I may not let go
Title: Stars (4/?)
Pairing: Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is all fiction. I don't own the boys.
Summary: Inspired by this photo at caras_de_pecas. The prompt was "bodyguard Dan, up-and-coming singer Fernando, they spend long nights traveling cross-country on a tour bus and Dan has to use his body as a shield to prevent Fernando from getting trampled by fangirls."
Notes: Previous parts are here.
Let me know it's not all in my mind.
Daniel knew something was wrong the moment he arrived at the breakfast table and he was the first one there. Fernando was the early bird, not him. It was already a feat that he arrived 10 minutes before schedule.
Xabi and Stevie arrived soon after, but they didn’t seem to be troubled by Fernando’s absence. They headed straight to the breakfast buffet, so Daniel tried to ignore it. He thought of texting the Spaniard but he didn’t want to seem like he was overreacting.
At 8:30 AM, a good half hour after their meeting time, Dan couldn’t keep it in anymore. Something was off. He cleared his throat, tried to act nonchalant, “By the way, where is Fernando? Aren’t we supposed to leave soon?”
Stevie peeked over his newspaper to size up Dan, who squirmed in his seat. Seriously, what was Stevie’s problem? It was an innocent question!
Xabi chewed on his bacon. “I gave him a wake-up call at 7 AM, and he answered.”
“Okay,” Dan nodded slowly. He wanted to bite back his follow-up question, but it slipped out before he could. “That was an hour and a half ago though. It’s not like him to be this late.”
Stevie loudly flipped a page of the newspaper. “He probably just overslept.”
Dan looked to Xabi for help but he just smiled wanly. “Maybe he just decided to skip breakfast to get more sleep.”
They ate in uncomfortable silence as they considered their next move: Dan, bursting with questions; Stevie, coiled and waiting to shoot Dan down; Xabi, ready to keep the peace.
Finally, Dan dusted the crumbs off his hands and put away his plate. “I’ll just pop by Fernando’s room and bring him down.”
Stevie’s jaw clenched. “God, why are you so worried?”
“Look, we have to leave soon anyway,” Dan reasoned out. “If I don’t get him now, we’re gonna run late.”
Xabi saw the determination in Dan’s eyes. Sure, he found it odd that Fernando was late, but it was like Dan sensed deep in his bones that there was a problem. Stevie, of course, would not validate it.
“You know, maybe I’ll just go. It was my job to make sure Fernando was awake on time anyway,” Xabi said, standing up.
Stevie tried to pull him back down. “No, I’ll go.”
“Well, if you’re going, then I’m going,” Dan said.
Xabi had to roll his eyes. Stevie and Dan were agreeable people, but when they locked horns with anyone, they never backed down. “I guess we’re all going then.”
As they trudged up to Fernando’s suite, Xabi hoped this turned out to be something so stupid, he would laugh in Stevie and Dan’s face after. Fernando oversleeping. Fernando stuck in the bathroom bleaching his hair. Fernando not being able to decide what to wear.
They found Fernando in bed when they arrived, still fast asleep. “I told you he overslept,” Stevie muttered.
But Dan wasn’t paying attention. “I don’t think he just overslept.” He walked up for a closer look.
“What are you doing?” Stevie hissed as they followed the Dane.
Fernando was curled into a ball, the bed sheets pulled over his head. Xabi tentatively reached out and lifted the sheets. Fernando’s eyes were squeezed shut, as if in pain, and his breathing was shallow.
“Oh no,” Xabi said. Fernando looked sick as a dog.
Dan perched on the bed, shook Fernando awake with this disarming gentleness, Xabi felt like he was intruding on a private moment. How was Stevie not seeing this?
Fernando could barely keep his eyes open, even as he jumped at the sight of the three. He tried to sit up but his arms shook; he tired halfway and had to lean back against his pillows for support. They watched him anxiously.
Stevie, forever the bull charging into a china shop, joked loudly: “Don’t tell me you went wild and partied last night, boy!”
No one laughed. Xabi punched him on the shoulder. Once in a while, he had to take down Stevie just to keep him under control.
“Are you okay?” Xabi asked.
“Yeah. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready,” Fernando wheezed. He heard his own voice - frayed and barely there - cleared his throat and tried again. “Fuck, am I late? What time is it?”
Stevie paled. “You are not okay.”
Xabi pressed his palm against Fernando’s forehead. It was warm. “You’re sick.”
“I’m not,” Fernando insisted. “I just need some tea and honey for my throat. It’s a little sore.” The last few words came in rasps.
Stevie rubbed his temples, groaning. “We have a full day’s work ahead of us, but it will be pointless if Fernando isn’t there or if he has no voice!”
Dan snapped. “You have to check your priorities.”
Even Xabi was taken aback. Dan and Stevie weren’t the best of friends, but Dan was professional enough to always defer to the manager.
Stevie took one step towards Dan. “You,” he raised a finger, “have no say in this. You’re just security. I’m the manager. Don’t forget that.”
“Well, good job managing the talent, Stevie. Look at what you’ve done.”
Fernando clutched his head in his hands. It was throbbing loudly in his ears. He wished everyone would stop shouting.
Xabi clapped loudly. “Alright, back it up! Stevie, can you please call a doctor? At least we get a better idea of what’s wrong with Fernando, what he needs to take and how long he should rest.”
Stevie glared at Dan one last time and marched off.
“Xabi, you have to admit, I had a point - ” Dan started to explain, but Xabi just held up his hand.
“Just go and get room service, get Fernando something to eat.”
