Nevereverland | Mob Psycho 100 AU

Chapter 1 | Earth

The soft tune of piano notes ran through the warm, fresh air as brightly coloured lights sifted through and illuminated the night sky. The loud chirping of crickets could almost be heard, yet the singing that filled the heads of many watchers below the stage was drowning them out. That singing voice was the only voice speaking, going up and down in tune to match the flowing piano chords. It was energetic, yet at the same time it held an unmatched level of something calm. The words that seemed to escape the man's mouth, though, were forming something that could almost be called a hopeful story. The audience was loving it.

The man, just short of 180 centimeters tall, was sitting in the centre of the brightly lit stage on a black leather bench. It was small, yet it could still fit two people despite there only being one. A piano stood tall in front of the man who sat on the bench. His fingers seemed to swiftly move over the white and black keys of the piano and tapped them down with something of grace, something of a flail. He nearly missed the next key that was supposed to be played causing sweat to start to form in small beads on his face, but with a simple maneuver he tapped his finger over it. No one noticed, which was great since the same thing had happened quite often. This issue had been even worse at other concerts, so at least the musician was getting better at quickly fixing his mistakes.

It was something about the many eyes filled with stars gazing up at him that made the man miss the light tap on the right key whenever he played in public. It didn't have to do with pressure, it didn't have to do with fear, it didn't have to do with being nervous. Well, actually, scratch that. It probably did have to do with being nervous; or at least half of it did. Maybe the mess-ups simply stemmed from the fact that nothing the man had been doing up to this point was "real"- well, in concerts at least. Of course, he seemed to be singing and playing away to his heart's content, but it wasn't really "real." The man's singing? Sure, it was his, but he was lip syncing. His playing? Also being synced up to match a CD track that played in the background. Any other instruments? Guess what, surprise surprise, those were also being played from the same CD track.

As the the last word to the song escaped his mouth and his fingers ran across the keyboard in a blissful manner, the last song to the concert had reached its completion. He held his head downwards, staring at the keys of the piano for a moment allowing for the last note to fade away. He felt drops of sweat roll down his face. It was finally over. The man slowly lifted up his arm, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. The brush of the light grey fabric against his forehead helped to dry it some, but sweat was quickly starting to form again never the less. He stood, his legs almost feeling stiff from sitting down on the bench for so long.

The man then carefully moved himself out from being sandwiched between the bench and the piano, drawing closer to the front of the stage. With the lights that hemmed the semi-circle shaped stage blaring in his eyes, it was almost impossible to actually see. He squinted slightly as his eyes scanned over the hundreds of people that looked up towards him. They kind of looked more like dark masses, thanks to the night's dim light. His expression holding straight, one of his arms shot out to the side while another bent at a 90-degree angle to become parallel with his stomach. He bent his body downwards in a bow, cocking his head upwards to face the audience. As he bowed, he opened his mouth up, uttering a, "Thank you for showing up," into the microphone that hovered near his mouth.

A loud roar erupted from the crowd; it was the roar of the many fans cheering as loudly as possible. As the deafening cheers surrounded him, the man cracked a smile. That sound there, the sound of those cheers, that was a good sound. He liked hearing them more than anything. That was the sound that made the man feel like he was actually doing something good with his life rather than wasting it away and doing nothing. He was making those people happy, even if it was only for a small amount of time. It was good enough for him.