It was like breathing again. Something so familiar, but you forget about it when things get out of your control. There's other things to think about, that take your attention. But, when you get quiet. When you focus and there's nothing else there, just the breeze. Then, you remember.

The familiar colors, the waves of noise like the water rising up to greet me on my perch on the balcony. Keitaro's smile, his hands in the air, swaying with the efforts of our friends, feeling the music with him, every pulse and rise. It went inside me and grabbed my internal organs, pulling me forward. Igniting a feeling that was long quieted, brought out by the noise of guitar, bass, drums, and that wonderful voice. Waking up a sleeping beast.

It brought back my youth again. I was seventeen years old, my eyes so large. It was the same, this swelling of wonder coming up within me, making my mouth open and never able to close. Awestruck, vulnerable, being taught with every lilt and wane. Raw and real.

Somewhere within those three hours, I began to sway with him. I began to sing the words I knew, but no one could hear them, because the crowd was so loud. Only the sonorous, melodic, booming voice of Keitaro was heard over the speakers, attempting to drown out the crowd going wild. We couldn't help ourselves. We all had the same feeling.

And Sana... When I looked over at him, I knew he was having an otherworldly experience. His hands were clasped so tight over his chest, like a prayer. His mouth was open, too, smiling. Almost frozen, except for breathing. Taking it all in, every sense electric. I'd never seen him smile like that, for so long. I tried to imagine what it would be like, but could only draw from my own experience. That first time. And suddenly, I understood. That magic, entrancing enchantment. We'd stepped into their universe, and we couldn't look away. We wanted to be in it forever, but it couldn't last. We could only attend again and stay with them for another few hours, again and again. Their disappearing world, like in a storybook, but real. Amazingly real.

There's something to be said about the way Yellow Lizard creates a universe on stage. There's no other reality anymore, but only a strange and ghastly, beautiful nightmare. It really is like a story, the narrative they create. You begin to believe that world of ghouls, zombies, witches, and vampires is real, because indisputably, there they are in front of you. They were zombies tonight, a medical experiment gone wrong, dressed in clothes from a mental hospital, but designed by one of the patients.

Fumi was a nurse in white BDSM ropes and too short of a tulle skirt, tight laced corset and thigh high red, platform boots. Long, red fingerless gloves matched the aesthetic, and his cotton candy pink, waist length hair was the only playful element to his ensemble. A gorgeous silver, dazzling crown topped this, and the crystals caught the light constantly, drawing your eye obsessively.

Keitaro had meticulously and teasingly taken off his straight jacket first thing, so there was nothing there. His pants were tight and black, with many straps to emulate a second sort of straight jacket on them, seeming to tie his legs together intricately, but they still allowed movement. His hair was half corn rowed to emulate a side shave effect, and the other half was spiked up in a menacing style, as if you would prick your fingers if you touched it, but still soft enough to slip over his eye. He wore army boots that went a little over his pants. A spiked collar, with over-sized spikes, was on his neck, totally lethal looking. His nails were long and black, like claws.

Davy was on almost a pedestal looking stage by himself, elevated above the rest. His eyes were heavily done, but the rest of his face was a pasty off-white, even his lips. You couldn't see much of what he was wearing, but his top looked like a standard lab coat, a little ripped here and there. I knew he didn't like to wear clothing that impeded his playing, so it made sense to me. He wore a black bandanna around his forehead as usual, his long hair flying about as he lost his mind on drums.

Tatara was the most scandalous of all, as always. He was the sex symbol of the band, and looked like a bondage wet dream. There was even a thin silver chain, glinting like forbidden treasure, connecting his nipple rings and continuing to the thick collar on his neck. I knew how hard he worked to keep those muscles like that, the care he took in his diet to maintain it. His dedication.

All of them were dedicated beyond what could be considered normal. To achieve all this, they had to be committed. And tonight, they looked too crazy to be committed to a mental hospital.

When Keitaro, in the middle of the set and waiting to start one of their well known songs, appeared to be about to vomit, the back of his hand over his sultry lips, his eyes large all of a sudden... My own hands went over my mouth, briefly worried, but then...

Fake black blood burst out of his mouth and he spit it as far as he could at the front row. It might have even reached the second row. The biggest screams went up as the rest of it dripped down his chin and onto his chest, going to the stage. With his almost whited out eyes, with the black all over his hands now, it was quite a sight. I realized my hand was at my collarbone, calming my galloping heart.

"We told the purchasers of tickets in the first three rows that they might get wet," Keitaro explained to me. He was smiling, lounging in the dressing room with all of us. We were sitting on a couch that was built into the wall, big red pillows all around us. He held my hand, wiping the back of it with his thumb slowly. He was so happy, his eyes absolutely content.

My hand went to the middle of my collarbones again, sighing in relief. "Oh, I was so worried about that. Their outfits. But, aren't you worried about germs? What about-"

"Don't worry about it so much," Tatara said. He was holding a plate full of cake. He gestured it to me. "Come get some before it's gone. There's way too many people in here."

There really were. As I observed, even Sawai-san was holding a piece of cake as she talked to Fumi's makeup artist across the room. My sister was having the time of her life talking to Fumi again, deep in conversation with so many smiles. Sana and Yami were talking to Davy, reminding me of children in their elated joy and movements. Nobu was checking out one of Fumi's guitars, glancing around like someone was going to tell him to stop. Masaki was doing the same to one of Tatara's basses, attempting to hide in a corner with Nobu as they fooled around with instruments that were clearly not their own. Seeing Shizue and Hikaru, they looked like they were excitedly recounting the whole thing, with Shizue miming parts that I clearly remembered. So many of the staff were in here, too, talking among themselves. Every now and again they'd approach someone in Lyra and introduce themselves. It was the happiest thing I'd ever seen.

