Mirrored Pain

The applause is deafening as the lights dim. But you can't move. The air is frozen in your chest as your eyes follow his every move across the stage.

After a few minutes, the opening act comes on, breaking the spell.

People around begin to chat and chatter, but your head is still spinning. Your heart pounds, still hearing the echo of his voice, of the song you now realize was written for you.

Jessi grabs your arm, pulling you from your daze.

"Holy crap!" She grins. "Did you see who that was?

You nod slowly, still recovering. "Yeah... I just..." Your voice trails off, unable to articulate the rush of emotions.

Jessi, sensing something is off, looks at you with a mix of concern and excitement.

"Hey, are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost." She laughs, unaware of the storm brewing in your chest.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You lie, forcing a smile. Your pulse is still racing.

Jessi, oblivious, excitedly rambles on, "That intro was incredible, right? I love this band."

But your mind is elsewhere, still caught in the whirlpool of memories and guilt. You force yourself to focus on the current performance, but behind your eyes, the past replays like a broken record.

Jessi bounces to the music beside you. You try to mimic her enthusiasm, but it feels plastic, insincere. You keep stealing glances at the backstage door, waiting for it to open, for him to emerge, for what you don't even know.

Minutes tick by. The opening act finishes, and the crowd cheers. You applaud half-heartedly, your gaze never leaving the door.

Jessi nudges you, her excitement uncontainable. "Can you believe we're actually here?"

"Yeah, it's unreal." You mutter, still half-distracted. Every fibre of your being is honed on the backstage door.

The stage crew changes sets and prepares for the next act. The air is a nervous buzz of anticipation — everyone is excited for the main show.

But you're more anxious than excited. Your hands are clammy, your stomach in knots, and the clock seems to slow with every passing minute.

The lights go out, plunging the venue into darkness. The crowd roars with anticipation.

The moment of truth is drawing nearer. The door remains closed.

The emcee appears, a spotlight on his face. "Ladies and gentlemen!" His voice booms over the speakers, "Please welcome to the stage: The Last Leaf!"

A frenzy of cheers and applause fills the air as the band takes the stage. Guitars are plugged in, drums adjusted, and voices checking microphones.

And then, he appears.

Rei strides on, his guitar slung across his chest, the familiar instrument an extension of him. His gaze is fixed on the guitar, avoiding the crowd, avoiding you.

The emcee steps back, the venue falling into a hushed silence.

All eyes are on the band. All eyes are on REi.

The band begins to play, their instruments blending into a melodic harmony. The crowd cheers and sings along.

Rei's eyes stay on the guitar, his fingers gliding over the strings effortlessly. But there's a heaviness in his movements, a subtle tension in his frame that only you notice.

Every strum of the chord, every beat of the drum... It all feels like a silent accusation, a painful reminder of the choices you made.

The first few songs pass in a blur. The crowd is wild, jumping and singing along.

But you, you're stuck in a loop, caught in the limbo of memories and guilt. Every note, every lyric, every movement from Rei feels like a dagger to your heart.

Your eyes remain locked on him, studying every detail of his presence that you missed—the tired lines around his eyes, the new scars on his hands, the forced detachment in his singing.

The fourth song begins, and a collective gasp ripples through the crowd.

This song is different, familiar even. It's a slow, melancholic tune, one that resonates deep within your soul.

The words pour out of Rei's mouth, raw and heartfelt, and the world fades away, leaving just you and him.The lyrics carry a tale of hope, of loss, and of longing.

As the song reaches its peak, Rei lifts his eyes to the crowd for the first time.

But he isn't looking at the throngs of strangers singing along.

No.

He's looking straight at you.

In that moment, you feel the weight of his gaze like an iron fist to the heart.

His eyes are burning with a mix of pain and nostalgia — a mirror reflecting every stolen moment, every forgotten promise, every shattered dream.

You can't look away, trapped in the vortex of his gaze.

The song ends, and the crowd erupts into applause. But your mind is elsewhere

The world is spinning around you.

People are talking, cheering, and shouting, but their voices are muted and distant.

Only his voice resounds in your ears—the song, the lyrics, the pain, the love.

The show continues, song after song.

The crowd is energetic, feeding off the band's energy.

But you, you're just a shell, empty and lost in the sea of people around you.

Your gaze flits between Jessi dancing next to you and Rei, still singing on stage, his eyes never leaving you.

The final few songs fly by like minutes, ending in a frenzy of cheers and applause.

The lights go up, and the crowd starts to disperse.

Jessi, exhilarated and still on a high, turns to you.

"Oh my god, that was amazing!!" she exclaims.

But you can barely muster a smile. You're still stuck in the storm of emotions, your head spinning with guilt and confusion.

Jessi, oblivious to your inner turmoil, keeps rambling on about the concert, the music, the band.

Her words fade into the background as you watch the crew start to dismantle the stage.

Your heart pounds in your ears, your vision tunnelled on the backstage door.

People start to file out of the venue. Some fans linger, hoping for an autograph or a glimpse of their idols.

Jessi, eager and excited, drags you along, her phone camera already clicking.

But you're moving on autopilot, your gaze fixed on the backstage door.

And suddenly, it opens.