Raleigh snorts, sniffs hard again and them delicately pats at her face, getting the tears that have escaped her eyes. “It’s fine, we’re going to be fine. He’s leaving after tomorrow night, and then I get to have him home back in Seoul, and I get to squish him whenever I want. It’ll be fine.”

“Of course, it will, of course.” Aria nods, and just like that she wills it so. “Give me one last bathroom break, and then we can go.” Aria gets to her feet and heads to the bathroom.

“Hurry up, I have to go, too!” I yell, flopping down on my bed and staring up at the ceiling. Raleigh lies down next to me. “I can’t wait to meet him, you know, if that’s a thing that’s allowed.”

“Maybe through a video call. I don’t want to pressure him too much. Doing this many concerts is pretty stressful for him, especially when he’s such a little shit about being a perfectionist. God, I hope he doesn’t hurt himself tonight, I’ll kill him,” Raleigh vows, growling it out. “I’m just feeling a lot,” she says again on a sigh.

“I can’t wait to see him in person. I’m going to be the overbearing fangirl and there’s nothing that either you or Aria can do about it.”

I snort. “As if I’m one to complain. I used to fangirl over Jesse all the time. It’s going to be fun though, yeah? And if it isn’t, then we can leave and take a break or whatever? You don’t have to do anything that hurts you.” I reach for her hand and smile when she clasps mine in a steady grip.

“Shit, it’s going to be so much fun. You think they’re going to perform some of their old songs, too? It’s not like I’ve had time to check out those fan cams you’ve sent me. I also kinda wanted to be surprised, so no spoilers if you know the set list or anything like that,” I say, crunching up to a seated position when I hear the toilet flush.

“I’m ready!” Aria announces to the room, wiping her still-wet hands down the front of her jeans.

“Yeah, well, you have to wait for me.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t expecting this.

“Holy shit, Raleigh. Holy fucking shit,” I say, grabbing onto her arm and shaking her like she’s some kind of rag doll. “This is insane. This is like football game level type fandom and we’re in London. I can’t even begin to comprehend any of this—they sing in Korean, wow. Powerful.”

Raleigh glances at me, a nervous smile along her lips.

We’d been briefed on the taxi ride over that we shouldn’t really talk about Jaeyong with any kind of familiarity since we don’t really know who’s going to be around us in the crowd.

I mean, obviously, if the giant screens are anything to go by that are already playing some of Trickshot’s music videos, displaying the beauty of those super-attractive guys in high definition and larger than life (literally), and I randomly point to one of them (everyone except Kyungmin, the maknae) and loudly claim that’s my boyfriend! I don’t really think anyone’s going to care.

Hell, it might just set of a whole chain of events that I’m not prepared for.

Raleigh’s still a little unsettled, but she’s getting more and more excited now, I can tell. She’s got a perma-smile on her face, glancing around, hand covering her eyes since it’s a beautiful sunny day giving way to a sunny evening, glancing over the crowd and all those people in the stands, slowly taking their seats.

We have our bottles of water, our light-sticks that we bought specifically for this occasion, and we’ve all gone to pee several times before making our way to the front-front, right up against the barricade.

Even then, we’re not pressed right up against the stage, which I think would have made me claustrophobic, but there’s a good three, maybe four feet between the barricade and the edge of the stage, where cameramen are situated, tripods holding expensive-looking cameras and people with shirts labelled STAFF running around in the last ten minutes before the show is scheduled to start.

Security (I know because they’re wearing those bright-yellow vests that say so) walks around, glancing into the depths of the crowd, eyes flitting over our group of five, peering practically into our souls to see if we’re going to be any kind of imminent threat. Eyes flicker over me again to the point where I get confused.

If anybody tries to hurt Raleigh’s boyfriend, I’m going to kick some ass, seriously.

“Well, you’ve been recognized,” Aria says, voice loud enough over the other conversations going around. She’s had the forethought to bring us all ear buds, the kind that musicians might wear for concerts, handing them out like they’re some kind of drug instead of just wanting to protect everyone’s ear drums.

I’m about to tell Ayden that he’s one lucky guy, but he’s looking at Aria like he already knows, so I choose to keep my mouth shut.

“I don’t know that I’ve been recognized, maybe they’re looking at Jesse,” I say, jerking my thumb over my shoulder, feeling his hands on my hips, his lips against my cheek.

The security guard is around my age (but what do I know), and I give a wave, watching him blush. “Huh. That’s weird. That’s kind of the first time.”

“No, it’s not,” Jesse laughs, kissing my cheek again, coming around to my side. “You’ve been recognized before, you’re just oblivious.”

“No, I’m not. I’m not oblivious.” Jesse’s smile just gets wider, his laugh louder. “Take it back, take it back, Jesse!” I pretend-growl, pinching at his ribs, knowing all of his deadly tickle-spots.

“Why do you guys have to be so tall?” Aria huffs. “You’re standing in the back,” she orders, and it’s Raleigh who shakes her head.

I raise my eyebrows at her, while Aria looks at her, confused. “I want you guys right up against the barricade with me, on either side. It’s how I imagined it since I knew I was coming to London, and I want this dream to come true, okay?”

“See? I told you I was her favourite,” I say, making Aria laugh at me. I move farther down the row, letting Jesse trail behind me until we’re up against the barricade, the bar right up against my lower ribs. I swear, if anybody decides to push me, I’m going to bruise my spleen (if I knew where my spleen was).

We start singing along to some of the music videos playing on the giant screens, the screams getting louder and louder as a three-minute countdown starts on the central screen with every second that ticks by.

I’m getting into it, too, as are Aria, Ayden, and Jesse, of all surprises.

There’s something electric about being here, about standing with so many people that all have this one thing in common—being fans of Trickshot, loving and supporting them in any way they can. It’s mind boggling.

It doesn’t matter about your background, how much money you make, what you do for a living - we’re all united in this one thing, in this fandom and it kind of…it kind of messes with my head a little, because this is true power - uniting people with nothing but music, and the messages found within that music.

Holy shit.

Just…holy shit.

As the countdown gets closer and closer to the last sixty seconds, Raleigh keeps grinning like a maniac, smiling hard enough that I think her cheeks are permanently going to get stuck like that, but hell, I don’t think she’s going to mind.

I try to put myself in her shoes for a second—just a second—and imagine that it was my boyfriend about to perform on that stage, and that she couldn’t go public with her relationship with him, being seen as nothing more than a fan in a sea of other fans young and old, of every gender and all those in between.

I try to think about what she must be feeling, and I don’t like it one bit. I sling an arm over Raleigh’s shoulder, squeezing her to my side, feeling her rock against me, but when I glance down her smile’s still in place. And Aria, being Aria and the one that always has her antennae attuned to any given emotional situation, happens to wind her arm around Raleigh’s waist as she’s standing between us as the lights flash with a staccato of fireworks, the last ten seconds counting down with more and more fireworks shooting into the sky.

I feel more than see Raleigh pull in a deep breath to the very bottom of her lungs, her shoulders moving in with the deep breath in and the slow breath out as the countdown begins, and my stomach erupts in excited butterflies, feeling a lot like I do right before the referee’s whistle blows and a game starts.

I’m glued to looking straight ahead, watching the stage move in front of me, like cogs in a machine before a wicked guitar riff rips across the stadium, making the screams even louder as we all start counting down together as one: five, four, three, two, one…