He started singing his final song, my favourite song. It always brings me back to the first ever time I saw him, that first performance on TV. To be perfectly honest, now I look back at the video, he wasn't that good looking then. I mean, he was all intense and, well, kind of scary, but somehow I managed to instantly fall in love. His voice, an emotional stroke of beauty, sending everyone in the room into a trance then, and likewise now. I bought the song and put it onto my ipod, now it's the last song I hear before falling asleep and I'm grateful. He was dressed in faint blue denim looking shirt and dark jeans; he had looped round his neck a thin blue scarf and on his feet playful black laced shoes. This is what I liked about him; he was so incredibly simple, yet secretly complex.
We were all in a dark echoing room, with laser lights pointing at a plat-formed stage, the room was the smell of bodies and cigarettes. It was stuffy and hot after the two hours I had been there, a total contrast to the cold November air outside; I thought it was going to snow. The tour had been planned for ages now and I had been anticipating it for months, my friends told me to calm down after 3 weeks but nothing could stop me.
It wasn't that I had never seen him before, I had, once. He waved at me then and, again, I didn't calm down for almost years. It was worth the screaming and the cold I gained afterwards. The only reason I was disappointed was for the same reason, he only waved at me. I know I'm so demanding but that is what I really wanted. When he waved at me that first time it was from a great distance so I didn't even make eye contact, I desperately wanted to look in them. My main ethos is that the soul is in the eyes, some call me weird but this is what I think. And his eyes were a deep brown, almost black, so his soul was so hard to read I just needed a closer look, a look that photos on posters couldn't show. This would be my greatest challenge of all.
He always sung this song last, at every gig I had seen on YouTube, this was always his last. I loved it. He had the microphone tight against his lips and was looking down at the ground. This is always such a shame because I love his eyes; they are just so cold and blank, yet deep and mysterious. He lifted his gaze from the delights of his laces to the crowd, like a Mexican wave the applause and screams erupted as his stare shifted to their part of the chaos, he visually made a full circuit of the room before returning to the floor. At this point he was halfway through the song. I stood unmoving, transfixed on nothing, I was so engrossed that the girl next to me had to ask if I was ok, I blinked, turned back to real life, smiled politely and nodded, she gave me a doubting look and continued shouting towards the stage.
Towards the end of the song he looked up again, strange, it looked like he was searching for someone; he had a light frown planted on his forehead, and a puzzled expression drawn on his face. He once again started scanning the audience and it created the same effect, I laughed under my breath, he was being the puppet master, on the stage I saw him smile under the mic. He turned his head round the audience, past row C, my row, past D, past E, past F, but there he stopped. Like a video tape on rewind his eyes tracked back his path, F, E, D and back to C, he stopped singing, dropped his mic and looked directly at me.
Aiden fucking Grimshaw.
