Nathan stared at the TV screen in disbelief, his heart racing as the commercial for some brightly colored household cleaner filled the screen. A part of him hoped that when the news came back, it wouldn't be his father on stage at a pop idol concert. That somehow, this was all just a strange hallucination, a byproduct of his stress and sleepless nights.
But Nathan knew better. The old man in the news was undeniably Bernard. His father had somehow managed to sneak out of the apartment, wander into a concert hall, and now, was performing an impromptu—wildly inappropriate—dance routine on a stage meant for young pop stars.
He dropped the remote, grabbed his keys, and bolted out the door without even bothering to put on a jacket. The humid Singapore air hit him as he rushed down the stairs, skipping steps in his hurry. He burst out of the building's entrance and sprinted toward the MRT station at the corner of the block. The train was the fastest way to get across the city, and he needed to get to his father as soon as possible before things got even worse.
Nathan's breath came in ragged gasps as he dashed through the station entrance, weaving through crowds of commuters. He swiped his card at the gate, almost crashing into the barrier before it slid open, and hurried down the escalator two steps at a time. His mind raced with thoughts of what his father could be doing now. He couldn't bear to think about the consequences. The news would spread, the video would go viral, and before long, everyone would know about Bernard Ng—the elderly man with schizophrenia and dementia who danced with idols.
He heard the train approaching and pushed his way through the final crowd, just making it as the doors slid open. He collapsed into a seat by the window, breathing heavily. As the train lurched forward, he tried to calm himself, focusing on what to do when he got to the concert venue. Maybe he could find someone in charge and explain the situation. Surely, they'd understand if he told them about his father's condition. But even as he thought it, Nathan couldn't shake the feeling that things had already spiraled far beyond his control.
Meanwhile, back at the concert hall, Bernard stood under the bright stage lights, a look of gleeful excitement on his face as he addressed the confused audience. He raised his arms high and called out in an exaggerated falsetto, trying to mimic the cutesy voices of the idols he had seen earlier.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" he announced, his voice cracking. "I am here to tell you about something incredible! Something you've never seen before! I present to you… Gerald's Flying Durians!"
He twirled around, making a sweeping gesture toward the ceiling as if expecting a fleet of durians to descend from above. The crowd, mostly middle-aged men, shifted uncomfortably in their seats, their initial confusion turning into frustration. This wasn't what they had paid for. They had come to see their favorite idols perform, not to watch an old man prance around on stage.
One man in the audience shouted out, "Where are the cute girls?! I paid to see some pretty ladies, not… whatever this is!"
A chorus of disgruntled murmurs followed, and Bernard, oblivious to their displeasure, continued his pitch. He grabbed the microphone from its stand and walked over to one of the idols, a petite girl with long black hair who had been standing frozen in place, unsure of what to do. Bernard took her hand and smiled, his voice softening as if trying not to startle the 20 year old girl.
"What's your name, dear?" he asked, his wrinkled hands had a gentle but firm grip.
The idol, visibly nervous, glanced at her fellow performers before stammering, "H-Haruka."
"Ah, Haruka! Such a lovely name," Bernard said, beaming. Without warning, he began to sway back and forth, leading her into what could only be described as an awkward ballroom dance. Haruka looked helplessly at her fellow idols as Bernard twirled her around, completely out of sync with the music that had been playing before his interruption.
One of the other idols, a taller girl with short brown hair, whispered to the third performer, "Where is security? Why aren't they doing anything?"
The third idol, a slender girl with dyed pink hair, shrugged, her expression one of resigned disbelief. "I don't know… Do they think this is part of the show?"
As it turned out, that was exactly what security thought. In a small, dimly lit room backstage, two security guards sat around a table, their lunch containers spread out in front of them. One of them, a burly man with a thick mustache, took a bite of his chicken rice and chuckled as he watched the stage on the monitor mounted on the wall.
"Man, this pre-show comedy bit is pretty funny," he said between bites. "Didn't know they were gonna bring an old man into the act."
The other guard, a younger guy with glasses, nodded in agreement as he sipped his iced coffee. "Yeah, it's not bad. Kind of random, though. I didn't see anything about it on the schedule."
They both laughed as they watched Bernard clumsily dance with Haruka, completely unaware that this wasn't part of the show at all.
Back on stage, the situation had taken an even stranger turn. Seeing that the security guards weren't coming to their rescue and realizing that this bizarre moment was likely going to end up all over social media anyway, the other two idols decided to embrace the chaos. If their careers were going to be ruined, they might as well go out with a bang.
With a sigh of resignation, the taller idol stepped forward and began twirling around like a ballerina, her arms gracefully sweeping through the air as if this had all been choreographed. The pink-haired idol quickly joined in, spinning in circles and laughing despite herself. Soon, all three idols were dancing around Bernard, who was still leading Haruka in his awkward waltz, completely unaware that the audience was no longer just confused—they were now recording the spectacle on their phones.
The crowd, though still frustrated, couldn't help but be drawn in by the absurdity of this moment. Some of the more disgruntled men grumbled under their breath, but others started to laugh, realizing that they were witnessing something that would probably never happen again. Cameras flashed, and videos streamed live as Bernard and the idols continued their impromptu performance.
"Hey! Don't take pictures!" Haruka had shouted
Meanwhile, on the MRT, Nathan sat in his seat, staring blankly at the floor as the train rumbled beneath him. The fear and anxiety swirling in his mind felt suffocating, but he knew he had to stay calm. If he let himself panic, he wouldn't be able to think clearly, and he needed to be sharp if he was going to handle whatever waited for him at the concert hall.
As the train went along the tracks, he was pulled out of his thoughts by a small voice nearby. Nathan looked up to see a little boy standing in the aisle next to him, his big, curious eyes fixed on Nathan's face.
"Hey, aren't you the guy with the weird old man?" the boy asked, tilting his head to the side. "I saw you yesterday. You were with him on this train."
Nathan blinked, his mind taking a moment to process the question. "Uh, yeah, that was us," he said quietly, not sure how else to respond.
Before the boy could ask any more questions, his mother appeared, scooping him up into her arms. She gave Nathan a polite but hurried smile as she whispered to her son, "Don't bother people, sweetie. Let's go sit down."
The boy, still curious, craned his neck to keep looking at Nathan as his mother carried him away. "Where's the old man?" he asked, his voice fading as they moved to the other end of the car.
Nathan didn't answer. He just stared out the window, watching as the city buildings rushed past in a blur. The encounter with the boy had unsettled him, bringing back memories he had tried to bury deep in his mind. He couldn't help but remember a time, long ago, when things had been so different.
The memory hit him like a wave, pulling him back 18 years to a time when he was just seven years old. He was sitting in the living room of their old apartment, the smell of home-cooked food wafting from the kitchen. His mother, younger and full of energy, was busy preparing dinner, humming a tune under her breath. Nathan sat cross-legged on the floor, playing with his toy cars, making engine noises as he rolled them along the carpet.
His father, Bernard, was there too, sitting on the couch with a newspaper in hand. Bernard looked different back then—stronger, more vibrant, with fewer wrinkles and a twinkle in his eye. He had been so full of life. But that was also the time when things had started to change. Nathan remembered it clearly—though at the time, he hadn't understood what it all meant. There had been arguments, quiet at first, then louder as time went on. Nathan remembered hiding in his room, covering his ears as his parents' voices rose in the kitchen. "That was when everything started to fall apart," Nathan whispered to himself, the memory fading as the train pulled into the next station.