Don't Just Speak Love

  * * * *

  It was 12.10 on a beautiful Saturday afternoon in the Bunkyo ward of Tokyo city. Chaste and I were standing in line for the show at 1PM, in the midst of an insanely overexcited crowd, who shouted and sang in a babble of languages. Sasuke would be waiting in a cafe outside the dome since there were only two tickets to see—

  Oh, right.

  I didn’t have a clue whose concert we were going to.

  I turned to Chaste. “Who are we watching, anyway?” I had to shout to be heard. “This—” I made a sweeping gesture around the area. “—is crazy!”

  “Atward Savant,” she shouted back.

  “What?” He was the guy in Chaste’s dreams? I slapped a palm to my forehead. Now I understood what people meant when they said it was a small world.

  “Atward Savant,” she repeated, louder this time.

  I gave a slight nod in acknowledgement, not bothering to tell her in this din that my last word wasn’t really a question but an exclamation.

  This is Atward’s show...

  My interest in the concert piqued.

  Though things seemed chaotic, it appeared the concert organizers were actually very efficient. Within fifteen minutes we’d reached the front of the line, had our tickets inspected, and been ushered to our seats—which were neither bad nor good. We had an unobstructed view of the stage, but we were pretty far away from it.

  Since I didn’t have roaming, Sasuke had given me his extra iPhone in case of emergencies, and I pulled it out to check the time. Only a few more minutes before the show started.

  Fans inside the dome were even more excited than those outside. People were screaming, laughing, making jokes, and basically high. This was the second time I’d seen such a sight; the first time was when I was still a kid. Together with all my schoolmates in primary five, I’d attended the annual National Day Parade. That happened many years back, but I’d never forget it because the following morning, I’d woken to the sight of my devastated father scrambled on the kitchen floor, crumpling the note my mother had left. From then on, my life had gone on a rollercoaster ride and was eventually toppled upside-down completely.

  With a prelude, the concert started punctually at one o’clock, and it was undeniable that Atward’s band and orchestra—of thirty or so professional performers and one conductor who was the only person in the orchestra who was in a smart, white hooded outfit among the sea of cool, black ones—was fantastic.

  According to Chaste, this was Atward’s first visit to Japan. Even though it didn’t look like it was; the dome was brimmed to its full capacity with over fifty-five thousand eager fans whose fervent support was mind-blowing. I hadn’t known Atward was so popular. In fact, I hadn’t even heard of an artist called Atward Savant; I must have been living at the bottom of a well all this while.

  When the music started intensifying, the anticipation in the dome reflected it, climbing equally as briskly. Everyone was eagerly awaiting Atward’s appearance when Chaste suddenly clasped her stomach.

  I put a hand on her back. “Chaste, are you all right?” I asked worriedly.

  “That’s him,” she breathed shakily.

  “Huh? Who? Where?”

  “I need to see his face,” she continued dazedly, not answering me. “I need to confirm he isn’t just a dream. I’m not crazy, am I, Averie?”

  “Do you like him?’’ I asked cautiously. “That guy in your dreams…you sounded like you do.”

  In a voice so soft, I almost missed what she was saying, Chaste murmured, “I think so...”

  “Then you definitely are crazy.” I let out a frustrated sigh. I was beginning to feel we’d been too rash. I should’ve gotten to the bottom of the matter before I risked crossing borders with Chaste. What if we ran into Lucifer and his mob? I quivered. I didn’t even want to imagine the consequences if Sasuke failed to zap us back in time... “How can you like someone who’s only appeared in your dreams? How can you like someone you haven’t even met?”

  Chaste fell silent. Seconds later, a countdown began on the giant screen and fans counted along in loud, scratchy voices, “Ten! Nine! Eight!”

  I turned back to Chaste—lips tightly pressed and forehead deeply furrowed, she looked miserable—then looked away in frustration while the girl sitting in front of me screamed, “Oh my God. Oh my God! Oh my God!”

