Page 157 of Love at First Fright

As I watched myself on that screen, it was like seeing a ghost.

Which, considering the circumstances, was bloody ironic.

There I was—alive, electric, completely lost in the music. My fingers flew across the fretboard like they had minds of their own, hair whipping around my face as I screamed the chorus to “Midnight Frequency.” The camera wobbled, but I could still make out Jezza behind the kit, completely off his head on whatever cocktail of substances he’d consumed before we went on. Ollie swayed beside me, bass thrumming through the speakers, that massive grin plastered across his face.

God, I remembered that night. The Cavern in Bristol, packed to the rafters with sweaty bodies and cigarette smoke. Ollie had shown up absolutely steaming—three pints and two shots deep before soundcheck. We’d spent twenty minutes in the toilets, forcing coffee down his throat and slapping his cheeks.

“You’re going to be brilliant,” I’d told him, steadying him against the sink. “Just don’t fall off the stage.”

And he had been brilliant. They both had. We all had.

I remembered the drive home afterwards, the three of us crammed into our knackered Transit van, buzzing with adrenaline and cheap lager. Jezza had nicked a traffic cone and wore it like a hat whilst Ollie sang sea shanties at the top of his lungs. We’d laughed until our sides hurt, convinced we were going to conquer the world.

Twenty-three years old and completely invincible.

“Look,” Charlie said excitedly, scrolling down to the comments. “Your bandmates left messages.”

I leaned closer, squinting at the screen. JezzaTheMaaan and OllieOllie—of course they’d picked such ridiculous usernames.

Ollie, you have no idea how much seeing this meant to me. Those were the times, right? And Bat, if you’re reading this… hope you’re shredding it up, wherever you are.

You know he is, mate! Love you, man. Hope I see you soon x

My throat constricted. “Two thousand and nine,” I whispered. “That’s… so long ago now. They’ve probably forgotten all about me.”

Charlie’s face snapped towards mine, eyes fierce behind his now-wonky glasses. “Are you mental?”

Before I could respond, he reached for my face. I summoned what little energy I had left, forcing myself solid just as his palm cupped my cheek.

“Nobody could ever forget you, Bat.”

Then he kissed me, soft and certain, and for one perfect moment I felt properly alive again. Not the pale echo of existence I’d grown accustomed to, but genuinely, vibrantly alive.

“Are there…” I cleared my throat. “Any more videos?”

Charlie shook his head apologetically. “This was the only one I could find. The account doesn’t have any other uploads either.”

I nodded, trying not to look too disappointed.

“But,” Charlie continued, “if you tell me their full names, I can google them.”

I sighed dramatically. “Why is everyone nowadays always banging on about ‘Google?’ Whatever happened to good old-fashioned detective work?”

“Bat.”

“Fine, fine. Jeremy Collins… Jezza. And Oliver Thompson… Ollie.”

Charlie’s fingers raced across the laptop’s keyboard. Within seconds, images began loading. Photos of men I barely recognised—older, greyer, wearing suits and wedding rings and proper grown-up expressions.

But still unmistakably them.

I watched in stunned silence as Charlie scrolled backwards through years of their lives. Jezza at what looked like his wedding, beaming beside a woman in white. Ollie holding a baby—his child. Christmas photos, holiday snaps, birthday parties. A whole lifetime I’d never been part of.

“Bat?” Charlie’s voice was gentle. “Should we stop? You’ve gone very quiet.”

I shook my head, unable to look away. “No, it’s… I’m obviously glad they’re having good lives. It’s just so funny seeing them old, you know? In my head, they’re still twenty-three.”

Charlie scrolled to a beach photo—Ollie, definitely Ollie, despite the grey hair and laugh lines. He was shirtless, arms stretched wide towards the camera, and there on his left shoulder…