II. Boy Bands

I'd never been to a concert before. And now, standing in Magix Auditorium, I can honestly say I hated them.

The room smelled like vomit and sweat. I was shrouded in complete darkness, aside from bright lights from the stage a few rows in front of me. The seats were hard with half of the cushion sewn onto the plastic already torn out, and were so tight together everyone was practically on top of each other.

But, worst of all, there were the fangirls.

The thousands upon thousands of screaming fangirls.

The entire auditorium was filled with them, screaming lyrics and holding up homemade signs declaring their love for certain band members. Some girls were even crying (actually, a better word would be bawling), reaching towards the stage in agony.

It was psychotic.

I stood there with my hands over my ears, trying to dull the screeching of the audience, but it was supernatural. There was nothing in the dimension that sound couldn't penetrate. It also didn't help that the two friends who had dragged me here were sitting next to me, two fangirls themselves.

Musa and Roxy had insisted on taking me out for my birthday, and after we had a birthday dinner with the rest of our friends, brought me to the concert. Musa claimed that going nineteen years without seeing a single concert was a crime, while Roxy droned on and on about one of the band members in the opening act she thought was "hotter than Solaria's suns."

There were five guys on the stage, most of them hidden from me by the blinding lights and smoke. I could easily spot the guy Roxy had been droning on and on about what was his sharp facial features and bright red, shoulder-length hair. From what I could gather, he seemed to be the "leader," or whatever it was called for a punky boy band.

Then I saw him.

The second his eyes met mine, the screams of the surrounding crowd vanished. Everyone in the auditorium disappeared, leaving only me and him. I tried to pull my gaze away from his for a moment, but to no avail.

I didn't recognize his face from any of the posters in Roxy's or Musa's room. He didn't look like he was in a band. I would've expected him to be a soloist act instead based on his mature air.

He was definitely older, his face composed of very sharp angles that put the ones on the red-haired man's face to shame. The sleeves of his burgundy leather jacket were rolled up to his elbows, revealing a dark violet interior. Underneath the jacket was a very loose-fitting white v-neck t-shirt that was certainly going well with the girls in the room.

But he wasn't staring at any of the other girls. He was staring at me. And I was staring at him.

A smirk appeared on his face that perfectly complemented his features, making him even more attractive (if that was possible).

I felt like I was in a trance when he started singing. Shivers slithered down my spine; his voice being centered and sensual. It stood out from the others and appealed to me so much I actually uncovered my ears to try to listen to it better. I could hear a slight strain in it, meaning he was holding back. I couldn't help but wonder what he would sound like if he wasn't holding back.

His parts of the songs were the only ones I could actually stand to listen to. He must've written them himself; there being a huge difference between his sections of lyrics and the others. His had deeper meanings laced in the words, mostly about being alone in the world and fighting for what belongs to you (I wasn't quite sure if I fully agreed with the latter, but I wasn't going to question it.).

Although, nothing could stop the dance moves from being absolutely ridiculous. He looked good doing them, but there was no way in hell that I could've stopped myself from laughing.

While the crowd cheered as their set ended, I surprisingly smiled. They weren't as bad as I thought they were going to be.

Mostly because of him.

Mainly because of him.

Looking up to the stage, I froze as his eyes met mine for the second time that night. It was like his eyes hadn't left me the whole time. And, for all I knew, they might not have; although, I seriously doubted it.

Suddenly, against the beam of light behind him, I could've sworn I saw him nod towards the backstage. I squinted my eyes some to see better, but he looked away; already focused on something else.

I never got the chance to meet his gaze again, all of them promptly leaving the stage.

Was the nod supposed to be a signal? Was I supposed to meet him backstage? Was it just a nod? Was I overreacting?

Nevertheless, my curiosity had been piqued.

Mumbling an excuse to leave, I quickly made my way towards the backstage area before Musa and Roxy could protest.

And that's how I ended up standing behind a curtain backstage hiding from security.

Slumping against the wall, I think about turning around and going back out to my seat. This is insane. Sneaking backstage to meet some guy who most likely wasn't interested in me whatsoever is insane. There's no doubt about it.

But I saw the nod. And he was looking right at me. Surely that meant something, right?

