The road behind the uniform line of white garages backing onto Amir's childhood home was the hotspot for him and his football-loving friends. Dribbling the ball around each other on the hot tarmac and persistently trying (and sometimes failing) to copy the tricks they'd seen their sporting heroes perform on TV. Eight years old, with nothing to think about but school and which football player they were going to idolise next.
Between the scuffles of shoes against the ground and a frenzy of shouting, one of the young boys kicked the ball quickly to Amir, who shot it past the legs of the frustrated goalkeeper.
“Goooooal Amir!” The boy shouted exuberantly, jumping on Amir's back as the two of them celebrated the ball they'd put through the goal line made up of their school bags. That was Hassan. Amir's closest childhood friend. The two of them were inseparable, bound by their endless energy and love for sport. A bond that could only be described as a brotherhood.
Sitting on the front step of Amir's house later that day, the two boys aimlessly bounced a tennis ball to and from each other on the stony white ground beneath them, looking out onto the sheltered street bordered by luxurious houses and vehicles so shiny they looked like they'd never been driven.
“I'm going to be a football star. Like Pele.” Hassan announced after several moments of quiet, flicking the small green ball up onto his foot and tapping it up into his hand. Amir watched him and laughed, grabbing the ball from the boy's confident grasp.
“You're gonna be the best at penalties. And you'll get to wear really cool boots.” He replied, an enthusiastic smile on his face. They sat there silently for a moment with dreams of the future burning vividly in their young minds.
“I'm going to be a singer.” Amir turned to Hassan, a small yet proud smile on his face.
“A singer? But I thought you wanted to be a footballer? We were going to play on the same team?” Hassan questioned, surprised by Amir's musical career choice.
“No, footballer is my second choice. I'll do that if I'm not a singer.”
“So if I come to all of your concerts, will you come to all of my games?”
“Deal.”
Amir thought Hassan would be in his life forever. Yet on the cusp of adulthood and less than a decade after their hopeful conversations as boys, a tsunami of grief crashed down upon Amir so violently he feared he'd never feel human again.
Suicide. Found with the empty pill bottle in his grasp, he was told. Amir felt the waves of guilt. Blaming himself for not seeing the unspoken pain his friend hid deep inside. It nearly broke him, the weight of the loss he thought he'd never bear.
Yet with time, keeping Hassan's memory alive allowed the future to build around the void that sat so prominently in Amir's heart. Sport, dancing, family, and friends. Remembering everything he loved. It was a turbulent and continuous healing process, but one that made him realise just how much his friend's presence in his life had shaped him into the man he was today.
Coca-Cola Arena, Dubai. The roar of fans swept through the venue like an unstoppable force, intensifying as a recognisable intro to one of his songs began to play.
Amir headed into the round centre of the stage, surrounded by the energetic audience. The first verse was incoming, so he brought the microphone closer to his lips.
“This is for you, Hassan. I love you, brother.”
Amir liked to think he was listening that night.