Dan was happy enough to be allowed to stay in the room. Even as he rang up the hotel lobby, he kept an eye on Fernando. Xabi was helping him lie down again.
“Are you hot or cold?” Xabi asked.
“Cold and sweating.”
Xabi was stalled. “Okay, that doesn’t help us.” He turned up the air-conditioning but bundled up Fernando under the blanket.
Dan was watching them so closely, he almost missed the call. “Hello? Sir? How may I help you?” Front desk was asking through the phone. He ordered three or four dishes which he knew Fernando would not be able to finish but he felt it would make him feel better anyway. “And tea, lots of tea and honey.”
When Dan got off the phone, Stevie was still out and Xabi had gone into the bathroom to draw up some hot water for Fernando. Dan tiptoed to bed, not wanting to wake up the blonde, not wanting to get caught by the managers either.
He just stood there, watching Fernando sleep uneasily. He looked so tiny underneath all the pillows and blankets. He wanted to reach out and brush his hair off his sweating forehead, cup his cold cheek. Lately, he’s been having to fight that urge constantly - sometimes they play video games and he finds himself roughhousing with Fernando more often, and when they walk through mobs of fans, he grips his arms tightly.
Fernando stirred, and like all the other times they have accidentally dozed off together on his bed in the tour bus, Dan’s instinct was to step back and keep his arms at his sides. Before Fernando could fully open his eyes, Dan rushed to the bathroom to see if Xabi needed any help.
*
“The good news is, it’s not laryngitis,” the doctor said.
Stevie heaved such a huge sigh of relief, his body almost deflated. “Oh, thank you, Mary, sweet mother of god.”
“The patient, however,” the doctor continued sternly, “is fatigued. Too much activity, a lack of rest, a poor diet - they can make you feel physically and mentally tired, not to mention more vulnerable to getting sick.”
Xabi nodded. “What do we need to do?”
The doctor scanned his notes. “He doesn’t need any medication, just rest. I can’t emphasise that enough. Two full days of rest, and only the most necessary work after that, at least this week.”
He added, “The same goes for his throat - he may not have laryngitis, but the vocal chords are swollen and raw. No singing and no talking for now.”
Stevie smiled sheepishly at the doctor. “See, doc, the problem is we’re on a very tight schedule touring Asia. By full rest today and tomorrow, you mean…?”
“Bed rest.”
Stevie cringed. He glanced at Xabi, throwing a few suggestions, “How about, if we cancel all of Fernando’s shows today and tomorrow and exchange it with, I don’t know, something low maintenance like a Twitter Q&A or a Google hangout? He can do those in bed.”
But even Xabi was reluctant. “That doesn’t sound like heavy work, but that doesn’t sound like rest either,” he replied carefully. He looked to the doctor for support.
The doctor shrugged, “It’s really up to the both of you how you want to manage this. If you absolutely must work, then you can. But know that the patient’s running on his reserves now, so he could get sick or his voice could give out - and those could put him out for much longer.”
When the doctor left, Stevie and Xabi finally got to sit down to discuss the decision.
“I can’t cancel one whole week’s worth of appearances. That’s gonna kill us.”
“It doesn’t have to be a week, just two days. I’m with the doctor on this one, Stevie.”
Stevie scratched his head as he laid out the calendar on the table. There was a concert scheduled for that night and the following day. He couldn’t bear the thought of crossing them out. Those were the big ones - it would hurt to cancel the interviews and pictorials, but calling off the shows would be the worst.
“Come on now,” Xabi said. He took the marker from Stevie’s hand and began to draw large X’s across the calendar.
“We’re actually pretty lucky Fernando got sick in Singapore since it’s is our only three-day stop,” he pointed out. “We already had a concert last night, so at least we can say we still established our presence here, even if we cancel the show for today and tomorrow.”
He drew more X’s: “For the rest of the week, we just need to space out our appointments. Start later in the day, end earlier at night. Focus on the big ones - what is this magazine, anyway? I’ve never seen it in any of the airports we’ve been through. Let’s cancel on them.”
Stevie watched in horror as Xabi struck out line after line in the immaculately kept schedule. “Can we at least keep…”
“No.” Xabi cut off. He studied his handiwork. It was still a bit crowded, the schedule for the rest of the week, but it was an improvement from the original. He handed the marker back to Stevie, “The only change you can make to the calendar is to remove even more appointments.”
“Think of all the refunds we’ll have to make, all the bad will from the fans and the media,” Stevie moaned.
“Other artists have cancelled shows for less. I’m sure they’ll understand. Besides, think of it the other way around, it creates a buzz. And if there’s enough clamour, maybe we can hold a quick show here after we finish the rest of the Asian tour.”
Stevie still didn’t look happy, but he looked appeased enough. “Are you sure?” He grumbled, his fingers still tight around the marker.
“I’m sure,” Xabi said. He leaned across the table and gave Stevie a deep kiss. It was a cheap trick, but the thing with cheap tricks is that they always worked.
Stevie and Xabi returned to Fernando’s bedroom, and Dan immediately leapt to his feet when he saw them. “What did the doctor say?”
Xabi studied the room. The desk chair was pulled over to the bed, and he imagined Dan sitting there to watch over Fernando, who was still fast asleep. The breakfast tray was overflowing and untouched but it was kept close in case the Spaniard needed anything.
“It’s nothing serious. Just bed rest.”
“Okay, that’s great,” Dan said, trying to sound casual, but he had looked sick with worry.