Or I could be totally wrong and the second he opens the door he's going to call security and have me thrown out.

The longer I stand there, the more positive I am of the second option.

Maybe I'd imagined him nodding. With all the smoke flooding the auditorium and the extremely loud noise, it was perfectly logical that his nod could've been a hallucination.

But what if it wasn't?

I run a hand through my hair; careful to not mess up the mini ponytail part of my hair is up in. It doesn't make sense for someone like him to have any sort of interest in me. He clearly saw that I was just standing there in the audience. I wasn't screaming, or jumping, or crying, or singing any of the songs. I knew nothing about his band. Why would he be interested in me out of all the other girls in the auditorium?

"You okay?"

The curtain is suddenly pulled back, making me jump. A tall guy with long black hair is standing there, decked out in full boy-band attire. He's more boyish in the face, looking around my age with dark almond-shaped eyes.

I feel like I've seen him somewhere before, his face resonating with something deep in my memory.

Realizing that he's still waiting for my answer, I step out from my spot, trying to act as normal as possible. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine." I say, laughing nervously. "I just needed a quiet place. It's a madhouse out there."

He nods, understanding. He opens his mouth to speak again but is suddenly pushed away by a very beach boy looking blonde guy.

"And what can I do for you?" the blonde one asks, his blue gaze making me incredibly uncomfortable. "An autograph? A few minutes in the back room? Both?" His eyes keep trailing me up and down. "For you, I can definitely do both. At the same time."

"Um, no." I reply, meekly but firmly. "Definitely no."

As he frowns, a guy with spiky magenta hair with his foot up on an unplugged amplifier behind him laughs, loudly.

"I was looking for someone, actually." I clarify, taking a small side step to put some distance between us.

He follows my step, persistent.

"Sky, will you stop being a perverted jackass and just help her?" the guy with the spiked hair says, extremely annoyed. "Face it, dude; not every girl wants to fuck you as much as Diaspro does. In fact, Diaspro is the only one who wants to."

Glaring in his direction, Sky stomps off like a five year old, fuming.

"Is he always this nice?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at his behavior.

"Only when females he finds attractive reject him." the guy with the spiked hair remarks. He sticks his hand out towards me, balancing his guitar on his leg. "Riven."

"Bloom." I accept the handshake, arms crossed. The name clicks in my head, recalling one of the posters of the band on Musa's dorm wall. This isn't just another opening act, this is the band. This is the band every single screaming girl out in the audience is here to see. I can't remember their name for the life of me, so I keep my mouth shut and act like everything is normal.

"So, who are you looking for?"

"He's one of the guys from the opening act." I say.

"Let me guess," he stops me. "Ogron? The red-haired guy?"

I shake my head. "No, the one with the jacket; the dark red one."

He almost falls over. "Baltor?"

I shrug. "I guess. I don't really know any of their names."

Riven gives me an odd look, but nods towards the door on the far left across the room. "Well, if it's Baltor, he's back there. He usually doesn't like to be disturbed, though. Just a warning."

Giving him a thumbs-up, I start making my way over to where he'd nodded. "Thanks, Riv!"

"Don't call me Riv!"

"Okay, Riv!"

I'll never feel more intimidated by a door.

Each step I take towards the door makes my heart beat faster and faster in my chest. I'm actually going to do it. I'm actually going to go and knock on a celebrity singer's door and possibly talk to him.

That's probably the stupidest idea you've ever had, Bloom. What the hell are you thinking?

The second that thought crosses my mind, I turn around and start going back towards the exit.

"The other way!" Riven shouts.

Shit.

Fake laughing, I act like I had his directions confused. "Right!" I'm practically dying inside as I trudge back to the door.

If Riven's watching me, there's no way I can back out. I'm going to be forced to stand here and probably make a huge idiot out of myself in front of everyone backstage.

Yeah, this is the stupidest idea you've ever had.

Fighting down my nerves, I raise my hand to knock.

And stop.

From deep inside the room, I hear music. It sounds like it's coming from a piano; a hauntingly beautiful melody that sends chills down my spine despite its distance. It's nothing like any music I'd heard previously that night. To be frank, it is way better than any music I've heard that night. Or any other night.

