Nineteen-year-old, Bea Somerton, knows exactly how she wants to live. Become a doctor, remain in remission from her childhood Leukaemia and have a happy, normal, life.
The last thing she expects is to meet rising star and troubled musician, Holden P...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Concerts always make me lose sight of reality. At least for a little while. It's one reason I've always loved them so much. That pounding in your chest, the way the people around you love the same songs as much as you. That you all share an appreciation for the same artist.
I trail after Holden, hearing the echo of the crowd through the thick walls backstage. Declan Jones' voice fills the stadium and I fight the urge to send Jett a text about who I'm seeing. I'm not in the mood to talk to either of my best friends right now. Not Charlie who constantly finds it in her to pick fights with me or Jett who likes to become the bystander.
"This way," Brooks says beside me, shaking me from my thoughts.
"He's quite tense tonight, isn't he," Brooks states, his hand on my shoulder momentarily as he steers me down another long corridor.
"Yes," I agree. "He doesn't seem himself."
"Depends which self you're referring to," he frowns, and I watch Holden as he walks ahead of us, back tense and a hand constantly raking through his brown locks.
Despite knowing Holden for a while now, there are parts to him that I still can't comprehend. Putting aside his illness, I know nothing more than the small list he gave me when we camped together.
Brooks flashes his lanyard at a man standing before a door labeled BACKSTAGE. The man nods once before swiping a key card to let us enter.
The door clicks shut behind us and I'm blasted by the loud sounds of an electric guitar. I go to cover my ears but before I get the chance, Holden is placing a set of earmuffs over them. I look over at him, perplexed, but he's just working his jaw, staring straight ahead.
"I'll just be back through these doors if you need me!" I hear Brooks shout beside me. Holden offers no exchange or reply and Brooks exits before I can thank him.
The song is slightly muffled by my earmuffs, but I place my hand over my heart, feeling the thud of the bass. I close my eyes momentarily, holding onto this moment.
When I start my chemo at the end of this week, I want to remember this. Remember that there is something out there that can make you feel truly alive. That when I want to give up, I'll know what is waiting for me.
I feel Holden's presence beside me, his arm softly grazing against mine as we stand side by side. I look over at him, only to find that he's watching me. Without a second glance, he grasps my hand between his and begins walking closer to the side of the stage.
I suddenly get an unobstructed view of Declan Jones on stage, his sweaty hair matted to his forehead as he sings his heart out, hands clasping the microphone. The crowd sing back to him, the red lights casting shadows across their faces as they raise their hands to the air.
I'm suddenly breathless in the best way possible. It's as though oxygen ceases to matter. As though everything I'm witnessing is the epitome of my universe.