Xabi thought of pulling him aside, confronting him about his suspicions, but Stevie dismissed Dan. He was still bristling from their argument earlier, worsened by the news they would have to pull out of their commitments this week.
“We’re cancelling Fernando’s schedule for today and tomorrow. So, you can go now.”
Dan looked torn, but even he wouldn’t go against Stevie when he was in that foul a mood. “That’s fantastic,” he finally said, mustering a grin as he gathered his things and left.
*
Fernando slipped in and out of consciousness. His body knew it had to wake up - it was impossible he was getting this much time to stay in bed. He was waiting for the cues, like a ringing phone or sunshine pouring into his room, but they never came. So he just slept and slept and slept until it was painful.
He woke up to find his phone drained of battery and the curtains drawn. The clock said it was early in the afternoon, but the room was dark, and this disoriented him. He felt around for the lamp on the bedside table. He managed to switch it on but not without knocking off the hotel pad and phone directory.
Xabi and Stevie came running into his room like anxious parents hearing their firstborn child crying.
“You’re awake.”
“Are you okay?’
“How are you feeling?”
“My head still hurts,” Fernando said.
Stevie sighed, problematic. “Maybe you should get some more rest.”
“I think my head hurts from getting too much rest.”
Fernando moved to get up and for a split second, he thought Stevie was going to physically restrain him. Thankfully, the manager didn’t. He just eyed the Spaniard carefully as he limped across the room.
“What time are we heading out? What did we miss?”
“We cancelled everything.”
“Until tomorrow,” Xabi piped in.
“What?!” Fernando exploded. He had to clutch his neck after as his throat twinged at the exertion. “I’m fine now!”
“Oh, god, you’re worse than Stevie,” Xabi said. “The doctor said to let you rest for a couple of days.”
“I don’t need rest. I’m not tired!”
Stevie smiled smugly. Maybe they could still put on the concert tomorrow then! But Xabi glared at him. “Don’t even think about it.”
Xabi changed his tack. He took Fernando by the shoulders and ushered him back to bed. “It’s not the exhaustion, Nando. We know you’re up for the work. But the doctor said your vocal chords are a little raw right now, and we don’t want them giving up on us later on in the tour. It’s just a quick break to preserve your voice.”
“But…”
“Come on, be a good kid and just go back to bed. Are you hungry yet?” Xabi said.
“Do you want dim sum? Their dim sum here is award-winning, I read it on TripAdvisor,” Stevie added.
Fernando stayed put. “Can we please at least go downstairs to the lobby? I’m suffocating in here.”
He discreetly went around the suite, pretending to look for a change of clothes, but really just looking for Daniel through the corner of his eye. Where was he? He was supposed to be always there. “We can gather everyone together, have one big, happy family lunch,” Fernando suggested.
“I gave everyone leaves today,” Stevie said.
“Oh.” Fernando frowned. Daniel was off-duty. He shuddered at the coldness of the word. Dan’s companionship, after all, was just part of his job.
“Pepe said they had gone exploring the city.”
Fernando’s mood darkened even more. So, the one big, happy family went ahead without them then. Workwise, he was the centre of everything the tour group did. But truth be told, he was so far removed from everyone. The only people he ever got to spend time with were Stevie, Xabi and… Dan.
Xabi combed Fernando’s unruly hair back. “Come on, let’s just stay in. It’ll be fun.” He pulled open the curtains to flood the room with sunshine and switched on the TV. The managers even moved their laptops from the living room, where they had been working, to Fernando’s bedroom.
“Dim sum then?” Stevie looked to Fernando for affirmation.
Fernando sighed glumly and went back to bed. “Do whatever you want.”
*
Dan felt a sharp tug and he fell back. “Hey!” He yelped.
It was Martin - he had grabbed him by the collar. “Don’t ‘hey’ me,” Martin said. “I just said we had to get on the Circle Line. Pay attention.”
Dan checked the signs. He had been on his way to the North South Line. “Sorry.”
“Stop wandering off. If you get lost, we’re not looking for you,” Martin said.
They had stopped in the middle of one of the corridors of the train station. Commuters had to step to the side and walk around them, shaking their heads and tutting quietly at the hassle they were causing.
So far, all Dan had seen of Singapore were train stations and malls. The train stations were so clean and orderly, he couldn’t tell them apart from the malls. And the malls had been put up everywhere, he couldn’t tell them apart from the train stations.
When Pepe had rounded up the band for a city tour of Singapore, he had expected to see some local flavour. He was expecting the Merlion at least, not the Marina Bay Sands.
The afternoon commute turned out to be busier than expected. The band was huddled together in one corner of the train, so when Dan’s phone beeped, they all involuntarily craned their necks to check the screen. It’s a nasty habit people don’t notice that they form. Dan couldn’t turn his phone away fast enough.
“Who is it?” Sami Hyypia, their bassist, asked. He was the farthest away from Dan.
“It’s just work,” Dan tried to say, but Raul Meireles, their guitarist, talked over him. “It’s Fernando.”
“One and the same,” Martin snickered.
“You know Dan. Lately, he can’t leave work alone anymore.”
“He’s become a workaholic.”
“All work and no play makes you a dull boy, Dan.”
Dan knew it was all banter. They were teasing him about spending too much time working, not about spending too much time with Fernando, but it still made his ears turn hot. “Fuck off, guys.”
He held his phone so close to his face, his nose almost touched the screen. Nevertheless, he knew the others were watching him as he read Fernando’s text.
“I’m being force-fed award-winning dim sum in my junior suite of a five-star hotel in a first world country. I feel like I’m in prison.”