I don't want to disturb it. I just want to stand there and keep listening to it.

My body suddenly betrays me, and my fist falls against the wood of the door.

The music immediately stops, scaring me. The silence is brief, being followed by a short slamming of the keys on the piano. The jump from soft playing to the loud bang makes me cringe.

I hold back a small scream as the door swings open.

The angry face that glares at me is the familiar one I'd seen from before. He hasn't dressed down any from what he'd been wearing onstage, even having on the burgundy leather jacket with the rolled up sleeves. Leaning in close to my face, his narrowed eyes lock onto mine, unhappy with the disturbance.

A moment later, seeming to recognize me, he returns to a normal stance. His glare softens, morphing into one of intrigue. He doesn't say anything, just stares at me.

I wasn't sure what to say. What were you supposed to say to people like him?

Giving an awkward, short wave, I mutter a ridiculous: "Hey."

He says nothing.

Dread spreads through my chest. I'd been hallucinating. The nod had been in my head the whole time. Every part of me screams to save myself the trouble and smash my face into the wall to hide my embarrassment.

I'm about to turn around and walk away with my tail between my legs when he opens the door all the way, standing to the side.

"You want me to go in there?" I ask for clarification. My eyes widen.

Maybe I hadn't been hallucinating after all.

Rolling his eyes, he motions towards the other band. "I'm sorry, if you want to stand out here and keep talking while blondie continues to stare at your ass, then by all means."

It doesn't take me two seconds to duck under his arm and step into his room.

However, that doesn't make me a bit wary whenever he shuts the door.

The room's fairly large from what I can see through the darkness. There are only about two sources of light inside, but since they're on the far side, not much can be seen. What catches my attention automatically though are all the instruments. Guitars of every kind adorn the walls, and there are at least five different pianos sitting around. For a temporary crash pad, it's a pretty nice setup.

"Why did you want me to come back here?" I blurt out once he's beside me. I don't know if I should ask, but the curiosity is eating me alive. I need to know if he actually nodded at me or not.

He shrugs. "Can't a man just have a conversation with a girl?"

I'm hit with a wave of relief.

"Under normal circumstances, yes. But, I don't think these are very normal circumstances." I wave towards the rest of the room, reminding him we're in his room backstage at the concert he's performing at. "So, I'll rephrase." I hesitate for some unknown reason. "Out of all the screaming fangirls out there, why did you look at me?"

Baltor looks taken aback by the boldness of my new question, but recomposes himself before I can fully take in the stunned expression. He freezes momentarily. "Because you were the only one not screaming."

I stare at him, confused.

"I'm surprised you're here. To be honest, I didn't think you'd actually get past security," he says walking towards the piano. "Clearly I underestimated you."

"Clearly I underestimated you," I counter. "I never would've guessed you were in a band."

He gives me a look. "Being in a band was not my idea. If I'd had it my way, I would've broken away from them a very long time ago."

Sensing I'm crossing into dangerous territory, I walk over to the wall of guitars. Each is brand name and high-dollar, not surprising me in the slightest. What does surprise me though is the fact that all of them are worn in with scratches and marks. They aren't for decoration; he genuinely played each of the guitars on the wall.

"Music seems pretty important to you," I say, running my fingers over a dark Gibson hanging on the wall.

I hear him chuckle, lowly, sounding more to himself. "Let's say that it's one of the only consistent attributes of my life."

A wave of guilt strikes me, like I've hit a sore spot. "You tend to have a lot of inconsistencies?"

"Mostly with other people." he surprisingly divulges. "They don't like to stay for long, per se."

"Why?" I'm getting too curious again. I instinctively wait for him to glare at me, or ask me to leave, clenching and unclenching my fist.

Taking a seat on the piano bench, he gives me a light look. "Musicians aren't very good company to keep." he says. "We're not exactly the easiest people to talk to." His eyes shifted to the ground, like he was reminiscing.

I know my opinion was little to unimportant, but I shrug anyway. "I don't think you're difficult to talk to."

His eyes meet mine, freezing me in my spot. I return his look, noticing emotions swimming in his grey eyes that I can't name. I always thought grey eyes would be a rather dull color to have, but his makes me start to rethink my statement.

