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Alex

“One thing at a time, Mr. Photographer,” Marco said, pushing me out of the dressing room after they received Tom’s message. “We probably shouldn’t upset him too much for now.”

If looks could kill, Marco’s head would have exploded before my eyes. I knew I wouldn’t be able to resolve the issue with Noé before the concert, but if Marco had even remotely known what I had been through the past week ... I was sick with worry!

At least the opening band recognized the advantages and roped me in right away, which kept me somewhat distracted. The setup was now happening, and I was standing with the camera next to the bar, trying not to lose it.

But Noé was everywhere. All week! The feelings I had for him were just too strong. I kept telling myself that I was only chasing an ideal that had helped me through a tough time, and it wasn’t the real version of Noé. My God! It had been five weeks since we last saw each other. He couldn’t possibly still be the same person.

Ms. Gerber saw a valuable strategy in these thoughts, which I employed. If Noé was a support to me in this way, there was nothing wrong with it and all the more reason to talk to him.

What a pathetic man I was. Hiding behind the mask of the photographer and having heart palpitations like a pubescent girl. A crushing weight lifted off me when I saw Tom. He came out of the side door next to the stage and observed his surroundings. The club was packed, and the bar was chaotic, so I waved to get his attention. To avoid the crowd, he climbed onto the stage and climbed down on the other side.

“You’re here,” I said, relieved. “Is he here too?”

“Yeah.” Tom didn’t sound particularly happy.

“Is he downstairs?”

He shook his head and frowned. “He’s warming up.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yeah, that’s good.”

I wasn’t so sure if it was. Tom seemed resigned and angry at the same time.

“Did something happen?”

But this time he ignored me and stood at the bar as if he wanted to order something. However, it would take a while for his turn to come, so I pushed the bar stool aside and stood next to him.

“Can I do anything? I feel so ... I don’t know ... useless.”

Tom sighed. “He knows by now that you’re here. And as much as I hate to say it, Alex, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”

“Why? Is he mad at me?”

“No, I doubt it. He’s really deep in shit right now.”

“Hey!” A shout from behind startled us, causing us to turn around simultaneously.

A guy clad in all black with a lip piercing stood before us, raising his eyebrows questioningly. “Did everything go well?”

“You,” Tom growled, shoving him back with both hands. “You bastard gave him something!”

I was immediately alert. Gave him something?

“What?” The guy’s voice rose, and he spread his arms, as though offering Tom enough space to attack. “Are you serious? You should be grateful to me! All of you!”

I glanced at Tom, who was staring at the guy as if he wanted to set him on fire. “Are you crazy?”

The stranger just shrugged, as if he didn’t know what Tom was talking about. He shook his head and gave me a bewildered look.

“Of all the people who could have helped him, he ends up with you!” Tom continued. “You knew it! You’re one of the few who knows his story! How could you give him this crap? Why, Juri?”

I had never seen Tom like this. Even on stage, he always seemed composed and cool to me. Seeing him lose it like this, apparently because of Noé, unsettled me more than I would have liked.

“Listen,” Juri said, stepping closer. “I picked him up on Tuesday. He was out with some guys and already plastered. So I took him with me and made sure he could rest. He was in a terrible state and hasn’t been doing good since then, but you guys wanted him on stage tonight no matter what. Without drugs, it wouldn’t have worked out. So don’t come at me!”

Drugs?

Oh no, Noé.

In a split second, the hall lights and music went out. The audience crowded toward the stage, and it became a bit more comfortable at the bar.

“I’d say mission accomplished,” Juri added smugly as Chris and Marco took the stage.

“He’s not up there yet,” Tom retorted, his jaw clenched.

Lukas and Ramon emerged with their guitars, and the audience cheered. Once everyone was ready, Chris struck a chord, and like a storm, the band started. I stood there holding my breath, clutching my camera, and staring at the stage.

Where is he?

I glanced uncertainly at Tom. Judging by his grim expression, he was feeling the same way as I was. The band thundered into the Exil like a train, unstoppable like a bulldozer. My heart raced, and I wiped the sweat from my forehead.

And suddenly, he was on the stage.

The music made way for him, and with a distorted scream, he greeted the audience. People screamed with excitement and jumped up and down to the beat of the music. Noé whirled around and started singing.