If Dan was reading this in private, he might have smiled, even laughed out loud, typed out a follow-up joke. Now, he just bit his lip and pocketed his phone.
He was keenly aware of how he was reacting to Fernando’s text message. He felt remembered and needed - a stark contrast to how lost he was right before that. Someone’s attention shouldn’t count for so much.
The boys may be dense, but Dan wasn’t. And he wasn’t ready to deal with what he was discovering about himself.
*
“One more game,” Xabi insisted. “I think I’m getting the hang of it!”
Fernando didn’t reply, just loaded a new game on his Xbox. He had a less-than-healthy addiction to video games, but it was no fun playing against someone who couldn’t match your ability. He had just won five straight games against Xabi, and he wasn’t even trying.
It wasn’t long before he scored six past Xabi’s Liverpool. And he was playing as Stoke!
“Damn, I think you’re too good at this,” Xabi said.
“Stevie, can you please take Xabi’s place?” Fernando whined. He was in a foul mood. Marinating in a hotel room by yourself was one thing. Marinating in a hotel room with people who babied you was another.
Stevie didn’t even look up from his laptop. “I’m not gonna be any better.”
“Anyone can be better than Xabi,” Fernando muttered. It was a good thing his throat was still raw - his words were barely audible.
After a few more rounds, Fernando checked the time. It was nearly 9 PM - an almost respectable time to attempt to go to bed. He let out a huge yawn. “Is it okay if I go to sleep now, guys? I still feel a bit out of it.”
“Oh, sure, sure.” Xabi jumped to his feet and pulled Stevie out of his chair before he could even close his files properly.
“Just call us if you need anything. Anything. If you start to feel ill again, it’s best that we can call the doctor as soon as possible,” Stevie added. After many repeated assurances, they finally left.
Fernando went online. His Twitter was flooded with messages since he tweeted his apologies for cancelling the concert and announced he was sick. Stevie even Instagrammed a ridiculously non-candid photo of him in bed with Xabi fussing all around him.
Of course, there were a handful of fans that were disappointed and even angry - as they should be, Fernando thought - but they were more than offset by the well-wishers. You’d have thought Fernando was down with cancer, not sore throat. And then there were the usual “please follow me, you are the most handsome person in the world” and “I’m not just his fan, I’m his wife” comments, along with a smattering of emoticons and hashtags too long to read.
It usually made him feel like he was on top of the world, the idea that he was remembered and desired by so many. But today, nothing could make him feel better when he was ignored by one.
He had sent Daniel too many messages today. They ranged from the subtle (“Xabi is not nearly as good as you in FIFA”) to the overtly needy (“HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME HERE ALONE WITH THESE TWO I’M GOING CRAZY”). None of them paid off since the messages couldn’t even solicit a reaction from the Dane. He was busy. Fernando had stalked the band members’ Instagrams and saw Dan in every photo, making wacky faces for selfies as they toured the city.
He wondered if Dan was trying to give him a hint by ignoring him all day: Fernando was work and during non-work hours, he was none of his concern. Maybe he would try just one last time.
This was embarrassing for Fernando, to keep knocking at a door that remained shut. But his need for attention far outweighed his need for dignity. He typed out one more message on his phone, hit “send” and began the waiting game again.
*
“Come on over.”
Dan stared at the screen of his phone and tried to come up with reasons why he should refuse such a direct invitation.
He could ignore Fernando’s messages before, when they were casual and meaningless - just rants about Stevie’s protectiveness and Xabi’s inability to understand a video game. He could ignore them better when he was surrounded by noisy guys dragging him from one mall to another, taking photos at every stop.
But now he was back in his hotel room, and he was at the end of his rope. Was he expected to put up a defence for this long? He had planned to start keeping his distance from Fernando. It had scared him a bit, realising how much he craved his company - he couldn’t understand it. It had scared him even more though, realising what it would be like without him - he couldn’t understand that either.
Dan closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but the words rang in his head. “Come on over.” And he imagined Fernando saying it to him. He imagined Fernando there beside him, whispering in his ear, his tongue lapping at the shell. It made Dan twitch violently in bed.
His limbs were like jelly when he stood up. He couldn’t even jump into his jeans properly. By the time he reached Fernando’s room, the tips of his fingers and toes had gone ice cold.
From the gap under the door, he could see the lights inside were switched off already. He knocked anyway. And just as he was about to lose his nerve, Fernando appeared.
Fernando of the disheveled hair and the sleepy eyes, a frown left behind on his lips and his voice still not fully recovered. Fernando whose mood visibly lifted when he saw who was at his doorstep.
He leaned against the wall and regarded Daniel with a raised eyebrow and an unimpressed smile. “Took you long enough.”
Dan opened his mouth to explain, but he couldn’t even begin to understand what had just happened, so what more could he tell Fernando? He shrugged and opened his arms as if to say, “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?”
Fernando shrugged back. And ever the charmer, he expertly reeled in his invitation just when Daniel had already presented himself.
“You don’t need to come in if you don’t want to.”
Dan was already pushing open the door wider so he could enter.
Fernando snickered like he hadn’t been waiting all day for this moment. “Ok then. Put on the FIFA.”
So sorry this took a while. It was 90% done and then the holidays hit, then I had to move out of my flat and move into a new one, so my life has been a mess. But I give you an extra long chapter in return!
Happy 2014, everyone! My resolution is to post a new chapter or new story every month, if not more often. (I know, I know, I keep saying this so many times, it must have lost its meaning already. Don't give up on me, baby.)