"So," I meekly restart, clearing my throat. "How long have you been doing this?"

"A few years," he replies. "I'd much rather be solo, considering Ogron and the others are the most annoying group of shitheads I've ever had the displeasure of working with." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "They're all insatiable idiots who don't know an A-Chord from a G." A smirk tugs at his lips, looking me over. "How about you?"

"Oh, no," I laugh. "No, I don't do . . ." I wave my hands around, motioning towards all the instruments. "I don't do this."

"That's not what your eyes are saying."

I frown a bit in frustration. "You read eyes now?"

"I can read yours." he states. "And yours say that you've most certainly dabbled in music." Baltor leans forward a bit.

I roll my eyes. I haven't thought about my past in music for years. Frankly, it's a time I'd rather forget, considering how badly everything went down. However, for conversation's sake, I spill as few details as I can. "Fine. Yes, I did music stuff. But it was a long time ago and I don't want to talk about it."

"Lovers scorn?"

Something twitches in my chest, creating a sense of awkwardness. I'm not sure how he could easily guess that. "You could say that. We never agreed on the type of music we should play, and we were too good of friends to keep up an actual relationship."

"I suppose your singing career abruptly ended after said break up?"

Sighing, I pull at my necklace. "Yep." I suddenly pause, catching my mistake. Turning to look at him, I see a proud smirk on his face as I wave my finger at him. "You're good. How did you guess?"

"The singer has to sing the words. It's harder to hate the songs when you're the one not singing them."

I nod, surprised by how much he actually understands. "You don't seem to have that problem." I veer away from the topic of my life. "You looked like you were enjoying yourself up on stage."

"That's because I write my own parts. As long as it goes along with the music, the others don't particularly care what I do. It's one of the few sufferable things about being in the group."

"So that's why your parts were the only ones that didn't suck." I nod, lightening up the conversation some.

He laughs. "Nice to know at least one person was actually paying attention to lyrics."

"Well, it's kind of hard to ignore when you're screaming at people to fight authority." I walk over to the piano he's sitting at, leaning forward on the shiny black top.

When I get close enough, he stands up and leans in to meet me, leaving us only a few inches apart. "I think you're mistaking me for screaming fangirls."

"I don't think so." I shake my head, smiling. "Your dance moves were pretty hard to miss, Mr. Hip Thrust."

His face becomes serious. "If you ever mention those again, I'm shoving you inside this piano."

Catching the light he is trying to hide in his eyes, I laugh. "I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Hip Thrust."

I notice a small smirk break his intense expression.

For a while, we do nothing but glance at each other. We don't talk; we just stare at each other. With anyone else, I would feel weird, but with him, I strangely feel content. I don't mind the silent glances. And from the look on his face, he doesn't mind them either.

"I heard you playing earlier," I said, running my fingers across the top of the piano. "You know, when I was standing outside the door."

Baltor's brow furrowed. "You were standing outside the door that long?"

I freeze, going back over what I said in my head.

Wow, way to sound like a total creep, Bloom. A+ for you.

Embarrassed, heat creeps into my face. "No, not really," I stammer. "I just . . . I wasn't expecting to hear something like that after hearing you guys perform. It's a very stark contrast." Glancing down, I notice the proximity in which his hand is to mine. "And, personally, I liked what you were doing in here a lot better."

"You'd be the first." He flashes a devilish grin that makes me weak at the knees.

His fingers are alarmingly close to mine, his fingertips nearly brushing against mine. The closer he gets to me, the more nervous I become. Although, this is a different kind of nervous; this is a nervousness I've never felt that makes my blood feel light with electricity.

The second I feel our fingers touch; I yank my hand back, tucking it behind me. I attempt to push out the pleasant burn that resonates through my hand.

"I should go," I say, glancing from his puzzled face to the door. "My friends will be wondering where I am."

Not giving him a chance to say anything, I speed walk out the door. My heart's beating a million times per second, sending me into a slight panic.

I just met this guy an hour ago. Why am I feeling like this?

Baltor sticks his foot in the door just as I'm about to close it, appearing out of the shadows of the room and scaring me so much I jump a foot. "You never did give me your name."

