When Fangirls Cry

by Marian Tee

  After Saffi had left, Staffan walked into the conference room. He had watched the entire meeting through the CCTV system installed in Constantijin’s private office, and his heart bled for every second that he stared at Saffi and saw how lifeless she still looked.

  She wasn’t moving on, and he fucking doubted that giving her a divorce would make her start living again. If he truly believed divorcing him would have made Saffi feel better, he would have been the first one to forge her signature on the papers just to be done with it.

  But a divorce wasn’t the answer. Maybe he wasn’t either, but that didn’t fucking matter.

  Constantijin handed him the contract. “I hope this will make you feel better now.”

  Staffan answered harshly, “I will feel better when she’s better.”

  ****

  “NO MORE FANGIRLS! THE ROOM’S PACKED!” Saffi was shouting two months later.

  The crestfallen expressions on the faces of the girls lined up outside the trailer van made Saffi guilty.

  “Please, we waited so long…”

  “We just want one chance to be close to them…”

  Oh my God, these girls were crafty! Saffi knew from Twitter’s fangirl grapevine that word had already gotten out about how much of a softie she was. Pulling her head back, she peeked at the Celsius guys, who were grinning at her.

  She counted the girls with them. One, two, three…seven in all. If one guy could please three girls at the same time…she calculated it mentally then poked her head back out. “Okay, fine, five more and that’s it!” Saffi hurriedly went back in before the others could guilt-trip her into agreeing to more compromises.

  The Celsius boys were laughing at her. After spending just a week with them, Saffi had stopped being tongue-tied in their presence. Now, she looked at them as her boys, the way mother hens looked at its chicks.

  “What’s with five,” Calvin, the youngest of the group, asked curiously.

  She fidgeted.

  Wynd, the leader of the group, looked at her with interest. “Okay, ‘fess up – how did you arrive at that number?”

  “Well…” Seeing in their faces that they wouldn’t let go until she answered them truthfully, Saffi sighed, mumbling, “I just thought that if a guy could please three girls at the same time, and then I multiplied that by 4, so that makes 12. We already have seven---” She stopped explaining as the entire van rocked with the boy band’s laughter. Even the fangirls were giggling.

  “It’s not that funny,” Saffi protested. “I really was giving you the benefit of the doubt!”

  Aaron, the biggest flirt of the four, sauntered towards her. “You don’t understand, Saffi, my love.” He had the cutest accent as well, like a mixture of British, American, and Korean, that even now Saffi couldn’t help but swallow hard at the sound of it. “We’re just impressed at, ahh, how logical you dealt with the problem.”

  “But I have to ask,” the serious-minded Leo drawled. “Why did you think that one guy can only please three?”

  She blinked. “How can a guy please more? One girl in each hand, and then one girl---” She stopped, seeing that the boys were doing their best to suppress their laughter. Ah, dammit, they had successfully baited her into answering one of their silly questions again!

  “Ha-ha, very funny!”

  The door opened and her assistant P.A. came in, carrying a case of beer for the crew. He was red-haired, freckled, and chubby with the sweetest and quietest disposition, unable to look at Saffi directly whenever she had to talk to him and always keeping at least a foot of distance between them.

  “Hi, Bryan,” she greeted him cheerfully, hoping this would be the night that he would finally warm up to her.

  He mumbled a greeting.

  She had to smile sheepishly at Bryan’s typical response. “You kill me, Bry. You really do. Am I that bad?” Saffi teased him, but she was only half-serious. Sometimes, she couldn’t help but feel like she had this viral infection that kept Bryan away from her.

  The others laughed at her question, but she and Bryan ignored them. Of course he didn’t answer her either.

  Saffi waited for him to distribute the beer then started to help him stack the freezer with the rest of the bottles. At the first step she took to get closer to him, he accidentally dropped a bottle on her foot and she cried out in pain as the bottle broke into pieces, its shards biting into the tender skin of one sandal-clad foot.

