Trick of the Light

Part I

July 2018

Harry swore his heart was going to pound right out of his body.

His chest heaved, sweat trickling down the crevice between the two swallows inked on his glistening skin. It ran down his forehead, blurring his vision and adding to the psychedelic effect of the adrenaline as it coursed through his veins.

He sucked in a lungful of air, gazing up and shaking his sweat-soaked curls away from his face. The high was indescribable; it punched him in the gut in the best way every single time.

How did this never get old?

The buzzing in his ears was almost deafening at that point, but he took another moment to soak it all up. The sound, the sight...God, it even had a taste. He wanted to capture the feel of it all, bottle it up for whatever was ahead, even though he knew from plenty of experience that it was impossible.

So instead, Harry immersed himself. Closed his eyes and soaked it in; that final moment of the final show.

And then he opened them again, squinted into the blazing lights, and exhaled an exhilarated laugh. His arm lifted into a signature peace sign before he spun around to his people.

His eyes met Sarah's first. She grinned at him, shaking her head a little, and he knew her arms and lungs were on fire after three rounds of 'Kiwi'. Probably should have cleared that with her first, he thought vaguely, pressing his hand to his heart and mouthing a sincere thank you.

The rest of the band made their way to center stage, exchanging hugs and affection while the audience continued its deafening applause. As the five arranged themselves in a line to take their final bow, Harry muttered a quick prayer of thanks to whoever or whatever force that allowed him to do whatever the fuck this was. It was bigger than him, bigger than all of them, and it was the ride of a lifetime.

Somehow it never got old.

Backstage was nearly as chaotic as the crowd out front, the team and crew whooping and hollering and high-fiving and hugging as they celebrated the conclusion of an eighty-nine show run.

Eighty-nine shows. The magnitude of it was something Harry couldn't even begin to process. So instead, he high-fived and hugged anyone he came into contact with, murmuring love and gratitude to the people who helped make this dream a reality as they weaved their way around the globe.

And then he took a step back. He needed a moment to absorb it, just as he did on stage. He watched, full of wonder, as the dozens of people who had become family over the past ten months celebrated their shared victory. After a final survey of the scene he slipped away, further from his stage persona and back to whoever he was in the space between.

The metallic sequins on his heavy jacket reflected against the spotty fluorescent lighting in the hallway as he shrugged it from his shoulders. He draped it over one arm and scrubbed a towel over his face, looking forward to a few minutes to breathe in this strange transition.

The door to his dressing room stood partially open, and as he crossed the threshold he stopped short. The sight of her, standing there like it was exactly where she belonged, took his breath away.

Somehow it always did.

"Harry." Lia's entire face lit up, warm and familiar. "That was...amazing. You were amazing."

Adrenaline still pumping, Harry felt his pulse quicken and his chest swell. "You made it."

"Did you think I'd miss this?" she asked incredulously, her grin widening. "Nowhere else I would be tonight."