"No, I didn't." I agree, pushing a flyaway hair out of my eyes. "Now, if you'll excuse me." I go to shut the door again, but his foot stalls it again.

"Damn," he smirks. "Hair red as fire; heart cold as ice."

The description makes my toes curl.

"I want to see you again."

My heart leaps in my chest, almost coming to a complete stop.

He wants to see me again. Even after my painfully awkward admittance to eavesdropping on him and trying to walk out after he touched my hand, he still wants to see me again. This hugely popular guy in a band wants to see me again. I go over it a thousand times in my head, but I can't comprehend it.

I'm elated. And terrified. I haven't gone out with a guy in years. A guy with a fanbase? Definitely not.

But, I do want to see him again. Being in that room with him, talking and doing nothing was great. And, despite getting scared by the physical contact, I had fun.

"What would we do?" I ask, horribly acting as casual as possible.

His smirk widens, sensing my openness to the idea. "We're opening for another band here tomorrow night. If you come back and meet me here, I'll show you what my piano sounds like on the inside of the room."

I bite my lip to keep from smiling, but nothing can hold it back. "Okay," I nod. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

Baltor shakes his head as I walk away to the exit. "I'm never going to get your name, am I?"

"Nope!"

"Then what am I supposed to put for your name if I'm going to get you a backstage pass?" Baltor inquires. "The redhead who snuck backstage at the last show?"

I turn around, but continue to walk away; however, I do slow my pace. "You're going to get me a backstage pass?"

"Well, I can't very well have you sneaking back here every time. That's going to look a little bit suspicious, don't you think?"

Rolling my eyes, I bite back a smile. "Bloom. My name's Bloom."

A pulse of warmth spreads through my stomach as I catch him smirk before I reach the exit.

*struggles to pull myself out of the fiery pits of Hell* DEAR GOD IT'S FINALLY DONE.

I've literally been working on this one for an entire month. And most of this was written today. As in, I wrote it a few hours ago. And, quite frankly, I never want to touch this again because of how frustrating it was to write and attempt to keep in-character. For a one-shot, this also got extremely long which is probably another reason why I'm so uncomfortable with it, but I couldn't add all the details I wanted/needed any other way. So, I'm hoping everything makes sense. Also, like I said, this is a drabbles collection, so they're not supposed to be very detailed and I want it to seem a little less formal than what I do with Broken Pieces.

However, in brighter news, this is a very special chapter, because not only is it a boy band AU, but it's a boy band AU birthday present! My lovely BFF emberfire411 requested this AU last month, and I've been slaving over it to make it part of a present for her birthday which is today! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LIZ! I TOOK ALL THE NOTES YOU GAVE ME FROM THE TEXTS AND . . . I tried. That's all I'm gonna say. I really, really tried, and I added Riven and Oxygen, but writing this was mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausting. I feel like I need a year long vacation after this. BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, BECAUSE I KNOW HOW MUCH YOU'VE WANTED A BOY BAND SPARXSHIPPING AU. SO HERE YA GO! (I know it probably sucks, so I'm going to be doing another one as a make-up present that is much different from this one and has nothing to do with boy bands.)

(But in all seriousness, I beg all of you, if you love me at all, please never ask me to write a boy band AU for these two ever again, because I will curl up in a ball and cry for seven weeks because this was pure agony. I thought this would be fun, but I was so so wrong. And I will make up for this one by doing a much better one next time!)

Alright, so, I have no idea what's going to be the next drabble. I have a list that I'm making my way through that includes many different AU ideas –like a shopping trip where Mitzi gets involved (not a threesome; get your minds out of the gutter), a take on a possible outcome of the Season 7 time-traveling fiasco, and a much-anticipated morning after scene (yes, your minds can get back in the gutter).

Well, now that this is complete, I'm going to go work on finishing up the rest of my schoolwork for this year so that I can actually walk on stage and get a high school diploma. If you have a Sparxshipping scene that you would like to see, don't be afraid to leave it in a review or PM me with it, and I will take it into consideration and, if I can, tell you if it makes the list or not! And, as always, please leave a review if you liked it, and tell me what you liked about it that way I can make sure to do more of that in the future!

~Bloom