So that evening. The one where The Dead Kneazles performed as Headliners at the WWN Festival.. Yeah, that one. Józsua knew then that it would remain with him for his lifetime..

He was being dragged through the crowds.. Olly weaving her way through and Józsua following. She pushed and shoved her way (had she done this before?), and Józsua tried his best to apologise to people on the way past. Finally they reached the front. Olly had managed to get them a good spot with a good view of the stage. “This is perfect.” He shouted, grinning from ear to ear. The Kneazles were already on.

He fixed his gaze on the stage. Everything then became a blur. This was nothing like that intimate, dimly lit gig after graduation. The enormity of it all hit him suddenly and all Józsua could do was stand there in stunned silence, listening. The cheer of the crowd.. the four people up there he went to school with.. the atmosphere.. the fans. ..West. West. That guy. His friend.

Józsua felt the burn of tears in his eyes. Even above the roar of music and the perfection that was Vesper and West's harmonies, he didn't know how the people around him couldn't hear the heavy thud of his heart. He took a deep, shaking breath and looked at Olly, tears rolling down his cheeks which glittered under the lights from the stage.. a proud smile fixed on his face as he still clung to her hand.

Letting go, he put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him, feeling a rush of love for her. “This is.. this is amazing. They sound amazing.”