My heart hammered in my chest as i slid to the front, rubbing my camera handle as the band took its stand.

I snapped a few pictures, before stopping. my mouth gaped open. The band itself was all tattered clothes and eyeliner but the Guitarist really caught the attention.

He looked like he knew pain. I set mu eyes on him. I smiled slightly as he plugged in the amp.

He had tattoos running up his arms, tattered jeans and a orange shirt that has sleeves ripped off, a few holes every now and then in his shirt.

He pulled the strap over his shoulder, picking up a black object, stroking the guitar.

They took their spots, the room getting dark and groggy. Girls pushing me forward.

Then he looked at me. His eyes catching mine, he smiled. stroking his guitar more. starting the song.

My ears blocked the screaming as my heart beat quickened to the sound of the guitar.

He broke contact as I found my way out the crowd showing my reporter sign as I looked back.

His eyes were on me.