- 1991.

The energy surrounding me is unmatched. The spotlights are whirling around in every direction; the band is playing; people have their hands raised, clapping to the tune of the song. We're all experiencing the same adrenaline of watching Mr George Michael perform. Even though he and I broke up a couple of years ago, I still love seeing him live when he plays. It was a fairly rough breakup, with me being the one to end things with him. He didn't take it too well, although we did remain friends afterwards. The respect for one another never dwindled, regardless of what happened.

"Thank you everyone," he says breathlessly after the song has concluded. "Thank you. Now — I'm going to sing one that I don't normally sing on stage. I'm hoping you'll appreciate it as much as I do, because this song means a lot to me."

The audience cheers in anticipation, as a breezy guitar and drum rhythm begins — soon followed by a very folk-sounding tune. Before he begins to sing, George glances down at his fans; then, his eyes move to meet mine. He doesn't seem surprised that I'm here — in fact, he looks as if he planned for me to be here to witness this particular performance. He has a melancholy expression upon his face.

"So every day I see you in some other face ...
They crack a smile; talk a while; and try to take your place ... hm ...
My memory ... serves me far too well ... "

My brows furrow. This song almost seems like a breakup song, which is confusing to me. Normally he doesn't like to sing songs with this theme.

"I just sit here on this mountain thinking to myself ...
You're a fool boy — why don't you go down? Find somebody — find somebody else? ...
My memory ... serves me far too well ... "

As he concludes the latter note, once again he looks to me — as if he's addressing me specifically. His eyes hold a soft sadness in them as he belts out the powerful notes of the pre-chorus.

"It's not as though, we just broke up ...
It's not as though, it was yesterday, yeah,
But something I just can't explain,
Something in me needs this pain ...
I know I'll never see your face again! ... "

As he continues to sing, the audience is cheering. It's as though they don't realise what the song is about, despite the lyrics being so telling. I'm, perhaps, the only individual who isn't clapping along or singing to it. Everyone around me is so immersed; yet I'm standing feeling ... ashamed.

"And if these wounds, they are self-inflicted,
I don't really know, how my poor heart could have protected me ...
But if I have to carry this pain,
If you will not share the blame ...
I deserve to see your face again! ... "

With how much energy he's putting into each note, the band around him are beginning to find the whole situation suspicious. George has never performed in this manner before — vocally, he has always been fantastic, but this feels different. He seems to be feeling every single word he's singing, more than is typical of him.

"Come back to me darlin', I will make it worth your while,
Come on back to your baby, I miss your kiss; I miss your smile ...
Seems to me, the peace I search to find,
It ain't gon' be mine until — you say you will ...
Don't you keep me waiting for that day ... "

Once again, his eyes are on me. He presses his hand to his heart, to try to convey the deep emotion he's experiencing.

"I know, I know, I know you hear these words that I say!"

Before the conclusion of the song, I notice that his voice is starting to break a little. When I closely observe his eyes, it's easy to see that they're filled with tears; he looks as though he's trying to prevent himself from crying on stage.

"You can't always get what you want ...
You can't always get what you want ... "

By the time the song is over, he is carelessly letting the tears fall. The fans are screaming out — some in concern; some just because they're witnessing their favourite artist perform; some are asking other fans what's going on. He uses his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose; a feeble attempt to stop himself from showing any more vulnerability. His drummer rises from his drum kit, before heading George's way to check that he's alright. They murmur among themselves; I see George nod his head aggressively to reassure everyone that he's okay, then he raises the microphone back to his mouth to speak.

"Thank you everyone." His voice is still cracked, but he hides it rather well. "That was my final song for today. Thank you all for coming, have a safe journey home and goodnight."

With this, he exits the stage hurriedly; there's a pang of guilt in my heart, just at the knowledge that the song was clearly for me. The heartbreak in his sweet eyes as he poignantly serenaded me and our past love was enough to remind me of what I've missed the last couple of years.

Deciding I need to talk to him, I push through the crowds to arrive at the front, where the security guards are stood. They recognise me; helping to pull me out of the swarms of people. Despite what happened between George and I, I remained on good terms with all his staff.

"I need to talk to George," I gasp, trying to catch my breath after the small war I've just faced to reach them. "Can you take me to him?"

One of them nods, assigning a fellow guard to control the crowds while he takes me backstage. My heart begins to pound; I've not spoken to George about our relationship since we broke up. Even with staying friends, we've always avoided it because I knew it was a sensitive subject to him. When I spot him, his back is turned — with one hand, he's wiping his sweating forehead with a face cloth; with the other, he's holding a drink.

"George," I call, instantly earning his attention.

He looks slightly taken aback that I've decided to come to him; he swallows, throwing his towel onto the table beside us. "Uh, hi ... I didn't expect you to come backstage." His tone is bordering on monotone, but holds a certain pain within it.

"I'm so sorry," I blurt. "I had no idea how much it all still hurt you."

He shakes his head, trying to dismiss it. "It's fine. These things happen. It's a part of life. And hey — I still have you as a friend, don't I?"

"That's not the point George ... " A sigh escapes from me. "Seeing you up there singing about me really ... it just made me so sad. I really hurt you before."

He appears to let his guard down, now. He sets his drink down by his towel, running a hand through the gorgeous brown wisps at the front of his head to push them back. "I'm heartbroken," he admits. "And ... it'll never change." His eyes avert downwards, almost as though he's ashamed. "I thought performing Waiting For That Day while you were watching would make me feel better. It didn't." He shrugs a little, "Instead, I just made a fool of myself in front of the person I love more than anybody else in the world."

My heart can't stand any more, which results in me grabbing his face in my hands; before I force my lips to his own in a kiss. After a couple of seconds, he pushes me away — something I didn't expect.

"Don't do that if you don't mean it," he pleads firmly.

"But what if I do mean it?" My expression softens, to suggest to him that I do still care for him.

Upon seeing my sincerity, he realises. His harsh demeanour transforms quickly; his voice becomes more gentle. "Then do it again ... "

With a smile, I take great pleasure in kissing him again; this time, he allows it with no hesitation. He holds my shoulders, pulling me closer to him as we continue our drawn-out, passionate session. Behind us, I hear some wolf whistles and cooing — it must be the band and the other staff he has. This sudden attention startles us both, so we withdraw from one another, exchanging smiles.

"I still love you," I admit to him. "I don't think I ever stopped. I don't think I ever could."

The beam on his face is undeniable. He brings me into a hug, squeezing me tight as he lays his head against my shoulder.

"I've been waiting to hear that. I've waited for this day for so long, so that I could tell you I love you again."

~~

I loved writing this one! Hope you enjoyed it too! xx