> speechless >> n.h. >

6.

>> Niall.

Harrison.

What the fuck, Niall?

I cringed down at my phone, locking it before I could embarrass myself any further. I stuffed it into the back pocket of my jeans and readjusted to the surroundings beside me.

I was perched onto a speaker, tucked away into the corner of the tall, dark practise room. The sounds of laughter, drums and other musical instruments played loud around me as happy faces set the high mood. Even though there were five faces amongst me, more weaving in and out, it felt empty. I felt disconnected. Disorientated.

"You ready, Niall?" Pete, my stage manager, asked. I looked his way, shooting a toothy grin. I slapped my hands on my thighs and stood up enthusiastically from my place.

"Sure. Let's do this."

The thing about performing is that you never get used to the nerves. Whether you're stood in front of 9 members of staff or 20,000 fans, the nerves never go away. My palms get sticky, my face hot and flushed and my stomach turning in every which direction. You put so much energy into a performance to make sure that it's perfect; so many people at your feet relying on you to be impressed. It never gets less nerve racking. You just learn to push it away.

I hid behind the comfort of my guitar, my fingers plucking the threads and gliding up and down each chord. As the song progressed I grew more into the performance, moving and messing around with it. Pete shouted goofy instructions and remarks, breaking me out of my shell and creating a sense of fun to it.

I felt at ease after a while, enjoying myself more and more as we practised each and every song. It was hard to open up to a performance on my own; I felt vulnerable and exposed. It was something I knew I was going to get used to- slowly but steady. There was always a part of me that felt naked without the comfort of my other band mates. I felt lonely.

"I hate to be that guy, but no phones right now please mate. We've got too much to get through today, buddy." Frank called, giving me a guilty look. He was another manager of mine, him being more in control of my schedule than anything else.

I stared at the screen below, a half typed reply to Delilah waiting to be sent. I nodded in agreement, yet continued typing as quickly as I could to make sure it sent. I locked it once again, this time leaving it a few metres away on top of my jacket, tucked away in my beloved corner.

Me: you're insanely talented. come take some photos of me please ?

The 6th song into our practise I became bored, strumming through every note with no motivation to meet the next. I could feel myself growing impatient, too interested in getting back to my phone than doing my job. I could feel Pete meeting my impatience, slumped back into his chair with his chin in his hand.

Just on queue as I played the remaining notes of the song, a few more members of staff entered the room and swarmed the attention of Frank. It interrupted the concentration of everyone around us, creating a spontaneous break. I let my eyes wander to their faces and watch as concerned, followed by relieved expressions washed over.

He followed them out of the room, leaving a smaller, quieter space in return. I walked over to Pete, taking a bottle of water from his side and cracking open the lid.

"What was that about?" I asked, taking a long sip. He looked at me with a monotone expression.

"One of your promotional photographers for the tour quit on us last minute. They think they've found a replacement, however they're just waiting to interview them before anything's confirmed." Pete explained.

"New photographer? Awesome."

My phone glowed from across the room, the lock screen filling with notifications. I picked it up, staring at them one by one as they filtered through the screen.

itsonedee: HARRISON

itsonedee: ANSWER YOUR GOD DAMN PHONE THIS IS IMPORTANT

itsonedee: I'm so happy why aren't you here

itsonedee: You'll never guess what just happened at work today!!!

>>>

hope you enjoy :)
shit's coming, watch out
~E