  “Fuck! You okay, Saffi?” The entire band had surrounded her in an instant, but when she looked up, she was surprised to see that Bryan was the one closest to her and his chubby face was clenched hard with worry.

  “Are you okay?” he asked in his usual gruff voice.

  She nodded. “It just hurts a little.” She managed a smile even though her foot stung like hell.

  Bryan looked like he wanted to kill himself.

  Her heart went out to him. “It’s okay, really, Bryan.”

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. “My fault…let me help you.” And then he was swinging her into his arms, making Saffi gasp in shock. For a rather unwieldy guy, he felt exceptionally strong.

  “This is not...”

  But Bryan was already carrying her out of the trailer van.

  “…appropriate,” she ended lamely as he walked faster than she ever saw him walk.

  ****

  Staffan did his best to keep calm as he carried Saffi to his own trailer – the one he kept for show. He had another one parked far from the crew’s site, which he used to have his makeup and prosthetics done. He had made sure that Saffi had her own as well, never mind if it set tongues wagging. No fucking way would he have let his wife share a fucking trailer with anyone who had a dick.

  He gave his code gruffly and waited for Saffi to punch the numbers in so that the doors to his trailer would automatically open. He wondered if she realized that the numbers spelled her name.

  “I’m really okay---”

  She sounded extremely uneasy and he couldn’t blame her. This was the closest he had allowed himself to be with her, in his new disguise, and he already knew it was a fucking mistake. Inside the trailer, he swiftly lowered her to the sofa and moved away instantly, trying not to be obvious as he struggled to get himself – and his dick – under control. He willed his dick to die, but it was stubborn – as well as doing its best to get past the padding that his prosthetics team painstakingly applied to him every fucking day at four in the morning in his other trailer.

  Sometimes, Staffan had been so fucking tired working his ass off for those pretty boys that he slept in his disguise. He always regretted it in the morning, feeling like he was burning up inside all the fucking padding.

  Two months, Staffan thought as he got the first-aid kit out and started to assemble what he needed to clean and treat Saffi’s wound. For two fucking months he had been with Saffi, looking after her and only just fucking able to look at her while all the other men did their best to get into his wife’s pants.

  Only the members of the band and their manager had known who he was and those fucking idiots had done their best to provoke him, flirting outrageously with Saffi every time he was around.

  “I’ll clean your wound now,” he declared gruffly.

  She nodded.

  Usually, she would talk a mile a minute when they were alone, even if all he did was grunt and nod or shake his head. He didn’t talk to her so much because he didn’t want to risk Saffi learning the truth before she was ready. This time, she remained quiet as he strove to be as gentle as possible in applying the ointment and bandaging her injured foot. He cursed himself when he gazed at his handiwork. Every fucking time he wanted to make her feel good, he just ended up making Saffi feel bad.

  Was this a fucking omen?

  He looked up, and his heart broke.

  She had tears in her eyes as she choked out, “Did you really think…this close…I wouldn’t know it was you?”

  The tears started to fall and he couldn’t bear it. He tried to take her
in his arms but she struggled, pushing him away. “Let me see you first…please. I need to see it’s really you.” Saffi watched Staffan remove his extremely elaborate disguise. Bit by bit, he returned to his original persona – Sweden’s #1 sex god, Mr. Fuckstatic – the rock star she had fallen in love with.

  “Staffan…”

  This time when he took her in his arms she let him, and she sobbed on his chest. She had missed him. Oh God, she had missed him even though she had nightmares every night about what it would be like to see him.

  Saffi had faithfully followed his movements online and though he had posted daily – almost as if he was updating her indirectly – there had been no pictures at all. It had made her uneasy, wondering if Staffan was holed up somewhere with women to heal his broken heart. But now she knew. Now she understood.

  “Who knows about you?” she whispered.

  “The boys and their manager.” He lifted her chin up so their gazes could meet, and his eyes searched her urgently as he asked unevenly, “Are you angry…about what I’ve done?”

