Final Goodbye

FREYA

“Freya Girl! Please tell me you are free next weekend,” Anna chirped as she marched into my studio with her paint supplies. She was practically bouncing.

I glanced up from my sketchbook, which was nearly empty aside from a series of unintelligible lines. “Yeah—why? What’s up?”

“There’s this pop-up concert in Berlin next weekend, and they just announced the headliners,” she began, hardly able to contain her excitement.

“…and it would only be a couple of hours on the train,” she gushed. “We could make it a whole weekend if you’d like.”

“I—sorry—what?” I blurted out. “Who’s playing?”

Anna raised her eyebrow, smirking. “Damn, someone is out of it today.” She reached into her bag, retrieving her set of brushes.

“Liam Henderson,” she said, grinning. “My ~God,~ is that one pretty.”

My fingers froze instantly, hovering above the sketchpad.

I could feel every inch of my body tensing at the sound of his name.

“It would be so much fun,” Anna continued, practically begging. “Come on, Freya Girl. ~Mijn schat.~ Please.”

I hadn’t told Anna about Liam, or why I’d moved to Amsterdam, and fortunately, Anna wasn’t one to keep up with tabloids or celebrity gossip.

Though we’d become considerably close over the past several months, I still wasn’t ready to relive that chapter of my life.

I wanted to pretend that it had been nothing more than a dream.

It seemed the world, or my side of the world, had finally forgotten all about me and I was no longer on the radar of the paparazzi.

“So? Should I buy the tickets?” Anna crooned.

~What would it be like to see him after all this time?~

I pictured myself in a stadium of thousands, trapped, finally forced to face him, and his words, and the residual feelings I’d kept locked away inside of me.

The truth was that I wondered how he was doing every day.

It made me sick to think that my choice to leave might quicken the path to self-destruction that he was so intent on following.

Sure, the tabloids, which I rarely checked, claimed that he was turning his life around.

Behaving.

But I knew better than anyone how skilled Lucinda was in spinning the truth.

I wanted—I ~needed~—to see that he was okay.

So maybe going to see him live, standing anonymously in a crowd, and watching him from a distance might be the closest thing I could get to closure.

“Sure,” I said finally. “Book the tickets.”

***

The Mercedes-Benz Arena bustled with energy and anticipation, and as I cast a glance around the massive concert hall, a sense of relief washed over me.

Even under the same roof, we would be miles apart.

There was nothing intimate about the venue; I would have my safe distance.

As the usher led us to our seats, however, the relief quickly turned to blood-curdling apprehension.

~This can’t be right.~

~He must be reading the ticket wrong…~

“Anna?” I called over the opener’s blaring rock anthem. “Where are our seats?”

Anna grinned, winking. “They were the last two floor seats, so I figured why not, eh?”

I could feel the blood draining from my face.

~She didn’t.~

“Don’t get too excited—they’re not ~that~ close,” she yelled, shrugging her shoulders.

We passed row after row of concertgoers shooting us looks of disdain as we drew ever nearer to the stage.

With each step, the ragged bouts of anxious thoughts ravaged me.

~This isn’t happening.~

~Oh, fuck, he’s going to see me.~

~Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.~

And then…

~Oh, thank God.~

The usher stopped abruptly before a row that was ~six, seven, eight~ rows back, and gestured for us to find our seats.

I immediately sank into the folding chair, my hand flying to my temple.

~He’s going to see me.~

“Freya? Are you good, babe?” Anna shouted, taking a sip of her vodka tonic.

“I’m just—I just have a headache!” I replied, craning my neck to see ~just~ how close we were to the stage.

Maybe he wouldn’t notice me.

~It’s not like we’re front row.~

After being convinced by Anna to stand beside her, and suffering through the last few songs from the openers, I couldn’t quite say whether the feeling in my belly was anxiety or excitement.

And then the band walked onto the stage, led by the golden god himself.

Liam stood in the center of the stage in a leather jacket and ripped jeans. His hair was perfectly disheveled, glistening beneath the lights.

So close, yet so far away.

I tried to stare into his eyes, to see what lay behind them.

~Is he okay?~

~Is he happy?~

But I couldn’t see him. Not really.

I longed to close the distance between us. To take him into my arms and gaze into those beautiful eyes.

To see ~him~—the man behind the beastly lights—one last time.

But I knew it was too late.

That moment had passed.

My tiny window into the man I was still irrevocably in love with, the man who was bad for me, had already closed.

And then the music began.

I forgot where I was, forgot my fear of being seen by him, and lost myself in the sound of his voice.

I hung on every word.

Every heartbreaking lyric.

Liam’s words bemoaned the pain of addiction and abandonment and isolation.

All of the plagues in his life, arrayed into exquisite ballads and anthems.

All so very relatable.

So real.

And yet, through all of them, I felt myself holding my breath—waiting for the other shoe to drop.

For him to sing about me—the source of so much of his pain.

His most recent disappointment.

But it never came.

Maybe he’d done it for my benefit, knowing how much the words would hurt to hear.

I hadn’t bought the newest album and before that night, had only heard the title song that topped the charts.

As I stood among the crowd, my eyes focused on the glowing icon before me, I allowed myself to get lost in the moment.

Liam walked back and forth across the edge of the stage, reaching down to link hands with the desperate claws in the front row.

~So far away.~

It all happened so fast.

I saw his eyes roaming the crowd aimlessly, and then his entire body grew rigid.

The voice, the words, became mechanical. Distracted.

~Oh, God.~

“Liam Henderson is looking at us!” Anna shrieked beside me, throwing her hands in the air to wave at him.

I couldn’t move, trapped in his overpowering gaze.

And then Liam turned his eyes from me, spinning around to walk back upstage.

