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Damien was burning his midnight oil when he heard a rap on his door. It shook him out of his focused trance as he finally got a good view of the clock in his bedroom. 2:37 AM. It was later than he had expected.
He lugged himself away from his desk and down the stairs to the front door. Upon cautiously opening it, he noticed it was the District Attorney. He opened the door wider to address them directly. "Is something the matter? It's awfully late."
"I could say the same about you," They replied. "I saw the light coming from your room across the way and I just came over to check up on you. I know you're hard-working, Dames, but you should really get some rest. I don't want you killing yourself over your campaign."
"Darling, you know how important this upcoming election is to me— to you as well. I have to maintain my image if I wish to be re-elected. But enough about me, what are you doing up so late?"
"You know I hate when you change the subject away from you like this," They shot him a teasing smirk. "But I guess I'll humor you. I just can't sleep. I'm so excited for tomorrow! Well, I guess technically it's today, but whatever."
"Tomorrow?" Damien echoed. "Is there something important I'm forgetting?"
"I was going to keep it a surprise until tonight, but I guess I'll tell you now. Maybe it'll give you an incentive to get some rest." They said. "Do you remember the last party that we went to at Mark's house?"
How could Damien forget? It was only a few months ago. He remembered hating how Mark was getting all touchy-feely with them, especially considering the fact that he was married. Maybe his flirtatious nature is what drove Celine to... Well, nevermind that.
"Yeah. What about it?"
"At that party, Mark introduced me to the owner of a high-end cabaret he knew. He bragged about my voice." Damien suppressed a scoff as they recounted this. Typical Mark, always one for flattery. "Well, after being in touch with the cabaret's owner for a few months now, he's letting me perform!"
Damien's jaw nearly dropped in excitement for them. Perhaps Mark's superb networking skills had finally paid off. "That's... That's wonderful, dear!"
"Isn't it?" They smiled gleefully back at him. "I was hoping this could be a nice evening where we would all relax, drink, put the worries of the world behind us. Damn the election. Tonight, you'll be just regular old Damien and I'll be regular old me. Like how we were in university! Won't that be nice?"
Damien tensed at the mention of the election. Oh god, he still had so much work to do. But maybe they were right. He needed a night to unwind. Plus, this was his best friend. He needed to be there to support them.
"Yes," Replied Damien. "Yes, I suppose it will be nice."
Damien browsed the tables of the cabaret, scanning for where Mark was sitting. He eventually noticed him sitting at a table close to the stage. Damien made his way over to Mark, sitting down next to him.
"Ah, Damien. Glad you could make it." Mark smiled at his friend, shaking his hand.
"Are you kidding me? I wouldn't miss this for the world." Damien grinned. "I'm always happy to support a friend. They mean the world to me and I'm glad they get to further explore their passion."
"They did mention how you badly needed a night off," Mark joked. "Damien, always the hard-working one of the group. I cannot tell you how many times my father told me to be more like you."
"I could say the same about mine." Damien chuckled.
"Bonsoir, good sirs. Would you care for a program of tonight's events?" An usher asked, walking over to them.
"Ah, bonjour!" Mark replied in a terrible French accent that made Damien cringe. "Oui, we would care for some programmes. Merci beaucoup!"
The usher handed programs to Mark and Damien before walking away to attend to other guests.
"How's my French?" Asked Mark. "You know, I'm going to be working on a big project soon, so I really have to brush up on my skills."
"It's... Something!" Damien replied with a sheepish, false smile before burying his face into his program.
On the cover was a print of a beautiful woman. In big, bold text, the title read: "COME SEE THE MARVELOUS CAROLINE GUIDO ONLY AT THE BRADSHAW CABARET!"
"Caroline Guido?" Damien muttered to himself. "As in the opera star? Is she the main act tonight?"
A small leaflet fell out of Damien's program onto his lap. He unfolded it. "Due to the unfortunate circumstance of Ms. Guido coming down with an illness, the finale tonight will be performed by..." Damien trailed off, reading his friend's name. They didn't tell him about that detail. Strange.
The first few acts of the cabaret came and went, with Damien anxiously awaiting the arrival of his friend's act.
The voice of the master of ceremonies shook Damien out of his pondering. "Ladies and gentlemen! Before our final act tonight—"
That was all Damien needed to hear. He excused himself briefly, heading to their dressing room where he placed a rose and a note to them. He hurried back, making it in time for the master of ceremonies to finish his closing remarks. The curtain rolled open again, revealing them at the piano. Damien was fixated on them as they played and sang a wonderful old tune. He was filled with the feeling of nostalgia hearing them sing, drifting off into a beautiful memory.
