Harry's POV:
The buzz.
An indescribable euphoric high in which your body becomes amped up with adrenaline to such a magnitude that you feel indestructible. There's a constant tingle every time you walk, as if all your senses are heightened. The feeling of your heart beating is so heavy it almost weighs you down, yet gives you such power that you feel you could run the world.
Every breath, every blink, everything my fingertips touch or my feet walk upon sends shockwaves of electricity through my nerves, creating an explosive atmosphere in my chest. My cheeks are constantly glued to the sides of my face, locked in a permanent smile as my body shows the world how happy I am.
This before-show rush is a feeling I've missed - it's one that sits very closely in my heart. No matter how long I have done this for, and will continue doing this for, I will never not be nervously exhilarated before stepping onto stage.
"10 minutes people! 10 minutes!" The stage manger yelled, racing across the floor and vanishing into the crowd of people.
'Compose yourself, Harry. Compose yourself' I said in my head, taking myself into a quieter corner of the backstage area. My eyes locked shut, as I took heavy breaths in, feeling my lungs expand fully against my chest with each inhale. Almost in a dancing manner, my hands drifted up and down in coordination with my breaths, the tips of my fingers fluttering freely as they went.
I rolled my neck from side to side, shaking my arms and legs to loosen up my muscles as I continued to control my breathing. My body was still on the high: telling me to psyche myself up, to get really hyper. But I know that walking onto stage with that mindset will end unsuccessfully. I'll forget lyrics, I'll wear myself out, I won't entertain the beautiful people who payed to see me.
My eyes slowly opened, momentarily adjusting to the lighting. A constant hum of fans screaming filled the air as I made my way onto the stage. Mitch, Sarah, Clare, and Adam were already onstage setting up, tuning and warming up their instruments which could only be heard to us as they weren't turned on yet. I walked to the middle of the stage, adjusting the mic stand accordingly to the angle I was planning to start in.
Picking up the guitar resting securely in a stand next to my microphone, I bought the strap over my shoulder and let it sit comfortably against my floral suit. I strummed a few notes against the delicate strings, focusing extremely hard to be able to hear them over the screams of my fans.
Separating me, from them, was a beautiful pink curtain, covered in the same flowers featured on my album cover. Despite it being so thin, I felt miles away from everyone. All those people came to see me, to support me, to listen to music produced by me. It's scary. There's a huge, invisible weight of pressure hanging over my shoulders, which is only getting bigger the nearer we come to starting.
"3 minutes!" The stage manager yells, speed walking across the stage whilst readjusting her headset.
"Wanna play some chords?" Mitch asks, holding up his guitar. I nodded, moving closer to him as he began to strum a few notes. My fingers grasped the guitar pick as I harmonise to Mitch, Sarah joining in with a low beat on the drums from just above us. As my body loosened to the music, Clare finalised the moment with some complimentary keys on the piano, all of us forgetting for a few, brief moments that 3 metres away, there was thousands of people waiting for us to be revealed.
"60 seconds!" A voice bellowed, the same girl sprinting back across the stage again, shouting into her headset.
"Guys, gather round, quickly." I ask, gesturing for them all to leave their positions and stand around me. "This is our first show together for Live On Tour. I couldn't ask for a better group of people to be sharing this journey with, and I'm ecstatic to see where it leads us. Everyone, remember to have fun, and don't worry about making mistakes!" I laugh, and everyone cheers as they clap their hands together, hastily returning to their spots on stage.
My eyes were glued on the stage manager, waiting for her signal that all the instruments were live and we could start the show. It was as if time began to move in slow motion: my heartbeat flooded to my eardrums, blocking out all pre existing sound. My breath was boiling against the soft skin of my upper lip, and my hands became uncontrollably sweaty as I nervously fiddled with the lead of my guitar, double checking I'd put it in properly, then triple checking, then quadruple checking.
"Harry!" My head darted up to look at my stage manager. "10 seconds, good luck!" She smiled, holding her finger up as the seconds tediously ticked down.
This was it.
Her finger lowered and pointed at me, as all the lights in the arena dimmed into darkness.
My soul shook as the audience erupted into mass freak out, their screams sending goosebumps up my skin as a rocket of excitement and nerves exploded in my stomach. Taking one, final deep breath in, I strummed my hand down - the note sending shockwaves through the arena, signifying the beginning of the show.
