Mikael felt a nudge on his back when his band members walked over to him.

"So, what's his name?" Pete asked.

"Her name is Rogue," Mikael told them with a dreamy face.

"Well young man, don't blink, she'll steal your heart even without trying," Clint said and ruffled his hair. "Now, let's go, we have a front act to perform."

Mikael took one more glance at the car outside and as Rogue did, their eyes met. He was far more happy and inspired, he'd definitely take on the stage tonight.

He was in his freshman year in college and have been on the road for various gigs. His twin sister, Agata, always cover up for him, forging medical certificates to be excused from his classes and lying to their dad.

The flick of Clint's lighter and his sudden inhale drew Mikael's attention as the five of them waited backstage for the first opening band to finish and get off the stage.

Leonard kept peeking out the door at the crowd. "Every single fan of Under Prescription must be here," murmured the drummer as he stared in awe at the crowd of some hundred thousand people.

They marched into the dressing area to shake off their anxiety.

"Fuck, that's a massive crowd." Mikael swallowed hard while fishing out a cigarette and his lighter from his backpack.

He was their lead guitarist. For someone looking young and innocent, he could play guitar like a motherfucker once he let loose one of his ear-shattering chords.

The night sky was faded black. The cameras were prepared to show the concert to the world. Mikael was nervous. Extremely anxious.

He caught hold of something hard, thick and square-edged while digging through his bag. He took the thing out and was surprised to see Rogue's book.

"Boys, you're sets been extended, the other second opening act dropped out," Clint announced while they were gathered in the dressing room.

Mikael carefully placed the book back inside his bag.

"Clint, that's awesome! So what do we get now, like thirty minutes?" Pete clarified.

"An hour!" Clint ruffled his hair.

Rodney, the keyboard synthesizer player, fist pump the air while the others bumped each other's chest in excitement. The longer the exposure the better.

"Now go get ready to kill it." Clint stepped out of the room and ready the stage.

"When do we go on?" Floyd, their bass guitarist, asked.

"Fifteen minutes. You ready?" Johnson, the vocalist, asked his bandmates.

"I'm always ready. We're going to crush it, man!" Mikael smirked. The two grabbed arms and tapped shoulders.

The Invisible Dick waited anxiously behind the curtains after the first opening act left the stage. When the stage went dark, all the fans started screaming.

Johnson looked from behind the curtain scouting the crowd. This was their first big gig they've had as a band.

"Fuck this." Johnson uttered, chewing his fingernails.

Clint walked up to them, straightened up their earpieces and angled the microphones that were taped to the right side of their faces.

"All right Dicks..."

"Jesus," Leonard huffed and rolled his eyes.

"This is it. Don't screw it up," Clint said sternly.

"Let's go rock." Mikael sauntered off as the curtain began to rise.

The crowd started cheering, screaming their heads offs.

They all ran to their places. Mikael and Floyd adjusted their guitar straps. Leonard pulled out his drumsticks tucked in his hind pocket and tried to keep it quiet. Rodney found his place on the keyboard and Johnson took the microphone off the stand and took a deep breath.

Leonard started the beat: One, two-one, two, three, four!

Johnson was ready for his abrupt count in and he jumped right into the song while Mikael and Floyd shred their opening chords.

"Invisible Dicks!" Johnson shouted. The screams of the fans tripled in volume. "Fuck yeah!" Johnson roared.

Mikael began to hammer out the opening riff and the crowd exploded.

As they started to play Mikael could feel nerves kick in. His body tightened and his mind started to race. Those nerves usually aren't there for him at gigs, but this time they were — and it took him a lot more concentration to play well.

He started thinking about lots of things; what the executive thought of them, worrying about making a mistake, and then he thought about how he shouldn't be thinking about any of those things and that he should just focus on playing the song well and enjoy the moment.

Stop thinking about thinking is a hard thing to do. Something in his brain froze and it was like he forgot what he was supposed to play — he almost stopped playing during the fill, it was so awkward. Mikael missed a note.

He wasn't sure how bad it sounded to his band or to the crowd, but to him, it felt as if he was a little kid standing in the front of his classroom, naked, with everyone staring at him.

Johnson looked at his direction.

Experience has taught him that no matter what is happening during a show on stage, he has to play through it. If he plays through it, there are still chances to not botch the biggest gig of their life.

Mikael grinned and kept playing through it with much more conviction.

They usually stick with the same fill every gig but that night he played what he wanted, got where they needed to be.

Laughing and pointing at the drummer worked. The rest of the band figured out what was happening and they all started laughing.

What was a stanky screw up was not even noticeable by the crowd. Also, having fun with it, no matter what, made all the difference.

The audience continued to be engaged and have fun with them.

Floyd kept his bass line up as Johnson went on prowling around the stage like an animal and screaming into his microphone.

Mikael scanned the crowd and somehow saw Rogue's face in a blonde leaning back against a pillar. He scanned the sea of faces and saw Rogue's face everywhere.

Johnson brought him back to reality with an unpleasant bump.

Everyone was completely going gaga, needless to say, and they were not even the main event.

" RnQ