  Should she be? She just couldn’t make herself angry even if the answer was supposed to be yes. He had been with her. Every day of the two months she had healed – he had been there, and he had helped her heal even though he had been pretending to be Bryan.

  “What made you do this?” she asked tremulously.

  His lips twisted. “You did. I remembered how you pretended to be H – and how you changed my life completely as H, and I thought maybe this time I could be the one to do it for you. Because I know…” Staffan inhaled sharply. “I know that two months ago I wasn’t the right person to make you heal. No one could make you heal except yourself – and I had to do what I could to make sure it happened.”

  She said quietly, “I miss her. Is that crazy?”

  He flinched at the word. “No, baby, it’s not. Because I miss her, too.” Staffan’s arms tightened around her. “And I’m so fucking sorry for saying you were crazy. You’re never that, Saffi, never that. I just…I’m the one who’s fucking insane to have hurt you so much, to forget how sweet and beautiful you are---”

  Saffi put a finger on his lips. “I understand.”

  And the wealth of emotions in those two words broke him because Staffan knew that she more than understood. She forgave him, completely, selflessly.

  “Ah, Saffi, I love you.” He kissed her hair. “I love you so goddamn much and no matter what happens, I will never ever fucking doubt you again.”

  She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t answer.

  The silence hurt, but he didn’t complain because he knew he deserved it after all the things he had done to hurt her. She fell asleep in his arms and he carried her to his bed. And then he sat across her, simply watching Saffi because right now Staffan felt it was the only thing he deserved to do.

  ****

  Staffan was gone when she woke up, and she stretched her body luxuriously, feeling like she hadn’t slept this well for weeks. She hopped on one foot out of his trailer and the moment she did, Saffi realized one thing.

  Staffan might be gone – but the entire world was still there.

  The entire crew of Celsius stopped at the sight of her coming out of Staffan’s van.

  The Celsius boys were there, too, and all four of them made an “ooooooh” sound of interest. The entire crew laughed, just in time for Staffan to stride back into the site, dressed as Bryan once more and carrying boxes of supplies.

  He didn’t appear to notice how all the gazes followed him as he walked right up to her. He smiled at her and when he did, Saffi felt faint because she no longer saw Bryan. She saw Staffan and he was beautiful.

  “Good morning,” he said in his usual gruff voice. “Did you sleep well?”

  Before she could answer, one of the guys behind them made a choking sound. “What the fuck? She went for the redhead fattie?”

  Saffi colored at the words. It didn’t feel right for anyone to doubt Staffan’s worth over her. “I’m sorry,” she said with a wince.

  Staffan shrugged. “He is right. I don’t deserve you.” He paused, his face hardening. “But it doesn’t mean I’m giving you up without trying my damnedest to make you love me again.”

  The entire crew didn’t stop ribbing them throughout the day and well into the night, which was the last performance of the band before they were scheduled to go on a short hiatus. Staffan took everything in stride, but for the life of her, Saffi couldn’t do the same. All the time they teased Staffan mercilessly for aiming for someone who was “out” of his league, she wanted to melt into the ground.

  That’s Staffan Aehrenthal you’re talking to, she wanted to shriek at them. He deserved any girl he wanted! Any girl!

  Or at least he deserved anyone…except her.

  “Let’s watch the concert together?” Staffan suddenly appeared at her side just as she finished double-checking the last set of wardrobe change for the band.

  She started at his invitation.

  He smiled wryly. “It’s our only chance when I’m…like this.”

  Her eyes widened at understanding and she heard herself saying shyly, “Yes.”

  It was surreal, watching the concert with thousands of girls who probably knew him but did not pay attention to Staffan because of his disguise. As Celsius started to sing its last song, she felt Staffan taking her hand slowly in his.

  And she let him.

