After my manager's and I childish banter, it's time for me to perform on stage.
My hands tremble as I pick up my guitar.
My heart is thumping in my chest, my mind still a jumble of memory and emotion. I've played plenty of shows before in front of thousands of people, but I've never felt this vulnerable.
It's like my heart is wide open, raw, and exposed to the world.
I sit down on the stage and look out at the sea of faces before me. There are a couple thousand people here, all packed together like sardines.
My eyes scan the crowd before me, looking for a familiar face. There's a small part of me, a foolishly hopeful part, that wonders if maybe she'll be here, in the crowd…
I know it's a ridiculous hope. The thought of her appearing here is about as likely as a meteorite crashing in front of me right now, but old habits die hard.
I shake my head, trying to pull my fractured thoughts and feelings back together.
I'm here to play.
That's my job, and I've always stuck to my duties. I take a deep breath, trying to relax and centre myself in the moment. Nothing beats the energy of a performance, and I know once the music starts, everything else will fall into place.
I look over at my bandmates, my trusted friends who have been beside me since the beginning. They nod at me, a silent message of readiness. We've done this a million times before, and this time won't be any different.
The stage lights go up, and the crowd erupts into a roar of cheers and applause.
I raise my guitar, my hand gripping the neck tightly like a lifeline.
I lift my head and look out at the sea of people in front of me. Their faces swim before my eyes, a thousand blurred colors and shapes. Somewhere in there is someone I'm looking for.
But even in the sea of faces, my eyes keep looking for a single set of eyes, the eyes that have haunted me for years…
I spot her.
And the rest of the world fades.
Because there she is, her face almost glowing in the darkness like an angel.
My heart leaps into my throat, the rest of my surroundings fading into background noise. For a second, I forget where I am and what I'm doing, my whole world narrowing down to her and her alone.
I can't take my eyes off her. It's like my every sense is hyperfocused on her presence. Her gaze is riveted onto my face as if drinking me in. Her expression is a mix of vulnerability, and something else…
I'm frozen in that moment, my heart beating so hard against my rib cage that I'm afraid it'll break through. I don't know how long I stand there, my fingers gripping my guitar in a death grip, but I snap out of my daze when my band members send me surreptitious, questioning looks. They're waiting on me.
With a jolt, I realize I'm supposed to start playing.
I clear my throat, looking out at the crowd to compose myself. But the words die in my throat when I scan the audience, my eyes still looking for her.
She's still there, her expression unreadable. Her face shines in the harsh stage light, her eyes fixed on me still, looking at me like she's trying to imprint me into her memory.
It's like she's a magnet, pulling my gaze back to her every time I try to look away.
I try to focus on starting the song, but my hands are shaking so badly it's a miracle I'm even holding my guitar upright.
This is by far the most unnerving performance I've ever done.
I force my hands to move, hoping the muscle memory will take over.
It takes longer than it normally would, my fingers trembling as they try to play the opening chords of the first song.
I can feel their curious gazes on me. It's been a while since I've ever fumbled with anything onstage, and I know my band members are staring at me, wondering what the hell is wrong with me.
My brain is scrambling, trying to figure out what the hell to do. This song was supposed to be something calm and mellow to open the concert, a gentle introduction.
But how can I play this now, when I can't even breathe normally?
I force myself into action. My fingers start strumming the notes of the song, and even in my current state, they manage to hold the correct rhythm. I'm like a puppet on strings, moving at the behest of muscle memory rather than any conscious thought.
My eyes are stuck on her. She hasn't taken her eyes off me once, and I swear to God, her gaze feels like a physical touch on my skin, leaving trails of fire on my skin through the air. I wonder if she can see how badly I'm shaking.
I open my mouth, singing the first words of the song.
My voice is shaky and a little off-key. It's usually a warm, steady sound, but now it wavers and breaks between sentences. Her gaze is all-consuming, making me feel like I'm being stripped down to a mess of nerves and emotions.
Some people are sending me confused looks. I'm used to a steady, solid performance, not this sloppy display. But I can't get my brain to work, and the more I try to focus on the music, the more off-key I sound.
My voice starts cracking halfway through the song, and I can just imagine my manager facepalming in the wings.
I'm a mess. My hands are shaking so badly. My fingers are a millimetre away from falling off, unable to focus on anything but her and her alone.
Why is she looking at me like that? Like everything and nothing I've ever wanted wrapped into one gaze. Is it pity, or is it something more…?
My voice has gone up a whole octave, but no one has stepped in to stop the disaster on stage. I'm in hell now, caught under her gaze, my world spinning as I stumble and falter my way through the song, praying for redemption.
The song has devolved into a series of garbled, out-of-key notes that sound an awful lot like strangled cat, but I keep trying to push through.
I know I'm about a second from completely collapsing on stage, but I keep forcing my fingers to play, even as the notes grow more and more discordant. I'm like a man possessed, my brain completely wiped-out and empty…
…or maybe not completely empty.
Somewhere, in some distant, deep corner of my mind, I realize a melody has started up, playing in tandem with the music coming from my guitar.
It's a sound I'm intimately familiar with, the sweet sound of a voice singing in perfect harmony.
With a jolt, I realize I'm supposed to start playing.
I clear my throat, looking out at the crowd to compose myself. But the words die in my throat when I scan the audience, my eyes still looking for her.
The realization hits me like a truck.
That harmony…that melodious, sweet sound of harmony coming from her.
She's singing along. Quietly, softly, but unmistakably there.
The knowledge hits me square in the chest, and my heart stutters against my ribs, like it's getting ready to burst out.
That's her voice. The voice I've heard in my dreams every night for six years. And she's singing it right now, standing there in front of me, her gaze still glued onto me.
I'm hit with a wave of déjà vu, suddenly remembering a time when I would play for her as she sang along. We'd do this in her bedroom, her soft voice harmonizing with my guitar riffs while we both sat on her bed.
My fingers start playing automatically, as if pulled by a spell.
I look over at my bandmates, and they're all staring at me with confused looks. They're baffled by whatever is happening, but my drummer catches on first. He taps the shoulder of the keyboard player, who turns and gapes at the scene before him.
I can feel them staring in shock, but I can't look at them.
I'm only looking at her.
I'm still playing my guitar, although the words have died off, silenced by the beautiful sound of her voice filling the air. It's like all my pain and pining finally have an outlet.
Her voice is clear and warm, a perfect counterpoint to my own. She's singing the harmony like she always did, her voice melting into mine until we're one sound.
I feel something I've not felt in a long time, something warm and familiar. It's hope, and it's flowing back like a tidal wave.
We sing the rest of the song in sync, our voices blending together in perfect harmony. I'm singing just as much to her as I'm singing to the audience, my words flowing from my heart and out of my mouth like a prayer, a desperate plea.
The song is almost over, but I'm not ready for it to end.
I want this moment to go on forever, the sounds of her voice blending into mine in beautiful, unbridled harmony. I don't want this to be a dream…
Her voice goes up a little louder on the next line, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
She looks up at me then, and for a moment, the world goes completely still. It's just me and her and her voice, filling me up and driving me insane.
The song finishes, and I feel like I can't breathe. I want to run off the stage and grab her, pull her into my arms, and never let her go…
But I'm just standing there, completely mute, unable to look away from her face.
She's looking at me like she's also struggling to breathe. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are huge and bright.
We stare at each other for an endless moment, the audience applauding and cheering in the background.
She still looks right at me, the flush on her cheeks still red. She's just as rattled as I am.