A Union J oneshot by abiggerinfinity: request by PlayBack1D
(PS I normally don’t do Union J but they were lovely enough to message me and I couldn’t resist… after all, George is basically Harry and Louis’ love child)
Barely There
George’s P.O.V.
Singing is where I’m at. That and my guitar. They always said that if you knew what you loved it would find a way of working itself out and that everything would get easy.
But it’s not like that—at least no entirely—I think as I sit on the couch running my fingers edgily across the familiar strings of my guitar, the same chord echoing repeatedly through the room. I watch as Jaymi shoves a cousin at JJ who’s taken his water bottle and chugged it back in expert time, Josh simply rolling his eyes and returning back to his phone.
I try to feel comfortable, but everything about this show has me shaken up. Every week, just when I think I’m getting used to it all, something new is thrown my way and I just can’t bounce back. I guess it’s got to do a bit with keeping my emotions in check, which I’d like to think I can manage now.
For instance, back in the third year, some boys took my footie ball and tossed it on top the school roof, and I at my emotional state of third yearness had broken out wailing. They called me George Shrilly for three years.
I try to believe that now it wasn’t a big deal and that there are bound to be some right tossers in third year, but it’s tough. I’ve always been struck a bit easy. Just getting in to the X-Factor was hard to handle, but being put in the band and then the added stress of live shows every week… it’s just a bit much for anyone, even if you’ve got three supportive friends by your side.
So maybe I was a bit jittery for the show tonight. I always was—and singing Fix You? I was just terrified I wouldn’t do Coldplay justice… I mean, the band is bloody amazing. Then there’s the audience and the judging panel and all the other acts to bloody compete with. I guess I’m just glad I’ve got a couple performances until ours to calm myself down.
“George?” I heard a voice come from the door—it was Louis. We all gave him apprehensive looks. Didn’t he have an act to be judging? Was it commercial break already?
“Yeah?” I asked quietly.
“I’d like to have a word with you in the hall,” his voice was slow, and quiet.
“You all good George?” Jaymi asked me, I simply nodded.
“I’ll be fine mate, thanks,” I said, following Louis out into the hall.
“I know this is bloody shit timing,” he said and my eyes widened at his manner of unprofessional language, but he looked a bit a wreck. “but it’s important and we didn’t think it right for you to hear elsewhere.”
“I’m sorry… I don’t quite follow,” I said.
“We received a phone call…” he said. “From your father who’s just gotten off the phone with one of your brother Will’s commanding officers.”
My stomach dropped instantaneously. I felt sick. Not preshow nerves sick. Not stomach-flu sick. Not too much to drink last night. I felt full-body, head -aching, eyes turning sick. I needed to breathe. No… I don’t know.
“I’m so sorry George,” Louis said. “Considering the circumstances, I fully understand if Union J cannot perform tonight—we’re even willing to grant you immunity.”
“No,” I just barely choked out. “The boys have worked so hard for this—I’ve worked so hard for this—we’ll perform.”
“Are you sure?” he asked in shock.
“Yes,” I said weekly.
*
I suppose it wasn’t much of a shock when in the middle of my verse my voice cracked and all. Frozen on stage with thoughts of Will in his uniform, in his medals, in his photos, in his pajamas and pants when we were barely old enough to understand things like death.
Frozen and tears falling freely, cascading down my cheeks, hands clamped on the microphone as I choked out a sob. The audience hushed and my bandmates looking panicked.
“George…?” Josh asked quietly. “You alright there?”
“I—” and then I choked again.
“What’s happened?” JJ’s voice warms towards me, as if he’d entirely forgotten we’re on live tele at all, Jaymi seemingly the same as he wraps an arm around me.
“I apologize ladies and gentleman,” Louis says into his own mic. “George had just received news tonight that his brother was killed serving our country while on duty in Afghanistan tonight, but insisted bravely that they would perform anyway.”
“Oh… George,” Jaymi barely whispered. I wiped the tears out of my eyes, only to look up and see the audience standing to their feet and clapping.
With my bandmates by my side and my hand still on the cool microphone, my heart lifted.
“Do you mind… if we pick up where we left off?” Josh asked.
“Not in the slightest,” Louis insisted.
The music started again and I sang for my band. I sang for the audiences, for the judges, for my friends, my family, myself… and for Will.
