55 — Panic! At the Studio…

Sarah

Wait, for real?

She straightened in her seat, heart racing, yet unable to really muster anything that wouldn't sound foolish.

'Come on, you stupid girl, think!' Sarah stared into the blank, grey surface and prayed for a coherent answer.

She had to pick this right.

"What's your name, miss? Don't be shy, take the mic and ask the question!" Michelle called out, friendly.

Sarah’s lips pursed together tightly. Then, slowly, she walked from her seat to a box below, lifting the mic a staff handed to her and meeting with Silver's shadow on the other side of the barrier.

"I'm... my name is, erm, Sarah... miss... I..."

She choked.

'Breathe, dammit, breathe, and make use of that mouth before it becomes a wasteland! Think. Think, you're such a dimwit!'

She steeled herself, closing her eyes.

"First of all... I loved, absolutely, loved the performance... um... your voice, erm, sounds, amazing?"

"Thank you, that's good to hear."

He chuckled, seemingly hearing the nervousness and awkwardness but thinking nothing of it. 

"Ahe, ehehe... I'd love it, though... if... if, you're fine, that is, with it... can you tell a little bit about yourself? We want to learn so much more about Silver, but..."

The applause and approval rose behind her. Sarah breathed.

"Hm. Anything you wish to know, specifically? I'll do my best to accommodate."

Anything? There were millions.

Most of the viable questions were already answered.

'Would it be weird, though, to just go for the obvious... the face, I mean... I don't wanna sound creepy...'

Her fingers tapped the surface of the microphone.

She froze.

And then she had it. The perfect question, a delicate one.

She just hoped her heart could handle what the answer would be.

"Do you... ever get lonely? I mean—sometimes... we may feel that we don't matter a lot and have a small role to play... in someone else's life, but it doesn't have to be... this way."

How eloquent. How vague, too.

How horridly nerve-wracking was her stammering.

His shadow shuffled.

The murmuring between the audience gradually diminished, like ripples in a pond.

The suspense was high. Sarah's heart thumped anxiously.

Silver considered it for a while, as he stood there, shadows swaying like a flickering black flame, thoughtfully. 

"...lonely. That is... well, yes. But to some, loneliness isn't entirely bad. It forces you inward, into your own internal world. A friend once told me, 'What's the point of hiding from the unknown when it's all around you?' If the fear is born inside you, the resolution has to be found there, too. Right? I believe the unknown should never be approached from the perspective of doubt, but something you face with absolute, unyielding determination. Haah, forget about it haha, this sounds too corny. Sorry." 

"Not at all!" Michelle beamed. "You did it again. Silver, can I quote you on that?"

His tone turned playful. "Please do. And for your question, Miss Sarah, my response, at times, varies depending on the circumstances, but I would say... yes. Sometimes, the greatest inspiration one can have is their desire to seek something. That something, to me, was my own search for belonging. Even though it may not appear that way from the outside. Music helps in that regard. For one hour or so, I am... well. I get a little less lonely."

His laughter resounded as a crescendoing clamor, like bells, rang behind Sarah.

The staff lady faced her, and, gently, plucked the microphone from her fingers.

Sarah turned slowly, reluctantly, to leave and sit back down.

"......"

'If... this was the direction your song took, I can understand, because I... am...'

Her eyes glimmered. 

That, by far, wasn't what she expected, and neither did anyone else, from how quiet everyone's gone.

Sarah's mind was blank as she sat there, half-heartedly listening to the round of stupid questions from her peers in the audience.

Until, a last hand was picked for the final question of the night, which, coincidentally, came from right next to the girl next to her. A middle-aged, overweight, middle-class woman with her black hair in a bun. There was something odd about her, a fearful air that caused Sarah's eyes to settle on her with interest.

"Please." Michelle nodded, then signaled the same staff member, and one quickly gave the middle-aged woman the same mic and spotlight.

The woman stood up, awkwardly, nearly stepping on Sarah's toes as she shuffled by with a gait akin to a person whose bladder had filled past the brink of desperation.

"Ma'am." The host smiled cordially. "What's your name and what's your question for Silver? Yours will be the last one."

Which meant that she had to ask something meaningful and creative. The woman nodded shakily. "I'm Lucia..." She started slowly, in that soft, fragile voice.

"Hello, Lucia. What's your question?"

Silver's shadow shifted on the other side.

Lucia gulped, the microphone shaking in her hand. She wet her lips as many times as she drew in shuddering breaths.

Sarah tilted her head to one side, narrowing her gaze a bit. 'What's with this lady? I can feel she has something that she's itching to say, but can't for some reason.'

The others behind, however, were growing restless, eager, some even called, "Get a grip, woman!" or "Spit it out already! This ain't a poetry gathering!"

Sarah wanted to reach out, but couldn't as, for her part, was wondering if she was just imagining things and blowing the whole scenario way out of proportion.

Michelle didn't move. Her face didn't change, a practiced professional, still.

Sarah still waited.

