepy? After a bit of discussion, we decided to text him. If things got creepy, one of us could fake an emergency or health problem or something. He responded to our text almost immediately, describing the tour bus to meet him at after the show was over, and gave us the instruction to text him again once we were outside.

After the headlining act ended, we went in search of the tour bus and found the one he had described. It was barricaded off with security all around, and dozens of fans waiting outside hoping that the band would come out to take photos/sign autographs.

We hesitantly approached the barricade and sent him a text saying that we were outside the bus. No more than 5 seconds after the text was sent, the tour bus door opened and a large bearded man got off. He nodded to us, then to the security guard, who in turn opened the barricade just enough for my friend and I, and waved us through.

Painfully aware of all the curious eyes of the waiting fans watching us, my friend and I looked at each other.

"Well, here goes nothing. . ."

And we followed the bearded man through the doors of the tour bus.

And you know what?

Something happened.



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