I lowered the mike for the final time as the booming dance music crossfaded in, increasing in volume with an echoing bass. Waving to the audience, some of whom were already preparing to take their leave, I strode offstage towards our right, where the rest of the technical crew were gathered and waiting.
She was there too, and I saw her first. The salmon pink dress and flower headband probably made her even more prominent, but I knew I didn't need those to find her. As our gazes met, she gave me a quiet, tired smile. As she had one of the busiest offstage jobs of the night, I wasn't surprised; in fact, part of me was exhausted too.
However, the beat continued to pump up, and I couldn't help getting hyped up by it. "Hey!" I called to one of my teammates nearby. "Let's go up and dance."
"Are you serious?"
"I'm serious!"
It took a bit of hesitation (and a bit of dragging), but we were both soon onstage and jumping to the music. "Bass drop!" I exclaimed, feeling high. Most of the team remained offstage, but they too were bouncing to the beat. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her too, hands in the air, moving her upper body. She could never resist music, as long as it was the slightest bit dance-y. I went back to drenching myself in my own high spirits, enjoying the club-esque atmosphere, enjoying the feeling of relief and victory of a night well done, and enjoying the similar feelings I could feel bouncing off from the rest.
We didn't last long onstage, however, as being the dancing centres of attraction soon gave way to slight embarrassment to us both. Coming down, we saw that the whole team was now there, and there were smiles all around. Some hugged, some rejoiced with cheers, and I joined in happily.
Wait. Someone had called my name. I turned around, and I saw a small crowd. I heard someone say a name. Her name. I heard the word "fainted".
I clawed my way to the front.
And there, on the beige carpet, lay a body in a salmon pink dress. Her face was pale, and her eyes were closed. At first, I could only stare in shock for a few seconds, then I acted instinctively: I grabbed her - gently - by the shoulders, and tried to pull her up into a sitting position. A few girls came over and helped me out, under our teacher-in-charge's instructions. I saw her chest heave as she breathed in sharply, returning to consciousness. My racing heart slowed down by the tiniest bit, but I was still immensely, intensely scared.
We lifted her into a chair. Someone went to look for warm water. I stood next to her and held her head and shoulder, letting her body lean against mine so that she wouldn't tumble off the chair. My shaking hands tried to keep a firm grip, while I tried to cool down and take deep breaths rather than short asthmatic ones.
It was the first time I had ever witnessed someone fainting before me. Why her?
She moved. A feeble, nearly unnoticeable twitch, but there was movement. "Can you hear me?" I asked anxiously. No response at first, so I tried again and was rewarded by the faintest of nods. Thank god.
"It's okay, I'm here, I'm here. Stay with me."
Warm water came, and it was promptly fed to her. Someone found warm soup and we slowly - really slowly - fed it as well. Sugar was added to the warm water to provide some much-needed energy. It went on like that for some time, and I continued holding her head against my stomach, stroking her hair.
"Stay awake, okay? Stay with me."
It was the vomiting earlier. She had thrown up three times during preparation due to allergies, and to make matters worse, couldn't manage eating after that. With an empty stomach compounded with a night of exhaustion and stress, a collapse was not surprising; expected, even. I could only feel aghast and extremely guilty... I should have done something, or said something, stopped her from continuing, maybe. Anything.
Still stroking her hair, I whispered: "Hey, want to hear a joke?"
A tiny nod.
"What's black, white, black, white, and black again?"
She knew this one. I'd told it before.
"......Panda," she whispered back, just enough for me to hear.
"That's right." I kissed her head. "Stay awake. Stay with me."
A wheelchair was provided by the hotel, and I wheeled her back to our holding/prep room, which had been reopened. A debrief was held, but I barely listened. I had only one priority and I couldn't care less about anything else. I was rewarded, slowly: first she started moving her fingers, then managed to hold her head straight (without collapsing to the side), and finally asked to walk (assisted by yours truly) when we had to return home. And she managed to.
Later, in the car driving us back, I watched her lie half asleep beside me. Out, but not cold. The ghostly appearance of earlier was now replaced with a peaceful - though tired - calm. Gently, I slipped my fingers into hers, and held them tight.
"You'll be alright now. Stay with me."
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