Chapter 5
Chapter five
Iarrived at Rogers Arena ninety minutes before doors, still thinking about the sensation of Rune's body against me in the dark.
The morning after, we'd been professionals.
He woke up before me, dressed, and thanked me with a careful formality that put distance back between us like rebuilding a wall.
That was twelve hours ago. Now, I was backstage watching him move through pre-show routines.
The band prepared through an atmosphere of controlled chaos. Wardrobe racks lined one wall. A portable makeup station occupied the corner.
Taemin sat in the makeup chair, speaking rapid Korean while the artist worked around his gestures.
Minjae stretched against the far wall, earbuds in, going through what looked like the same sequence for the third time.
Jinwoo stood near the monitor, checking something on his phone, solid posture amid all the noise.
Rune sat apart on an equipment case, notebook open, pen moving across the page. Writing. Always writing.
I stood where I could see all exits and distributed my attention. Professional. Neutral.
Rune looked up. Our eyes met across twenty feet of backstage machinery and personnel. The air between us compressed.
He looked away first, deliberately.
I remembered the warmth of his spine. The weight of him sleeping against my chest, his breathing pace eventually matching mine.
Taemin's gaze tracked from Rune to me and back again. He said something in Korean that made the makeup artist laugh. Rune's pen stopped.
"English, Taemin," Jinwoo requested without looking up from his phone.
"I said Griffin looks very serious." Taemin flashed a mischievous grin. "Does everything in Vancouver require such intense focus?"
"Security does," I said.
"Mm. Security." Taemin's tone suggested he wasn't talking about security at all. "Rune also looks very focused. Maybe Vancouver has that impact."
Rune closed his notebook. "Maybe you should focus on not moving while Noona is working."
"I'm helping her practice patience."
The makeup artist said something in Korean that sounded like agreement, and Taemin laughed.
Minjae pulled out his earbuds. "Taemin, stop bothering Griffin."
"I'm not bothering. I'm observing." Taemin glanced at me in the mirror. "Professional observation."
Kang appeared in the doorway before I could respond. "Griffin. Walk-through." I followed him into the corridor, grateful to exit.
We moved through the venue's security positions. Kang outlined response protocols and pointed out he would station his team.
I had a specific question. "Were the lighting malfunctions from rehearsal resolved?"
"Tech director says yes. New operator tonight. The previous one—" He made a gesture that suggested firing. "Made too many mistakes."
"What mistakes?"
"Missing cues. Wrong timing. Nothing dangerous, merely unprofessional." Kang paused at the stage left entrance. "Are you concerned?"
"That's part of my job."
"Worrying about lights?"
"About patterns."
He studied me for a moment. "The threats against Rune have been quiet. Three days without new messages. This should reassure you."
"Quiet bothers me more than noise."
We finished the walk-through, and I returned to the preparation area. The band members were moving into stage positions. Wardrobe had fine-tuned their costumes. Makeup was complete.
Rune stood near the door, waiting. He'd changed into the first performance outfit: black pants that fit precisely and a shirt that was both structured and fluid. They styled his hair away from his face, with a bold purple streak on the left side.
I watched him close his eyes for three seconds. Breathing. Centering. When he opened them, he was fully present… as Rune.
He spotted me watching. "Showtime," he mumbled.
"Break a leg."
He smiled briefly. "That's theater. Wrong industry."
"What do you say in this industry?"
"We don't. We just go."
The house lights dropped right on schedule. Nineteen thousand people roared. I took my position stage left as the opening track's first notes detonated throughout the arena.
The sound hit my chest like a blunt blow. The bass rumbled deep inside my body. Nineteen thousand voices became one sustained roar that made the floor vibrate.
The stage exploded into light. Violent white that obscured everything for half a second before fragmenting into blues and purples, strobing in time with the beat.
Four figures materialized from the darkness upstage. The choreography was sharp. Aggressive. Nothing like the controlled rehearsals I'd watched. This was Violet Frequency at full power, every movement punching through the music instead of floating over it.
Jinwoo anchored center stage, every gesture precise and grounded. Taemin worked the left side, his movements fluid and expansive, playing to the crowd like an energy conductor. Minjae covered right with technical perfection, every angle exact.
