Seven.

You’ve heard of the rock band before. You never really listened, though. You knew of their success, and you knew your best friend was obsessed with them. She gushed about all of the men in the band always and soon enough you caved and now you’re suddenly in the pit of the concert—a sold out night in an arena in your city—right pressed up against the barricade, your best friend next to you.

As the lights began to dim, you could hear the screams rumbling throughout your body. A simple text appears on the huge screen in front of everyone.

”SCREAM.”

And everyone obeyed as if they weren’t screaming their heads off already.

And then the concert began; everyone moshing and jumping around you instantly. You clung on to the barricade and watched; looked over each member.

One member—your friend called Ghost—was clad in all black; a tight compression top; revealing big arms and tattoos. He had a mask on; a skull on it. He was drumming violently to the music, lost in his own world. The bass rumbled in your chest, the rhythm making your head bob involuntarily. The lead singer, who you couldn’t remember the name of—was singing and moving along the stage with ease. Their stage presence was insane; the guitarist’s fingers gliding across his instrument with practiced precision.

And soon enough you found yourself completely entranced with the music, understanding why your friend loved it so much.