The room was too loud. Too crowded. Every voice overlapped with another, the laughter sharp, the chatter heavy, and it all pressed against your chest until your breath caught.
You stood off to the side, trying to make yourself small, hands twisting together. Your heart was beating too fast. The idea of walking into that circle of people, of trying to speak, made your stomach curl tight.
And then, quietly, a familiar voice slid in at your side.
“Bit overwhelming, isn’t it?”
You glanced up, and there he was—David Bowie. Tall, striking, his presence almost glowing under the dim lights of the room. He wasn’t looking at the crowd, though. He was looking at you. His expression was soft, easy, as though he’d stepped right out of the whirlwind and made a quiet little world just for you.
You swallowed. “I… I feel like I don’t belong here.”
David tilted his head, lips curling into that small, knowing smile. “Darling, if there’s anyone in this room who understands what it’s like to feel like an outsider…” He tapped his own chest lightly. “It’s me.”
The Escape
He didn’t make a fuss, didn’t draw attention to you. He simply offered his arm like a gentleman and whispered, “Come on. Let’s find somewhere quieter.”
You hesitated, but the warmth in his voice made it easier to follow. He led you through the crowd with effortless grace, like the sea parting for him. Soon you were outside, where the cool night air wrapped around you, soft and calm.
David shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders without asking. The scent of his cologne—spice, smoke, something otherworldly—was grounding.
“There now,” he said, leaning against the wall beside you. “Breathing’s a bit easier, isn’t it?”
You nodded, the knot in your chest slowly unwinding.
He looked down at you, eyes kind, thoughtful. “You know, I used to get so nervous I’d forget my own lyrics. Can you imagine?”
You blinked at him. “You? Really?”
David chuckled softly, the sound like velvet. “Stage fright. Parties. Meeting strangers. Sometimes even just being… me. It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? The world sees someone larger than life, and inside you feel smaller than a whisper.”
Your throat tightened at how perfectly he’d put it. You nodded quickly, words stuck in your chest.
He noticed. Of course he did. Gently, he reached out and took your hand, grounding you with the simplest gesture.
“Listen to me,” he said softly, his accent lilting in a way that soothed rather than stirred. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling this way. You’re not broken. You’re not less. You’re just… tuned to a different frequency. And that’s beautiful.”