When Elise entered the venue she was nervous, all right.

It shouldn't be a big deal: just a bar in the boring part of town that usually went ignored, with a small stage that really wasn't more than an elevated platform with a dusty spotlight. The problem was just that Elise never visited bars unless someone dragged her along kicking and screaming, and the moment she stepped through the door she couldn't help feeling like she was totally out of place.

There were already quite a few people here, all college-aged like she was, but otherwise they couldn't be more different from her. At a glance she spotted a myriad of tattoos and piercings and dyed hair in adventurous haircuts, worn-out boots or sneakers, black T-shirts with band logos on them. Eyes adorned with heavy makeup followed her as she walked into the venue, the clacking of her heels uncomfortably loud on the creaking wooden floor. Elise avoided their gazes, even as every part of her was shouting at her to turn back and go home. It had barely been a minute, and she was already feeling like an intruder. To these strangers she had to look like one of the very people they stood against, someone old-fashioned and rule-abiding who would judge them for expressing themselves.

Huddling into one of the corners, she kept staring at her phone, waiting for the band to take the stage. But every minute or two she glanced up, her eyes scanning the venue for a flash of pink hair. Part of her, it seemed, was still hoping to catch that girl's attention, no matter how silly it felt.

The minutes ticked by. Nothing happened. On the stage the equipment was set up, but there was no trace of the pink-haired girl or the rest of her band.

Then, without warning, a single chord shook the building.

All lights in the bar went out, except for the single yellow spotlight pointing directly at the stage. And there they were, the boys from the pedestrian zone, and in front of them all, the pink-haired singer.

"Good evening, guys!" she shouted into the microphone like she was facing a crowd of thousands, not a few dozen college students in a half-forgotten bar. "Who's here to make some noise?"

And the crowd cheered. They weren't many, but they were loud, enthusiastic, just as excited about this performance as the girl was. These weren't just friends and acquaintances dragged along to the performance of someone they knew, Elise realized. These people were here for the band.

"I can't hear you!" the girl yelled into the mic, grinning as she spoke, fully aware of the absurdity of her statement. "C'mon, I want the whole city to hear us! What do you say?"

The crowd cheered again, even louder this time. Elise didn't quite have the courage to join them yet. Over the years she had become accustomed to getting excited over things quietly, so accustomed that she now had a hard time doing anything else.

As the shouts faded, the band launched into the first song—a cover song, Elise recognized, a loud, powerful number to get the crowd going. The small bar trembled under the sound. Several dozens of voices rose up to join into the lyrics, the choruses, hands clapping and feet stomping along with the rhythm until the walls and the ground were shaking.

But all of that still had nothing on the singer's voice.

Her voice was fierce. It was vibrant. The old microphone's terrible sound quality couldn't restrain her; the narrow walls of the cramped space couldn't contain her, and her voice broke out through the doors and the windows, out into the street, into the world, fearless and furious and demanding to be heard.

Elise stepped out of her corner. Ignoring the strange looks, the sideways glances, she sang and danced and clapped along, her awestruck eyes glued to the flash of pink on stage, this small, slender, stubborn figure whose voice and boundless energy had singlehandedly transformed the dusty old bar into a huge, flashing concert arena.

The set barely lasted half an hour, but when it ended everyone was breathless and sweating and grinning from ear to ear. Elise's head was spinning, her lungs gasping for air, not used to the stuffy air and exercise. Even with her inhaler, it would take them some time to fully calm down.

But it had been so, so, so worth it.

Sitting down on the floor, she caught her breath, watching as the crowd began to leave the venue one by one. She didn't want to leave yet. She wanted to stay here a little longer, enjoy the atmosphere, even as her abused airways were screaming for a gasp of fresh air.

On stage, the four band members were laughing and chatting as they packed up their equipment, the singer chiding her bandmates for any false notes she had picked up on. Elise couldn't believe she had noticed at all. How had she manged to pay attention to such detail while pouring her all into the performance?