"Besides," Tatara said, not waiting to shove more cake into his mouth, making his further words muffled. "Our fans know what to expect when they come to our shows. It isn't the first time we've thrown something at them. Remember Blood Fest?"

Ah, who wouldn't remember? They'd passed out white t-shirts and sprayed them with fake blood during the show. Everyone was soaked by the end, each with a unique souvenir shirt to take home. The next year, they'd done the same except fake tarred and feathered them. Fleeting World had put a stop to the practice soon after that, due to someone falling on the liquid and getting hurt. The fan was understanding, but the owner of Fleeting World wasn't taking any chances. Still, they liked to throw things at their audience, just nothing quite so lethal anymore.

"I want to do Blood Fest again," Keitaro said, raising his voice and pointing his finger at Tatara, his smile so big. "Maybe in Europe. Germany! I bet they'd love it in Germany."

"Why Germany-?" I began to ask, but a plate was shoved into my hands. My eyes raced up to see who had done it. I sighed happily, a big smile easing onto my face. Fumi was on the other side of the plate, his short red nails casting a reflection on its porcelain surface.

"Eat something. You haven't eaten the whole time. Enjoy yourself." Just as mysteriously as he was here, he was gone, jumping away like a little fairy among flower bushes, except it was between something he loved even more: people excitedly chattering about his music. He joined a conversation between Davy and Nobu like it was nothing.

My fingers gripped the plate like claws. "Eat something!" I gasped. "Oh, Sana hasn't eaten, either! What time is it?!"

"Calm down, here." Keitaro pulled out his cellphone. When the time came up on it I only jumped more, this time out of my seat.

"It's 11:26!" I yelped. At this, all heads turned to me, including Sana's.

Fumi chuckled, always used to being the center of attention, but that wasn't a bad thing. "Do you have somewhere you need to be, Cinderella?" He asked, trying to make a joke.

I laughed with him, trying to remain light-hearted. Everyone started laughing at this, going back to their conversations. Still laughing, I made a bee-line for Sana. My cellphone was coming out of my pocket at the same time, and by the time I reached him I had a reading from his device. I leaned over in front of him, getting snugly face to face, smiling that grin that I knew he loved.

"Let's get you something to eat, hmm?" I asked, trying to ignore the panicked feeling inside. Wanting to maintain the joy, but somehow convey the urgency to him.

He picked up on it immediately. "Oh- oh!" He sputtered, smiling gently with me. "Yes. What's over at the catering table?"

Yami was quick as a whip, too. "Let's go see," he said, making no illusions. He was completely sober and serious about it, starting to steer Sana's wheelchair toward the table with no time wasted. Davy took the cue, too.

"Come with me, I saw some hummus and pita," he offered, following behind them.

Such relief. They had it covered. I was left standing there holding my cake, almost a confusion in me. I looked down at it. It was a standard strawberry shortcake, a shimmering glazed strawberry on top. There was nothing else to do, but...

"Mmmm..." I sighed, as the first bite of cake disappeared into my mouth. The fork dragged on my lips as my eyes closed briefly, taking in the delicate balance of flavors. There was time for another, so I did it. As I chewed, I watched the three of them at the table. Davy was pointing at various things, and I remembered how he'd been the one to suggest we go eat before the concert in the first place. It gave me such a feeling of safety. But, I knew it wasn't true. No matter how much you're careful, you can still make mistakes.

I flew over to the table, rounding on them. I listened to Davy's explanations of the food that was there for him. "This is a vegan cheese," he was in the middle of saying, pointing at it and holding a small plate of what looked to be whole wheat crackers. "I'll get you some of that. Ah, there's the hummus! Do you want some meat? What can you have?"

It made me want to sigh in all of that joy again. I could feel my eyes curling at the edges in contentment. If this is what he'd be like on tour, showing Sana the various foods and asking him if things were okay, almost in a fatherly way, then everything would be alright.

That's when he attempted to put some grapes on Sana's plate.

"Nope," Yami said, matter-of-fact. He scraped the red bunch away with his hand and they bounced on the table, breaking apart a little.

"Whoops," Davy chuckled, never missing a beat. "How about some carrots? Oh, there's some. They're good with hummus."

Sana was laughing behind his fingers, though. So cute. Clearly enjoying this. A golden butterfly was blooming in my heart, watching him with Davy, seeing Yami there knowing Sana so well and able to protect him.

In the end, we held identical plates as we sat on the couch together. We observed the room, eating. He needed a quiet moment to eat, and everyone seemed to understand this without us having to say so. I wanted to take his hand and hold it to myself, share my overwhelming happiness with him. Find his, share it, too. But, he was eating with his hands, so I'd have to wait.

Inside, I was jumping like a child. Excited and wild, not able to wait, but having to wait.

This pandemonium of chaos, joy tumbling over joy. This nostalgic memory, but real and happening again. It was telling me something so clearly, excited so much that I could fly:

He was finally in my world. I was showing him what I knew, and this was a world he'd wanted to be a part of so much. This place I'd held with Yellow Lizard since I was seventeen. We were both a part of it now, and we had a space all our own that belonged to us. This was the universe of Fleeting World, and this was the first day of the rest of our lives.

Unable to resist it anymore, I dove to kiss his cheek. He jumped so hard, a hand going over his full mouth as his eyes bugged in surprise. I was laughing so much as his smile went up, beyond the reach of his modest fingers. He stared at me with those wide eyes, and the child-like excitement in them, the same I'd seen for three hours at the concert, stared at me like he could never be unhappy again.