Rune moved along the center line. The lights caught him mid-turn, and my breath stopped. He was incandescent.
Every carefully controlled gesture I'd watched in rehearsal ignited at the next level. His body moved with precision, controlled and leashed, but still unmistakably dangerous. The vulnerability I'd seen in quiet moments was gone. He radiated power.
The first chorus landed, and the four of them synchronized into a formation that appeared to defy physics. The screams of the crowd intensified to something primal.
I scanned the audience, watching a predictable surge toward the barricades. Security held. Nothing unusual.
I scanned the stage again. Rune moved into a solo spotlight during the bridge. The others fell back into the shadows, giving him the moment. He delivered the line with his head tilted back, throat exposed, voice cutting through the production with raw clarity.
Nineteen thousand people reached toward him simultaneously.
The band's stage arrangement changed as the song built toward its climax. A synchronized move ended with Rune isolated front and center for four beats before Taemin and Jinwoo flanked him.
Exposed, then shielded as the song ended. His bandmates protected him.
I tracked sightlines and exits while my body responded to the music against my will. The beat was infectious. Designed to bypass thought and activate something more primitive.
Rune moved across the stage, and I tracked him like a laser sight. Professional assessment, I told myself.
Liar.
I caught movement in my peripheral vision, stage right wing, partially obscured by equipment. Soo-jin stood with his tablet, watching the performance with careful attention. He tracked Rune's position with precision that matched mine.
Four songs later, mid-set, it happened. The production changed again to another stripped-down sequence. It was the song I'd waited for, the one where Rune's solo vocal was lit by a single amber spot while the others repositioned at the edges of the stage.
I counted beats. Four. Three. Two. The cue was supposed to fire on one.
The stage remained fully lit. Wrong lights. Wrong intensity. Harsh white instead of warm amber. Rune stood center stage, exposed and isolated.
I moved before my brain processed it all. Weight forward, muscles coiled, ready to—
The lights snapped off completely. Full blackout. The crowd gasped.
My heart pounded. It wasn't a missed cue. Something was wrong. Emergency lighting should have engaged. It didn't.
I heard Rune still singing through seconds of total darkness, his voice steady despite the blackout.
Then the lights slammed back on at full intensity. Blinding white. All of them. Every fixture in the grid firing simultaneously. Rune raised his right hand to shield his eyes.
The crowd screamed, sounds of concern.
Taemin broke formation immediately. He walked toward Rune without hesitation, touching his back. Jinwoo stepped forward as well.
Three seconds later, the lights finally executed correctly. An amber spot appeared at the proper intensity.
Violet Frequency continued as if nothing had happened. Rune's voice never faltered. The choreography flowed. Half the crowd probably thought what had occurred was intentional.
I pulled out my phone and messaged Kang:
Griffin: Lighting failure mid-set. Full blackout then full intensity. Check booth NOW.
Twenty seconds later:
Kang: On it.
Someone was testing whether they could isolate Rune. With blinding lights, they'd succeeded.
I looked up at the lighting booth. Too far to see details, but I tracked movement. Someone was up there. Someone was supposed to be up there. The question was whether they were supposed to be doing what they'd just done.
After the last song, backstage burst into motion, loud and barely holding together. Handlers converged with water and towels. Staff rushed to clear pathways. The band came off stage in a wave of heat and adrenaline.
Jinwoo first, breathing hard, accepting a towel without breaking stride.
Taemin and Minjae together, still buzzing, talking over each other in rapid Korean.
Rune came last.
He moved more slowly than the others. Sweat dampened his shirt. His hair had fallen partially into his face.
He saw me standing against the wall. Our eyes locked. Everything else fell away.
He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something.
"Rune." A handler appeared at his elbow with water. The moment shattered.
He took the bottle. Drank. Headed for the dressing area with the others.
I pulled out my phone and walked toward Kang's position near the loading corridor.
He was already on his radio, coordinating something. When he saw me, he held up one finger, signaling me to wait.
After finishing his conversation, he lowered the radio's volume. "Lighting booth. The technical director is reviewing the logs now."
"What happened?"
"They're saying power surge. Backup systems failed to engage properly and then over-corrected." Kang's expression was neutral. "It was an electrical malfunction."
"You believe that?"