Chapter Text
The first time I saw him, we were playing Strauss. We were about to start Alpensinfonie, had already tuned and were waiting for the conductor to enter, and I was looking into the audience, as usual.
My gaze traveled over the people in the stalls, in the overpriced seats, to the first mezzanine, where I always tried to sit, and then up to the second.
There, off to one side, all on his own, was a man. Dark hair, dark clothes, all in shadow. It was all I saw as the audience began to clap and we all stood.
One Alpensinfonie later and I was smiling happily at the audience as we stood again. I dipped my head to right, pulling out the earplug in my ear, tucking it carefully into my pocket next to the case containing its neighbour. I looked into the audience, half-blinded by the lights on us, gaze shifting upwards to get rid of the glare, and there he was again. Not in the centre, where he’d get the best view of us, but up on the violin side, almost directly opposite me. Directly in my line of sight. He was clapping along with everyone else.
My attention was caught by someone in the mezzanine below - a lady in a gorgeous orange dress dripping with costume jewellery - and I thought nothing more of the man all on his own.
After that, he became a regular feature at concerts. Always in the second mezzanine, always on the violin side so I had him in my line of sight. It wasn’t even that I could really tell what he looked like, but as the weeks passed and he appeared, more often enough, he became my personal mascot.
And he was one of the better audience members, too. Always attentive to the music - he was never backlit by his phone screen - and never ducked out before the end of the applause.
Not that I’d really told anyone I always looked out for him. I’d feel ridiculous, showing my stand partner. “Hey, see that guy? He’s always here these days.”
“Yeah, so?”
“He’s my Emotional Support Audience Member. It’s always nice when he shows up.”
Cue the confused, pitying looks that would have them asking if everything was really all right at home.
Yes, everything was just fine, thanks. Chekhov and I were very happy together, even though I was living out the stereotype of the single woman in her 30s, alone in a duplex with a cat. So I contented myself with smiling up at my ESAM whenever he showed up, which was at least once a week.
Or at least, that’s what I told myself until he showed up at my local coffee shop.