  “Seven! Six! Five!”

  “Oh my God!” The girl clutched her friend’s arms.

  Her equally enthusiastic friend yelled, “Yes! Yes! He’s coming! Oh my God!”

  “Four! Three! Two!”

  My eyes—along with every other pair in the dome—were trained intently on the magnificent stage, not wanting to miss the moment Atward appeared.

  “One!”

  But no one showed up on stage. Instead, the elegant conductor dropped the hood of his brilliant white outfit and swivelled around to face the audience in one fluid motion, triggering electrified shrieks from agitated fans as they recognised him. The conductor was no one other than the unbelievably good-looking Atward Savant.

  All six feet of Atward looked every bit as suave, refined, and ethereal as the first time we’d met. The only difference was that his sleek gold hair was now cropped shorter, framing his extraordinarily fine features perfectly. Turning slightly to his left, Atward gazed into the audience and, even from this distance, it felt strangely as though he was looking at us. A member of the backstage staff handed him a microphone, cutting off his scrutiny.

  “I knew it,” said Chaste.

  Glancing sideways at her, I sighed wearily. She looked thunderstruck at seeing the guy from her dreams. She’d probably seen this incredibly charming man on TV somewhere and started having infatuations like every other teenage girl. I only hoped she would get over it soon—she deserved so much more than an impossible, make-believe dream.

  The orchestra began to play again, this time with a different conductor—probably the genuine one. In his velvet-smooth voice, Atward headed into the first verse of a light-hearted French tune that got all the fans waving along.

  The second song was the explosive one. It had to be one of his most popular tunes because the moment the DJ announced it, the fans started screaming non-stop. In this song—also in French, I thought—not only did he do the vocals, he also accompanied the orchestra on the piano. At the bridge of the song, he suddenly switched to an accordion instead, and I gawped in amazement. Who knew an accordion could sound like that?

  A short break followed as Atward interacted with his audience in all sorts of languages—he primarily spoke English, but he was apparently also fluent in French, and Japanese, and Chinese, and Dutch, amongst others. It was impossible not to be impressed—I hadn’t ever met someone quite that talented.

  After the interaction, Atward retreated backstage while his DJ and dancers kept the audience entertained without him. By the time the third song—an exceptionally fast-paced English track—came on, the whole dome was blown away completely as the fervour in the arena hit a new high.

  The fourth song was dedicated to his late mother. Solemnly, he stood in the centre of the stage and sang every note without moving an inch.

  Then there was a fifth song, and a sixth, and a seventh…and I lost count. Just like that, two hours flew by without anybody realising it. Ultimately, Atward belted out an English-French operatic pop song that was his first single. A debut that had sent shockwaves across the music scene, a fan sitting on the other side of me was saying.

  The last song soon finished, a spectacular conclusion to the thrilling show, but there was a call for an encore. After a minute or so of avid shouting, all the lights went out except for a single spotlight in the centre of the dome that lit up…no one. Everyone was staring uncomprehendingly when it suddenly swivelled to the right wing of the audience pew. Atward reappeared, taking everyone by surprise. Passing the microphone deftly from his right hand to his left, he did one last song—a preview of the first single on his upcom
ing album—shaking as many hands as possible as he strolled along the aisles.

  Giving his thanks one final time when the encore was over, Atward headed backstage. The lights in the dome were switched to full brightness and an instrumental track of one of Atward’s songs started to play. It seemed the show was really over this time and the crowd started to slowly disperse.

  “I’ve got to find him!” yelled Chaste to me as she darted off into the crowd.

  “Hey!” I exclaimed, running after her. “Wait—”

  “Meet you back at the hotel!”

  “Damn!” I groaned out loud, drawing a few prying glances from concertgoers nearby.

  God, please. I couldn’t lose sight of her. If Chaste ever landed in Lucifer’s hands, I’d never be able to forgive myself. But the mass of people in the way...!