My heart was beating rapidly against my chest as the audience continued to scream and shout, them equally as ready as I am. A single, warm spotlight shone down onto me from behind the curtain, revealing my silhouette as I stood, almost shaking from pure adrenaline.
"Oh, tell me something I don't already know." I hummed into the mic, the spotlight falling from my body, submerging the arena into darkness again. Moments later, the curtain fell, and the lights rose, revealing me to the vast amounts people before me. My hands strummed the guitar to the melody of Ever Since New York, as my head hung down for a few moments, adjusting to the sudden lighting change.
When I looked up, my eyes froze in fixation on the magnitude of people before me, all jumping, screaming, waving torches - watching me. Me. They were all here to see me. I looked out in astonishment into the arena, gazing up at the tiny lights at the very back in the nosebleeds, cascading down to the very front of the barriers. Everyone was different, there was no correlation in them. Each of them was dressed differently, of different ethnicity's and genders, each reacting differently to us standing before them. Some screaming, some crying, some dancing. It didn't matter to me what they were doing, as long as they were enjoying themselves.
It's a beautiful thing when you think about it: all these individuals drawn into this very stadium with one similarity, to see me. To enjoy my music. To have an amazing night. In the back of my mind, there's always the worry that I wouldn't be entertaining them, that they would leave disappointed. Memories of kind words people have told me over the years streamed into my mind, as I continued to strum the guitar.
Louis once told me, "never give up. One day, you'll have your day."
My mum would kiss me goodnight, and whisper, "you'll have everything you've ever dreamed of when you grow up."
When I rang my sister the night One Direction went on hiatus, crying because I thought my career was over, she reassured me and said, 'that band was merely the beginning. You will go forward and make us all proud, but most importantly, you'll make yourself proud. I promise.'
Mitch would constantly help me in Jamaica, as I struggled to write music. 'No journey is easy, Harry. Don't beat yourself up for the successes you don't have now. Prepare yourself for the ones you'll be living in the future.' He'd say, and in those moments I would never believe him.
My step-dad, Robin, would always remind me how special I am, and how he will be supporting me through every second of my career. 'I'll be here, Harry. Always. I'll be front row at every concert. I'll be the first to congratulate you. I'll be the first to pick you up when you fall down.' I wish he was here. I miss him so much, so, so much. It's been a few months since he passed away, and I've been living in denial about it. Haven't spoke to anyone about it - I didn't know how to. Instead, I wrote a song, this song, Ever Since New York, for him. In his memory. It only felt right to open the show with it.
And... Primrose. She said 'you deserve this, Harry. All of this. You worked hard for this, you sacrificed for this. This is yours, and only yours.' I was doubting myself about whether I was good enough on my own to produce good music. She was always there to pick me up when I fell down. Always. And, I don't think I've ever thanked her for it.
She's the best.
The lyrics of Ever Since New York came to a close. I placed my hand over my mouth, kissing my fingers and holding my hand up to the sky, looking up as I did. "I did it, Robin." I whisper, my arm falling onto the guitar again.
I took the mic in my hands, pulling it from the stand and clearing my throat. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen, I am Harry Styles, and this, is Live On Tour!" I announced, bringing my hands to my lips and blowing a kiss out to the arena. The crowd exploded into screams, and I cupped my hand to my ear, ushering them to get louder and continue expressing their excitement. My band lead in to start playing Two Ghosts, and reality finally sunk in that I was here.
I've done it.
I made it.
The show went on to be better than I ever could've imaged. When Kiwi began, I could feel the whole room shaking as the fans went wild, screaming the lyrics back to me like their lives depended on it. It was fascinating to me how quickly the moods in the arena shifted. During the slower songs, everyone was still, motionless, basking in the words leaving my lips. Yet, so quickly they would flip, and loose all control when the upbeat songs began to play.
It didn't feel like I was a celebrity, and they were all my fans. It was as if we were all friends, like we'd known one another for ages. I could talk to members of the crowd so easily, so simply, not fearing judgement or harassment. They respected me, and I respected them. Actually, it's more than respect. I love them. Every single one of them.
