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What a bastard. He looked down on us like a leather-clad god, his iconic electric-green guitar clasped to his chest, bringing back memories of him writing me songs or singing covers of his favourite love ballads just to get me into bed.
What kind of idiot wore a leather cape and a black silk shirt open to his stomach in winter? He looked ridiculous.
A triumphant grin split his face as he beamed out at the crowd. "We got some new songs for you tonight. You think you can handle it?"
More screams, shouts of 'I love you, Max!', and one of the women at the front even flashed him.
"Alright, then. This is 'Preaching Love to the Devil's Queen'. You ready?"
His purred rolled over us, bouncing off of tens of thousands of people roaring their reply.
We were ready. We were more than ready. We’d been waiting hours in the freezing night air just to stand here and watch him spread his legs, his fist crashing down across the strings of his guitar as he launched into their first song.
Don’t fuck with me when you know this is real,
We saw it together, don’t deny what you feel,
I gasped as the words landed like a sledgehammer, smashing through to my core. I stood there, my jaw slack, watching him pour himself into the lyrics.
Transfixed, I let myself be jostled around by the crowd, all scrambling forward as Max and Luc walked out onto the runway, their voices covering the screams of the fans trying to reach across the barriers towards them. Security guards lining the stage kept them back, but it didn’t stop them from trying. Max captured the crowd with his words and passion and stirred us into a frenzy.
Before I realised it, I was screaming along with Sasha, Kate, and Freddie. Screaming and screaming and screaming until my throat was so numb I could barely feel it. That scream I’d been so terrified to release, the one holding back all my anger and fear and loathing and every single other emotion threatening to overwhelm me, it was finally free. I could scream because no one could hear me.
He was singing words of love, letting them spill from his lips like liquid gold, and it was all for me. He shouted to the crowd each time they played a new song, but it didn’t matter if it was old or new, because in each one, I could hear us. I ached as I listened to him, singing the pure heartbeat of our love, the thing connecting us both, the thread that kept us joined, even when I left. From the first moment outside the pub to where I pushed him out of my front door, it was all there, every single piece. I interspersed my screams with laughter as I realised how insane I was.
I was sososcared to tell him how deeply he moved me, and yet here he was, boldly singing his love for me to thousands of people, just spewing his lust and not giving a shit about what anyone else thought. No one knew it was our story, laced up in dirty words and angry chords.
As I looked up at his face on the screen, sweating, panting, his eyes closed as he bent over and yelled with everything he had, I knew I had no chance of surviving this onslaught.
By the time Clutch revealed themselves for the encore, I had my palm pressed against my mouth, the other wrapped around the top bar of the barrier in a white-knuckled grip as I let the last of my hidden emotions pour out of me. Harry stood solidly next to me as quiet tears dropped onto my chest. I didn’t know how much he knew, but from the way he silently supported me, I guessed Dom must have shared some details.
Max’s words filled me, ravaged me, and took me apart in the most delicious way possible, reshaping everything I thought and believed about him, about us. I’d been so scared to tell the one person I loved I wanted to try, yet here he was, shouting it out to the world.
Max
Iswear I saw her in the crowd. The lights were blinding me, but I’d grown used to it after two weeks of light and heat and deafening noise. They’d given us earplugs along with the shades, but it was never enough. Our ears rang for weeks after shows like these.
I’d reserved Cat tickets for the standing room so she could be as close to me as possible. Unless Cat had had a miraculous change of heart, I doubted she’d be close, if she even came. It was just wishful thinking.
But a woman in a brown leather jacket stood at the barriers and barely moved an inch during the entire concert. It looked like her arms were glued to the barrier, seemingly unimpressed by the whole thing. I wanted it to be Cat. I just couldn’t fucking see because it was our last night, and they’d set up flares along with the canons, so we’d ‘go out with a bang’.
The only way I could find out was to get off the damn stage and get down there. We had one song left in the set, then the encore. I was yelling along with the rest of the fans, desperate to fling my guitar off my chest and do a running jump into the crowd just to get over there and find out if she might have forgiven me, if she was willing to fucking try.
We let the chords die down, and I shot one arm up in the air, before slamming it down on the body of my guitar and silencing it. The guys took the hint and stilled their instruments. We normally dragged this bit out, teasing the fans by saying goodbye, but I was too impatient. It was time to disappear.
We did a test run of the encore where they had us lowering slowly beneath the stage in our cages, waiting a minute, and then bringing us straight back up. It had looked stupid. The cages were too slow, and it was what the fans were expecting. Instead, every other night, we lowered under the stage and had two minutes to run to the platforms they’d set up to emerge inside the skull, ready with instruments and standing mics.
It cost a shit ton more money and stressed everyone out, but as the two huge roses covering the skeleton’s eyes were lifted away, revealing the four of us playing the encore as the skeleton rattled the cage and moaned, the effect was volcanic.
We couldn’t see the crowd at all. I had no idea if she’d still be there when we finished. If it even was her. I’d asked Freddie to invite her backstage, thinking a one-line note and the ticket would be more romantic than a huge letter, but now I regretted it. I knew she’d reject the first one, but I thought if she kept seeing ‘I miss you’, it would sink in.
We rose, the platforms stopping, all of us ready to go, but I needed to get a word in. “This last one goes out to a very special woman. She’s my queen, my punisher, the love of my life.”
I strummed the first two notes of one of our most famous songs, and the crowd went wild.
Love flooded me as I flowed with the music. Memories of Cat kept me going every day, like they had ever since we met. This was how I stayed with her, connected, together, even when I felt broken and distant. Since she told me she’d missed me, it had changed everything. I’d poured my anguish into a microphone for years, praying she would hear, and she had been calling back the whole time. We’d been singing to each other through the years, no matter where we were. I just needed her to answer my call. I needed her to hear me, to see what I could be for her, what we could become together. I wanted her to rule me in the sweetest of ways, but it would only happen if she tried. I had to wait for her now. No matter how excruciating it was, I couldn’t be the one chasing her forever. She needed to come to me.
The last notes died down, and I grabbed the mic, pulling it to my lips with both hands. “Thank you, Wembley!” I shouted into the winter night. We were sheltered behind the bars, and the creaks and groans of the skeleton were so loud I could barely hear myself. “You’ve been a fantastic crowd. We’re so grateful you came out to be with us tonight.” I paused to let them answer. “I’m hoping there’s one woman out there among you. She’s the one who sets me on fire and destroys me with her love. She’s the one that keeps me going through the dark nights and lonely days. She’s the one who brings me to my knees and makes me pray for mercy. You know who you are. You know where to find me. I’ll be waiting.”