Pairing: Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is all fiction. I don't own the boys.
Summary: Inspired by this photo at caras_de_pecas. The prompt was "bodyguard Dan, up-and-coming singer Fernando, they spend long nights traveling cross-country on a tour bus and Dan has to use his body as a shield to prevent Fernando from getting trampled by fangirls."
Notes: Previous parts are here.
Let me know it's not all in my mind.
Daniel knew something was wrong the moment he arrived at the breakfast table and he was the first one there. Fernando was the early bird, not him. It was already a feat that he arrived 10 minutes before schedule.
Xabi and Stevie arrived soon after, but they didn’t seem to be troubled by Fernando’s absence. They headed straight to the breakfast buffet, so Daniel tried to ignore it. He thought of texting the Spaniard but he didn’t want to seem like he was overreacting.
At 8:30 AM, a good half hour after their meeting time, Dan couldn’t keep it in anymore. Something was off. He cleared his throat, tried to act nonchalant, “By the way, where is Fernando? Aren’t we supposed to leave soon?”
Stevie peeked over his newspaper to size up Dan, who squirmed in his seat. Seriously, what was Stevie’s problem? It was an innocent question!
Xabi chewed on his bacon. “I gave him a wake-up call at 7 AM, and he answered.”
“Okay,” Dan nodded slowly. He wanted to bite back his follow-up question, but it slipped out before he could. “That was an hour and a half ago though. It’s not like him to be this late.”
Stevie loudly flipped a page of the newspaper. “He probably just overslept.”
Dan looked to Xabi for help but he just smiled wanly. “Maybe he just decided to skip breakfast to get more sleep.”
They ate in uncomfortable silence as they considered their next move: Dan, bursting with questions; Stevie, coiled and waiting to shoot Dan down; Xabi, ready to keep the peace.
Finally, Dan dusted the crumbs off his hands and put away his plate. “I’ll just pop by Fernando’s room and bring him down.”
Stevie’s jaw clenched. “God, why are you so worried?”
“Look, we have to leave soon anyway,” Dan reasoned out. “If I don’t get him now, we’re gonna run late.”
Xabi saw the determination in Dan’s eyes. Sure, he found it odd that Fernando was late, but it was like Dan sensed deep in his bones that there was a problem. Stevie, of course, would not validate it.
“You know, maybe I’ll just go. It was my job to make sure Fernando was awake on time anyway,” Xabi said, standing up.
Stevie tried to pull him back down. “No, I’ll go.”
“Well, if you’re going, then I’m going,” Dan said.
Xabi had to roll his eyes. Stevie and Dan were agreeable people, but when they locked horns with anyone, they never backed down. “I guess we’re all going then.”
As they trudged up to Fernando’s suite, Xabi hoped this turned out to be something so stupid, he would laugh in Stevie and Dan’s face after. Fernando oversleeping. Fernando stuck in the bathroom bleaching his hair. Fernando not being able to decide what to wear.
They found Fernando in bed when they arrived, still fast asleep. “I told you he overslept,” Stevie muttered.
But Dan wasn’t paying attention. “I don’t think he just overslept.” He walked up for a closer look.
“What are you doing?” Stevie hissed as they followed the Dane.
Fernando was curled into a ball, the bed sheets pulled over his head. Xabi tentatively reached out and lifted the sheets. Fernando’s eyes were squeezed shut, as if in pain, and his breathing was shallow.
“Oh no,” Xabi said. Fernando looked sick as a dog.
Dan perched on the bed, shook Fernando awake with this disarming gentleness, Xabi felt like he was intruding on a private moment. How was Stevie not seeing this?
Fernando could barely keep his eyes open, even as he jumped at the sight of the three. He tried to sit up but his arms shook; he tired halfway and had to lean back against his pillows for support. They watched him anxiously.
Stevie, forever the bull charging into a china shop, joked loudly: “Don’t tell me you went wild and partied last night, boy!”
No one laughed. Xabi punched him on the shoulder. Once in a while, he had to take down Stevie just to keep him under control.
“Are you okay?” Xabi asked.
“Yeah. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready,” Fernando wheezed. He heard his own voice - frayed and barely there - cleared his throat and tried again. “Fuck, am I late? What time is it?”
Stevie paled. “You are not okay.”
Xabi pressed his palm against Fernando’s forehead. It was warm. “You’re sick.”
“I’m not,” Fernando insisted. “I just need some tea and honey for my throat. It’s a little sore.” The last few words came in rasps.
Stevie rubbed his temples, groaning. “We have a full day’s work ahead of us, but it will be pointless if Fernando isn’t there or if he has no voice!”
Dan snapped. “You have to check your priorities.”
Even Xabi was taken aback. Dan and Stevie weren’t the best of friends, but Dan was professional enough to always defer to the manager.
Stevie took one step towards Dan. “You,” he raised a finger, “have no say in this. You’re just security. I’m the manager. Don’t forget that.”
“Well, good job managing the talent, Stevie. Look at what you’ve done.”
Fernando clutched his head in his hands. It was throbbing loudly in his ears. He wished everyone would stop shouting.
Xabi clapped loudly. “Alright, back it up! Stevie, can you please call a doctor? At least we get a better idea of what’s wrong with Fernando, what he needs to take and how long he should rest.”
Stevie glared at Dan one last time and marched off.
“Xabi, you have to admit, I had a point - ” Dan started to explain, but Xabi just held up his hand.
“Just go and get room service, get Fernando something to eat.”
