𝐀𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚. ⁽⁽⁽ᵐᵃᵗᵗʸ ʰᵉᵃˡʸ⁾⁾⁾

Berlin.

(Ulrika Spacek - Ultra Vivid)

I Think There's Something You Should Know

PART THREE.

Helen loved Paris, but I adored Berlin. I told her I thought this said something about our sensibilities, to which she replied I was talking nonsense and obviously didn't appreciate Romanticism.

We had a day off every two or three gigs since deciding with Kate that we would prefer to leave earlier, sacrifice an evening out, and instead arrive in each city with sufficient time to walk around and play the shameless tourists. I loved gigging in Europe, testing out my pathetic phrasebook French or Italian on our poor unsuspecting fans, of which there were a few in each city alongside the musos, the hipsters and the kids out for a decent Wednesday night. They were kind with us though, correcting my terrible grammar and excitedly engaging in tentative conversation. We didn't sell out many venues, only Paris, Amsterdam and Milan, but they were the best ones to sell out, the most iconic. I figured I could survive seeing some empty space in Madrid if the enthusiasm was there, which it usually was in spades.

Helen experimented with her stage wardrobe every night, trying out things in a low stakes environment that she wouldn't have dared to back home. In Amsterdam, she bought a couture piece off a student designer, and we all sat around in the green room of Melkweg getting deeply stoned before playing a set that thrummed with chaotic energy. The weed didn't damage our performance - far from it in fact. The performance was instinctive, the rhythms were practically physical. I watched Helen closely with my lips pressed to the mic, weaving back and forth, turning to Ethan and sharing the goggle-eyed expression of euphoria on our faces.

That night we stayed in a positively ancient hotel where Kate had bagged a deal for the room, a classic Dutch townhouse with perilously narrow staircases and floorboards. After navigating our way up to our rooms, I sat next to Helen on her bed, sipping greedily on the bottle of wine that we had brought back from the green room as we assessed our current situation.

'This is our best tour so far, easily,' I grinned at her, giddy on the night's success. 'And not even in terms of the shows, I just feel...'

'You're more confident. We both are. I know I don't show it much, but I get jittery like you sometimes,' she admitted. 'What do you think changed that?'

'Time, I suppose. And being accustomed to it. The novelty of new experiences is great but I think it always comes with insecurity. I feel secure now, in comparison.'

'Good...' she mused, 'I wish I did.'

'What?' I blinked, turning my neck to look at her straight on. 'Why? Do you feel insecure onstage?'

'No, not really. But sometimes I talk to the guys,' - referencing Lewis and Jay, and possibly Leon - 'and I feel the imposter syndrome creeping back.' She paused. 'Do you ever second-guess why we get attention? Do you ever wonder if it's mainly because we're objectively cute girls?'

I chewed my lip as I thought my response over, slightly surprised to hear these words from Helen. 'You know what? I do wonder that - or at least I did, and then I realised I didn't care too much either way. We know our music deserves the hype,' I smirked. 'So whatever people's personal reasons are for supporting us or giving us a platform, we're able to just snatch that opportunity and run with it anyway. The imposter syndrome can be twisted into an advantage, and besides, you're one of the best musicians I know. Lewis might think he's all that but you're a better guitarist. Honest.'