A Night to Remember

Alex had been counting down the days to this concert for months. Their favorite band, Neon Requiem, was finally coming to town, and they weren’t going to miss it for anything.

Dressed in a black mesh top layered over a neon tank, ripped jeans, and their well-worn combat boots, Alex felt like themselves. They had spent hours perfecting their eyeliner—sharp enough to kill—and their nails were painted in mismatched colors, a last-minute decision that somehow felt just right.

As they walked through the city toward the venue, the buzz of excitement filled the air. Groups of fans in band tees and leather jackets milled around outside, laughter and chatter blending with the distant hum of music from inside. Alex took a deep breath. Concerts were always a mix of emotions for them—pure joy at the music, a tinge of anxiety about being in a crowded space, and the hope of feeling like they truly belonged.

They got in line, scrolling through their phone while occasionally glancing up at the people around them. A few folks smiled, one complimented their boots, and another asked if this was their first Neon Requiem concert.

“Nah, third one,” Alex said with a grin. “They put on the best shows.”

Finally, the doors opened, and the crowd surged forward. Inside, the air was electric. The stage glowed in shifting colors, the bass thrumming in their chest as the opening act wrapped up. Alex found a good spot near the side, where they could see everything without getting completely swallowed by the pit.

As the lights dimmed, the roar of the crowd became deafening. Then, the first chords hit, and the band took the stage. Alex felt everything else fade away.

This was why they loved concerts. The moment when the music drowned out the noise of the world, when they weren’t thinking about whether people saw them as too feminine, too masculine, or anything in between. Here, in this moment, they were just Alex—singing at the top of their lungs, hands in the air, surrounded by people who felt the music just as deeply