By his face, you’d think he’d never contemplated what an actual concert would look like. He’d been a wreck before Bumbershoot, but honestly, since that had been outside, it hadn’t felt like that many people. With this…the walls, the bodies trapped in front of us and around us…even I could feel the scope of it, the weight of all those eyes. I just happened to like that feeling. Unlike Matt.

Concerned, I shook my head. “Lots of bands means lots of fans…are you okay?”

He instantly shook his head. “No…no, you were right. We’re not ready for this. Let’s go home.”

Spinning on his heel, he started speed-walking away from me. I glanced at Evan, then hurried after him. “Matt, wait!” He just shook his head and kept right on walking back to where we’d come from, back toward the waiting area, back toward the exit. Fuck. Was he really leaving?

“Shit,” I muttered. Glancing around the main backstage area when we got there, I shouted for our missing bandmate; this was an all hands on deck moment. “Griffin!” I spotted him just as his head swung my way. He furrowed his brows, confused at the panic in my voice, and I pointed to where Matt was quickly disappearing. Griffin followed my finger, then frowned and started moving in the same direction as Evan and me.

We caught up to Matt outside in the alley next to the back entrance. He was pacing, cell phone clenched in his hand, like he was about to call for a ride. The burly guys guarding the door were watching him, but they didn’t look like they were going to do anything to stop Matt from leaving the show. That wasn’t their job. “Matt…?” I asked. “You okay?”

He still looked really ill, and he was shaking. “Uh-uh. I can’t do this. I can’t do that!” He pointed back at the building.

Stepping in front of him, I put my hands on his shoulders and tried to make my voice as soothing as possible. “Yes, you can. We do this all the time.”

His entire body shook under my fingertips. “Not like this…I can’t…I’m sorry.”