  By the middle of the song, Staffan had his arm around her shoulders and she was leaning against him. It felt completely natural for him to lift her face up to take her lips for a kiss. But she wrenched away before their lips could meet, her heart screaming in protest even as every cell in her body hungered to be reawakened by his touch.

  “Saffi.” Staffan tried his best to keep his voice level even though his heart was beating so loudly he could barely hear himself. It didn’t help that they were also in the middle of a fucking insane crowd of Celsius fanatics.

  She gave him a stricken look. She tried to run away, but he didn’t let her, instead gripping her wrist tightly as he pulled her into the nearest private corner.

  “Saffi, tell me---”

  “It just won’t work,” she whispered.

  The finality in her voice made Staffan stiffen. His voice didn’t want to work, but he did his best, forcing the words out. “Don’t fucking say that, baby. I can fix this. Whatever’s wrong---I can fix it. Just tell me what you want me to change about me and I---”

  She was already sobbing as she shook her head. “You don’t understand, Staffan. Nothing’s wrong with you anymore. It’s me. It’s me. I just can’t love anymore.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  If you’re my fangirl, come to this place. (Google Map screen shot attached)

  Twitter: Official_Staffan_Aehrenthal

  “We really had fun having you as our P.A., Saffi,” Aaron said in an unnaturally serious voice as he gave her a hug. She had officially resigned this morning. They had let her go because all of them knew that it was time for her to leave. They did it formally, signing the contract in their manager’s office, and she was given a generous bonus along with her regular paycheck.

  It made Saffi blink back tears, but she managed to summon up a smile when she pulled away. “You mean you all enjoyed making fun of me, right?”

  Wynd said, “But you did have fun too, right? We just wanted you to be happy again.”

  The two other members nodded and this time she had a harder time blinking back the tears. This time, there were no hormones to blame. Once, anything connected to the pregnancy would have made her stare into space but now, it didn’t depress her. There was still this little part in her heart that felt empty because of her little Lace, but somehow she didn’t feel as sad. Somehow, it felt like by being okay – by Staffan and her both being okay, Lace was okay, too.

  You are, aren’t you, baby? I can feel you smiling at me.

  And she could have sworn that she felt baby fingers touch her cheek in response. Saffi
blinked back more tears. Little Lace, I love you. Mommy will love you forever.

  As the four boys walked her to the main doors, Calvin said, “I thought you should have this before you left.” He handed her a rolled up magazine.

  She took it curiously, her lips parting in surprise when she saw Staffan on the cover. The headlines had her reeling, and she flipped through the pages, unable to believe that the publicity-hating Staffan had given such an extravagant tell-all interview.

  “Check the last page,” he suggested.

  She flipped to the end, and Saffi released a choked laugh at the sight of Staffan Aehrenthal holding up a placard that said, I’m Your #1 Fanboy, Saffi March-Aehrenthal.

  “Take your time reading it, Saffi. It’s all about you. His life is you.”

  At his words, she could feel those baby fingers brush her cheeks again, as if pleading with her to change her mind and give Staffan and their love another chance.

  It’s not that easy, baby.

  But when she went past the doors, she saw that Staffan wanted her to see that it was just that easy. Gone was his disguise – standing in front of her, with thousands of his fangirls behind him, was the rock star she had always loved.

  He was beautifully dressed – Mr. Rock Star Chic at his finest. Shiny silver jacket that could make even Adam Levine look gay? Check. Frilly silk shirt with lacy hems? Check. The tightest freaking pants in the world? Oh so check. The shiniest loafers a straight man could think to wear? Check.

  And yet, all he did was make all of it fit like they were designed for his stunning face and body. Every piece of it screamed one thing: Staffan Aehrenthal was hot. Fucking hot.

  But what really made her start to cry was the person standing next to Staffan.

  The prince and the rock star…

  Who would have thought they could stand this close together and not kill each other?

  Behind him, his fangirls were all screaming. Through her blurred gaze, she saw that they were waving placards and posters, and all of it said the same thing.