53 — Show Time

I was being passed around from one room to another.

With Willow being this adamant, Calista's mouth stuttered many false starts before finally conceding the reins of the night shift and my safety to our mother. Who'd go against the final word of the family's matriarch, anyway?

So, it was just me and Willow on her bed. Her room was not that different from Freya's, with a few more flowers here and there. The walls had a softer hue, almost blue. She had changed into a black nightgown that only fell somewhere mid-thigh, not that it did much at hiding what it did cover, with it being nearly transparent and more like a see-through shadow than an actual gown.

"Mom..."

"Hm?"

I blinked.

"Do you always sleep... like this?"

She was wearing some sort of lace beneath the gown, and her hair was down in that tousled, domestic wave that didn't detract from her beauty. I've always preferred seeing a woman in her most natural state rather than dolled-up and overdone, and if you asked me, this Willow was perhaps the most mesmerizing of all.

"Ah... what do you mean?" She pushed the hair behind her ear, then plopped down on her pillow. "I've always slept like this. It's comfortable, isn't it?"

"It is, yes, but..." My eyes travelled over her luscious form. "... don't you get cold?"

"Not with you here." She smiled, and patted the bed beside her. "Come, come, lie down. It's been a while since we've slept in the same bed. You used to be so much smaller back then."

"......"

I've been cursed.

I just want to go back to my bed and sleep on my own, but I had made the bed and now I must lie in it.

I settled next to her, my head on the pillow. She had turned off all the lights except for the bedside table one, and she was already looking at me with her chin resting on her palm, and the other hand playfully poking at my nose. I was probably lying as rigid as a rock in the bed, afraid of doing anything she may or may not have deemed inappropriate, or god forbid, anything at all.

She did eventually drop the teasing pokes and sighs, but her stare didn't let up, and I've somehow started having a really hard time falling asleep.

"Is anything the matter?" I tried to keep the conversation going, just because the quiet was starting to drive me up the wall.

"Hmm. Not really." She hummed. "Well, to be honest, many things, but I'm trying to stay positive, you know? For you. For us."

Guilt surely had a nasty set of teeth, huh?

I turned around to face her, and as a consequence, we were really close right now.

Willow's eyes widened a bit.

She swallowed.

"I'll make it up to everyone, one day. I promise." I felt like that needed saying, and I wouldn't have felt this relieved at getting it out unless it was spoken directly to her.

Willow lowered the hand from my cheek and her smile dimpled.

I swear, she could sell smiles if that was an actual career.

"Mom?" I asked.

Her eyes lost focus for a split second.

"Sorry, I.. ah... I just want you to be safe, Damien. I can't say I've been a good mother to you. I know I've been overprotective and controlling at times, but you're my son. My precious son... I love you too much to lose you. I simply couldn't keep up with how you've been growing..."

So out of control; I imagined her saying it, and, for the first time, she had laid the first stone of the bridge she so much needed to cross.

I don't know if she's ever come to terms with how 'different' her youngest had become—it hadn't been that long yet.

And while Freya probably came a long way to accept me, and Calista, after our 'resolution' so to speak, had reached a truce and mutual understanding. I couldn't tell whether there was any weird past between me and Iris, or even Ivy, but they too, had accepted my changes.

Willow, being the mom, would have more trouble adjusting.

"I'm here, Mom." I gently grabbed her wrist and held her hand.

She smiled softly, shifting closer and leaning in until our foreheads touched. "I'm glad."

So close.

I didn't move. She didn't either, but I was uncomfortable under her open-eyed stare, as half-lidded as it was at the moment.

Her breath was shallow. The perfume reached my senses.

My heartrate, were anyone to measure, would've shot through the roof. I didn't want to seem flustered or moved. So I lied still. Her thumb went back to massaging the back of my ear, moving to my hair next. "You've gotten so tall." She muttered. "So handsome."

I gulped, trying to hold the stare.

I opened my mouth.

She got even closer.

"And I wonder... even right now..." A voice not unlike a shy moan emerged from her chest. "If I... can still see you as my little baby anymore. No matter what else you are to the rest, I'm still your mother. A mother, regardless, will always view her children as someone who needs her."

"Is this a puberty talk? Because if it is, we're kinda late."

She huffed softly, her half-smile turning even more affectionate.

"That's fine. It means that little angel is starting to morph into a grown-up boy. And that, well, doesn't make me any less happy about it. Because... I've already had many children. Iris. Ivy. Calista. I love them, but you've always been special."

Being the only male, it wasn't exactly rocket science. However, in a sense, being the only male also came with a burden to perform.

I was seeing the same eyes I had seen on Freya, on Calista, on Valeria. That kind of poorly hidden intensity—like covering a flashlight with a hand, and hope the light wouldn't come out.

And now it was on my own mother, too.

"Is there something on my face?"

She moved, either stretching or fidgeting, a lazy groan jamming somewhere in her throat.