Dan was happy enough to be allowed to stay in the room. Even as he rang up the hotel lobby, he kept an eye on Fernando. Xabi was helping him lie down again.
“Are you hot or cold?” Xabi asked.
“Cold and sweating.”
Xabi was stalled. “Okay, that doesn’t help us.” He turned up the air-conditioning but bundled up Fernando under the blanket.
Dan was watching them so closely, he almost missed the call. “Hello? Sir? How may I help you?” Front desk was asking through the phone. He ordered three or four dishes which he knew Fernando would not be able to finish but he felt it would make him feel better anyway. “And tea, lots of tea and honey.”
When Dan got off the phone, Stevie was still out and Xabi had gone into the bathroom to draw up some hot water for Fernando. Dan tiptoed to bed, not wanting to wake up the blonde, not wanting to get caught by the managers either.
He just stood there, watching Fernando sleep uneasily. He looked so tiny underneath all the pillows and blankets. He wanted to reach out and brush his hair off his sweating forehead, cup his cold cheek. Lately, he’s been having to fight that urge constantly - sometimes they play video games and he finds himself roughhousing with Fernando more often, and when they walk through mobs of fans, he grips his arms tightly.
Fernando stirred, and like all the other times they have accidentally dozed off together on his bed in the tour bus, Dan’s instinct was to step back and keep his arms at his sides. Before Fernando could fully open his eyes, Dan rushed to the bathroom to see if Xabi needed any help.
*
“The good news is, it’s not laryngitis,” the doctor said.
Stevie heaved such a huge sigh of relief, his body almost deflated. “Oh, thank you, Mary, sweet mother of god.”
“The patient, however,” the doctor continued sternly, “is fatigued. Too much activity, a lack of rest, a poor diet - they can make you feel physically and mentally tired, not to mention more vulnerable to getting sick.”
Xabi nodded. “What do we need to do?”
The doctor scanned his notes. “He doesn’t need any medication, just rest. I can’t emphasise that enough. Two full days of rest, and only the most necessary work after that, at least this week.”
He added, “The same goes for his throat - he may not have laryngitis, but the vocal chords are swollen and raw. No singing and no talking for now.”
Stevie smiled sheepishly at the doctor. “See, doc, the problem is we’re on a very tight schedule touring Asia. By full rest today and tomorrow, you mean…?”
“Bed rest.”
Stevie cringed. He glanced at Xabi, throwing a few suggestions, “How about, if we cancel all of Fernando’s shows today and tomorrow and exchange it with, I don’t know, something low maintenance like a Twitter Q&A or a Google hangout? He can do those in bed.”
But even Xabi was reluctant. “That doesn’t sound like heavy work, but that doesn’t sound like rest either,” he replied carefully. He looked to the doctor for support.
The doctor shrugged, “It’s really up to the both of you how you want to manage this. If you absolutely must work, then you can. But know that the patient’s running on his reserves now, so he could get sick or his voice could give out - and those could put him out for much longer.”
When the doctor left, Stevie and Xabi finally got to sit down to discuss the decision.
“I can’t cancel one whole week’s worth of appearances. That’s gonna kill us.”
“It doesn’t have to be a week, just two days. I’m with the doctor on this one, Stevie.”
Stevie scratched his head as he laid out the calendar on the table. There was a concert scheduled for that night and the following day. He couldn’t bear the thought of crossing them out. Those were the big ones - it would hurt to cancel the interviews and pictorials, but calling off the shows would be the worst.
“Come on now,” Xabi said. He took the marker from Stevie’s hand and began to draw large X’s across the calendar.
“We’re actually pretty lucky Fernando got sick in Singapore since it’s is our only three-day stop,” he pointed out. “We already had a concert last night, so at least we can say we still established our presence here, even if we cancel the show for today and tomorrow.”
He drew more X’s: “For the rest of the week, we just need to space out our appointments. Start later in the day, end earlier at night. Focus on the big ones - what is this magazine, anyway? I’ve never seen it in any of the airports we’ve been through. Let’s cancel on them.”
Stevie watched in horror as Xabi struck out line after line in the immaculately kept schedule. “Can we at least keep…”
“No.” Xabi cut off. He studied his handiwork. It was still a bit crowded, the schedule for the rest of the week, but it was an improvement from the original. He handed the marker back to Stevie, “The only change you can make to the calendar is to remove even more appointments.”
“Think of all the refunds we’ll have to make, all the bad will from the fans and the media,” Stevie moaned.
“Other artists have cancelled shows for less. I’m sure they’ll understand. Besides, think of it the other way around, it creates a buzz. And if there’s enough clamour, maybe we can hold a quick show here after we finish the rest of the Asian tour.”
Stevie still didn’t look happy, but he looked appeased enough. “Are you sure?” He grumbled, his fingers still tight around the marker.
“I’m sure,” Xabi said. He leaned across the table and gave Stevie a deep kiss. It was a cheap trick, but the thing with cheap tricks is that they always worked.
Stevie and Xabi returned to Fernando’s bedroom, and Dan immediately leapt to his feet when he saw them. “What did the doctor say?”
Xabi studied the room. The desk chair was pulled over to the bed, and he imagined Dan sitting there to watch over Fernando, who was still fast asleep. The breakfast tray was overflowing and untouched but it was kept close in case the Spaniard needed anything.
“It’s nothing serious. Just bed rest.”
“Okay, that’s great,” Dan said, trying to sound casual, but he had looked sick with worry.