Then Lucia finally made a sound. "My question for you, Silver... is... is..." She bit her lip. "How's your kid doing?"

The question sent the studio into stunned silence. Not one person dared to breathe or shift, everyone stared at the screen with disbelief, wondering if that was just an extremely random and misplaced question. Or maybe there was a reason behind it.

Sarah felt an uncomfortable chill travel up her spine, as if the air conditioner had malfunctioned and turned up to its maximum level.

Her skin crawled, and her attention shifted from the screen to the woman herself, now holding the mic in a death grip with her fingers turning a shade of purple.

"What...?"

Silver's shadow stopped moving. He went still, and the studio crew didn't dare to move either.

Lucia seemed unfazed, but her lips trembled so much it was hard to tell what kind of emotion had overtaken her.

"I... I have no kid, ma'am." The voice finally returned, and while it sounded pleasant and calm, it had a sharp edge to it.

"No... no... you do. I can feel it." Lucia turned towards the audience. "You all heard his music, the love, the affection in every word he sings... you can't fake that. He's singing for a lover, for his family. So he has to have at least a partner, right? A girlfriend, maybe? Don't hide it, Silver. We want to see you happy. We want to see your face. We deserve to see it. And if you have a girlfriend... then she deserves to be recognized, too. As the one who brought all of this to life."

Sarah's hands clenched in her lap, sweat forming on her palms.

"Michelle... I think we should wrap it up." Silver's voice came through.

Michelle stared at Lucia for a long moment before snapping back to action. "Yes, yes, I agree. Thank you for your participation, ladies, and... gentleman. Thank you, Silver, for an incredible performance and an even more amazing interview. I—"

"No!" Lucia's voice rose even higher. She pushed away the staff lady who tried to pry the mic out of her hands. "Not yet! I have more to say! Tell us, Silver. Tell the world who you're singing for! Show us your face! Prove to us that you're not a liar! Why don't you want to recognize your lover?! Your kid?! Everyone! Don't be fooled by this... this..." The woman's face had gone through a myriad of expressions in the span of a minute, but the final one was one of hatred, pure disgust. "This charade! He's a fake! A liar!"

Michelle tried to wave to the other staff to intervene, but the woman's feet were firmly planted and refused to move, the mic practically glued to her mouth. "Why do you have to hide your face, Silver? Why are you ashamed of your child?!"

She let go of the mic, letting it fall to the floor as she started pushing and shoving the security.

"Why are you doing this, Silver! You're hurting your family with this... deceit! You promised! You said you'd die for me!"

Without a mic, Lucia shouted out even louder. That was her last act before she went on her knees and broke down in tears, her face tortured in pure fear and resignation.

The police intervened on the spot, and a blonde female cop, along with her entourage, rushed to the scene, apprehended the woman and cuffed her hands.

The blonde cop, for some reason, was more aggressive than she needed to be to someone who had willingly sat down and wasn't fighting back, to the point where Lucia bit back a grunt of pain. Whether there was any dislocation, no one knew, and it didn’t seem like the cop cared either. 

"Ma'am, you're coming with us."

She was dragged out as the studio's atmosphere turned awkward and tense, and the show had to abruptly come to an end.

Naturally, chaos ensued. The security and show's staff busied themselves filing out the audience, futilely trying to placate those who were frantically recording, shouting, and causing mayhem in the studio.

This was a scandal unlike any other. 

Sarah remained glued on her feet, watching the unmoving shadow behind the screen. It moved for a bit, two more shadows appeared behind the screen, and soon there was no sign of anything that resembled the shadow man anymore.

Silver was gone. 

Everything was a blur, the voices indistinct. 

The only thing she could hear was the last wailing of that woman, the woman who claimed to have had a kid with him.

A woman who, perhaps, claimed to be his lover.

'But... he doesn't know her. Or does he?'

She gulped, standing still as the audience rushed past and around her.

Sarah stood frozen in the chaos. The woman's accusations continued to ring through her ears.

He promised. He did.

He'd said he'd die. Die for her.

Was that...

...for her?

For that woman?

The crowd thinned around her, a river of people flowing toward the exits. She remained there, her feet bolted to the floor. The studio lights seemed too bright.

Then a collision.

A figure in a hoodie and cap pulled low slammed into her shoulder.

"Sorry."

She rasped out; she didn’t sound sorry at all. 

Sarah stumbled back, rubbing her shoulder. She looked up, ready to glare, but the words died in her throat. 

The girl was her age, maybe younger, her face partially shrouded by the shadow cast by the bill of her cap, a surgeon’s mask, and a pair of large-rimmed sunglasses.

The only thing clearly visible on her face was her pale skin. 

Yet...

Sarah, for a split second, had a gut feeling, a tingling that made her spine rigid.

"...no, erm, sorry."

Sarah muttered instead, getting over the passing spark of paranoia and fear that suddenly seized her entire being. 

The girl mechanically turned around and walked past her, merging with the remnants of the fleeing crowd without saying another word. 

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