It hurt more than I expected. More than I could bear.

I heard the song progress, faintly aware that Liam had stopped singing.

Harri and the bass player—who I suddenly realized was ~not~ Jeb—exchanged worried glances, but continued to play on.

Liam spun around to face the crowd again.

“I’m sorry, guys. I just—I just need a moment.”

The music stopped abruptly, stirring a hum of confused murmurs throughout the arena.

Liam crossed the stage to Harri and whispered something into her ear.

I watched her nod, squeezing his shoulder.

As he slipped the electric guitar from his shoulders, a crew member hurried across the stage with an acoustic guitar, passing it off to Liam.

~What’s happening?~

Liam slipped on the guitar, approaching the mic stand in the center of the stage.

“I have this song I wrote when I was in a dark place. It’s not on the album, but it’s really special to me. I wrote it for someone I used to know…” he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“And she’s here tonight.”

~Shit.~

~I don’t know if I can do this.~

Despite the overwhelming humidity of the crowded venue on the hot August night, I felt a sudden chill go down my spine.

“I want you guys to be the first to hear it. Is that alright?”

An uproar of applause and excitement reverberated across the arena.

As the stage lights dimmed, a spotlight appeared on Liam, capturing the look of sheer devastation on his face.

And then the velveteen voice I’d come to dread and worship began to sing.

“Blinded eyes, silent goodbyes,

You left me alone to face the pain.

Rumpled sheets, lonely heartbeats,

You disappeared with the life we made.”

“But between the lines, you mesmerized

Then left me with your final goodbye.

Did you care how I’d make it through

When you deprived me of you?”

“Tell me you’re safe and I’ll disappear,

Tell me you’re happy and I’ll steer clear.

Just tell me you’ll be okay;

I know there’s nothing left I can say.”

“You left me behind so you could fly,

But only pieces of my heart remained.

You wrote the words you couldn’t speak

And inspired me to change.

I was blinded by the flashing lights;

You deserved better than what I gave.”

“Tell me you’re safe and I’ll disappear,

Tell me you’re happy and I’ll steer clear.

Just tell me you’ll be okay;

This is my final goodbye, the last I’ll ever say.”

I couldn’t stop the tears from pouring down my face.

It was as if he’d cut me open, plunging the knife straight into my heart.

~I love him.~

I loved him and I left him.

It was too late now.

I couldn’t go back and change my actions—and from the looks of it, Liam was better off without me.

LIAM

I paced the tiny backstage room anxiously, tapping my fingers against the side of my leg.

~She won’t come.~

~She doesn’t want to see me.~

My entire body jumped at the slightest of noises, each time praying to see Daryl leading Freya backstage with him.

I didn’t know what had come over me when I saw her.

Maybe it was desperation—a last ditch effort to win her back.

All of the emotions I’d learned to process and suppress had swollen up, taking hold of me.

~She won’t come~, I thought again, feeling defeated and entirely embarrassed.

And then the dressing room door opened and the woman who never failed to take my breath away approached me hesitantly.

Freya looked exactly the same, and yet, somehow, vastly different.

It was a palpable air of confidence that only seemed to enhance her overpowering beauty.

“Freya,” I whispered, moving to take her hand, then stopping myself.

~Boundaries.~

“Liam,” she replied in an even tone, her emerald eyes locking in on mine.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

“So was I,” she replied, smiling weakly, and I suddenly noticed the touch of red on her nose and cheeks.

She’d been crying.

~The song was too much.~

~I hurt her again.~

“You look awful,” I said suddenly, and she cracked a smile.

“So do you.” I returned the smile.

An uncomfortable silence filled the air, and Freya bit her lip nervously.

“Look—I won’t take up much of your time,” I said finally.

“I just wanted to thank you, and tell you how much you’ve changed me,” I continued. “I’m—I’m actually ~sober~. And I’ve been seeing a therapist. I feel like I’m a completely different person.”

Freya smiled weakly. “That’s incredible, Liam.”

“For the first time in a really long time, I don’t hate myself,” I told her. “And it was ~you~. You made me want to be a better person. Even if I couldn’t be that person for you.”

“I’m happy for you,” she murmured, and I watched as a tear rolled down her cheek.

I wanted to reach out and wipe away the tear—to wipe away all of the tears she’d spent on me—but I knew it was already too late.

“I’m so sorry for everything I put you through. You deserved so much better.”

Freya nodded, brushing the tear away.

I knew I shouldn’t say the words I was truly dying to profess, but…

~Fuck.~

~I’m going to regret this.~

“I love you, Frey,” I exclaimed suddenly, unable to control myself. “I know you don’t feel the same way anymore. But I’ve wanted to tell you that for a long time now.”

“Liam,” Freya interjected, drawing even nearer. “I—”

~I shouldn’t have said anything.~

~I’m making it worse.~

“You broke my heart,” Freya said. “And for a long time, I didn’t know how I would go on without you. But somehow, I did. And I’m better for it.”

Her words stung viciously, and I didn’t know how much more I could take.

“So thank ~you~,” she continued. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have figured out who I am. Or what I want.”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“And being here now,” said Freya, “seeing everything we’ve both done, and who we’ve become…I know the truth.”

I flinched at the delivery of her next words, preparing myself for the renewed feeling of desolation.

And when they came, they shattered my entire world.

“I love you,” she said. “And I’m never going to stop loving you.”

Freya’s lips found mine, kissing me with a passion that left me breathless.

That made me feel whole again.

I pulled her body into mine, vowing to never let her go.

I’d lost her once and there was no way in hell that I would make the same mistake again.

“I’m ready now,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around me. “Let’s go home.”

And in that moment, in the arms of the woman I loved, the woman I finally felt I deserved, I knew I was already there.