PTXperience(s)

Walking the Line

AN: So...I Mary Sue'd my son and I back into a fic. Let's pretend I never wrote Problem. Now let's pretend the story went a little differently...

The line went on forever. Avi felt giddy. He always did after a show, before his exhaustion and hunger caught up with him, before the adrenaline wore off, before the grins of his bandmates and those of the fans changed from the excitement of post-performance to contented smiles full of memories. He greeted everyone with genuine affection, awed by their love, humbled by their appreciation, moved by their stories. He'd had no idea from the beginning that their music would do so much for people.

It was the best feeling in the world.

Which was why the shriek that erupted from somewhere down the line was so jarring—it was full of anger, frustration, anxiety, fear. Avi glanced to his right as several people turned to look behind them, conversations briefly muted as the sound echoed from the walls and ceiling.

Then the moment ended and everything returned to normal.

For a little while.

Until a second shriek split the relative quietude. It was closer this time, and now Avi could hear a female voice, calm and stern, responding to the angry child in low tones. People were starting to fidget.

"What is that god-awful noise?" Avi heard Mitch whisper from the other side of Scott.

"Someone's not happy," Scott observed.

Avi had to agree. Whoever that child was, he definitely wasn't enjoying himself. Soon he could make out the conversation happening between the woman and her son:

"We're almost there, Wesley. This is the last time I'm asking: do you want to stay and meet them and get their autographs, or do you want to leave the line-up and go back to our room?"

"Hmh."

"That's not an answer, hon. Is this too much? Do we need to leave? Because if we leave we can't come back tomorrow and do this again. This is a one-time chance. You have Boneshaker. I have a juice and a snack for you. What do you think?"

"I...I think maybe we need to go."

"Are you sure? Because they're right there. I can see them from here. It'll only be a few more minutes. Do you want to try and make it?"

"No. I'm tired. My feet need a rest. Can we go?"

"Yes, hon, we can go. Take my hand..."

He watched as a slim woman stepped out of line with a boy in tow. He wore a yellow hat, its top puffy like the mane of a lion, and he was driving a car through the air as they walked. Neither of them looked back.

"Is that the boy who was screaming?" Kevin asked from the end of the table.

"Yeah, I think so," Kirstie answered. "Looks a little old to be having a tantrum."

"I don't think it was a tantrum," Kevin continued. "I think it was a meltdown. You know, autism? He might just have been overstimulated."

"I feel kind of bad that they stood in line for so long and didn't get an autograph."

"Yeah, me too," Mitch agreed. "Should we, you know, do something?"

"Like what?" Scott asked.

"Like this." Avi stood and, apologizing to the waiting fans, walked after the boy and his mother.

It didn't take him long to overtake them; the boy was going slowly and his mother was letting him take his time. He raised a hand as he came up behind them and tapped the woman on the shoulder. "Excuse me."

She turned around, a pained smile on her face. "Hi, sorry, I know he was loud, but we're leaving." She trailed off abruptly. "Um...oh my God. You're not security."

Avi smiled. "No, I'm not. I was just wondering..." He turned to look at the boy. "...if you wanted an autograph."

The boy's eyes widened and he jumped, throwing a fist into the air. "Yes!"

Avi did his best not to wince; the boy had some lungs on him.

Laughing, the woman did her best to quiet him and then turned a grateful, teary smile to the bass singer. "You don't have to do this, honestly. I'm just happy he got through the concert. We weren't even going to worry about the line-up but he wanted to meet you guys so much..."

"Then come on. We want to meet you guys, too."

"Am I going to meet Mitch?" Wesley asked excitedly as they walked.

"Yes."

"And Kevin?"

"Yes."

"And Kirstie?"

"Yes."

"And Scott?"

"No."

The boy frowned briefly, looking at the table where Scott was obviously sitting. "Are you just kidding?" he asked dubiously.

Avi laughed. "Yes, you're going to meet Scott."

"Woo-hoo!"

"Come on up to the table." Avi moved back to his seat, smiling an apology to the rest of the fans as he sat back down. "You guys are amazing," he told them. "Thanks for your patience. Now, let's get this line-up moving." He grabbed one of their posters and paused at the top with a marker. "Wesley, is it?"

The boy said nothing. His mother smiled and touched his shoulder. "What's your name, bud?"

"Wesley Aaron Jamie Matthews."

"How about just Wesley?" Avi asked with a grin.

"Or Wes. It's my short-form."

"Okay. You know, Avi is my short-form, too."

"What's Avi short for?"

"Avriel."

Wesley screwed up his face. "That's a weird name."

"Wesley!"

Avi just chuckled. "I get that a lot. Yes, it's a weird name." He finished signing with a flourish and passed the poster down the line. "It was nice to meet you, Wes. Thanks for coming to our concert. I hope you had fun."

"I did!"

"Good. Maybe we'll see you again sometime."

His mother laughed. "Maybe. In a year, when we're ready for another concert."

"Deal. I'll be looking for you guys."

"Just look for my hat. Or my car." Wesley held up the little Hot Wheels vehicle. "So you'll know it's me. Okay?"

"Will do." He held out his hand for a handshake, but Wesley held up his hand for a high five instead. Avi obliged and sent them on their way.

As the duo progressed down the line, and as Avi chatted and signed autographs for other fans, he kept an eye on the boy and his mother as they spoke with and gushed over his bandmates. The boy's excitement was clear in spite of the vaguely static expression on his face—he talked constantly, he showed off his car, he asked to touch Mitch's tattoos, he kissed Kirstie's hand, he got an enormous hug from Kevin as did his mother...

And then he ran off followed hastily by his mom as she gave the band a brief, distracted wave in farewell. Soon they were lost in the crowd.

Avi, however, continued to think about them as the evening wore on. The more he thought about it the happier he was that he'd gone after them. The night could've ended so differently; they could've gone back to the room tired and disappointed without a poster to remind Wesley of the concert he had attended, the music he'd heard, the struggle he'd overcome just to be in the noisy, crowded stadium for the entire length of the show.

Avi had made a difference in their lives.

It was, he'd realized a long time ago—long before the A Capella Academy had even been thought of—what music was really all about.