Bliss (Matthew Bellamy)

Chapter 3

Am I being a creep?

Possibly. Is it normal to go to another city just to see a band you've only seen perform once? Well, it sounds normal but I suppose that may only be in relation to world-famous bands. I may have also been feeling weird because I haven't been able to get a particular interaction with one of the musicians out of my head since last Friday... Yeah, that particularly made me see myself as a creep on the way to stalk their victim...

These thoughts had flooded my head as the black signboard of the shop came into my sight, reading "HMV" in bold pink letters.

Too late to turn back?

Yes.

I shut my inner dialogue up with a final 'Fuck it' and shoved away any doubts that continued to prod at my mind, as I pushed the shop's glass door and stepped inside. The shop was an inverted "L", with shelves stacked with various CD's lining every wall and standing lined up one behind another in the middle. At a distant end of the "L" stood the tills, as well as a rather large group of people.

Suppose that is my destination.

I walked over slowly, casting an i-am-so-interested look at all the CD racks that I walked past, reading the inscriptions above them. "Jazz/Blues", "Pop", "Pop/Rock". I reached the back of the group at "Alternative" and stopped, as the troop in front of me seemed impenetrable.

Standing up on my tip-toes, I cast a look over all the heads that crowded this side of the "L". At the very back wall, hung blue posters portraying three men, it was the same photo as on the flyer I had stolen from the Purple Wave four days ago.

"Bingo." - I mumbled to myself.

Yet 'Bingo' or not, I was still unable to see anything. There was a small gap between the backs of two people which I managed to squeeze through, only to find myself facing the "New Releases" stand. The CDs on the top four shelves were leaning face up, colourful and glossy in their plastic wrappers. One of them caught my eye immediately. Black and blue, the same as in the small picture on my flyer, it read "Showbiz".

"Bingo!"

The word came out as more of an exclamation than a mumble, and I turned to see that one of the people whose back I had snuck behind was inching away from me. Nonetheless I had nothing to complain about as he had just made an opening through which I now had a clear view of not only the posters hanging on the back wall, but also the individuals sat in front of them.

Bingo. I had managed to keep the word behind my teeth this time.

The three men had seemingly finished setting up and were now exchanging some words with an older looking guy I didn't recognise. Both the bassist and guitarist had acoustic guitars lying on their laps, more humble a setup compared to when I'd last seen them.

Though I tried to not freeze staring, my attention had already centered around one person in particular. Matt, I remembered his name. He wore all black, and the colour suited his pale figure flawlessly. He retracted the hand which was resting on the body of his instrument to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, as his face turned away from the conversation which had seemingly just finished.

"This is called Sunburn." - He stated, throwing a quick strum over the strings, as he turned to face the people in front of him, and to face me.

My head quickly snapped down, as if upon reflex.

Yes, I'm a fucking moron. Yes, I know he wouldn't remember me...

Of course he wouldn't. But nonetheless, a flush crept over my cheeks as I examined the details of the CDs in "New Releases". My eyes chose to rest on the blue cover of "Showbiz", and I reached to pick up the plastic case. As I turned the CD over, a familiar photograph of the band glanced at me. Perhaps it was time I started calling "Muse" by their appropriate name...

The melodic sound of metallic plucks suddenly filled the room, and I couldn't help but look up. Matt had leant over his guitar, caressing the neck of the instrument as he plucked a few harmonics over the bassist's arpeggios. I recognised the song, they played it the other night, and despite the different instrumentation the band still managed to create a sound just as powerful with an acoustic setup. The guitarist brought his face up to the microphone, his eyes closed as he seeped in a slow breath.

And then he sang. And then I thought I could never look away.

--------------------

Matt P.O.V.

"Thank you!" I said, adjusting the microphone in its stand, it had been just slightly too low for most of the song as it began to slip when I sang the first lyric.

The crowd, If you may call it that, gave a weak but nonetheless appreciative applause, and I cast a glance and a smile over them in acknowledgement. The mass of people facing me was comprised of the shop employees, and the customers glad to have caught a free live performance, and...

And?

I froze, gaping at the left corner of the crowd. I recognised the face before connecting it to the memory, but the two puzzle pieces connected promptly.

How hadn't I noticed her before?

The winking girl, the 'Purple Wave' winking girl stood behind one of the CD racks, staring right back at me just as she had just a few days ago. Her cheeks had turned to roses and her mouth was slightly agape, as was mine.

I quickly raised my jaw and couldn't keep a smile from my face as I processed the situation. The same girl who had flashed me what I could only call a suggestive wink last Friday was now blushing, startled by catching my eye.

Before our exchange could become a staring contest, I gathered myself and shot her my best smile as well as a wink, much like the one she'd given me before.

My turn.

I watched her bite her lip, trying to contain a smile that was growing across her cheeks, painting them cherry red. She lowered her head, flustered, breaking whatever current had connected us in that moment. A warmth developed in my chest, as I saw in her the same reaction she had elicited in me just a few nights prior.

Well, except this time I wouldn't let her get away that easily.