Not a stolen dream

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Alex. 

I'm an idiot.

Seeing her standing under the stage, those beautiful grey eyes staring back at me, I realise what I'm giving up. All I want to do is jump down to her, hold her close and kiss her. Tell her I didn't mean those words in the storage room. Tell her the truth.

But I'm a fucking coward.

I've created another game and thought I knew the rules. I thought I made the rules and knew how to win. No, jokes on me. The game came alive and took over, changed the rules and outplayed me. I'm losing in my own game, and all because of fear.

I'm planning how to end things before they have even started. Trying to find ways to push her away from me before I hurt her and break her heart into the tiniest pieces. Before she sees the real destruction I bring along with me.

I'm on a path of breaking my own heart, just to foolishly protect hers.

And so I sing the words only to her. Ignoring everyone else in the crowd, creating a bubble just for us. That's the most I can do. Hope that she understands, hope that the words hit directly where I want them to. Hope that she sees the bigger picture. Hope that the lyrics explain what I can't get out of me. Hope that maybe she'll hate a little less at the end of this game.

There's a raging fire inside of me. Not ashes of the burnt out desire to steal another moment after the show. But a raging fire stemming from frustration and incapability of facing the real world. I'm furious at myself, wishing I could kick my own ass.

They should've beaten me more that night.

When she breaks eye contact a part of me wants to stop playing and singing. To tell her to look at me again. Keeping that short term pain in my chest, I continue performing and remind myself what his show means. It's our chance to expand. It is the first step in our career, the first step to opening doors for us.

It's the longest, yet shortest three minutes and forty six seconds of my life. The weirdest three minutes and forty six seconds of my life while Ashley refuses to keep eye contact for longer than a few short seconds. Scanning the crowd, I spot everyone I wished to be here tonight.

Almost everyone.

It stings in my chest when the air around me tightens and my heart gets wrapped in thorns of guilt. The world around me slows down and my vision blurs. I force my fingers to continue playing at the steady pace, following Ace's and River's rhythm, following their lead, while I disconnect from the world around me.

Slowly, painfully slowly. It feels suffocating and fake. Not a single part of me deserves to be standing here tonight. I'm invading a stage that should never have my footprints on it.

In the crowd of wild teenagers, standing somewhere near the private staff exit, I spot her. The loving eyes, always so forgiving despite everything else. The familiar soft smile that had him wrapped around his finger instantly.

She's smiling at me, encouraging me with her eyes. A smile I'm not worthy of. She should be looking at me with anger and not love. The smile should be angry, not loving.

Yet I still return the smile to Channel. Hoping that by faking a feeling of forgiveness it will really come one day.

Fake it till you make it, as Mae always says.

I wonder how long I can still go on faking.

********

I turn to Mae, locking eyes immediately. I pick up the pace of my fingers, hearing Ace going off on his drum kit a little harder. River laughs, accepting the challenge. Mae starts jumping around us in circles as her voice echoes through the venue. A perfect rock melody and a fast paced alternating rhythm suit Mae's strong voice a lot more than soft pop tunes.

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