I did not stop crying. 

In case you were wondering, it's been two hours since the nice gentelmen shooed me off. 

and to top that out it was freezing cold, even though it's supposed to be summer time. 

Oh, the irony.

To think that I spent 4 months working hard, saving money and going out of my way to convince my parents to let me go, just to spend the night cryning alone in front of a dark backdoor. Life is cruel. 

From where i was standing, or sitting acually, I could hear the voices of my angels. I could hear the songs, the nice words they threw to the fans, the fanchant, the screaming, the crying, I heard it all. and it only made me weap harder. I was so close, only meters away from the moment of my life, but so far away, alone, miserable and excluded. 

Why is this happening to me?

Not long after, I headr the back door creak and someone stepped outside. I couldn't tell who it was, as he was wearing a black hoodie that collaborated with the dark night to conceal his face well. But I really didn't care who it was, I was too busy crying and shivering to pay attention to anything or anyone. 

But the boy sure noticed me. With hesitant steps he approached me, standing a few steps away from me in what I thought was an attempt to not freak me out. 

Seconds later he squatted in front of me, features still hidden by his hoodie. He cleared his throat a few times, pondering on wether or not he should speak to me