Back and Forth •A short story•

Part 2: Idle

"What?" I blurted. "Gosh that wasn't cliché at all because this is the first time I've ever heard that nonsense. I absolutely understood nothing."

Chad chuckled then puts his hand on my shoulder, looking straight. "I'm only kidding. Point is, people come and people go. Leaving you for such a shallow reason like that only shows how she doesn't deserve to meet you." He then took his leave to join the others in the dance floor.

×

Guess what? The first song almost failed because of me. Want to know why? These pest emotions get in the way from the start of the song until now. Everything as if it moved in a slow motion when I saw this garden filled with beautiful flowers in different colors and look. Though everything is dazzling, there is only one that stands out. That one rose that I tried to pick up but was pricked with its thorn, leaving scar. Yes, she is here.

They say rose means something positive like, a person who has beauty yet flaw and imperfections. But for me, rose stands for someone who is so perfect that you wouldn't hesitate to look at it again even though that flower already hurt you hundred times before.

Ahh... look how bright that smile is. How heavenly-carved her face is.

Sadly, that smile shines brightly now for the guy beside her. And that face she have, now belongs to him and the giggle for the jokes he whispered to her ears.

You know what made my concert even better? Them sitting on the VIP seats. Where I can perfectly see and hear them. Just a perfect spot for me to throw the microphone straight to their faces. No words can describe how lit the concert was. It even reached to the point when I wished to lit both of their faces out. I gritted my teeth because of the sight. That is when the song reached the time where I'll do a high note before ending.

But who am I to get jealous anyway? That rose already belongs to someone else.

Pouring all the anger and emotions on the note out, my vocals released a shout that sounded like hitting the note but honestly was out of frustration made the crowd cheer even more.

You know what? I'm done.

Yes, everyone was left there, too shocked to react. My band members halt but hesitantly continued later on when I told them to. Maybe they knew me so well to understand that situation. I didn't know what happened back there after I left. My mind was too focused to finding a place where I can let the frustration out. God knows how tempted my fist is to punch something.

I want to let it all out.

Blood stained a random wall where my fist chose to land at. Its knuckle slowly turned into dark shades of red. The same red liquid dropped on the floor together with the desperate tears freed.

My chest trapped the pain. Burning sensation filled my head. Yet sorrow flow in my heart. A voice whispered inside, "I've had enough."

Everything was now filled with emptiness. And that blank expression drew on my face once again. An unreadable feeling charged the numb system of mine.

Nothing. I now felt absolutely void. Even the soft steps I rocked strangely felt light.

Is this what they call heartache? I don't even feel my inside ache nor beat anymore as if I'm dead.

I don't want to sing anymore. From now on, I hate music.

After, I was lead in the backstage. The vacant walk of mine was halted because of a sound of a paper—no, a poster being torn. Curious where it came from, I turn to know the answer. It was from a woman weeping on her knees. She has her back facing him, the tangled and natural black hair find his vision.

She dusted her hands off, small parts of the torn object fall carelessly on the ground before her standing up. After sniffing, she started to walk loudly, as her leathered boots stomp.

She bumped into my shoulder but still continued to walk past through, not looking back. I saw her wiping her face but stopped a few meter farther to throw something before resuming.

"Wait." I tried to shout but was too late and too low for her to hear. She's out of my sight but a small and round golden object flashed a quick light, slightly away from me.

A ring?

I picked up the torn poster, scattered. A familiar face sought and I already knew who's the person on that illustration.

Wait, isn't this that new actor?

"Jadd! Go back to stage!" The voice of my manager shouted that almost turned into a whisper because of the loud chant of my name outside. "They're waiting for you!"

Not wanting for more none sense and countless questions, I just nodded. Secretly tearing the hem of my polo, I tie it around my bleeding fist. Lazily walking back outside, the light struck my face again before glimpsing the expecting audience.

I only chose to stay professional for the sake of my fans waiting there.

But after this, I won't sing ever again.