"Nothing, nothing."

She chuckled.

I inhaled, holding my breath.

Her scent had been the only stimulus teasing my nostrils for the last couple of minutes.

I exhaled, closing my eyes.

Willow draped an arm over me.

I willed sleep to come, because even with my eyes closed, and her even breathing, I could feel her eyes on me.

xXx

The Late Night with Michelle Show was a big-name late-night talk show hosted by a 38-year-old media magnate and TV/film producer by the name of Michelle Lia. She was an iconic voice for women's advocacy and an extremely outspoken figure in this world's politics.

Her show ran on channel 22 on every weekday night, where she invited prominent celebrities, sports figures, politicians, comedians, and musicians and broadcasted their discussions on topics relevant to the current political climate and global issues.

Calista had set up this particular appearance through her connections, laying down strict conditions and warnings.

She had managed to deliver on her words and made the conditions better than the production was prepared to offer. It was a successful, mutually profitable business deal, considering that for the very first time ever, Michelle would host an enigmatic, budding star that sang about sacrificial devotion to women.

When news that Michelle would be hosting an appearance by the viral, faceless 'Silver' broke the gossip tabs, it shook the international community. His first time going public, to the masses and away from the solitude of SoundWave.

It was hinted and promoted massively seven days before the show took place. The streaming platform got a boost in activity and new followers by the hour. With Calista's connections and my own somewhat developed persona, there was an ample interest and build-up surrounding this particular appearance.

Michelle Lia didn't start the show with my appearance right off the bat, instead, she was building upon a theme, highlighting her special guests, interviewing different celebrities, and leading up to my performance, which would roughly happen towards the last segment of the show. 'I was saved for last.'

I thought that a lot of the suspense could have been eliminated if I did start off the show as the headline piece, instead of getting everybody riled-up beforehand, then wait for the stormy hurricane that's me to arrive later.

The backstage crew, which were all women, fussed around me and checked over my suit's appearance.

In the middle of their obsessive, over-the-top tirade, Calista showed up out of nowhere, dressed in a sharp, sleek business attire with her hair neatly done and put behind her back. She looked stunning.

Behind her, Willow, Freya, Iris and Ivy walked, wearing comfortable-looking dresses.

The security was incredibly tight, and it was only after they gave me the green light could I finally leave the room with their company.

Michelle was wrapping up the current interviewee's segment, and the last five-minute count-down had begun.

I felt a few pats on the back. I turned towards my family.

"Damien, I..." Willow gulped, sighed, and smoothed out her clothes before grabbing my face and kissing my forehead. It was a long kiss. "Have fun, Damien. Always remember that no matter what happens on the stage... you're our family and nothing changes that." She put her hands around me and leaned closer, muttering softly. "Mommy loves you."

I beamed at her; the days preceding tonight hadn't been easy, but sleeping alongside Willow—and talking to her extensively—had finally opened up a venue of acceptance.

Iris and Ivy each hugged one arm respectively.

Iris on the left. "Good luck, bro. We'll be watching you from here."

Ivy, on the right, looked away and lowered her voice, almost a mumble. "B-break a leg. Actually break all of them!"

I laughed, ruffling their hair, finally feeling like an older brother of sorts.

They backstepped as Freya came up to me, wrapping her arms over my back, pecking at the sides of my head. "I'm rooting for you, little dragon." She chuckled. "After this one, let's go to a karaoke again, just you and me, before you become too famous, okay?"

And then they all quietly retreated back to the room where the monitors displayed my impending debut on live television.

I was left alone with Calista, my sister, my manager.

"They're ready for you, D. Try not to overdo anything."

"I'll try my best, coach."

She nodded. "Good. Okay. Go now. Shoo, go."

"Do I give you a kiss or hug?"

Calista, normally as professional and standoffish as they came, spluttered in disbelief before narrowing her eyes and slapping my arm. "Dumbass! Why must you tease me at this of all times? Just get out of here, stupid!"

I saluted. "Yes, ma'am."

Just in time.

"And now, for my main act for the night! Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce you to an artist who has captured the nation's imagination by giving us his voice—while keeping his face in the dark. I can say that it has been the single most-anticipated show, a true blessing to our late-night drama. You may or may have not heard of the recent songs 'On My Knees' and 'Die for You' by a singer who goes by the name 'Silver.' Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the man, the mystery, and the singer himself: Silver!"

I could already hear the commotion and clamoring of the live audience, which went nuts, clapping their hands and screaming my pseudonym.

As the theme music faded, and the crowd died down, a clear microphone was extended towards the entrance, waiting for me to walk in. A screen was in front of it.

The stage lighting had been set up with me specifically in mind. It was minimal and dimly lit.

Only my shadow would've been visible.

I started walking towards it. My steps echoed out. Clack clack. Until my shadow was visible for everyone to see—for the first time.

And the audience clamored even louder.

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