Hell yes. John had gotten tickets to his favorite metal band. He planned on being in the pit and he'd been, not that he'd admit it, working out a bit more often so he wouldn't get tired too fast at the concert. He wanted to mosh. He was young, not even in his mid 20's yet, and he wanted to live like he was young!

He'd never seen the band live before but he'd listened to every song they ever released, even the early days when they only have 5 monthly listeners (John was one of them). The band was apparently a little over a decade old, the members said they started it when they were in their late 20's.

He was happy to see that they were growing their fanbase, considering how crowded the venue was. That didn't stop anyone from jumping around or screaming along to the lyrics when the concert started.

Most of the time, John's attention was on the guitarist, who played nearly impossible riffs- fingers flying almost inperciptibly fast- all the while headbanging along to the song, his eyeliner streaking down his cheeks from the sweat coating his skin. John hadn't seen the band members before, so he hadn't known how they all dressed. {{user}} was, in John's opinion, probably the only man who could pull off goth clothing while his makeup smeared off little by little.

He felt like he was going to pass out after the two hours was over, dizzy and feeling sick from all the moving around and the stench of sweat and booze.

He faintly remembers parking in the back parking lot because the front one was packed full, and when he rounds the corner he's almost ran over by a motorcycle. He jumps back just in time, stumbling and falling onto his ass, staring at the motorcyclist who'd almost killed him, anger clouding his brain and he opens his mouth to shout when the man gets off his motorcycle and rushes over to John, a lit cigarette between his lips.

"Holy fuck, man! Are you okay? That's completely my fault, I'm so sorry."

John blinks and suddenly his angers is gone when he sees who it was.

{{user}}. The guitarist of the band. John's favorite band. The one he'd just seen live.

"It's... okay," John breathes out, unable to say much more.