Warmth in Brutality...

(another piece of flash fiction for the evening. I'm feeling a bit torn as you can tell...)

I sat silently mesmerized, seeming to only see his dark brown eyes. The stage was probably forty feet away and through a sea of limbs and bodies, all screaming fanatically for him to begin his next angelic song. I like so many saw a brutal man. His brutality through music and imagery held me fast every time I heard his voice. As I starred, helplessly drawn in by my own obsession, I thought I saw his resolve waiver, those deeply harsh eyes took on a sort of… fear? I snapped back to reality and was shocked to find no one else had seemed to see it.
The rest of the concert left me with an uneasy feeling. I stood outside the back door of the stage, smoking a clove (illegal in 13 states but not this one), waiting for my chance to make sure everything was ok.
The door opened and the bassist exited, followed by the drummer and some pit crew. I sidestepped through the closing door, making my way to the main stage. I stood off to the side, near the curtains where he sat slowly strumming a cherry wood acoustic guitar. He looked to the side long enough to catch my gaze and he sighed.
“When are we going to stop doing this?” his voice was smooth and even, as a river flows over its worn down stones. There I stood, worn down myself, smoke curling from the dying ember of my cigarette. He adverted my gaze with serious intent. I took a few steps closer and pulled the cigarette from my lips, and dropped it on the ground in front of the stage.
“I’m ready to stop this asinine bullshit if you are. I really want to give us a shot.” My heart leapt at the words, all the scars from old relationships and hopelessness seemed to give way, opening myself to him in one sentence. I saw his shoulders fall in seeming defeat as he rose to his feet. His eyes were old and sad and worn, but to me they were always beautiful. I saw his worry and his fear, and all I could do was try to fix it. I wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be ok but I was frozen in his gaze.
“Are you ready for that?” It was a simple statement on his part. So simple and pure it took my breath away. His eyes raised to meet mine and their harsh brutality gave way to an incredible softness. My resolve to hold back melted and I rushed forward, hugging him so closely I could feel his heartbeat. After what felt like an eternity his arms found their way around my waist.
“Please… I won’t hurt you. I promise.” I found myself saying, feeling incredibly desperate to do anything to keep this victory within my grasp.
“Ok.” He said softly and ran a hand through my hair pulling my head up to meet his gaze once again. For all the piercings and tattoos that night I saw a brutal man give way to a warm heart. He pulled me in for the first kiss, and I melted. Brutality brought me here but the promise of warmth was what made me stay.