He remembered the first time he met them like it was yesterday.
Late the prior evening, Mark had come rapping on Damien’s dorm room door, asking for a favor. Apparently, the usual concert pianist hired for the university choir had come down with a bad cold and couldn’t play the accompaniment for the autumn concert the day after next.
Damien reluctantly agreed. He was always happy to help a friend out, but he would have to put off studying for this. Mark let out a bellowing laugh at his fretting, giving him a slap on the back and teasing him for being such a worrywart.
Now here he was, music on the piano in front of him, plunking out a few notes before the members of the choir trickled in. His fingers skimmed over the ivory keys and smoothly varnished surface of the piano. It was no doubt this was the most beautiful piano he’d ever seen. It triumphed over the piano his father had in the house, despite it being a high-end instrument. (“Only the best for my son,” He could still hear his father’s word upon bringing the piano home for the first time.)
“Damien!” He nearly jumped out of his skin upon hearing Mark’s booming voice and feeling his hand connect with his back. “Easy there, cowboy. No need to have a heart attack on me.” Said Mark with a slightly devious chuckle.
“Jesus, Mark…” Damien muttered. “Did you really not expect me to show?”
“Mmmmm…” Mark pursed his lips in thought. "Perhaps."
“Ouch, that kinda stings,” Damien replied with a guffaw. “I’d expect you to have a little more faith in me than that. I am a law student after all.”
“Ah, politician’s kids, you can never tell with ‘em.” Mark retorted sarcastically.
“Watch it, you…” Damien shot him a warning look.
The rehearsal seemed to be coming to a close. Damien’s fingers ached from all the extra playing. His hands weren’t used to this much rehearsing in a week— not to mention the sight-reading that made his head thump with pangs of pain.
“One more thing before we wrap up this rehearsal,” The conductor noted, gesturing towards a specific student on the choir risers. “We should probably rehearse the solo portion of the finale piece, just to get everything to line up correctly.”
Said student shambled down the risers, squeezing between others and muttering small apologies. Damien recognized them. They shared quite a few classes with him, although they had never spoken to each other. Damien shuffled through his folder, producing the piano copy of the piece and adjusting his posture.
“On your mark,” the conductor nodded at Damien and the student.
Damien played the first note of their solo in order for them to audiate it. They took a deep breath and began to sing. Damien entered on the accompaniment not long after, astounded by their voice. For someone who was so silent in class, not speaking unless spoken to, they possessed a grand stage presence.
Their voice suited the solo, hitting all of the notes right in the sweet spot of their range. The piece was a temperate mix of classical ragtime and new-age jazz. It ebbed and flowed in intensity, crescendoing into a grand climax with the full choir singing in parts. The intensity waned as the piece drew to a close. Their voice softened with the final flourish of notes from the piano, ringing faintly in the concert hall.
"Wonderful,” the director gave the student a nod of acknowledgment. “Well, I should probably let you all head out now. Good rehearsal everyone!”
Upon the director’s words, Damien began to pile all of his sheet music back into the folder it came from. Before he could begin to head anywhere, however, Mark was heading towards him.
“Ah, Damien! I want to introduce you to a friend of mine.” He said. Damien noticed the soloist student standing shyly by his side.
Damien reached out to shake their hand. “We share some classes together, but I don’t believe I’ve properly introduced myself. I’m Damien.”
They shook his hand, responding with their own name.
“You sounded wonderful.”
“As delicate as ever!” Mark exclaimed. “I gotta say, I’m a little jealous of your talent. You’re really gonna steal the show during the concert tomorrow.”
And Mark was right. They sounded as captivating— if not better the following evening during the concert. Damien became fast friends with them after that, a bond that would last well past university...
Damien regained his focus on them as the song ended. The curtain closed and a standing ovation followed, starting with Damien immediately jumping to his feet to applaud them.
After the applause died down and the patrons started to trickle out, Damien felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Mark. "I'll be right back," he said. "I'm going to check on our little ingenue."
They closed the dressing room door behind them, sighing with excited relief. The audience really enjoyed them. During their performance, they had made eye contact with Damien, who was watching them with a tender, star-struck gaze in his eyes.
That's when something on the vanity caught their attention. It was a red rose and a note. They unfolded it.
"I still remember the first time I heard you sing. You're lovelier than ever. —Damien"
They swooned, their heart attempting to leap out of their chest at the note. They clasped it to their chest, hoping to quell their heartbeat. Damien really did care for them.
A knock sounded at the door. Before they had a chance to answer it, Mark bounded into the room.
"Ah, there's my little ingenue!" He proclaimed, heading towards them and grasping their hands tight. "You sang like an angel tonight, my dear." He kissed their hand.
