Chapter Text
Their various stages have all started to blend together. After you’ve rehearsed the same choreography for hundreds of times, even if it might be with different sets of dancers, and then after you’ve taken your hard work to different stages a hundred times more, and if you sprinkle in an unhealthy dose of lack-of-sleep, everything starts to feel the same.
It’s simple, in a way.
Choreography is her forte, and dancing according to the tune of muscle memory comes as naturally as breathing can be. Her lines are easy to remember, taking up, on average, thirteen percent of the total lines sung per title track. According to her solo-stan fans, the line breakdown is a travesty, Beidou deserves better. According to the group fans, Beidou doesn’t need more lines, because how could she execute her “flawless dance moves” if she’s singing more than half a song for a four-person group? She doesn’t even want to think about what her haters really say about her craft. Their numbers would never decrease – she’ll never be able to do anything about it anyway.
The only thing that doesn’t stay the same is the growing tightness in her chest after each performance. Beidou is excellent at monitoring the process and outcome of her performances.
A pattern to her feelings is clearly identifiable: the common denominator is Ningguang.
Ningguang’s transgressions are many, even though they aren’t transgressions, per se. This qualifier is something she reminds herself of each time she walks off stage, her skin tingling from the adrenaline and from Ningguang. Beidou has agreed to this charade. (She probably enjoys them more than she should, even.)
But the points which rouse Beidou’s current ire are many, on matters chiefly concerning Ningguang’s perfect compliance to their company’s fanservice preferences.
- If someone tries to tell her that Ningguang likes holding hands, or initiating touch or any kind, she’ll probably just stare at them like they grew an extra head. Do they know the same Ningguang? Ningguang-jiejie, who’d otherwise maintain at least a metre’s distance from everyone else?
- But Ningguang in the part of Qixing Corporation’s most promising idol? Beidou almost shudders at the hundred different memories of Ningguang’s chest pressed tightly against hers, her breath warm against Beidou’s neck as she sings, her arms snaking up Beidou’s own waist, her fingertips dancing over her sweaty skin.
- Then are those instances when Ningguang will turn towards her, mouthing lines for parts that well, can otherwise be directed at her fans. Lines that generally mean I want you or I love you seem directed at her all the time. Ningguang does not spare any opportunity to let their fans screech their throats raw.
Beidou can only groan, throwing herself onto her bed, next to the one in the room she is sharing with the source of her current headache.
Having returned to the room a long while ago, her hair is mostly dry by now. From her place on the bed, she can hear the faint sounds of the shower through the bathroom door. Ningguang is taking a long time, as usual. They have managed to avoid killing each other over who-gets-to-shower-first whenever they have to room together – which is more often than Beidou would like – by designating Beidou as the first person who gets to wash up after each gruelling day. Beidou’s hair is styled somewhat shorter than Ningguang’s is, though not as short as Keqing’s is at present, making it easier to manage. She doesn’t envy Ningguang for her lengthier hair-care routine.
With nothing better to do but to scroll through her phone, Beidou finds Ganyu’s newest complaint about Keqing in a private message.
Ganyu [00:45]: Beidou! Keqing’s still out!! Keqing is your same-aged friend can’t you go… find her? You know I really hate it when she comes back drunk at 3am.
Beidou would worry more about Keqing, but she’s 90 percent sure that Keqing can take care of herself. Besides, she’s probably with one of the staff members, who will keep the girl safe. Frankly, she would have joined Keqing if not for her unfortunate (and formerly minor) ankle injury. She’s all propped up on a variety of painkillers that have yet to fade from the ones she consumed pre- and during the concert, and adding alcohol to the mix sounds like a terrible idea.
Beidou [00:59]: sry, bad ankle, rmb? ask ningguang?
Ganyu [01:00]: …Is she out of the shower?
Beidou [01:00]: lol how did u know she wasnt
Ganyu [01:01]: I know my kids. Just… take care. I’ll go look for Keqing.
Beidou [01:01]: Worried?
Ganyu [01:02]: No. I just don’t want to be woken up by someone tripping over their own feet when they get back.
Ganyu [01:03]: Never mind. Please ice your ankle? Goodnight kid!
Beidou [01:04]: kid???? hey
Ganyu [01:05]: Too bad. You’re the youngest. Be glad I’m nice about this – have you seen what Hu Tao comes up for her brats?
Beidou hasn’t, and she’s about to tell Ganyu that when the shower stops running. Shortly after, Ningguang steps out of the shower, her pale hair wet and staining the white of her bathrobe. Beidou swallows, trying not to stare too blatantly at her exposed skin, knowing that the water from Ningguang’s hair is likely meandering down her neck. Sights such as those do nothing for Beidou’s fraying sanity. (Ningguang is ethereally beautiful under the dim yellow glow of the hotel lighting and she hates that she notices this.)
Beidou continues to stare intently at her phone, pretending to be interested in scrolling through their group’s Fan-Idol messaging app as Ningguang walks up to her to grab the hairdryer from the side table to dry her hair.
She tells her fans that her ankle is healing alright. That she’ll be back on stage soon. She responds to queries like what’s her favourite food for what might actually be the 1000th time since she has debuted (anything hot, with Jueyun chilis). Tells them she hates mint choco (Ningguang likes it enough). And that she can’t tolerate pineapple on her pizzas (Ningguang isn’t a picky eater, so she’ll eat them for her to not waste food. Although, as Beidou is sure after all these years of knowing her, that Ningguang isn’t actually a fan of pizzas. That is a perfectly valid opinion for her to have, considering that Ningguang’s contract probably stipulates that her waistline must measure, in inches, in the low twenties, probably.)
“You look busy.”
Beidou nearly drops her phone when Ningguang speaks as she slides into her own bed.
“Ah, I was just talking to the fans.”
Ningguang makes a disapproving noise as she leans back into her pillows. “You’re not being paid for the extra time you spend on that app, Beidou.”
She chuckles. “It’s not always about the money.”
“It’s always about the money.”
Beidou wants to roll her eyes. Trust Ningguang to point that out. “For you, maybe. Does it matter? It’s not like I’m telling them about you, don’t worry.”
She hears Ningguang stretch, her joints popping audibly. They don’t say anything to each other for a long moment, until Ningguang lets out a soft sigh. Beidou can’t tell if she’s still voicing her disagreement with her, or if Ningguang’s equally tired after yet another day that began with a 5am trip to the salon.
“I…” Ningguang’s words trail off. “Forget it. How’s your ankle holding up?”
Ningguang shifts, the sheets rustling. Beidou turns to her side to see Ningguang watching her. At times like this, it feels a little like Ningguang might care about her even if it’s only as a fellow colleague. Thoughts like this lean truly into delusion, so she stops that train of thought when she’s ahead of herself.
Gruffly, she mumbles that she’s doing fine, thank you Ningguang-jiejie for your concern, and utters a goodnight because she’s not in the mood for further conversation for the night. Beidou is the first to turn away, pulling her blankets over her head. She hears Ningguang exhale loudly, evidently dissatisfied by something, but Beidou is too tired to care about Ningguang’s souring mood right now.
The light switch clicks. Engulfed by darkness and fatigue, she drifts quickly into a dream-filled sleep.
(She’ll wake in the morning, defeated, because even in sleep, she’s never free of Ningguang.)