A Fan Account

I cannot stop thinking about him. It was too brief a moment. My eyes, my mind, cannot register all of him in that split second of a handshake. I know, I know, I’m lucky enough to at least get a handshake. Still. If I were to describe the scene, here’s how it goes: I walked calmly in line, careful not to get my feet tangled in the mess of streamers on the floor. My hand was slipped into the front pocket of my bag, ready to get the paper crane I folded him. As I slowly reached the stage, I fumbled for the crane and dropped it into a box that was held out, noticing how flat it is. Pathetic, almost. I didn’t have time to dwell on it – I was mere steps away from meeting my idol. / Yes. My idol. Kim Hyun Joong. The man (in white) who made me love Korea and everything about it. Who made me love him. / I quickly reached the steps to the stage. My heart wasn’t pounding, I’m not sure if it was actually even beating. It was still. I mounted the slightly steep steps carefully, holding on to the unsteady railing. The ushers (or whatever they’re called) were rushing me, or rather the fans. And then I’m up. I looked up. Everything’s a blur – until I focused on his face. My feet were already approaching him, at their own will. Although my mind was fuzzy, I remember thinking that I must be rather slow, as the fan before me was already going off the stage. And Hyun Joong is waiting eagerly for the next fan – for me. / I said ‘eagerly’ because that was how he looked. Eager. An eager smile. An arm ready to reach out. A hand ready to slip into yet another fan’s. Into mine. / I didn’t have time to look him once over. The first thing I saw up close was his hand. Which I automatically take. It was soft, just as I have always imagined. And warm, too. Mine must be cold, from the sickness, not nervousness, because I wasn’t at all. I glanced up to look at his face, his whole face, not just his eyes. I didn’t have time for that, one of the many little things I regret. I mouthed "thank you”, like I had planned. I know I didn’t say it aloud. I think I caught a look passing his face. Confusion? Maybe he thought he couldn’t hear me. I know he thanked me too, but not because I heard it. But because I read his lips. And then I pulled my hand away and walked off. Just. Like. That. The wide smile that I had on my face as soon as I spotted his, wilted away. I didn’t feel any emotion for a long while. And then it hit me. And I tripped and grazed my knee on the rough concrete ground. (Sorry, paragraphing didn't work.)