After the Bright Lights

The walls were beige and bare in the room they had asked me to wait in. The chairs were properly placed under the tables and the mirrors that reflected the emptiness of the room were clear of any dust. I sat on the black, leather couch, my hands clasped tightly together to keep them from shaking any further. Taking a deep breath, I leaned back on the couch and tried to relax. But I just couldn’t.

How could I, when I had just experienced something that I had only imagined in dreams and had only written down in fan fiction?

There was no way I could keep myself calm.

I could still hear his voice in my ear, see his movements in front of me, and smell his distinct scent like he was right beside me. My skin still tingled where he had touched me.

I shivered and shook my head. I wondered if I was dreaming.

The door opened and the same guy who had ushered me in the room earlier poked his head in. I sat up straight. He wanted to make sure that I was doing okay and told me that he would be arriving in a couple of minutes. I nodded my head, not able to talk.

I wasn’t dreaming.

Leaning back on the couch once again, I thought about how I became so fortunate. There really was no explanation. I came to the show just like how the others did. I bought a ticket weeks before the scheduled event, went to the venue way earlier than the starting time, fell in line and braved the heat. I squeezed myself through the crowd when the gates were opened and elbowed my way to the front of the stage.

Then the show started.

I cheered along with everyone, not caring if I lost my voice. I waved my blue light stick hard and proud, like an ELF should. It was the first ever show I had attended where I was able to stay in front and so I was really excited, energetic and ecstatic about being there.

And then, somewhere in between struggling to breathe in the crowd, screaming and craning my head to look for him, he had crouched down right in front of me, his arm stretched out. It had taken me a lot of blinking and had endured a couple of hard nudges on my back before I realized that he actually wanted me to take his hand and go up the stage.

He was the only one I looked at the whole time I was under the glare of the bright lights and the audience. Because even if I wanted to look away, I couldn’t.

He was breathtaking.

He glowed as he glided on the stage. His voice had never sounded so beautiful. I could remember feeling like my lungs weren’t functioning normally. I couldn’t believe I was up there with him. I couldn’t believe I shared the same space as him.

My eyes were closed as I relived the moment.

It was then that the door opened again and he walked in.

I hurriedly stood up, stumbling on my own feet. He helped me up, his hand touching mine, and chuckled.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” I muttered, clearing my throat and bowing my head to hide my embarrassment.

We sat down on the couch. He turned in his seat to face me. “Did you have fun tonight?”

When I managed to look at him and meet his eyes, I nodded and gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”

He shook his head. “No. Thank you.” When I looked at him curiously, he continued, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fan as dedicated as you. I’ve seen you in all our events. I don’t think you’ve ever missed one.”

“I have,” I corrected him. “I wasn’t able to watch you on Dream Team.”

“Ah yes, because you were sick, right?”

I stared at him, my heart fluttering. I had grown up learning not to assume anything, but how could I not assume when it’s staring me right at my face.

He smiled at me, looking shy all of a sudden. “I’ve been following you on the net.”

“Oh god,” I said, burying my face in my hands. That meant he knew everything. On Twitter and on my blog, I never held back on anything. It was my personal space and so I didn’t care what other people thought about what I write.

I wrote about everything, my life in school, my family and friends antics, my love for Super Junior and my affection for him. It was all there in it’s blinding honesty.

And he read it. He knew.

Chuckling, he told me, “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time now, but there was never the right time. Until today.”

“Why do you want to meet me?” I wanted to know, getting over my embarrassment and looking up at him. There was no good reason for him wanting to meet me. I was just a fan. I wasn’t like those singers and actresses he met up with regularly after they became friends on Twitter.

“Because you’re honest,” he answered simply. “You don’t sugarcoat anything.” I didn’t quite understand and so he went on to explain. “When I pulled a flat note on my part, you called me out on it. When I made a mistake in the dance steps, you pointed it out. But you don’t say it in a hurtful way. You just… accept it.”

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out before he could continue. “I didn’t mean to say those things about you.”

He smiled. “I told you. I like it.” He sighed, the smile gone, and looked at me through the mirror. “In this business, genuineness just gets lost somewhere along the way.” I watched as he gazed at my reflection. “It’s hard.”

I struggled as I watched him look away from the mirror and stare at the tiled floor. I could tell that it was hard for him to say those things out loud, much more to a stranger. I didn’t have to look deep to know that it was the truth. Show business was exactly that, show business.

There were so many things I wanted to say, words of comfort, words of encouragement… but I settled on one thing.

“You’re wrong,” I spoke. As he lifted his head and rested his eyes on me, I proceeded, “Genuineness is not lost. You don’t need me or anyone else to find it. You have it.”

It was the truth. Out of all the things I wanted him to be, I wanted him to be real. And after that short conversation, I’d proven it.

He was just so different from how he portrayed himself on the stage, on shows, in pictures. It wasn’t that he wasn’t y, wasn’t charismatic, wasn’t romantic… he was all of those things. But he wasn’t a god, like all fans treat him. Instead, he was so much more.

He was human.

And that made him so much more beautiful.

The smile was back on his face. It made me feel good to know that I had, once in my life, made him smile.

Sadly, it was time for him to go.

We stood up and faced each other.

“I’m happy you’ve gotten well and were able to come today,” he said, reminding me that he had read what I tweeted earlier about forcing myself to get over my sickness to able to attend the show.

“Me too,” I honestly responded with a bow, fighting back the shyness I was feeling. “Thank you for choosing me.”

He grinned. He was almost at the door when he turned around suddenly and walked back to me.

“I haven’t introduced myself,” he stated.

“What? But I know who you are,” I replied, chuckling.

He shook his head and held his hand out to shake mine. “I’m Lee Donghae. It’s nice to meet you…” He titled his head, giving me a curious look.

“Han Hye Rin,” I offered, shaking his hand and bowing. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him leave the room and close the door behind him. This was way beyond what I had ever imagined.

I could still hear his voice in my ear, see his movements in front of me, and smell his distinct scent like he was right beside me. My skin still tingled where he had touched me.

I met Lee Donghae of Super Junior.

But it wasn’t any of those things that made everything surreal.

I met Lee Donghae after the bright lights had been turned off.

And he was even more breathtaking.