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Alex

The anticipation of Nightrain’s concert helped me get through the days. And when Chris led me into the club on Saturday, past the bar and into the vaulted cellar, where loud music blasted from the speakers and plenty of people were already waiting for the show to start, it fueled my excitement too.

“Are all these people here because of you guys?” I asked Chris. I hadn’t expected it to be so crowded. But as it turned out, the band wasn’t as unknown in the scene as I had assumed.

“After the warm-up concert, word got around,” Chris said, grinning over his shoulder at me.

We climbed up a side staircase onto the stage and entered the backstage area through a small door. I had to duck my head and bend my knees to get through. Chris closed the door behind me and gestured invitingly.

“Take your time getting settled. We won’t go on stage for at least forty-five minutes.”

“The photographer is here!” Marco called out, raising a beer bottle to me from the couch. “Where have you been?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t make it sooner. Had something to take care of for a client.”

I was still standing next to Chris when Noé turned his head and looked at me for two seconds. He was lying on the couch with his legs stretched out, headphones in his ears, and judging by his tapping foot, he was listening to music.

A cold shiver ran down my spine. It had been two and a half weeks since he stayed over at my place, and the unpleasant scene with my mother occurred. I had forbidden myself from reaching out to him and had stuck to it ruthlessly. I had distracted myself with work during the week and spent the last two weekends at Livio’s. But despite my efforts, the guilt I carried and the many memories that kept me awake at night felt like minor annoyances when I felt the pang in my chest every time Noé turned his gaze away from me. I tried my best not to show anything as I greeted Lukas and Ramon, then sat down on the couch next to Marco.

“Do you have three cameras again?” the bassist asked, taking a swig from the bottle.

“No, just one,” I replied, taking it out of its case.

“Just do your thing,” Chris said, drumming his sticks on the wooden table and his thighs.

My thing would have been to ask Noé how the last two weeks had been for him. To apologize. Or just to sit next to him, gently stroking his cheek and kissing him. My whole body was screaming for him, and what I had successfully pushed aside in the last few days now crashed down on me like an avalanche.

Fuck, I really fell in love with him.

All the ideas and resolutions I had gone through in my head over the past two weeks evaporated into thin air, and I felt so lost. But at least I still had my camera, and I clung to it as if it were my lifeline. With trembling hands, I turned it on and checked the settings. Since there was nothing else I could do, I started taking pictures.

The backstage room already seemed to offer much more than the stage show that was about to follow because I was sure the photos wouldn’t be much different from the ones I had taken in the rehearsal room. But here, anticipation, excitement, expectations, nervousness, and plenty of testosterone were mixed in.

Marco and Lukas were loudly discussing some bands I didn’t know, tuning their instruments as they did. I managed to take a few photos of them without them noticing, then Lukas flipped me off and stuck out his tongue, while Marco made a face. Smiling, I moved on, photographing Chris, then Ramon, who was doing some finger exercises to relax. And finally, I reached Noé, although I wasn’t standing directly beside him. In fact, I was fifteen feet away from him on the other side of the room.

He reclined on the couch, dressed in tight jeans, black boots, a Slipknot band shirt, and a leather jacket, tapping his foot to the music. His hair was loose, falling over the black leather and almost touching the floor. All of this contrasted beautifully with the white limestone wall. This was how I remembered him from the gigs at Hyde—reserved, introspective, and quiet. There was so much more to him than what he wore on the outside with his confident and charming smile.

Suddenly, he turned his head in my direction and looked at me. I realized that this moment was unique, so I pressed the button. With a smile, I tried to play off the situation, but he abruptly stood up and left the backstage room through another door. I watched him leave, slightly puzzled.

“You scared him off!” Marco laughed, and the others joined in.

“Scared him off? I don’t understand.”

“The man has stage fright.”

“Oh ... I see, then ...” I couldn’t apologize now. And even if I could, what for? He couldn’t even accuse me of getting too close to him. Paparazzi-style would have been different. They wouldn’t have kept a fifteen-feet distance. I rubbed my forehead and sat down on the now-empty couch.

“Here!” Ramon said, handing me a beer.

“I hope I wasn’t ... too intrusive.”

“Oh, come on, he’ll come around.”

“Or I’ll find him,” Marco announced solemnly.

And that was what exactly happened. When the band wanted to go on stage, there was still no sign of Noé. Marco went to look for him, and when they returned to the backstage room, everything happened very quickly. Noé threw his phone on the couch and followed the guys out onto the stage. I stood there completely perplexed, marveling at the change he had undergone. When he grabbed the microphone and greeted the audience with a distorted scream, there was no trace of restraint whatsoever. Noé was back in his element, moving smoothly like a predator, singing with a strong voice, and engaging with the audience. As Marco had once said, “He was the natural frontman.” I couldn’t wait to take photos of him and the band.

