I can't believe it.

Lucas goes on in five minutes.

Well, four minutes and forty-seven seconds, but who's counting?

I hear the crowd begin to chant his name with vigor and enough energy to spark a revolution. Neon lights fly throughout the auditorium, people using them to express their excitement and impatience for the show.

How can one teenage boy set a fire inside of hundreds and thousands of people?

These a fans. True and faithful fans.

Ｆａｎｓ

𝐀𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐬; 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬

Ｆａｎｓ

𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞

Four more minutes until Lucas appears.

I open and close my hands before passing my fingers through the air above the lighting console, taking deep breaths and preparing myself. Mike has already begun live recording from his seat in front of the large camera set up. He angles the camera down at the crowd and records their jumps and hollers.

Three more minutes.

I can imagine Lucas backstage with people crowding around him to make sure every hair is in place. Is he nervous? He had told me that he still got nervous before shows, but I don't think I really believed him at the time. Staring down at the insane crowd down below made butterflies begin acrobatics in my stomach, and I wasn't even facing them head-on.

Suddenly I decide to shout something over the loud noise in the auditorium. "Lucas! If you can somehow hear me over this crazy crowd, know that I'm counting on you to kick these people out of the wazoo!" I smile and fall back into my comfortable seat to wait out the last two minutes.

The longest two minutes of my life.

The clock is about to turn five when suddenly I hear the music cue sound on the speakers. The lights are already dim so I keep in time with the tempo with my foot. "Music is exercise to the brain," I hear Lucas' familiar voice say through the speakers. "It's more than a luxury or pastime. It's not a feel-good now, depression later. Our minds actually dissect each song we listen to. We decipher the downbeats and upbeats while recognizing the elements within it." I pass mysterious lights over the crowd, balancing them with the sound of Lucas' steady voice.

"Our brains create brainwaves that determine concentration and alertness. Whether we're focused on the music or not, we still gain something from each song. Music is our companion and a source of optimism in a dismal time."

My fingers set into motion as Lucas suddenly appears on stage, his mic strapped to his left cheek. His red leather jacket stands out against the rest of his black outfit. "Feel the wave as it rushes by. Feel it fall and feel it rise." He falls into a set of moves, his legs moving swiftly and smoothly. "Everything else begins to crumble as we feel ourselves stumble. Feel the music as it rushes by."

Feel it in the ground watch it rumble as it's found.

Feel it course through you and shatter your bones.

The crowd screams as he takes a small, tense pause with a grin before starting the chorus. "Fuel the fire!" "Higher!" the crowd shouts with Lucas. "I need the gasoline like I'm some machine. I'm running on adrenaline, waiting for the world to end, singing louder than my ears can take. I don't really care who I offend, I'm waiting so that I can ascend, fighting for a world that I can live in. Fuel the fire! It's a desire!"

It's a song I've never heard in my entire life, but I hear myself joining in when the second chorus comes around. It's like someone else is controlling my actions. I don't recognize this smile stretching across my face, nor the flutters of excitement and the urge to jump and scream like a fan girl.

"You're nervous?" I ask Lucas.

"How could I not be?" he questions back.

At this moment, he can't look farther from it. My eyes are glued to the screen to the right of the stage that shows the live footage, giving me a clear view of Lucas' beaming face. Sweat has already begun forming on his forehead, but it is barely noticeable with the lights flashing all around him.

When the song finally comes to an end, his face seems so bright. I hardly notice his slight heavy breathing.

It must be difficult to sing and dance at the same time.

He takes a few deep breaths before yelling, "What's up Miami?!" He jumps and throws his fist into the air as the crowd answers with loud cheers and screams. Phones set on record are held higher up and the neon lights shake with excitement.

"Who's pumped for tonight?" Lucas asks the crowd. Another cheer follows, even louder than before. "I don't hear you!" The next cheer rattles the auditorium. "Then let's get this show on the road!"

The bass guitar sounds through the speakers and sets the beat for the song. Lucas nods his head to the beat and walks back and forth as the rest of the instruments join in.

In each song I hear through those large auditorium speakers, there is one thing in common. It's the pulse. The heartbeat. The song of a thousand people singing together as one.

It surprises me that I notice. Not because I'm not usually perceptive or attentive, but because I usually just don't care. I don't care enough to see or feel and definitely not hear. But right now I find myself swept up in rhythm.

It's something I'm not sure I like or dislike. It's just something that I feel settle down on me, neither pleasant nor unpleasant.

I don't notice the end of the fifth song until I hear Lucas' voice cut through the even sound. "There's someone very special here tonight that I'd like to join me on stage. She might need some help getting over here though, so do you think you can give her some encouragement?"

I drown out the exploding cheers as I watch Lucas make eye contact with me from what feels like miles away.

There's no doubt.

I'm the one he wants to go on stage with him.