Do you know how fast the Tube travels? A close distant between Waterloo and Southwark station on Piccadilly line takes less than two minutes. I remember, I counted till eighty seven to distract myself from collapsing into tiny particles as if I was a skyscraper just got hit by a plane. In this case, the plane was Keaton.
I have admired Keaton Henson for quite some time, almost borderline obsessed. I couldn't remember how the first time I stumbled upon Keaton's Work but all I know one day somewhere in the infinite universe of World Wide Web, I found the music I would love to fall in love with. His songs had this remarkably raw and depressingly honest emotions locked in its lyrics and sound. Ultimately, I grow fond of the artist, too.
You would easily find him around me. I hang a black and white A4-sized poster of him above my mirror so I would not forget to write. I had one taped at the back of my folder case just in case I got stuck on writing. You would also find a picture of him on both home and lock screen of my iPhone when it brightens.
It was my favourite picture of him. Not just because there were not many picture of him smiling shyly behind the palm of his hand and cigarette hanging in between his fingers, but it was more to the mystery in the way his eyes looking away from the camera. It gave the sense of wonder of his eyes when he looks up.
Seconds before the Tube stopped at Waterloo, I caught a glimpse of rather empty station. I liked the idea knowing not many people would get on, so I would have the train all for myself. When the cream-coloured door opened, I was surprised when a man suddenly entered from the side of the platform.
He was cautiously minding the gap before his tall body stepped in and just as he looked up, his eyes met mine.
His eyes met mine.
His, mine.
That man was Keaton Henson and the world stopped for a second.
He had one of the saddest yet enticing pair of eyes I have ever seen.
He chose to stand on the right side of the door, two steps away from where I stood. Leaning on the yellow handlebar, with his tweeds grey coat made him look more mysterious than he ever was. He had his headphone on and his slightly hunched body suggested he was hiding from everybody else but himself.
Starstruck, I began to wonder what music he was listening to because if he ask mine, I would say his. Does he know that his song makes my head spin? He isn’t as tall as I thought he would be in person but boy, cross my heart, his beard is gorgeous. Should I say something? Hey, are you Keaton Henson? I just want to say your music is amazing. Does that sound too girly?
Just as I was busy constructing and editing the perfect script in my head, and secretly stealing glances at his reflection on the window in front of us, the train had approached my stop. Do it now, Fiya. Now. But I stood still, only my body slightly shook because of a minor jolt from the train tracks. Before I knew it, the door in front of me opened, and left me with the easiest option: to get off the Tube.
So I did and he was still on the train.
I had trouble breathing for the next ten minutes and processing the could have and should have been. But I also thought of my favourite picture of him, the one that he looked away and how I wonder if he looked up. Now, I did not have to wonder anymore.
I got off that Tube knowing the odds are telling me something.
I have to stay.
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