My final song came to a close, and as the band continued to create a background hum of music, I positioned my mic back in the stand and took a deep breath in. "Thank you so much for having us here tonight. Thank you so much for taking the time out of your lives, to be here tonight. Thank you for supporting me, thank you for getting me to where I am today, thank you for everything. I love you all, get home safe, be kind to one another and put happiness over anything!" I say, panting slightly as I spoke from the sheer exhaustion my body was in from the show I'd just done. My hands drop from the mic, and I made my way around the stage. "Thank you!" I shouted, as I blew countless kisses out to them, catching the various flower chains being thrown onto the stage. "I love you!" I yelled, watching as the people infront of me screamed it back, holding up a heart shape with their hands.
When I arrived back at my mic, I turned around and gestured to my entire band, clapping my hands widely above my head as the crowd cheered for them. "Come on!" I yelled, waving my hands up to tell them to scream louder.
Sarah gave a small wave back, unable to hide her happiness. Mitch and Adam stood with their guitars, smiling and clapping along with me, and Clare repetitively mouthed 'thank you' to everyone, looking down at me momentarily and smiling. I smiled back, moving to face the audience one again. Joining my hands at my heart, I bow to them, showing them that I am thankful for them, and that I wouldn't be anywhere without them.
Just as the fans thought I was going to leave the stage, I took 3 very confident, very cocky strides down the steps and began to run down the isle. Each person desperately reached out to touch me, as my hand trailed behind me, entangled with everyone else's. My other arm was filled with the numerous bunches of flowers people had given me, in a variety of types and colours. They all looked so happy, there was a light in everyone's eyes as I passed them, almost like they were all experiencing the same feeling.
As I made my way back onto the stage, I raised my arms above my head, waving my hands rapidly as I did, yelling "Thank you." Over and over again, as I couldn't express just how thankful I was. The fans continued to cheer, as we all swiftly departed the stage, waving as we went until the very last moment. My body felt like it was on fire with electricity as I entered the backstage area, watching as my band followed, mirroring the same expressions as me. Bringing them all in for a group hug, all the backstage crew began clapping and cheering.
"Thank you, everyone. The show couldn't of happened without all of you!" I yell to the crew, clapping my hands and cheering as they all congratulated one another.
We all quickly left the arena, doing nothing but talk and laugh about things that happened on stage for the whole journey back to the hotel. Everyone went to their rooms, settling down for the night in preparation for the show we had tomorrow in LA.
Entering my room, I tossed my blazer onto one of the arm chairs, and fell backwards onto my bed. Resting my hands behind my head, I gazed up at the ceiling, unable to remove the smile from my face. "I did it." I say to myself. "You did it, Harry."
This was nothing like One Direction. Sharing that feeling of adrenaline and shock between 4 other people is one thing, but knowing every single one of those people is there to primarily see you, is other worldly. Having hundreds and hundreds of fans singing my lyrics back to me, each with their own favourites, each with their own meanings and interpretations of the lyrics is a fascinatingly beautiful thing to experience. I want to sit with every single one of my fans, and talk to them. I want to know what they think certain songs are about, why they like certain lyrics, what they do whilst they listen to it. I just want to talk to them all, and show them how much they all mean to me.
Unfortunately, that's one of the sacrifices you have to make with this job. To believe I will meet every single one of my fans is unrealistic, and a lie. When you sign up to dedicating your entire career to music, and fans, and having their support get you your income, you say goodbye to the ability of communicating with them. It's an unfair promise to make to everyone, that you will meet them. Because, I can't. When I meet fans, I try and talk to them as much as I can. However, when those days come around when I'm in a bad mood, or running late, and I have to blow off a few fans... I scold myself later for it.
Even though I've never told myself I have to talk to them, deep down I feel like I should. I mean, it's only fair, right? They got me where I am today, so who am I to ignore them. People say that it isn't selfish, and that they understand how busy we are. But everyone's busy. Everyone has jobs, commitments, places to be, things to do. Why should I make an acception?
Slowly standing from my bed, I enter my suitcase and pull out my note pad - the one that always rests on my desk in my room. I sit at my coffee table, crossing my legs and resting the pad on my thigh, flicking a fountain pen against my chin as I stare at the blank paper. Removing the lid, I poise the tip against the paper, and begin to write.
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A/N: kind of a filler but also kind of not, sorry if it's boring eek