To avoid getting in their way, I stayed at the edge of the stage and on the side. I couldn’t help but notice how Noé, unlike during the band rehearsal, stepped it up a notch by openly flirting with the women in the front row and wasn’t too proud to ditch his leather jacket in a sexy-looking strip.

He knew exactly what he was doing, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was putting on the show partly for me. Even though our eyes rarely met conspicuously, it was precisely these brief moments that revealed more than he probably wanted. Behind his tough metalhead mask, I saw that my presence alone irritated him. On one hand, it gave me a somewhat good feeling, but since I didn’t want to distract him unnecessarily, I switched into photographer mode and hid behind my camera. I changed positions a few times, took some pictures from the soundboard, and moved closer to the stage again. When I changed a few settings on the camera, someone nudged me gently from the side.

“Alex! Hi!”

“Tom!” I said, surprised. “You’re here too?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed, leaning closer to my ear. “Couldn’t make it to the warm-up gig, so I didn’t want to miss the album launch.”

I nodded, glancing past Tom. He was here with Pablo, the drummer of the Lighteners. Pablo was the epitome of restraint. I had never heard him speak, but he was polite, raised his hand, and nodded at me, which I returned.

For a moment, I stood next to Tom, unsure of what to say. There was actually nothing to say, but I felt like an opportunity was being handed to me on a silver platter because, as far as I knew, Noé and Tom were very close. Tom was watching the concert, but when he turned to me again with a serious and almost piercing gaze, I swallowed nervously.

“Ask me!” he urged.

I wasn’t sure if maybe it would have been better to just leave. But I couldn’t. My body was frozen, and my breath caught in my throat.

“How much do you already know?”

A smug grin crossed his face, and he shook his head. “Probably more than you think. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a cokehead, Alex.”

So straightforward?

“I quit,” I muttered.

“When? Yesterday?”

I realized that no matter what I said, Tom was on Noé’s side, and to him, I was nothing more than a junkie. “You don’t know me,” I retorted. “But from the looks of it, you’ve already labeled me.”

Tom’s features softened, and he seemed understanding. With a probing look, he glanced at me. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That was ... arrogant. But you have to understand...”

“I’ve already figured it out,” I interrupted him. “He’s clean. And when someone like me shows up, then I’m the risk here.”

Tom nodded silently.

I said nothing for a while, observing Noé as he introduced the band and announced the next song. Only when the music blasted through the vaulted cellar once more did I shift my attention back to Tom.

“I’ve fallen in love with him,” I admitted openly. “I can’t help it. I look at him and just want to be near him. But he ... What can I do to make him give me another chance?”

“My advice to you: forget about him. And I’m not saying that because I want to protect Noé, but for your sake. He doesn’t know what love is. And he doesn’t trust anyone. He can’t even if he wanted to. He just drew a shitty card.”

“What card?” I asked, confused.

“Not everyone grows up in a protected environment.”

For a brief moment, I took that personally, but I pulled myself together and didn’t show how much it bothered me. “You act like that’s the end of the line.”

“Just trust me. No matter how much he might like you, he won’t let you in.”

I didn’t want to hear that. I was well aware that Noé wanted nothing to do with me anymore. But that didn’t mean I had to accept it. It had been extremely difficult for me not to contact him over the past two weeks. I had tried, albeit poorly, to get my life back on track—alone. Today’s concert was my ray of hope, especially after I had already said goodbye to Livio last weekend on Saturday and hadn’t stayed until Sunday evening. I knew myself that this wasn’t the right way to sort out my shit, but it wasn’t easy either. It had hurt me even more that Noé apparently appreciated my radio silence. It had only increased the distance between us, so it was urgent for me to have a conversation with him. I needed to explain to him what had happened to me in the last two weeks, as it was the only way he might understand me.

“So what can I do?” I asked Tom again. “You didn’t answer my original question. I just want to talk to him calmly. Help me, please.”

While I didn’t hear Tom sigh, his movements said it all. “For starters, you could stop pushing yourself onto him.”

“I’m not pushing myself,” I clarified immediately. “I haven’t contacted him since that morning.”

“Okay, then catch up with me later. We’ll probably grab some drinks by the river. Just join us. I’ll make sure you get your chance.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“And now go!” he said again with a laugh. “I want to enjoy the concert.”

I nodded to him and returned to the small staircase leading to the stage. From there, I took a few more photos and watched the concert until the end. When the house lights came on and loud rock music blared from the speakers, it was clear that there would be no encore, and I made my way backstage.

The band was toasting ceremoniously with Robert, and Marco called out a toast. Everyone was drenched in sweat, with beads of perspiration dripping from their foreheads. I was similarly affected. The vaulted cellar wasn’t particularly large, and the heat was trapped inside like a sauna. Before I went to freshen up, I pulled out my camera one last time and took a few pictures. The energy and adrenaline still coursing through the guys were worth capturing. Noé toasted with a water bottle, took a big gulp, and poured some of it over his face.

Water , I thought. I was such an idiot.