This girl…I've just witnessed the birth of a star, haven't I?

Elise sincerely hoped that was true. She wasn't yet sure about the rest of the band—though they were also excellent, in her amateurish opinion—but this girl seemed to have everything she needed to make it on the very big stage. She had the talent, the ambition, the charisma; and, it seemed, she also had more than enough of the needed perfectionism.

Elise wanted to be friends with her so badly, but she didn't think she could ever stand a chance.

Finally the band made ready to leave, and Elise realized she was one of the last people left in the bar. Tensing, she snatched up her bag and hurried out of the venue. As much as she wanted to talk to them, the last thing she wanted to do was look desperate—or like a stalker.

The walk to the bus stop was quiet, depressingly quiet after the power and noise of the concert. The sun had already set, and the street was only illuminated by a few dusty streetlamps glowing a dull, washed-out yellow.

There was no one at the bus stop. Elise checked the time and realized she had almost ten minutes left until her bus arrived. Her eyes flicked up and down the lonely road, wondering if anyone would hear her screams should someone show up out of the shadows and try to rob her—or worse.

But only a minute or two after she arrived, there was a patter of footsteps, and Elise found herself face to face with a familiar figure.

Brown eyes met with her own green ones. Elise offered a shy half-smile, which the girl returned. Her heart pounded hard inside her ribcage. For a split second, everything she wanted to say lay freely on her tongue.

Then the moment passed, and she swallowed her words and looked down at her phone.

You coward.

What had she told herself about definitely using the next chance she got? Well, here it was. And what was she doing? Wasting it again—

"How long till the bus gets here?"

Elise almost dropped her phone, gaping at the girl in equal parts shock and relief. "Huh?"

"You have the time on your phone, right?" the girl asked, offering a rather sheepish smile. "I forgot mine at home, so…do you have the time?"

"Ah—uh, sure." Elise glanced down at the screen, doing a quick math. "About seven more minutes."

"Ew." The girl made a face. "I'm so glad you're here too, this place looks scary to wait alone!"

The fear fell from Elise's shoulders. "I know, right?" she replied, laughing with relief. "Before you arrived, I was already wondering who'd hear me scream if some creep showed up!"

The girl laughed out loud, and Elise felt like she had scored an unexpected victory. Her laugh was loud and open and straightforward like the rest of her, her eyes widening even as they crinkled with mirth. Elise took a closer look at her. She really was small, she realized, and it wasn't just because Elise was wearing heels; this girl was barely five foot tall, made entirely of muscle, like those girls back in middle school who were tiny yet faster than anyone else. She appeared to be of East or Southeast Asian descent, her skin toeing the line between tanned and light brown, her lips full and her eyes sharp and expressive. It was hard to tell if she was pretty—something about the size of her eyes made her face almost unsettling; but her huge, heart-shaped smile was more than enough to make up for that.

"I've never actually been here before," she admitted, sobering up. "Felix knows the owner of that bar, so he got us this gig. Felix—our drummer," she added to Elise's questioning glance. "Oh yeah, and I'm Jen."

"I'm Elise," Elise replied, smiling brightly. "Nice to meet you!"

She paused for a second, processing, then she realized something. "By the way," she remarked. "You knew I was in the crowd?"

Jen blinked, then grinned. "Yeah," she said, pointing finger guns at Elise. "You totally stood out in that crowd! All the black T-shirts and then there's you just…wearing a straight-up blazer." She motioned to Elise's outfit. "At first I was like, is she sure she's in the right place?"

Elise laughed again. "Hey, just because I have the music taste of a 2008 emo kid doesn't mean I have to dress it!"

Sizing her up, Jen regarded her with an ever-widening smirk, raising a teasing eyebrow. "Oho, a little rebel," she said. "Or should I say undercover agent?"

"A bit of both," Elise replied, feeling both exposed and understood, but smirking back all the same. "There's a reason why I use headphones when I listen to music."

