I Hold On

“Yeah mum! I’ll be back before … one?” I crunched up my face, preparing for her shouts as I tried to get ready for tonight, some show Stuart wanted me to go to.
“VANDER! I will NOT let you roam about the streets with drunken boys late at night! I want you back home as soon as that … that thing is over!” My mother shouts, from down stairs.
I grunt and try to focus on what to wear. I’m the worst for trying to pick out clothes, for anything.
Finally giving up (after five seconds or so) I put on a red top, with a cheese block on it, black skinny jeans and a black cardigan and my usual shoes.
“Fuck” I said, looking myself in the mirror, “I look like a proper fag.”
“But you are a fag, dear” my mother laughed, standing in my doorway, “you look fine. When you come home I want to know all about this Stuart and you heard when I want you back? Stick to it,” I mumbled something and left my room.

I jumped slightly when a horn beeped outside my house. I peered through the curtains and saw Stuart’s car.
“I’m away!” I called to my mother.
I slowly sat on the passengers seat, smiling weakly. Just days before I had spilled my heart out to this guy and now I’m going to a show with him. I’m slightly a nervous wreck. He smile warmly and I nodded my head. Oh Vander you dick, stop acting like Frosty the Snowman.
“Here,” Stuart said, handing me a ticket, “I hope you like them. My friend was supposed to go but he came down with chicken pox.”
I looked down at the ticket in my hands.
“Are you serious?!” I shouted, I saw Stuart bright, happy face drop.
“Oh - you don’t like -”
“I fucking love this band!” I screamed. I looked down at the ticket again.
Lostprophets. I squealed like a little girl, grinning.
“Go! Go! Go!” I ordered while Stuart just laughed, and started the ignition.

I breathed heavily from jumping up and down, moshing in the mosh pits and having Stuart lift me because everyone else was too tall. My shirt and cardigan were discarded somewhere because I could not stand the heat in the venue, sweat was dripping all over my body as I sang the last words of ‘Last Summer’ and the crowd goes berserk when Lostprophets leave the stage. I looked around to see if I could spot my clothes but I couldn’t. “Shit” I muttered.
“Well, you were warm” I heard Stuart laugh, I spun around, pulling my hands through my hair. “Just leave it, we’ll be in the car soon anyway, enjoy it, did you?” He asked, trailing me out of the venue .I rambled on about how much I loved it and how it felt and how I would never forget it.
“Um…Van?” Stuart stuttered, “car is clamped.”
I gazed at the wheel were the clamp was, my mouth slightly ajar. I began to shiver from the cold. I stared intently at him.
“We’ll have to walk home, here take my shirt” Stuart said, sliding off his shirt.
“What…no, what the hell?” I muttered.
“I’m used to playing football in the freezing cold rain anyway and so should you be” he laughed, shoving the shirt into my hands. I reluctantly put it on, it reached well below my stomach.
“I curse you for being tall” I laughed.
“It’s your fault you’re small” he laughed back, staring at me and then slowly bending down and developing me in a strong hug, “if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have been here tonight” he whispered in my ear, I looked over his shoulder in time to see Lyric, in a Lostprophets t-shirt staring at us, looking broken.