"Thank you, Mark." They attempted to pull away from him, but Mark latched on. "Pardon me, but I really should get changed so that we can go to dinner. All of us."
Mark noticed the rose and the note. He pulled away from them, snatching the note out of their hands and reading it.
Damien. Handsome, charming Mayor Damien. Always hard-working. Always successful. Always the lover. It wasn't fair how Damien had always been better than him. The better musician, the class valedictorian, and now he was on the brink of a romance, something recently ripped away from Mark. It wasn't fair. How could Damien have a happy ending while he was stuck playing this shitty role in a tragedy? No, he refused to play this part any longer. He was the hero after all. Didn't the hero deserve the best? Didn't the hero deserve a happy ending? Didn't the hero deserve a love interest?
And what of Damien? That villain in his story. He was trying to steal his angel away from him. No, he wouldn't let it happen. They were his angel. He wasn't going to let Damien fuck this up for him.
"Who needs Damien, angel?" Mark crooned. "He didn't even want to come tonight. He was so incredibly reluctant. He's much too busy with his re-election campaign, married to his work and all. He's probably already headed home to get back to work. Can never be too relaxed, that one. Let me take you out to dinner, just the two of us."
Their breath hitched. Was it true? Was Damien just being nice to them? No, no that couldn't be. He left them a note and a rose. If he didn't care so much, why would he have done that? Then again, he is the mayor and that was just one rose. He could spare a note and a rose to maintain his image. Maybe Mark was right. Or perhaps...
"Well, I'd still like to check to see if Damien's still out there. It'd be rude of me to not say goodbye if he's waiting." They tried to move around Mark, who mirrored their movement, blocking them from the door.
"No, angel. It's rude of him to leave without saying goodbye to you first. You don't owe him any pleasantries. Come now, let's go to dinner." Mark grabbed their wrist.
"Probably." They stated firmly, attempting to pry his hand off of them, but to no avail.
"What was that, angel?"
"You said probably. That means there's still a chance that Damien is out there waiting for us. Now if you could please just let me go, I'm going to get changed, and then we can all go to dinner." They demanded through gritted teeth.
"No. I've worked too hard for this. Don't forget who made it possible for you to get to this point." Mark only gripped harder, bringing his face close to theirs.
"You introduced me to the owner of the cabaret! You didn't do shit besides that!" They fired back.
"I poisoned that god damn bitch so that you could have a chance to sing!" Mark bellowed at them.
They gasped, clasping their free hand to their mouth. "You... No... Mark... You're joking? Please tell me this is all some sick joke! Because if it is, it's not fucking funny!"
Mark paused, taking a moment to glare down into their frightened eyes. "I would've killed her for you, y'know. Now I'm thinking that wasn't a good idea. All the praise has gone to your head. I should've saved your precious little voice for my ears only."
They muffled a sob. "Mark, please... You're distraught. You're grieving. You're in denial. I'm not your spouse. I'm not Celine—"
"OF COURSE YOU AREN'T CELINE! Celine is dead to me. You on the other hand? I've climbed mountains for you. I own you. You will sing for me, my angel. Only for me." Mark grabbed their face in his hand. It would've been a caress if it weren't for the forceful grip his hand had upon them. Mark pulled them in for a kiss before they screamed.
"DAMIEN! DAMIEN PLEASE HELP ME!"
Slap.
"You ungrateful bitch."
Soon after, banging sounded from the door as Damien screamed their name. The doorknob jiggled but didn't open. Mark must have locked it without them noticing. "Are you okay in there? Please open the door!"
"Damien!—" A hand slapped over their mouth, but they continued to scream into it, albeit muffled.
"MARK WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO THEM IN THERE?"
"None of your god damn business, pretty boy!" Mark screamed back at him. "I'm tired of you besting me in every way! I'm not letting you take my angel away from me!"
"I'm not your angel!—" They managed to wedge Mark's hand off of their mouth for long enough to shout briefly before it clamped back on.
"I think it's time for you to be taught a lesson, angel." Mark hissed into their ear as he began to drag them towards the full body mirror in the back of the room. "I know every in and out of this place. There's no way your precious little mayor will find us once I'm done with you."
Mark grabbed the mirror with his free hand, pushing it aside to reveal a hidden door behind it. He forced the door open, dragging them through before hauling the mirror back into place and shutting the door behind them.
Damien had been slamming his body full force into the door for a few minutes before the knob started to loosen, eventually popping off. The door to the room flew open. Damien burst inside to find no trace of Mark or his beloved. After some time of rooting through the room, Damien found the door behind the mirror. He swung it open, pursuing Mark with a vengeance...