Unintended encounter

Benny and I grew closer after that night. He often invited me to dinner and began to keep an eye on my drinking habits. No one asked him to, but I was grateful. Since I was young, I had never really had a true friend. My parents always told me to only associate with people who could help me achieve good results in tests or build connections that could benefit their company. So, whenever anyone came closer to me, or I to them, there was always an expectation, an unspoken pressure.

With Benny, it was different. There were no expectations, no pressure to make a good impression. It was laid-back, relaxing. For the first time, I felt truly comfortable around someone. I didn’t need to be the perfect elite my parents had molded me into. I could just be.

One day, for a change, I invited Benny out for dinner, but unfortunately, he had a date with his girlfriend. I had no idea he had a girlfriend, not with his busy schedule and all. As we stepped outside our office building, I saw her— a woman with auburn hair, clad in a motorbike jacket and leather pants, waving at Benny. He excitedly ran to her and wrapped her in a big hug. Wasn’t he embarrassed to hug her in public? Or maybe I was the only one who felt embarrassed for him. It would be a lie if I said I wasn’t envious, even just a little. His girlfriend greeted me politely before they walked off for their romantic evening together.

On that cold December night, I was left alone. It wasn’t anything new these days. I decided, for once, to take a detour on my way home instead of the usual route. I had never really explored the nightlife in my town. Work, home, sleep— it was the same routine I had indulged in, the one that kept me productive but distant from any real joy. It made my parents happy, but it was slowly robbing me of any connection with my own family.

My thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of an electric guitar solo echoing from an underground bar. It wasn’t the kind of place I usually ventured to, but right now, I needed something to distract me from my sorrow and the bitterness I was drowning in.

I hesitated, but then took the brave step down toward the entrance. The purple neon lights flickered above, casting an otherworldly glow on the street. As I opened the door, a blast of heavy metal rock poured into my ears. The drums pounded, the guitars screamed. It wasn’t what I was used to, but there was something raw and liberating about it.

The crowd wasn’t drinking or stumbling through their night. They were there, fully alive, immersing themselves in the music. No one was pretending to be someone they weren’t; they were simply enjoying the moment.

The host at the entrance greeted me with a bright smile and handed me a pamphlet listing the bands that would be playing that night. I took it absentmindedly as I surveyed the crowd. The band was finishing up their set, and the next band was announced— Iron Howl.

The moment the guitar riff hit, my thoughts went silent. The rawness of the instrumental guitar and thundering drums drowned out every bit of self-pity, every miserable thought. I was suddenly lost in the music, absorbed by its power. Rock had never been my forte— I had always written it off as too loud and chaotic. But maybe, just maybe, I had been wrong all along.

I had never felt such exhilaration from music before. The vocals, rough and unpolished, seemed to reflect everything I had been holding inside. I wasn’t just listening to a song; I was hearing someone else express what I had never been able to. For the first time in a long while, I felt seen. The music made me realize how desperately I had been craving this kind of release.