Keep the Faith

I stared around the empty arena.

Trampled confetti lay forgotten on the floor like a sheet of glittering debris; I wanted to gather it up in my arms and keep it forever, simply because I knew no one else would.

As I eventually made my way over to the open door, the cold air hit me like a wave of frozen realization. I huddled deeper into my jacket, zipping it all the way up and quickening my pace as the exit came into view. Once there, I pressed my hands against the bars of the cold iron gate. After a few seconds, I realized it was locked. I started shaking it as hard as I could, hoping to jolt the lock out of place, cursing under my breath. If I could just shift it slightly, I thought I'd be able to squeeze through between the bars, or maybe even crawl underneath it-

"There's another gate round the back."

I spun around, dropping my shoulder bag and staring at the owner of the voice. I had no time to plan a reaction as he shrugged, pointing over his shoulder back in the direction of the arena.

"I- oh. Okay. Thanks."

He nodded, walking forwards and picking up my bag, before handing it to me and smiling sadly. I muttered a thanks and I swear, I tried to stop myself, but I couldn't help it slipping out-

"You should stop that."

He raised his eyebrows,

"What?"

"The- the smoking," I motioned to the cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. "The smoking, you should- I- stop. You should stop," He continued staring at me. "Please," I added as an afterthought, "We, um, we don't want to lose you, haha."

His eyebrows tensed, furrowing together and causing his forehead to crease into a starburst of worry. I bit my lip, thinking I'd said the wrong thing, thinking I shouldn't have said anything at all.

"I know what you're thinking," he whispered, not to me but to himself. "I know you're thinking how much things have changed."

I said nothing, clutching my bag to my chest and wishing it was his needy body in it's place.

"I know what's being said," he looked up at me, his eyes wide and alone, missing their usual magic.

I knew there and then, on behalf of everyone, for that night at least, it was all up to me. I had to bring the magic back.

"They- but- just tell them. Tell them no. Tell them what you told me."

He dropped his cigarette to the ground and stamped on it, shrugging.

"You cannot destroy me," I whispered, purely for his benefit. I could almost hear the cogs in his brain ticking and whirring away as he brought back that memory, that show, that night where he screamed those words and all of us screamed them back.

"You! Cannot! Destroy! Me!"

"I- I don't- I don't know, I don't know-"

"Don't say it to me," I pleaded, stepping forwards and placing my hands on his shoulders. It was around that moment when I forgot I was a stranger, I forgot he didn't know who I was, I just fought back tears as I begged him with the only compromise I had- my words.

"Don't say it to me. Say it to them, please, just say it to them."

He shook his head, black tousled hair falling into his rich hazel eyes,

"They can't hear me. They're not listening."

I let go of his shoulders and folded my arms across my chest, staring at him defiantly. He reluctantly stared back and bit the inside of his lip. My last request was simple,

"Make them listen."

And he looked at me, he properly looked at me, he saw inside of my eyes, past the sockets and veins, he saw into my mind and he realized I was just trying to help. I was just trying to save him from something that was barely there, but something that, at the same time, was slowly corrupting his whole life. I was just trying to make him understand as he had done for me. That's all I wanted from him. That's all I would ever ask.

And as the trampled confetti still forgotten in the arena turned to sweet sparks of opportunity, he whispered to them, knowing damn well they'd hear,

"You cannot destroy me."