I exhaled and breathed in shakily. Then I wiped my mouth and glanced briefly at Tom. Relief was written all over his face too, and I could see the tension leaving him. He shook his head, turned around, and waved to the woman behind the bar.

My gaze fell on this Juri, who never took his eyes off Noé and seemed as confident as any of us. At first glance, he had given me a more than gloomy impression, but now he radiated with joy and pride. It apparently wasn’t hard for him to enjoy the concert, so I tried to do the same. After all, I had to admit, the start was more than successful. And the audience was fully engaged with the next songs.

Noé put on a show that was no less impressive than the album release party. Like a predator stalking its prey, he prowled the stage, mesmerizing the audience with his performance. Until now, I wasn’t sure if he had even seen me. And I didn’t know if it was a good idea to take pictures of the band. As I looked at the camera, Tom appeared beside me, his hand on my arm. He shook his head, and I understood.

The longer I watched Noé, the more I realized he was pretty messed up. And with each song they finished, my trained eye saw the effects of the drugs wearing off, and it became increasingly difficult for him to maintain the facade of the charismatic frontman. I saw the exhaustion in his eyes, heard a sadness in his voice, and felt firsthand how much he was suffering. With all his might, he screamed out his anger, pushing his voice to its limits, yet the pressure within him seemed relentless.

As the concert neared its end, he withdrew more and more between songs, so Lukas announced the songs or introduced the band with Marco. Meanwhile, Noé stood in front of the drums, with his back to the audience, drinking from a white cup. The way he drank suggested that it wasn’t water.

Where there had been fear before the concert about whether he would even show up, now the question was rather whether he would last until the end. Although he was good at pretending, I could see through him when he realized that I had seen him, and behind his facade, everything was pitch dark.

“Guys!” Marco called into the microphone, and the audience cheered. “Are you in the mood for some feelings?”

The responses were clear, but then Noé turned to the bassist and said something to him. Marco frowned, looking puzzled at his bandmates. I knew which song Marco had just wanted to announce. It was the only ballad in their repertoire. But before Chris could strike the sticks together and count in for Lukas, Noé turned back to the audience and raised his cup as if to toast with the people.

“Fuck feelings!” he yelled and took a sip.

The audience followed suit. Marco looked puzzled at Chris, who shrugged helplessly.

“We’ll skip that song. What’s next?” Noé pushed his hair back, leaned on the microphone stand, and glanced at the setlist on the floor. “You can have it all.” With a circular hand gesture, he signaled to the band to start.

“Damn,” Tom groaned beside me.

Fuck feelings? Is he serious? But the longer I watched Noé, the clearer it became to me that he was completely messed up in that regard.

He put on a show like no other, engaged the audience, and let them witness his vulnerability, but then there were also these moments when he retreated into an impenetrable armor of icy coldness and rejection, pushing away even Marco when he got too close with his bass.

Every song they completed was a relief for me—and visibly also for the band. They were good. They delivered a pretty flawless show because the audience either didn’t notice that Noé’s inner struggle was real or simply ignored it. Perhaps it was precisely this tension that made the room boil.

I would have preferred to run away because I couldn’t bear to watch it any longer, but at the same time, Noé seemed like a magnet. Not only me, but the entire audience was wrapped around his finger with his demeanor. And it was precisely this power that threatened to tear him apart with each subsequent song.

Again and again, I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t. Because if it came to that point, I didn’t want to abandon him. I would have collected every splinter if it meant being even a little help to him.

The air was downright electrified as Marco announced the last song. Noé had become a ticking time bomb by now, which unfortunately only fueled the tension in the room even more. The audience craved more from him. They were so captivated by Noé that they did whatever he asked of them. In a trance, the crowd jumped up and down, barely manageable. When Lukas let the song fade out with his distorted guitar, cheers broke out, and people applauded wildly. But Noé didn’t seem to care anymore. He let the microphone drop to the ground and staggered through the door into the backstage area.

The band knew there would be no encore because they thanked the audience profusely and also left the stage. My pulse was going crazy, and I was only dominated by one single thought.

I have to go to him.

Tom probably felt the same way, but from our spot, there was currently no way through. People blocked the path and loudly demanded an encore.

“Come on!” Tom said, tugging at my sleeve.

