He was a Punk. He did Ballet. |nomin|

Three

Jaemin observed himself in the mirror. He was in his loft bedroom, wearing a plaid topcoat, a warm scarf and black dress pants. It was a polished yet casual look that he felt was suitable for the occasion. It wasn't like he was going to be dancing and partying all night. He was hoping to relax in the audience while listening to that angelic voice in person.

Jaemin looked at the time on his cellphone. It was now five minutes until 10pm. He knew he was going to be a few minutes late to the performance, so he had no more time to waste.

Luckily for him, the pain in his ankle was nonexistent due to those pills, but he knew that he had to make careful steps from now on. So he prepared himself and made his way out.

He walked for two blocks until he saw the same billboard that read The Solstice. The weather was blistering and Jaemin shuddered whenever the wind blew through his hair. He kept his hands in his pockets as he approached the smaller line of people outside the doors. They were still wearing those funky, alternative outfits. He waited for the security guard, who checked on id's and let them in one by one. He got closer and closer to the entrance. His heart began to throb and the nerves caused his mind to second guess himself. He couldn't believe he was doing this. It was all laid out before him.

"Wait, is this a good idea? Maybe I shouldn't be here. No, I should leave. I want to go home."

"May I see your id?" Said the security guard.

Jaemin jolted his head up, coming back to reality. He was the last one in line. He quickly searched for his wallet, took out his license and gave it to him.

He studied the license, and then faced Jaemin. "How old are you?" he asked to confirm.

"Twenty-three."

The security guard seemed skeptical. "First time here?"

"How do you know?"

"I can tell." The guard handed the license back, and Jaemin clumsily put it away.

The security guard stepped aside and held the doors open for him. Jaemin swallowed and made his way down the long, dark stairwell with colorful lights gleaming at the end of it. He heard the bass shaking the walls from where he was standing, which meant that the show began.

At the very bottom, Jaemin headed over, passing through the threshold.

Looking around, he saw couples of all genders making out alongside the wall. Others were flirting at the bar. Right across was a medium-sized stage, where purple and blue spotlights gleamed down on the group. There was a drummer, a pianist, and an electric guitar player. They looked pretty cool with their long hair, ripped jeans, and nonchalance.

But it was in fact the young male at the mic stand that caught Jaemin's attention.

His hair was icy platinum white. He stood proud and tall, wearing a black leather jacket with a tank top beneath, and torn navy blue jeans with laced up boots. On his neck was a tattoo of something Jaemin couldn't comprehend from his distance, although he could see the singer's crystal pendant hanging down his buff chest.

Jaemin exhaled, realizing that he had been holding his breath for a solid minute. He had to admit that this stranger had an effect on him. Could it be? The voice who thawed Jaemin's mind?

He scanned the room and found an empty roundtable with a stool. It was right next to the stage. Jaemin sped over to it, avoiding the frisky dancers, and sat down. He loosened his scarf; the large crowd made the small lounge pretty heated. Jaemin knew he was out of place, but he was there for one reason only: to experience something cathartic.