Work Text:
I understand why you did it.
The fan was stubbornly attending almost all your gigs, somehow always landing in the first row. You tried to ignore that, hoping to disencourage further attempts, but this only prompted more obnoxious and attention-seeking behavior.
You thought that once they get what they want, they will leave you alone. I understand.
Situations tend to escalate quickly and unexpectedly. That's why I do my best to prepare for everything, so that I always know how to react.
This time I too knew, however I was lacking speed.
Once you read the message from the doctor, the procedures instantly became of lesser importance. I understand. You headed straight to the bus, not waiting for anyone, because you needed to make that call in private.
I followed immediately. It took me four seconds to join you outside.
For an artist, being likable is part of the job. It is easy to like someone who is smiling all the time. You practiced the smile, making it your first instinct whenever you felt fans approaching.
Your audience would label this smile as cute, genuine, maybe dorky too. To tell it from an authentic smile one would have to be close enough to you to have all your gestures and mimics memorized.
I am.
One fan, five fans, seventy four fans. One with arms around your neck, demanding to be hugged once again like you did at the gig. Five grabbing your arms, sleeves, hands, pulling in all directions and demanding just as much attention. The rest yearning for affection, yelling for attention, yeeting their gazes around hungry to get a piece of Käärijä for themselves.
Fifty two decibels, sixty four decibels, eighty one decibels, I'm here.
Sixty eight percent of people step back when someone enters their personal space. Seventeen more follow after seeing confident gestures. Nine more needed to hear words of warning. The remaining handful weren't willing to give up, their numbers however were low enough for me to easily place myself between you and them.
With my hand on your shoulder you obediently allowed me to direct you towards the bus. I had no time to look at your face, but that wasn't even necessary to tell that your soul has left your eyes. It has probably left right after you read the message, which would explain why you didn't do anything to escape the fans.
But now we're inside, yet your soul still doesn't return. Why is it? Did it get lost in all the turmoil and noise? Everything should be alright already, and yet...
You have a phone call to make. Your crew will return soon and you won't have a moment's peace then. And also, it's just plain painful to see you scared and lost like that. The moment shall pass, but I can make it pass faster.
After all the grabby hands from a moment ago this might look like the worst possible thing to do, but there's more to it than meets the eye. I'm not doing it as a person, but as a function, role, profession. We agreed on this before and you gave me permission, both of us deeply disbelieving this would ever become necessary.
But you never know.
Finding yourself must be difficult in a world so mean and greedy. To protect your integrity I have to temporarily remove you from the world.
With arms around you, I become a border separating you from the surroundings. Turning your face towards me I make sure you don't have to see anything anymore. I also plug your left earpiece back in its place, hoping the muffled chanting of fans outside won't disturb you too much.
The world can't reach you here. You don't have to exist anymore. When your body left reality, it's only a matter of time before it reunites with your soul.
Short, shallow breaths. Empty gaze erratically trying to focus. A body barely staying upright, as if unsure if it should continue to exist, ready to fall apart any moment.
Me in it all, immobile, quiet, waiting.
A sudden loud gasp is a sign for me to let go. The body starts moving in an orderly manner. The mouth is capable of producing sounds. The eyes are bright and attentive. The brilliant brain is working again.
Your soul returned.
You might very well not remember what just happened. It's okay. Better to forget it.
But you turn back to me. With gratitude and thanks. No need for that, I'm just doing my job. Yet...
You ask for another embrace, this time as a person and friend, not some role or duty. I'm unsure if this is the best thing for you considering your emotional state and recent experiences, but if that's what you really want, who am I to deny it?
It's so calming to feel your strength back in your body. Your vigor returned. Your humor too. You're back, and that's all that matters.
Now you feel the need to smugly remark that my perfect barrier still allowed one thing from the world to slip through. Really? What is it?
Oh, my heartbeat?
Is that what you followed to return here?
Ah.
Well.
May it be so.
May it be.