The music had slipped into an extended instrumental, the guitarist dragging every note out until it seemed to vibrate through the packed venue. Without the singer's voice to follow, the crowd had become restless, bodies shifting wherever there was room, which wasn't much. People were pressed shoulder-to-shoulder beneath the coloured stage lights, and somehow the lack of space had only encouraged everyone to forget about the concert entirely; couples were kissing wherever they could find a little privacy, hands slipping around waists and arms curling around necks while the music roared around them.

You had come here to forget him.

Instead, you saw him.

You recognised his laugh first, familiar enough that your stomach dropped before you even found him through the crowd. Your ex stood only a short distance away, his new girlfriend tucked against him as though she had always belonged there, her fingers resting against his chest while she smiled up at him. You tried not to look, but then his hands settled around her waist, and when he kissed her, you remembered exactly what it had once felt like to be the person in his arms.

The memory hurt more than you expected.

This was the same venue where he'd brought you on your first date, the same floor where you'd once stood beside him beneath these lights, laughing when the music became too loud. You remembered his hand finding yours whenever the crowd pushed too hard, remembered the way he'd leaned down to kiss you during this very song. Now he was doing it with someone else, and you stood there pretending the tightness in your throat wasn't becoming impossible to ignore.

You lowered your head, blinking quickly as you tried to gather yourself. There was nowhere to go; the crowd was too dense, everyone packed together with barely enough room to turn around, and leaving would mean fighting your way through hundreds of people. So you stayed where you were, surrounded by strangers who were laughing and kissing and enjoying themselves, while you tried desperately to convince yourself that you were fine.

Across the crowd, Miles noticed you.

He hadn't meant to. His attention had simply kept drifting in your direction throughout the night, drawn towards the only person who seemed completely disconnected from the excitement around her. Now he watched you lower your gaze, saw the way your shoulders curled slightly inward, and glanced towards the man you'd been looking at without knowing what, exactly, had happened between you.

He didn't know your story.

He only knew you looked sad.

Sammy noticed where he was looking and immediately followed his gaze, a knowing grin spreading across his face. Fin caught on a moment later, looking between Miles and you before nudging his shoulder. “You've been staring at her all night.”

“I haven't.”

“You have.”

Miles rolled his eyes, although his gaze betrayed him by drifting back towards you again. Sammy laughed under his breath and told him to go talk to her, and Miles immediately shook his head, muttering that he wasn't about to approach some random girl in the middle of a packed concert. Fin told him that was exactly why he should do it, which earned both of them a glare.

Miles looked at you again.

Then he sighed.

“Fuck it.”

Sammy's grin widened.

Before Miles could even take a proper step, Sammy smacked him across the arse and shoved him forward. Miles stumbled into someone beside him, catching himself before turning around with an expression of absolute outrage.

“What the fuck?”

Sammy and Fin were already laughing.

“Go!”

“You're both fucking dickheads.”

“Go talk to her!”

Miles muttered something distinctly unflattering beneath his breath, but he turned back towards you anyway. He'd already committed himself now, and there was no way in hell he was going to let those two see him turn around and retreat.

Getting to you was another matter entirely.

There was barely any room to move, and Miles had to squeeze sideways through gaps that disappeared almost as quickly as they appeared. He apologised when someone's elbow caught his ribs, muttered a curse when another person refused to move, and eventually found himself stuck behind a couple who were kissing so intensely that they seemed completely unaware there was an entire crowd surrounding them.

Miles stared at them for a second.

“Seriously?”

They didn't hear him.

He sighed and squeezed past them, finally breaking through the last few bodies until he was standing just behind you. For a moment, he considered turning around and pretending he'd never made it this far, but then he remembered the way you'd looked across the room, and something in him refused to let him leave.

He lifted his hand and gently tapped your shoulder.

You turned.

For someone who looked as intimidating as Miles did, he suddenly seemed remarkably unsure of himself. His dark hair had escaped its loose bun, falling messily around his pale face, while smudged black eyeliner framed his eyes and silver piercings caught the shifting stage lights. He looked almost otherworldly beneath the concert lighting, particularly with his cloudy contacts and dark clothes, but then his mouth pulled into a small, nervous smile and the effect softened immediately.

“Hi.”

His voice was low, slightly rough, his London accent softened by the noise around you. He glanced briefly at the crowd, then back at you, rubbing the back of his neck as though he'd only just realised he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

“Uh... bit shit, innit?”

He winced slightly at his own words.

“I mean, not the band. They're good. I just—” He gestured vaguely around you, towards the couples still kissing beneath the lights. “All this.”

Your eyes moved past him.

Miles noticed.

He turned his head, following your gaze towards another couple kissing only a few feet away. He looked at them for a moment, then back at you, and something seemed to click into place.

His fingers fidgeted with one of his rings.

He could leave. He probably should. You were a stranger, and he had no idea whether you even wanted him standing there, let alone talking to you, but somehow he found himself staying.

“Fuck it,” he murmured.

His eyes met yours again, and for the first time, he looked genuinely nervous.

“Do you want to kiss?”

.