Xabi thought of pulling him aside, confronting him about his suspicions, but Stevie dismissed Dan. He was still bristling from their argument earlier, worsened by the news they would have to pull out of their commitments this week.
“We’re cancelling Fernando’s schedule for today and tomorrow. So, you can go now.”
Dan looked torn, but even he wouldn’t go against Stevie when he was in that foul a mood. “That’s fantastic,” he finally said, mustering a grin as he gathered his things and left.
*
Fernando slipped in and out of consciousness. His body knew it had to wake up - it was impossible he was getting this much time to stay in bed. He was waiting for the cues, like a ringing phone or sunshine pouring into his room, but they never came. So he just slept and slept and slept until it was painful.
He woke up to find his phone drained of battery and the curtains drawn. The clock said it was early in the afternoon, but the room was dark, and this disoriented him. He felt around for the lamp on the bedside table. He managed to switch it on but not without knocking off the hotel pad and phone directory.
Xabi and Stevie came running into his room like anxious parents hearing their firstborn child crying.
“You’re awake.”
“Are you okay?’
“How are you feeling?”
“My head still hurts,” Fernando said.
Stevie sighed, problematic. “Maybe you should get some more rest.”
“I think my head hurts from getting too much rest.”
Fernando moved to get up and for a split second, he thought Stevie was going to physically restrain him. Thankfully, the manager didn’t. He just eyed the Spaniard carefully as he limped across the room.
“What time are we heading out? What did we miss?”
“We cancelled everything.”
“Until tomorrow,” Xabi piped in.
“What?!” Fernando exploded. He had to clutch his neck after as his throat twinged at the exertion. “I’m fine now!”
“Oh, god, you’re worse than Stevie,” Xabi said. “The doctor said to let you rest for a couple of days.”
“I don’t need rest. I’m not tired!”
Stevie smiled smugly. Maybe they could still put on the concert tomorrow then! But Xabi glared at him. “Don’t even think about it.”
Xabi changed his tack. He took Fernando by the shoulders and ushered him back to bed. “It’s not the exhaustion, Nando. We know you’re up for the work. But the doctor said your vocal chords are a little raw right now, and we don’t want them giving up on us later on in the tour. It’s just a quick break to preserve your voice.”
“But…”
“Come on, be a good kid and just go back to bed. Are you hungry yet?” Xabi said.
“Do you want dim sum? Their dim sum here is award-winning, I read it on TripAdvisor,” Stevie added.
Fernando stayed put. “Can we please at least go downstairs to the lobby? I’m suffocating in here.”
He discreetly went around the suite, pretending to look for a change of clothes, but really just looking for Daniel through the corner of his eye. Where was he? He was supposed to be always there. “We can gather everyone together, have one big, happy family lunch,” Fernando suggested.
“I gave everyone leaves today,” Stevie said.
“Oh.” Fernando frowned. Daniel was off-duty. He shuddered at the coldness of the word. Dan’s companionship, after all, was just part of his job.
“Pepe said they had gone exploring the city.”
Fernando’s mood darkened even more. So, the one big, happy family went ahead without them then. Workwise, he was the centre of everything the tour group did. But truth be told, he was so far removed from everyone. The only people he ever got to spend time with were Stevie, Xabi and… Dan.
Xabi combed Fernando’s unruly hair back. “Come on, let’s just stay in. It’ll be fun.” He pulled open the curtains to flood the room with sunshine and switched on the TV. The managers even moved their laptops from the living room, where they had been working, to Fernando’s bedroom.
“Dim sum then?” Stevie looked to Fernando for affirmation.
Fernando sighed glumly and went back to bed. “Do whatever you want.”
*
Dan felt a sharp tug and he fell back. “Hey!” He yelped.
It was Martin - he had grabbed him by the collar. “Don’t ‘hey’ me,” Martin said. “I just said we had to get on the Circle Line. Pay attention.”
Dan checked the signs. He had been on his way to the North South Line. “Sorry.”
“Stop wandering off. If you get lost, we’re not looking for you,” Martin said.
They had stopped in the middle of one of the corridors of the train station. Commuters had to step to the side and walk around them, shaking their heads and tutting quietly at the hassle they were causing.
So far, all Dan had seen of Singapore were train stations and malls. The train stations were so clean and orderly, he couldn’t tell them apart from the malls. And the malls had been put up everywhere, he couldn’t tell them apart from the train stations.
When Pepe had rounded up the band for a city tour of Singapore, he had expected to see some local flavour. He was expecting the Merlion at least, not the Marina Bay Sands.
The afternoon commute turned out to be busier than expected. The band was huddled together in one corner of the train, so when Dan’s phone beeped, they all involuntarily craned their necks to check the screen. It’s a nasty habit people don’t notice that they form. Dan couldn’t turn his phone away fast enough.
“Who is it?” Sami Hyypia, their bassist, asked. He was the farthest away from Dan.
“It’s just work,” Dan tried to say, but Raul Meireles, their guitarist, talked over him. “It’s Fernando.”
“One and the same,” Martin snickered.
“You know Dan. Lately, he can’t leave work alone anymore.”
“He’s become a workaholic.”
“All work and no play makes you a dull boy, Dan.”
Dan knew it was all banter. They were teasing him about spending too much time working, not about spending too much time with Fernando, but it still made his ears turn hot. “Fuck off, guys.”
He held his phone so close to his face, his nose almost touched the screen. Nevertheless, he knew the others were watching him as he read Fernando’s text.
“I’m being force-fed award-winning dim sum in my junior suite of a five-star hotel in a first world country. I feel like I’m in prison.”
