Chapter Text
Music pounded through the packed room as Noctis, drink in his hand, shoved his way through the crowd toward the stage. He pulled Prompto behind him, his other hand on his friend’s bicep so they wouldn’t lose each other among the rioting fans in the front. Silent Scream, sworn rival of World of Ruin, had just started their set.
“Noct, slow down before you spill that,” Prompto shouted over the crowd noise.
Noctis barely heard him—his eyes were still forward, watching the stage. The frontwoman of Silent Scream sauntered up to the mic, smiling. She wore her hair up, save for the bangs that fell over her forehead. Like the others, she was clad in dark clothes accented with silver. The choker around her neck had a small black moon dangling from it.
“Good evening, Insomnia,” she called out, her voice light and accented. “Lovely to see you all tonight. I hope you enjoy this next song. It’s called ‘Homecoming.’”
The rest of the band started in on the song, which the frontwoman began with a long, drawn-out high note. The song’s chords kept diving deeper, darker, as she sang about loss, wandering in the eternal night with no light to hope for. Both the music and the lyrics were agonizing, and yet a thread of hope entered with the chorus. I’m coming home, the hook said.
Noctis’s eyes shifted to the side of the stage closest to him and Prompto as the drums kicked in. The band’s bassist, eyes down, joined, his fingers flying over the strings and neck of the instrument. Noctis kept watching him, transfixed.
He’d never tell the rest of his own band, but he’d been admiring Silent Scream’s bassist in their photos for a long goddamn time. He was absolutely gorgeous, with a long, lithe frame—his legs, in the tight jeans he wore tonight, were distracting as hell—and tawny blond hair that fell over his forehead. Noctis had seen some videos of him playing piano and keyboard, too, on the band’s more mellow songs. He had long, slender fingers to match the rest of him. Noctis hated that he would kill to have those hands on him.
He tried to shift his attention to the rest of the band—he’d heard this song before. “Wanderlust,” it was called, or something to that effect, anyway. He was swept up in the sound, in the crowd eddying around him. He took a swig of his drink. The band held a chord just before the frontwoman pulled her mic from the stand and strode to the edge of the stage with it, starting in on the first verse.
The other two members were farther from where Prompto and Noctis stood, but he’d seen photos of them, too. Their drummer, a muscular, tattooed guy with long dark hair that he kept shaved on the sides, usually appeared in photos with no shirt. He was wearing one at the moment, but Noctis guessed it would come off at some point during the show. And he’d heard people say that their guitarist was the most intimidating person they’d ever seen. Hard to believe he was the brother of the frontwoman. His hair was dyed silver, and when he was concentrating on his instrument, shadows seemed to descend over his face.
When he played the solo, Noctis watched it happen—he looked like a man possessed, like his hands were made of metal. The notes weaved through the air as he played, his picking hand a blur as his other hand moved up and down rapidly along the fretboard. Nyx would probably have a hell of a time challenging him to a guitar battle of sorts. He’d probably do it, too, if their bands ever ended up within spitting distance of one another.
Nyx and the others hadn’t joined them tonight, but Noctis didn’t mind. They didn’t need to be here to witness him ogling Silent Scream’s bassist, as Prompto often said, punching him on the arm. None of that really mattered, anyway. The music enveloped them, the bass rattling through the walls and the floor. He could feel the hits of the bass drum in his sternum.
Prompto leaned on Noctis’s shoulder, speaking into his ear to make sure that Noctis could understand him. “He is pretty stunning in real life, isn’t he?” he teased.
Noctis stuck his tongue out at him and took another drink.
The song ended, and the frontwoman shook her bangs out of her face, replacing her mic on the stand before picking up the bottle of water sitting in the midst of the cables wound together on the stage floor. She sipped from it. Someone in the crowd shouted, “I love you Luna,” and when she set the bottle back down, she was smiling.
“You all have been amazing so far tonight,” Luna said into the mic. “Keep that energy up for this next song. It’s called ‘Last Bastion.’”
When the drums kicked in, a new surge of energy seemed to hit the crowd. Noctis would have spilled the rest of his drink if he hadn’t already finished it. The people around them were jumping, jostling one another, making him feel like he was caught in the waves of a tempestuous sea.
He recognized this song, too. When he’d first heard it, Noctis had thought that it reminded him of one of Ruin’s songs. Not in its melody or chords—it had a similar theme behind it, one of descending into darkness before finally finding an anchor, something to hold onto. For that reason, he’d felt a connection to it, and he felt that same connection now, especially watching Ignis fall into what were clearly familiar notes, familiar movements.
If he looked out into the crowd, he probably wouldn’t even see Noctis. The lights were no doubt blinding, he thought as he watched Luna sing the last long note of the chorus. Her face was tipped back toward them, her eyes closed, pale bangs plastered to her forehead. Behind her, Ignis was looking down, his hair obscuring his face.
Noctis tried to tear himself away from the thoughts he’d been swept up in. Normally, his performances with World of Ruin didn’t take away from his ability to enjoy other shows. He could let go, sink into the night’s atmosphere. Thoughts of being on the stage didn’t interfere.
Tonight was different. The fact that he’d admired Ignis from afar before and Silent Scream’s permanent status as rival had both combined to keep him suspended. He wanted to have Ignis to himself as much as he wanted to get back on that stage and show him what he was made of.
Still, with each song that began and ended, each picture Prompto snapped next to him and each sip of their drinks, Noctis surrendered to the energy of the show. The more he thought about the stage, the more he imagined being on one of Insomnia’s stages next week. World of Ruin were finishing their tour here soon, too. Noctis didn’t need to think about that tonight.
The crowd clamored for an encore when Silent Scream finally left the stage. Beside him, Prompto joined in the chants of One more song, and at last, the four of them reemerged, casting exhilarated glances at one another as if deciding what song to play.
Luna turned to them and said into her microphone, “This song is called ‘Kings.’”
Their last song brought wild cheers from the crowd. Luna turned the mic toward Scream’s fans during the bridge. Even after the final chords died out and the lights went up, the room still vibrated with energy. Noctis and Prompto sat just outside after it was over. A steady stream of cars passed on the street ahead of them. The sky was pitch-dark, but it wasn’t late enough for the city’s nightlife to call it quits.
“You know, Noct,” Prompto said after a long silence, “that was pretty awesome, you gotta admit.”
“Not going to argue with that.”
Content to watch the city ebb and flow before them, neither said anything for a while. Silent Scream’s fans emerged from the venue mostly in groups, chattering about the show and trading verses of their songs. Noctis, shoving away from the wall he’d been leaning on, turned to Prompto and spoke at last.
“Can’t wait for Ruin’s next couple shows,” he said with a smirk.
“Me neither, but you knew that,” Prompto said. “Ready to go?”
Noctis inhaled, feeling the concert’s energy thundering within him. He nodded.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”