If We Let It
Chapter One
"Great show, really, great performance, great atmosphere, and a really great crowd. You know I've seen a lot of sold out shows here and been on both the audience end and tour manager end and to have a crowd that respectful is kind of a rarity," you say closing the door behind you, letting the noise of the screaming fans dull around you.
It was the last night of a sold out tour and you could tell that Niall had originally been a little bit nervous. World famous venue, sold out, tour closer, a lot went into this night and he wanted to make sure everyone was happy. That was him, always caring about everyone else, even the "nobodies" behind the scenes that most artists ignore, like you, the tour manager.
"Thank you! It really felt like a good show, I feel really good about that closer," he says exasperated, making his way to the vanity chair in the dressing room. "Last nights are hard for me. I always want to end the tour on the highest note possible," leaning back in his chair he reaches both of his arms above his head and interlocks his fingers.
"Well I'd say you accomplished that." You say cheerfully and begin packing up your bags.
That was that. The same routine every night of tour. You speak about the show beforehand, go over the game plan, he does the show, you give him some thumbs ups during songs, the show ends, you sing his praises, and go on with your night. This would be the last time, until he plans another tour which knowing him would be a couple of years.
"Listen, before you go… well never mind," you zip your backpack up and stand straight to look at him, cocking your eyebrow. "I was just going to ask how you were feeling about tour ending and everything. I know for me it's a big change and I wanted to vent a little bit but I know you have better things to do,"
"No, no, no. I agree, it is a huge change, Niall. Don't be embarrassed about wanting to talk about it with someone that understands the experience." You cross the room to sit on the couch, leaning back and resting your feet gently on the table.
Niall smiles softly. "Thank you," he moves to sit beside you, "you know, I don't talk about it a lot but all of the changes that happen as a musician, the different phases of life that I go through in such a short time period, the demand of me…" he trails off. "It takes a lot out of me and truthfully I have a lot of anxiety surrounding it and it's lonely. I know, Mr rich and famous over here complai-"
"No." You cut him off, placing your hand on his knee. "Don't diminish your feelings," he places his hand on top of yours and you see him differently, you're knowing him now as Niall the person, not just Niall the musician. His eyes meet yours, and you both pause for a beat. Hand on hand, gaze meeting gaze, breathing the same air, and you swear he leans in just a bit but before you can process what's going on a knock on the door jolts him up.
"Hey Niall we're ready whenever you are," his driver says letting himself in.
"Oh of course, I'll be right there!" Niall says awkwardly, moving for the doorway, leaving you alone in his room with nothing but your thoughts and anxiety.
Sitting on the sofa, helping yourself to a soda from his mini fridge (someone has to drink it) you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. A text from an unknown number reading thank you xx sits on your home screen.
