And he saw her, in the middle of a raucous crowd; quietly tinkering with her camera while those around her shouted his name and reached out to him like their next breath depended on it. She was seated close to the stage and he can see, almost feel, how calm she is. So unlike the people surrounding her that she stands out despite her tranquility. She seemed unperturbed by all the activity and noise around her; quite fascinating. He looked up, smiled, and waved to the rest of the world as was expected of him. He walked a little further, stopping in front of another set of fans and taking notice of all the gifts and paraphernalia they have managed to throw onto the stage. He quickly browsed through the messages that his fans attached to the stuffed toys and paper airplanes that landed at his feet, seeing an amalgamation of ‘I-love-yous’ and wonderful wishes for his career. He smiled for he knew that these messages were sincere. And as he turned a little to his left, eyeing more of the little trinkets, he felt her silent presence.
She was still exactly as he left moments before–still fiddling with her camera and adjusting the lens. Still unconcerned of the goings-on and still in a world of her own.
Peculiar. Endearingly peculiar.
He looked away so he can wave and smile at the crowd some more. There were so many smiling faces in front of him, appearing and disappearing betwixt the flashes of cameras and the movement of the spot light as it followed him across the stage. He then noticed that he wasn’t really walking anymore. He was standing still and lingering in front of her and, for some reason, he wasn’t surprised at all. He looked up and verbally acknowledged their shouts of love and support, thus earning him more. There’s so many of them and to each, he is forever grateful. He wants to reciprocate their kindness by grazing them with his smile, touching their outstretched hands with the tips of his fingers, or at the very least, looking at them even for a few milliseconds.
And so he smiled, touched, and looked.
Somehow, he managed to smile, touch, and look his way back to the slightly bent figure, who was adjusting the lens of her camera.
And this time, he just looked at her as his grip tightens around the microphone in his right hand.
It’s as if he can’t help but let his eyes gravitate towards her; again and again, until finally, he decides to just stare at her. He saw her angle the lens up and towards him, and thinking that she was going to take a picture, he lifted his left hand and gave her a peace sign. He remained in this pose for a few seconds before he puts down his hand. He squinted his eyes and noticed the surprise that graced her face when she saw what she captured in her camera.
And finally, he saw her look up to him.
He noticed how she bit her bottom lip unconsciously and how she shyly looked away from him again. He noticed how she tucked the stray hairs behind one ear. He noticed, even with the huge gap between them, that she was wearing black-rimmed glasses that compliments her eyes. He noticed her perfectly shaped eyebrows and how her hair was cut to a bob so that it frames her face wonderfully. And he noticed so many more things about her that he feels like reeling from all his observations.
She looks up to him again and this time, she hold his gaze unflinchingly, camera still in her hands. And for the first time–or maybe not for the first time–that night, he wondered how her soft her palms are and how it would feel to have her fingers close around his. Perhaps her camera could tell him. He stares back at her and it felt, for him atleast, that they were caught in a game. Whoever looks away first will lose.
He engraves every bit of her in his mind because that’s all he will ever have of her. He will never know her because life has never been fair.
She is anonymous and nameless, therefore she will be ‘anonymous’ and ‘nameless’.
She will be Mumyeong.
And with one last lingering look, he bids his Mumyeong goodbye and turns away.
*Edited: August 17, 2016 , 3:28AM EST