Ewan
Another day of filming had left me utterly drained. I loved working with Baz, but he was constantly pushing us on, motivating us to fulfil our highest capabilities, so I seemed forever tired. Tonight was different though – we were finally having a much-deserved break. I had told Baz how incredible the Curt Wild gig had been, which was hardly scratching the surface of my real opinion, but I felt then that I could hardly go into my innermost feelings with my director, and suggested to him that the whole cast and crew went to the next one. Purely so we could get to know each other better, I had said, not mentioning at all my own personal reasons for wanting to see Curt again.
Baz had agreed, so later that night I was going to once again see the man who had not left my thoughts for over a week, and seemed to be all my deepest desires personified.
Shivering with anticipation, I drummed my fingers nervously on the mahogany counter of the bar, dressed again in my denim and leather. I fidgeted all the way through the opening act, I'd heard it all before, I wasn't there for them. I suddenly realised I reminded myself of those fans I'd seen at the first gig – restless, just wanting the wannabe act to end. This flooded me with fear; did Curt fix others with his beautiful, endless gaze? This thought made me all the more nervous and uneasy, so I drummed and tapped away even more furiously. Occasionally someone would ask me if I was all right, and I would respond with a non-committal mumble and continue with my fidgeting. Finally, after an eternity, Curt came on stage. Straight away I could feel myself overflowing with both need and a strange sense of pride. Once again, my eyes were locked to him; I didn't dare look away for a second, in case this beautiful being was snatched back to the celestial otherworld he must surely have come from.
I was drowning, made helpless by his beauty, far beyond rescue. When he saw me, his eyes momentarily filled with shock, but he quickly composed himself and the gaze he returned me was filled with soft, tender recognition. As his voice, so full of meaning and feeling, filled my ears, Baz turned to me, "Good, isn't he?" Suddenly shaken out of my dream world, I almost breathlessly murmured "Yes, very" before returning my full attention to Curt.
After the gig had ended, the emotions inside me had built up so intensely that I felt I would be crushed by my desires unless someone could share the 'secret'. Whoever I told, it had to be someone who knew me well enough to understand, but not so well that I would be judged, and their opinion of me changed for the worse… Baz.