It only lasted for a few seconds, but in those seconds I felt alive, more alive than I ever felt in my life. So alive that I aware of everything around me, but most especially I felt…her.

The ear-splitting cheers from the fans around us slowly faded into a lull of silence. All I could hear was her whispered prayer of gratitude to the fans. She was saying “Thank you” in mixed languages repeatedly. I looked at her then, the heated spotlight on stage focusing only on the sight my eyes held. I watched her lips form the words of her silent chant, sweat trickling down the side of her porcelain face, her eyes fluttered shut in reflection, her fringe hanging loosely in her forehead and her hair spilling down her bare face. I wanted to touch her then, to wipe the sweat away from her side. I wanted to tuck that loose strand of her hair behind her ear. I…I just wanted to touch her.

My intentions were interrupted when I suddenly felt her hand tighten its grip with mine.

I liked how her hand was tightly entwined with mine. How her welcoming hand felt and the warmth it radiates. I could feel her strength, her energy, I could feel her. She was truly a sight to behold as reports claim, her goddess beauty. Her simple imperfections making her earth’s own perfection.

I felt her hand slowly slip away from mine, then fading back in on my background I hear our ending song, Hope playing to its last beats. Our final bow to the audience was done. Our SMTown concert was coming to its end, the shouts and cheers from fans slowly penetrating my system.

I see my labelmates running around and playing with each other, doing fanservices for the fans. I see cameras flashing from left to right. This was my life. I was back to reality. That one moment gone as I see her give her own final bow to the audience beside me, waving here and there to the crowd. Slowly, she started making her way back to the main stage where she would make her exit.

I stood there on stage for another second, momentarily struck by the emptiness I felt after she let go of my hand. That is how an angel would have looked like, I decided.  Those seconds with her were a bit piece of heaven.

 “Victoria... Song Qian,” I whispered the name of the angel as I tried to snap back to reality and to my idol life.