"What's their name again?" Kylian's question came with a raised brow, his hand adjusting the costly watch sitting on his left wrist. You were both in the backseat of a taxi heading to the venue, your beau in Jordan's and a tan cargo, unsuspecting of the event you were attending.
"Deftones." You had finally convinced your boyfriend to come with you to a concert and the moment you saw your favorite band playing in Paris, you couldn't have passed the occasion. Aware of his status and busy schedule, you knew you had to make the most out of all the hours you could spend with him during the week, and surprising him with a new experience seemed fitting.
"And remind me what kind of music do they play?" You cozy up next to him on the seat, linking your arm with his and dropping your head on his upper arm.
"Oh, just R&B. You'll love them I promise." You tilt your head with the most innocent smile you could muster up and squeeze his hand on your lap, leading him on. With the hand holding yours, his thumb sticks out to trace meaningless patterns on your skin.
"I trust your taste." If it wasn't for the absurdity of the situation, you could've melted at his words and the preciosity of his naivety. Despite everything, you knew telling him you were going to see a metal band would've sprung an immediate reluctance and you had to use a bit of ingenuity to make him get rid of his bias.
For now, the aux you had politely asked the driver to plug was playing a Brent Faiyaz song, Kylian's light foot-tapping to the rhythm almost as melodious as his voice. You spent the entire ride bickering over who got to pick the next song, ultimately letting him win the fight each time, scared that he'll hate the music later anyways.
"We've arrived." At the driver's announcement, Kylian whips out a beanie and some sunglasses he had stolen from you, his usual attire to hide away from the public. What made you smile at the whole ordeal each time was that he didn't know that those two accessories did not conceal his identity but made him all the more attractive to your eyes.
As soon as you step out of the taxi, a man you assume to be a tour manager greets you both and leads you to the back entrance of the relatively big concert venue. Kylian puts a hand on the small of your back to guide you through the lengthy alleyways and your cheeks redden, not at the gesture, but in anticipation of what was he was about to discover.
The manager's small talk abruptly ends as soon as he opens the door to a secretive area of the arena and lets you both in. You take a few seconds to take in the grandeur of the place, your eyes sparkling with pure exhilaration and joy. Kylian uncharacteristically ignores the man's request to take a picture with him and his ramble about the world cup final. He was too enthralled in the way your eyes were flicking from one spot to the other, taking in the energy that reverberated throughout the room and your beam making his heart swell at the sole look at it.
The young footballer was snapped out of his trance when you turned to look at him over your shoulder and mouthed to take the picture with the poor man, which he did in a hurry to get back to your date. "Excited?" He asked when he came back to you and finally removed his beanie and shades in the secluded area. He was still oblivious to who was about to perform in a few minutes, despite his attire so obviously clashing with hundreds of fans clad in black jeans and black eyeliners.
In that sense, you were glad you had taken him to a Deftones concert, almost certain that their audience was probably not one to freak out upon seeing him. You selfishly gloated at the fact that it'd humble him just the slightest. "Beyond." Your nod came with yet another squeeze of his hand and the brightest grin adorning your features.
As soon as the lights turned off, your heart dropped and Kylian laughed upon seeing you excitingly tapping your feet up and down on the floor like a child. When the band members started coming out, he started suspecting you had not brought him to an R&B concert but he'd have even attended a country music concert if it meant seeing you as happy as you were in that moment.
Once the band had started playing their first song, 'Change' which coincidentally was your favorite, you turned around in the confined space that was your private spot on the balcony to look at him. To your surprise and much to your despair, his eyes were fixated on your frame rather than the stage.
"Look at them, not me!" You scowl at him, to which he only slowly shook his head, a smile slowly creeping on his face.
"Why? It's a better view." His arms were crossed across your chest, his head laying on top of yours while he swayed you both lightly at the music. You rolled your eyes at his corny retort, content nonetheless that he seemed to appreciate the music.
"It's like you never had wings." Your mutter of the song's lyrics came in a slow breath before whipping your head back up to your date "Now, you feel so alive." In the same cadence as the main singer, you dramatically resume your theatrics and hold his cheek in your palm "I've watched you change."
"Media says it a lot but I wouldn't say I've changed that much." Kylian says matter-of-factly, earning a slap on his chest from you and a dirty look. His apology could not even be heard when the crowd started screaming the chorus and banging their heads in what looked like perfect unison. This was definitely not his crowd nor his typical Sunday night but oddly enough, he felt a deep sense of gratitude that you had put up a plan to bring him to your favorite band's concert. You were aware that he would have rented out an entire arena for them to only perform for you if you had told him the truth initially.
"And when he smashed his guitar, that was so cool, right?" Your face was painted with elation, your lips slightly parted and your eyes wild. Kylian mindlessly nodded, too absorbed by your frantic rant to be able to answer with a coherent thought. You were both now walking around Paris, experiencing a dreadful post-concert high and gushing back and forth about your favorite parts of the show.
Your lover's impression of the concert was only amplified by how happy just two hours of music had made you. His heart swelled more and more, each minute you both passed strutting down the streets of the city, now in a comfortable silence. His infliction had come to an end upon arriving on your apartment's doorstep in Montmartre, the sun just now rising and leaving a pink hue on your face in the process.
"I'm glad you chose me to come with you tonight. " His clamor of adoration for you would come in upcoming sunrises. The farewell words put on his lips to mutter already heavy with a meaning you both didn't know the full amplitude of just yet.