"What, so you're embarrassed? Are you embarrassed to be emo? Hmm?"

"No, geez!" Elise backed away against the rusted bus stop sign. "People around me just don't listen to the same music anymore."

Jen made a face. "Sounds like you need some new people."

"Hey now, they're fine otherwise!"

They both laughed, and they continued laughing and joking until the bus arrived. Time passed in a blur of giggles and animated chatter as the half-empty bus made its way through the streets, slowly but steadily carrying the two of them home.

Finally Jen lifted her head, glancing up at the display, and almost jumped into the ceiling. "Shit!" she yelped. "I totally missed my stop!"

Elise jumped up after her. "Oh snap," she said. "Will you be okay? How far is it?"

"Just a couple stops—oh, hang on, there's a bus in the other direction!" Jen pointed across the street from the stop the bus had just come to a halt at, gathering her belongings and dashing for the door. "Sorry, gotta run! You're coming to the next gig, right?"

"Of course!" Elise called after her and meant every word.

"You better do it! I'll be looking for you in the crowd," Jen replied, making an 'I'm watching you' motion with her free hand. "Bye!"

Smiling after her, Elise waved and watched as she darted across the busy road and jumped onto the other bus half a second before it closed its doors.

What a strange person, she thought.

She couldn't wait to talk to her again.

~ ~ ~

Elise did come to the next gig, and the next, and the one after that. Jen's band was still as good as always, and after every gig she would wait for Jen at the door, and the two talked and talked on their shared commute together. One conversation turned into a routine, then a habit. And still Elise didn't mention how much Jen's performance had impressed her, let alone how amazed she had been hearing her in that pedestrian zone singing I'm Just A Kid. She certainly never told her how much that single moment had made her feel like she wasn't alone.

Overall, things remained lighthearted and simple until the day Elise finally asked that fateful question.

"By the way," she remarked in the middle of a chat about the band, "have you ever thought about writing your own songs?"

Jen looked at her in surprise, and Elise backpedaled instantly. "I mean, lots of singers do," she rambled. "And you're so talented, and…are you planning to keep making just cover songs? Not that it's bad or anything! Just…"

"I can only do melodies."

Elise lifted her head. "What?"

"I get these melodies stuck in my head," Jen explained. "They're really good. But the problem is, I don't know how to do lyrics. I've got this melody and a thing I want to express, you know, but I can't put it into words at all."

And that moment, without a second thought, Elise said something that would change her life forever.

"Really?" she said casually. "That's weird, I have the opposite problem."

Jen's eyes lit up.

"You can do lyrics?"

Elise smiled awkwardly. "I'm a writer, remember?" she said. "I've tried my hand at song lyrics before, but I can't make up melodies to save my life."

Slowly, slowly, Jen's face lit up with the glee that came from a good, excellent, absolutely brilliant idea.

"Let's try something," she said.

Before Elise had time to react, Jen began to sing a tune—a simple, catchy melody that was only waiting to be mixed with the sound of a fast guitar. "What do you think about that?"

"It's—it's good," Elise replied, startled. "Is it a chorus?"

Jen beamed. "That's right!" she said. "Can you write lyrics for that?"

Elise backed away, unsure how to cope with the pressure. "Not on the spot," she admitted, laughing awkwardly. "But I think I could come up with something. Hang on, could I—could I record that?"

"I've got a recording," Jen answered, pulling out her phone. "We should just exchange numbers so I can send it to you! And then you can send me your lyrics. We don't have any more gigs anytime soon anyway," she added, "so this is better to stay in touch. Here." She held out a new contact form. "Your name and number, please?"

Elise entered it, and that evening, after returning home, she listened to the recording again and again. She could feel the emotion Jen was trying to convey; now all she needed was to find the right words to carry it across.

And then, as she brushed her teeth before going to bed, it finally hit her.

"Welcome to my world…"