I'd loved Noel Gallagher since I was little. Not in the way you love a pop star you paste on your bedroom wall — this was deeper. His music found me when nothing else did. The lyrics felt like late-night conversations with someone who understood everything I didn't know how to say. He was sarcastic, brutally honest, brilliant — to me he was everything. And somewhere along the way, that love bled beyond the music.
Every gig, I made it my mission to get barrier. Right in front of him. Like a ritual. I queued in the early hours, I saved every spare penny, I elbowed my way through crowds with that same stubborn devotion. Since 2023, every London show. Just to be close enough to just see him up close.
So when I say I was gutted... I mean it in the deepest, bone-crushing way. Especially since this was the 2nd time I'd seen Oasis. Ever.
Yanked out of the crowd mid-Poznan, right when the chorus was about to erupt, because the drunken bastard next to me collapsed — and took me down with him.
Security hauled me up and over the barrier like I was nothing more than dead weight. I barely fought them — I was too stunned. One minute I was riding the high of the music, shoulder to shoulder with thousands of fans, and the next I was on the outside looking in.
That was when it happened. We locked eyes. Noel frowned — that tiny squint and tilt of the head he does when someone boos him. And then he gave me the smallest nod, like he saw me, even from the chaos. I stared, stunned, as he turned back to the crowd, business as usual.
Meanwhile, security was already dragging me toward the medical tent tucked beside the stage. The music still thundered on, but in here it was duller — enough to hear voices over the bassline. They made me sit next to the idiot who caused the whole mess. He groaned like a dying cow as a medic poked at his ribs.
"Serves you right, motherfucker," I muttered under my breath, brushing off the hands trying to fuss over me and fixing a glare on the floor.
I stared down at the festival wristband looped around my arm, fingers twisting it aimlessly. I'd worked extra shifts for that ticket. Skipped dinners. Hustled hard. And it had all been ripped away in seconds. I could've cried — not from pain, but from fury.
Then, a whistle. Sharp. Followed by a few urgent voices:
"Her?"
"Yes, her. That's the one."
A security guard approached. I blinked at him, confused.
"Come with me, love," he said simply.
I didn't ask questions. Just stood up and cast one last disgusted look at the now-incoherent man beside me before following the guard up a flight of narrow stairs.
At the top, he turned to me. "Wait here. He'll come for you."
"Who?" I called after, but he was already gone.
I exhaled hard and undid the messy bun on my head, letting my hair tumble over my shoulders. A few stray strands clung to my lip gloss. I picked at my hair tie, counting the usual small clump of loose hairs (why is it always so many?).
There was a slit in the curtain, just wide enough to glimpse the stage. The band was finishing up Cigarettes & Alcohol. I could see Noel lean in toward Liam and gesture subtly in my direction — backstage. I blinked, trying to process what I was seeing. It wasn't making sense.
Until suddenly, it was.
Noel appeared at the side of the stage, his Gibson still slung low against him. He stepped through the curtain slit, eyes locked on me. Without a word, he motioned for me to follow.
I stepped out, and the stage lights hit like a wall. The crowd blurred into a sea of movement and sound. I could barely see anyone — but I could hear everyone. My heart thumped so hard I thought it might drown out the band.