I climbed onto the stage after him and followed him to the backstage entrance. As we descended the stairs, a cacophony of voices reached us. There was a mix of loud swearing, shouting, and muffled sounds. When I turned the corner, I froze in the doorway.

Noé angrily pushed Chris away, grabbing a chair and striking it against the wall several times. He screamed his soul out, cursed, and was uncontrollable. Even when Marco approached him, the broad-shouldered giant with the arms of a bodybuilder, Noé didn’t stop raging.

“What happened?” Tom asked.

“He seems to be having a nervous breakdown,” Chris replied.

Then one of the technicians pushed past me. “Guys! Where are you? They’re waiting for an encore!”

Noé punched the wall several times and staggered back. Tom caught him, but he immediately tore himself away.

“Forget it! We’re done!” Lukas declared, pointing at Noé. “At least he is.”

I still stood there paralyzed, holding the camera in my hands, unable to think of anything else but capturing the moment. But Noé’s pain overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t even bring myself to move to try to calm him down somehow.

Marco grew tired of Noé’s antics and grabbed him by the collar, pressing him against the wall. “Stop it!”

With clenched teeth, Noé banged the back of his head against the wall and covered his face with both hands. His right hand was bleeding, and he could barely stand on his own. “No,” his voice was nothing more than a whisper, and when Marco let go, he slumped down against the wall, buried his head between his knees, and clutched his hair tightly.

Tom shoved Marco aside and crouched in front of Noé. I couldn’t hear what he said to him, but his words seemed to strike a chord. Noé pushed him away, got up, snatched his jacket, and staggered toward me.

Oh fuck.

I was still standing in the entrance, and my heart just sank. I didn’t even notice that I was blocking his way. And apparently, he only recognized me when he grabbed me by the collar and pushed me aside.

As I stood with my back against the wall and our eyes met, time stood still. With his dark blue eyes, he stared at me and conveyed more to me than in the last ninety minutes. I noticed the bruises on his eye and chin and couldn’t help myself. I gently touched his cheek. Sadness welled up in him, but then he winced and stormed out.

I gasped for air, hadn’t even realized I had been holding my breath. Seeing him on stage was one thing, but being able to look him in the eye like that was something else entirely. I shuddered at the pain that held him captive.

My gaze swept through the room. Exhausted, Chris and Ramon collapsed onto the couch, while Marco covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head in disbelief. A few feet away, Lukas was talking to the technician. I locked eyes with Tom, and he walked toward me.

“Everyone here just wants what’s best for him,” he said sadly. “But he won’t let himself be helped.”

“Are you finally going to tell me where to find him?” I asked.

“Come on.”

I took that as a yes and followed Tom up the stairs. Instead of going out through the side exit, he returned to the club. By now, the audience had accepted the abrupt ending, and the path past the stage back to the bar was clear. Tom headed straight for Juri, who was sitting at the bar, talking to the bartender. But Tom wasn’t interested in that. He grabbed him by the shoulder and pointed at me.

“Juri, this is Alex. Take him to Noé!”

Completely unimpressed, Juri glanced at me, then lifted his chin slightly and snorted. “He ditched you guys. Ha!”

“That’s not funny. He just had a nervous breakdown back there,” Tom said.

“Then he surely won’t just go home,” Juri replied.

“And where do we find him?” I asked, worried.

“Kid, that guy knows more people than the two of you combined. Give me your number. I’ll let you know when he resurfaces.”

Confused about what to do, I turned to Tom, and he nodded reluctantly. “He’s right. Give him your number.” Then he turned to Juri. “But you call as soon as he shows up!”

“Yes, I promise!” he replied, holding his hands up in a placating manner. “What are you guys worrying about so much? He won’t just jump into the river right away. And as long as he doesn’t find the gun ...”

“What?” Tom bristled.

“It was a joke! For God’s sake! Calm down!”

“Why would you say that?” I asked, pained. “That’s not funny.”

Juri rolled his eyes and sighed in annoyance. With black eyeliner on, he had an edgy look to him. “He’s been through much worse. Give him some time, he’ll come around. You know how he is,” he said to Tom. “As long as he’s not completely down, there’s no helping him.”

“It doesn’t have to come to that,” Tom replied.

“It won’t,” I said, pulling out my phone and looking at Juri. “What’s your number?”