Page 46 of Faithful

He’s nervous.

The revelation has my pulse spiking.

I would never have thought Kai would be uncomfortable during a set. He doesn’t strike me as the type.

Or maybe that’s not it. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. Maybe I’m imagining things.

He kills the cigarette toward the end of the next song and immediately retrieves another one, but there seems to be a problem with his lighter. It’s gone. He carefully inspects his pockets–as the rest of the gang keep working on the bridge–but to no avail. He joins them for the final chorus, and then as soon as the music dies down, asks the audience, “Anyone got a lighter?”

Immediately, a gazillion hands shoot up and toward the stage, all of them sporting the object Kai’s inquiring about, some already with flames twinkling in the stuffy, fog-filled club.

Kai scans the crowd, his lips curving into a smile. “Wow.” His mouth is so close to the microphone that I can hear each breath leaving his lungs. “That many smokers here?”

The audience laughs.

I laugh too because I can’t help myself. Okay, maybe not laugh. But there’s definitely a chuckle.

On the screen, Kai plucks the mic from the stand and moves to the edge of the stage. People push forward and security is on high alert now.

“You know…” He leans down and accepts the lighter from one of the girls in the front row, and his eyes drop to her face for a brief second. “Thank you, love,” he says in a low voice meant for her only while getting his cigarette started, and then he returns the lighter and continues his speech for the entire club. “Smoking is bad for you.”

More laughter.

“I’m serious.” Kai smirks, walking toward the stand to put the mic back.

He’s not doing or saying anything extraordinary, but the crowd is still raging at every word he utters and every move he makes.

It’s strange to watch them worship the simplest things about him.

The show goes on.

One of the roadies eventually finds a moment to sneak Kai another lighter so he doesn’t have to ask for one from the people on the floor.

I count a total of six cigarettes by the time the performance begins to close in on ninety minutes. The band finally gets to the encore. They are all sweaty now. Even Kai, despite him taking it sort of easy tonight and not moving around much. His hair is sticking to his cheeks. Small rivulets of perspiration running down from his temples and into the collar of his shirt have smeared some of the paint on the sides of his face and it only adds to the effect. It seems like every part of his body is weeping. Crying over something I don’t know about.

“You guys having a good time?” Kai asks and the audience responds with a yes.

This is where the camera stops moving and freezes on his expression. I find myself thinking that it’s a beautiful shot. Intimate. Every single detail–from the ridiculous paint job to his nose ring–fits so well together it’s almost impossible to believe he’s real.

“I didn’t hear that!” Kai shakes his head lightly, staring at the crowd. They take it up a notch and this time the scream is louder and more violent.

“Are you fucking ready to bleed?”

More noise.

I’m thinking my laptop speakers are going to blow. I’m also thinking I want to be there in that club right now. I want to be one of those crazy fuckers in the audience, yelling at the top of my lungs like there’s no tomorrow and I won’t need my vocal cords anymore.

My wish can’t be granted, however, and all I get is a fifteen-inch screen where the lead singer of Iodine is demanding blood.

Fingers has started turning his knobs. He looks like a cardiothoracic surgeon about to perform a complex surgery. The name of that complex surgery is the intro to “Bloodletting.” It’s the perfect backdrop for Kai to continue hyping up the crowd.

“You know we’re playing some shows in Vegas shortly after this, right?” he screams into the mic.

As soon as the question is thrown out at the masses, Finn bangs out a quick beat.

Danny is plucking at the strings somewhere in the shadows. He still doesn’t like the spotlight after all these years, but he’s gotten so much better on a guitar.

The stage is so full of fog, it’s impossible to tell who’s who.

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