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I’m a waste of skin and bones and nerves that only malfunction.
Redressed, I shuffle back into the small living room and plop onto the firm Ikea couch that still smells like the packaging. All of a month and a half in this tiny, archaic rental house, and I’ve still only furnished it with the essentials. It’s the most roots I’ve put down in five years. I can’t bring myself to hang anything on the walls, quite certain a single nail would cause them to crumple like tissue paper.
Flipping open my laptop, my fingers hover over the keys for a few breaths. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and type in Atonement.
Not surprising. The lead vocalist, Mykhail “Hail” Koval, is just as photogenic as he was breathtaking in person. His wide smile radiates warmth, and his rich, light brown eyes spark with vitality.
Honestly, all of them are easy on the eyes. Liam, their lead guitarist, captivates attention much like a black hole, dark and dangerous. Their bassist, Malek, has almost elvish features, blood-red hair, and a wicked cunning grin. And their drummer, Griff, softens their strong angles and eclectic attire with kind eyes and loungewear in most of their photos.
There’s a flicker of concern in my brain when I’m disappointed by the lack of details on Hail’s personal life. I click on one of their live videos at a festival in Germany, and I’m overwhelmed by the shift in his personality when he takes centre stage. All smiles until the second his hand touches the mic.
He gives the massive crowd no time at all to brace for the wall of sound he barrages them with, summoning guttural screams. His lows draw my pounding heart down into the pit of my stomach. And his highs? They shoot me right back up with a dose of adrenaline, jolting my heart into an erratic rhythm.
The urge to see them live, to experience this up close, grips me with iron strength. Can he stir up this same reaction when I’m standing before him? It’s been so long since I’ve felt a rush like this, a low thrum of something exciting growing deep in my bones.
Five years is a hell of a long time to lurk in the shadows all alone, especially now that I’ve glimpsed the pillar of light that is Hail. I’m at war with myself over whether or not to chase this.
Without realising it, I’ve searched their tour dates. They must have a show close by if they’re hanging out in London. I’m not surprised to find them booked up at The Dome Thursday night.
My heart gives an extra beat when I see that they’re playing at the Download Festival Friday afternoon. Somehow the mouse finds the purchase tickets button. It’s an awful lot to spend on one ticket, and I’m not even interested in seeing anyone else perform. I’m so far out of tune with the music world, I don’t recognise much of the line-up. If I did, I would most definitely be able to talk myself out of going.
But the tips from last night were more than I expected, and the way Hail was looking at me? The way his voice reaches inside of me to throttle me back to life? I could become addicted to this.
Mentally, I tally how much money I have left for food and bills. Royalties are always slow to trickle in, and my savings is just about wiped clean. What would the media think about that?Washed up rockstar blows through his fortune and spends his nights tracing grout lines in a run-down bathroom alone.
Before I can find logic, my heart gives another vigorous thud as my finger clicks the purchase button.
I’m drowning in a sea of heaving, shrieking fans.
To say it’s not an all-consuming rush would be a lie. Surrounded by thousands of bodies pouring out excitement, it’s impossible not to get a contact high.
The demonic sounds ripping free from Hail’s throat skewer me in place. Bolt me onto my little patch of trampled grass near the front of the festival stage. People thrash all around me, but I remain still, feeling untethered from my body. Ascended, as I stare up at a music god, proper flames erupting all around him.
I know I don’t know him. One night locking eyes across a grungy bar doesn’t even make us acquaintances. But from my continued research each night leading up to their show, I learned that Atonement has blown up in almost every major country after their newly released album of absolute bangers. Hell, I’ve had their album on repeat for the past two days.
Hail shouldn’t mean anything to me. Not when I’ve only heard his voice through my wireless headphones while staring up at the ceiling in my bedroom for countless hours.
And yet, here I am, being transported by the rage he’s channelling as if he’s standing a breath away, his fingers reaching out to burrow into my soul like some sort of grim reaper.
At this moment, I can temporarily forget my past. I can dream about the future in music I might have had, before everything fell apart in the span of one nightmarish evening.
Hail curls over the edge of the stage, bringing his head closer to the writhing fans with multicoloured hair, unique piercings, and more ink visible than skin. Their hands outstretch, clawing at the air. Frantic to touch him and break off a piece of him.
It used to bother me how much humans could obsess over someone they don’t know.
But here I am.
His eyes find mine, and a flicker of surprise runs through their amber depths as his brows lift slightly. My foolish heart sputters against my ribs, like a frantic bird trapped in a cage. He doesn’t break our locked gazes as he pushes out screams, tapping into wounds I don’t understand.
We all hurt in different ways, don’t we?
The song ends abruptly, but Hail’s attention doesn’t shift from me. Fans gasp and security flocks as he leaps from the stage. Easing past the bulky, hired help, he effortlessly hoists his body over the metal barrier between the stage and the fans.
Fucking hell.What does he think he’s doing? People are going to eat him alive.
Blood pressure rising, I turn and push through the crowd, my shattered heart chugging out a heady warning of self-preservation. Maybe he’s not coming for me. Maybe I’m giving too much weight to my existence.
But when I glance behind me, he calls out, as hands grab at his sweaty skin and people scream into his ears.