  I stopped running. “Excuse me!” I yelled at the top of my voice, effectively getting the attention of everyone. They all turned to stare at me, bewildered looks on their faces, and I wasted no time shoving past them.

  Despite my best effort, I quickly lost Chaste. With the huge amount of people jamming the aisles, it was almost impossible to see her, let alone catch up to her.

  Damn it.

  I should never have allowed this trip to happen! In hysteria, I whipped out Sasuke’s iPhone and hit number one on the quick dial he’d set beforehand.

  He picked up on the first ring. “Is everything all right?”

  “No!” I shouted, way too loudly.

  “Where do I find you?”

  “I’m near Gate—” I paused, short of breath; this was way more strenuous than training with Sir Albion. “—Twenty-One. Can you meet me there ASAP?”

  “Got it.”

  I covered the remaining distance as fast as I could, bumping into Sasuke when I arrived. Actually, I did see him—with shades, a cap, and a facemask on, he stood out, even in dark clothes—but I was going too fast to stop in time.

  “Where’s Chaste?” he asked worriedly, catching me by the arms to steady me before swivelling me around such that our positions were switched and he was now facing the wall while my back was pressing against it.

  I drew in a quick breath then explained as concisely as I could. “I didn’t expect her to go running off by herself!” Still short of air, I looked down at my sneakers and bit my lip in frustration. “She said she’s going to look for Atward, so I think she’s headed for back—” My eyes snapped up to meet Sasuke’s when I remembered that he was a performer. “Hey! Any idea how to sneak backstage?”

  He blinked then grabbed my hand, making me jump. “Come with me.” Shuffling through the place in an experienced manner, he hauled me to a stairwell that read Emergency Only. Without anyone noticing, we slipped into the deserted stairwell. “Ready?”

  I nodded, and off we went.

  We materialised in an empty room about the size of a classroom in Black Gold.

  “Should we split up to look for Chaste?” I asked hastily.

  “No,” objected Sasuke almost as soon as I’d finished. “What if you run into danger? You wouldn’t be able to save yourself.”

  That was true. Embarrassingly.

  “Let’s go.” Sasuke still had my hand and tugged me out of the room with him.

  I shouldn’t have been bothered by something as trivial as holding hands with Sasuke at this critical moment, but I couldn’t help noticing how it felt. I’d hardly even spoken to boys before coming to Black Gold.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, breathing hard—and trying hard to pay no attention to our connected hands.

  “If we can find Atward’s dressing room, we can tell him about our situation and hope he can get more people to find Chaste. It’s probably our best bet. Definitely better than blindly looking for her in this gigantic dome. Anyway, she’s probably heading for the same place, so we might even bump into her there.”

  Good thinking.

  “I know this place. There are a couple of dressing rooms for the performers, so we’ll have to look through them one by one.” He towed me along as he manoeuvred through the confusing maze of corridors and rooms, and it was outright blatant everyone we passed had their eyes on us, most likely wondering what we were up to, running in the corridor like there was no tomorrow.

  “Sasuke.” I smiled my hardest at the people staring at us, as a last-minute attempt to look less out-of-place. “You already look suspicious since you apparently dressed for a secret mission.” I paused, panting heavily. “So can we stop running? Look at all the attention we’re getting. What if we’re noticed by Security?”

  “My job doesn’t allow me to have an upfront romance. If I’m photographed with a girl in a suggestive manner, I’ll get into trouble. The paparazzi won’t be able to get a clear shot of my face if it’s covered—”

  “But we’re not in a romance!” I said breathily, cutting him short. “They can’t just make up untrue stories, can they? And anyway, we can always stop holding hands.”

  Realisation dawned upon his face, and he dropped my hand swiftly.

  An involuntary surge of disappointment swept through me.

  Wait.

  What was that about? It couldn’t be that I liked him. Could it? I was the last person on the planet who would want to fall in love.