If Dan was reading this in private, he might have smiled, even laughed out loud, typed out a follow-up joke. Now, he just bit his lip and pocketed his phone.
He was keenly aware of how he was reacting to Fernando’s text message. He felt remembered and needed - a stark contrast to how lost he was right before that. Someone’s attention shouldn’t count for so much.
The boys may be dense, but Dan wasn’t. And he wasn’t ready to deal with what he was discovering about himself.
*
“One more game,” Xabi insisted. “I think I’m getting the hang of it!”
Fernando didn’t reply, just loaded a new game on his Xbox. He had a less-than-healthy addiction to video games, but it was no fun playing against someone who couldn’t match your ability. He had just won five straight games against Xabi, and he wasn’t even trying.
It wasn’t long before he scored six past Xabi’s Liverpool. And he was playing as Stoke!
“Damn, I think you’re too good at this,” Xabi said.
“Stevie, can you please take Xabi’s place?” Fernando whined. He was in a foul mood. Marinating in a hotel room by yourself was one thing. Marinating in a hotel room with people who babied you was another.
Stevie didn’t even look up from his laptop. “I’m not gonna be any better.”
“Anyone can be better than Xabi,” Fernando muttered. It was a good thing his throat was still raw - his words were barely audible.
After a few more rounds, Fernando checked the time. It was nearly 9 PM - an almost respectable time to attempt to go to bed. He let out a huge yawn. “Is it okay if I go to sleep now, guys? I still feel a bit out of it.”
“Oh, sure, sure.” Xabi jumped to his feet and pulled Stevie out of his chair before he could even close his files properly.
“Just call us if you need anything. Anything. If you start to feel ill again, it’s best that we can call the doctor as soon as possible,” Stevie added. After many repeated assurances, they finally left.
Fernando went online. His Twitter was flooded with messages since he tweeted his apologies for cancelling the concert and announced he was sick. Stevie even Instagrammed a ridiculously non-candid photo of him in bed with Xabi fussing all around him.
Of course, there were a handful of fans that were disappointed and even angry - as they should be, Fernando thought - but they were more than offset by the well-wishers. You’d have thought Fernando was down with cancer, not sore throat. And then there were the usual “please follow me, you are the most handsome person in the world” and “I’m not just his fan, I’m his wife” comments, along with a smattering of emoticons and hashtags too long to read.
It usually made him feel like he was on top of the world, the idea that he was remembered and desired by so many. But today, nothing could make him feel better when he was ignored by one.
He had sent Daniel too many messages today. They ranged from the subtle (“Xabi is not nearly as good as you in FIFA”) to the overtly needy (“HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME HERE ALONE WITH THESE TWO I’M GOING CRAZY”). None of them paid off since the messages couldn’t even solicit a reaction from the Dane. He was busy. Fernando had stalked the band members’ Instagrams and saw Dan in every photo, making wacky faces for selfies as they toured the city.
He wondered if Dan was trying to give him a hint by ignoring him all day: Fernando was work and during non-work hours, he was none of his concern. Maybe he would try just one last time.
This was embarrassing for Fernando, to keep knocking at a door that remained shut. But his need for attention far outweighed his need for dignity. He typed out one more message on his phone, hit “send” and began the waiting game again.
*
“Come on over.”
Dan stared at the screen of his phone and tried to come up with reasons why he should refuse such a direct invitation.
He could ignore Fernando’s messages before, when they were casual and meaningless - just rants about Stevie’s protectiveness and Xabi’s inability to understand a video game. He could ignore them better when he was surrounded by noisy guys dragging him from one mall to another, taking photos at every stop.
But now he was back in his hotel room, and he was at the end of his rope. Was he expected to put up a defence for this long? He had planned to start keeping his distance from Fernando. It had scared him a bit, realising how much he craved his company - he couldn’t understand it. It had scared him even more though, realising what it would be like without him - he couldn’t understand that either.
Dan closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but the words rang in his head. “Come on over.” And he imagined Fernando saying it to him. He imagined Fernando there beside him, whispering in his ear, his tongue lapping at the shell. It made Dan twitch violently in bed.
His limbs were like jelly when he stood up. He couldn’t even jump into his jeans properly. By the time he reached Fernando’s room, the tips of his fingers and toes had gone ice cold.
From the gap under the door, he could see the lights inside were switched off already. He knocked anyway. And just as he was about to lose his nerve, Fernando appeared.
Fernando of the disheveled hair and the sleepy eyes, a frown left behind on his lips and his voice still not fully recovered. Fernando whose mood visibly lifted when he saw who was at his doorstep.
He leaned against the wall and regarded Daniel with a raised eyebrow and an unimpressed smile. “Took you long enough.”
Dan opened his mouth to explain, but he couldn’t even begin to understand what had just happened, so what more could he tell Fernando? He shrugged and opened his arms as if to say, “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?”
Fernando shrugged back. And ever the charmer, he expertly reeled in his invitation just when Daniel had already presented himself.
“You don’t need to come in if you don’t want to.”
Dan was already pushing open the door wider so he could enter.
Fernando snickered like he hadn’t been waiting all day for this moment. “Ok then. Put on the FIFA.”
So sorry this took a while. It was 90% done and then the holidays hit, then I had to move out of my flat and move into a new one, so my life has been a mess. But I give you an extra long chapter in return!
Happy 2014, everyone! My resolution is to post a new chapter or new story every month, if not more often. (I know, I know, I keep saying this so many times, it must have lost its meaning already. Don't give up on me, baby.)