Eleanora [Harry Styles AU]

Epilogue

“Bienvenue à Paris! Notre nom est White Eskimo!” Will read off the small phone screen with terrible pronunciation. “Yeah,” he said, back to his usual strong Northern accent, “I think you should say that when you get on stage.”

             “I don’t think it’s right though.” I objected, taking back my phone and pocketing it. “It’s translated by Google, so… I don’t know. I’ll go ask the bartender. He speaks French.”

             It was November; a full four months since our last proper tour. Quite a bit had changed in that short space of time. When I’d arrived back in Holmes Chapel after that complicated journey from London, which involved countless phone calls to my mother and a train ticket which put a strain on my wallet, I’d discovered that my plans to begin Sixth Form fresh at school in September were unlikely to go through. We had a meeting with our management company scheduled in Manchester during the final week of the summer holidays, and in it we discussed the future of the band. Apparently our popularity was skyrocketing, and what we once thought was a small fanbase of ours, was actually more populous than we’d imagined. There were talks of radio stations requesting interviews with us, promotional tours, discussions about extending our EP and recording a full album, and even, to finish it all off, another tour. This time, Europe.

             It had all been a bit much for the four of us at that time, and we’d walked out of the office feeling as if we’d been overloaded with information that was increasingly difficult to process. But after sleeping on it for a few nights, we’d come to the collective decision to go through with it all, even if it meant dropping out of school. We were seventeen, and under no legal obligation to be there any longer, and we were all willing to put this much dedication and effort into the band.

             So we were in Paris, stuffing around backstage at some small live gig venue, about the same capacity as the ones back in England, if not bigger. We’d arrived only yesterday morning, but had already had our share of incidents which file under our saying ‘what happens on tour, stays on tour’. Foreign countries were fun, we’d learned.

             After the bartender corrected the mistakes in my French greeting, I went off for a bit. I practised my singing, talked with my band mates a bit, wondered around the area. It was always a bit boring, this time of the day. We weren’t really aloud to go out and explore, so we had to entertain ourselves with whatever we found at the venue until the crowd starts filing in and we’re ushered back stage.

             I was excited for this show, definitely. The fact the people from a different continent, people who didn’t even speak our language, found pleasure in our music was simply insane. It was difficult to wrap my head around, and it only made me even more eager for the show to begin. I couldn’t wait, honestly.

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          There was only a minute to go before we’d be expected on stage, and the other boys were laughing at how enthusiastic I was. I should’ve been nervous, like I was every night of our previous tour, but tonight I wasn’t. I had a good feeling about this show.

          We were called and met by an abundance of cheering which bought an even larger grin to my face. Oh my god.

          The setlist was identical to that of our last tour, since we hadn’t released any new songs since then and because it was a completely different crowd we were playing to. I gave a quick introduction with terrible pronunciation, which I’m sure made a great first impression, before breaking out into our first song.

          One thing I liked to do while performing was interact with the crowd. It made the performance more personal, more genuine. As I continued to sing I made eye contact with a girl who was placed front and centre of the mosh pit, offering her a little wave. Her smile extended and she began jumping up and down with even more energy than before, making me smile back too. I then bent down for a quick high five to a guy who gestured for one before walking towards the left of the stage. Our crowds usually consisted of both genders, and everybody was usually between the ages of 16 and 25. One thing our crowds always had in common was that they were pretty much all hipsters; girls with dyed hair, people in vintage clothing. We got a few grunge-looking people as well.

          I kept walking across stage, holding eye-contact with a few more members of the crowd. I stopped at the left side and waved to the group of girls in the front. One had bright lipstick, followed by one in a striped crop top, then came on with thickly framed glasses, and then—

          Blonde hair. Blonde hair. Standing still, watching with enigmatic eyes and blonde hair.

          Oh God, I thought. Really, it had only just begun. 

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the end lol bye