  “By the way,” he said without looking at me, “I’m going very slowly to match your pace, so I suggest we stop the talking and focus entirely on the running.”

  Slowly?

  I scowled, offended. He had much longer legs—of course he didn’t need to work as hard.

  “And don’t worry, I won’t allow Security to catch up with us before we find Chaste— There it is!” He pointed at something in front of us and, following his line of sight, I saw Atward’s name just ahead of us—on a sign next to the door of a dressing room.

  Sasuke actually remembered basic courtesy despite our dire situation, rapping twice on the door before barging in.

  Inside, several people near the door stared at us questioningly. A thirty-plus man in a casual dark blue suit stepped forward. “Sorry, but who are you kids?” he asked, his loud, clear voice immediately directing everyone’s attention to us.

  “Er…” uttered Sasuke as my gaze swept through the room and realised Atward was nowhere to be seen. “May I know where is Atward Savant? We need to speak to him.”

  “I don’t know how you kids managed to get in here, but I’m afraid I’ll have to call Security to escort you out,” said the man. “Frankie, go get Security.”

  “No—wait!” I exclaimed.

  “Hold on,” said Sasuke calmly while I panicked. “We’re friends with Atward. If you don’t believe me, ask him. We’ll—”

  “It’s okay, leave them to me,” snarled a deep voice behind us, and I stiffened. It was a commanding voice we were all too familiar with, and the last voice I wanted to hear right now.

  “Shit,” I muttered while Sasuke cursed in Japanese under his breath. Seriously, what on earth was the old man doing here? And how were we going to explain ourselves?

  We exchanged grimaces then Sasuke and I spun around to find Sir Albion striding toward us, his expression stark and scary. Sweat formed on my forehead; we were totally unprepared to run into him here. We had planned to somehow make up a lie to feed the old man when we got back, but we hadn’t really given it any thought yet.

  Caught off balance, it took me a while to realise that two more people I knew stood behind the old man—Atward and Chaste. Actually, Chaste wasn’t really standing but lying in Atward’s arms.

  “What happened to her?” I asked, rushing over to have a closer look at my friend. “Oh my gosh, is she all right?”

  Thank goodness. She was still breathing.

  “Where did you find her?” asked Sasuke.

  “She’ll be fine in while, and we’ll talk about everything else later.” Atward gave us a reassuring smile—looking every bit as angelic and mesmerising as ever—before turning to address his crew. ?
??First of all—” He closed his eyes and took a long breath before opening them again. “—I’d like to say a humongous thank you to all hundred and nine of you in this room for the wonderful performance we’d put together for tonight and for all the other forty-nine shows in this Asia tour.” Filling the room was a same, unspoken emotion among the crew. Their unwillingness to let the end of the tour sink in was so clear, even an outsider like me could tell. Proud smiles and teary eyes making up most of their faces, the heartfelt gratitude lining every tone of Atward’s voice had definitely gotten to everyone. Atward then gave a bow. “I’m thankful of every effort put in to make this tour a success, and, as a small token of appreciation, a reservation at the best sushi bar in Tokyo city has been made by the best manager in the—”

  “There’s no need to thank me,” interjected the man in the dark blue suit blithely. “The bill is entirely on Atward, so go ahead and enjoy yourselves. Don’t hold back.”

  Everyone laughed, including Atward. His voice was like silk, entirely smooth and exquisite. “He’s right,” he said, his eyes shining like diamonds. “Just make sure everyone has a good time.”

  “Why does it sound like you aren’t coming? It’s the after-party for the successful finale of your Asia tour we’re talking about here,” a member of Atward’s performing crew pointed out sourly, clearly disappointed.

  “You guys go ahead, and I’ll join you shortly. I just need some time to catch up with my younger friends.” Atward nodded in our direction then gave his crew another appreciative bow. “I can’t say this enough so, once again, thank you all so much.”

  Applauses burst through the room as Atward’s crew cheered and saluted him.