Chapter Text
The faint clack of dress shoes create a steady beat in time with the main star’s heartbeat. Pacing helps a lot, especially with remembering lines and finding the right pitch or vocalizing while rehearsing. This habit formed isn’t innate, it’s borrowed. Like the rest of his luck that created this musical career of his. Dainty and slim fingers press against the crisp white linen covering his diaphragm as his steady voice dances up and down along the scale beautifully. They meet his healthy dark locks, now fringed to fit his character for this musical, to shake off the mild nervousness in his system. It’s opening night after all.
The steady beat of his shoes clacking against the wooden floor speeds like his breath, like a metronome going haywire until his feet halt adjacent to each other. His pretty hands decked in rings tremble over his midsection, the nervousness growing inside until he drops both hands to his sides. One of them hits the edge of the chair clumsily, distracting him from the jitters and focusing on the pain shooting up to his elbow. He flops on the culprit of a chair and checks his hand for any signs of bruising, shaking it loosely as if it will dismiss the purpling spot.
Our main star drapes his other arm over his eyes dramatically, sinking in his seat with a deep frown. Stop haunting me. “I said stop haunting me!” He says louder to no one, the silence of his dressing room mocking him for this constant misery. His dainty fingers meet his beady puppy eyes, rubbing them slowly before blinking several times, and seeing his reflection in the mirror ahead. “Byun Baekhyun, what’s wrong with you?” He asks himself in disbelief.
Baekhyun rests his elbows on the table and runs his hands over his bare face, patting his soft cheeks to get a grip and focus on the musical. At the same time, he chants stop haunting me to himself until a knock on the door startles him out of his self-hypnosis.
“Baek, get your makeup done. It’s almost showtime.” A tall, prince-like guy with slender, long legs to envy enters the dressing room like it’s his, comfortably making his way to our main star and squeezing his shoulders to loosen up. “What’s wrong?” He instantly reads Baekhyun from the mirror, tilting his chin up to see those alluring eyes better.
“Why does this happen every opening night, Sehun?” Baekhyun mumbles, throwing his head back to rest on the elder’s stomach with his eyes closed. “It’s been years.” Sehun’s arms wrap around Baekhyun automatically, absorbing all the negativity and passing his own good energy. “I’m going crazy. How many productions has it been? I can’t shake it out of my system.”
“Maybe you’re not shaking it off hard enough,” Sehun teases, aware of Baekhyun’s repetitive pre-show anxiety formed at the onset of his career. No one’s perfect after all, not even the most sought-after musical talent like Baekhyun. “Maybe it’s the universe telling you something.”
“Like what? Like he’ll be there in the crowd tonight after years of hiding from me?” Baekhyun verbalizes his delusion, sighing deeply when Sehun smiles sympathetically. “I’d rather fall off the stage.”
“Don’t say that. We need you for the next shows lined up. I’m not performing without you, you know that. It’s you and me forever onstage, Baekhyun. We have to defend our couple award yearly.” Sehun shakes him lightly, successfully making Baekhyun crack a smile. “Oh? What’s that? Is that a smile?” He pulls Baekhyun’s cheeks to widen the smile, inflicting pain rather than happiness. “That’s it, smile. Wider! Your character’s meant to be ridiculously happy. That’s how the producer wants it.”
“Philip is foolishly happy. He forces himself to think he’s happy with his life, but he’s miserable inside without knowing it. How many times does Philip get taken advantage of by the other characters? Nine! It’s like he doesn’t learn and just does as told, thinking it’s good for him. It’s not; being some puppy to someone never brings any good!” Baekhyun pokes Sehun, who plays Trevor, and criticizes the script on his table.
“Which is why Philip’s perfect for you. Back in college, weren’t you that kind of puppy to…” Sehun dumps a sack of salt over Baekhyun’s wounded being and rubs it all over him, inflicting more damage to the younger’s unresolved heartache without even finishing his question. He knows what he just did, not even an ounce sorry because this is what Baekhyun needs. He kisses the top of Baekhyun’s head and leaves him to internalize and meditate, his mission to calm the main star now accomplished.
Big problems called for big solutions. That’s why Sehun got out of his dressing room upon hearing that his co-star refused to get ready when it was an hour before showtime. The hallway parted for Oh Sehun to walk on, stern as ever with a mission to get Baekhyun focused. So when he saw Sehun from the door, he knew he was being a burden to everyone.
He lowers his head upon realizing this truth and Sehun’s words, closing his eyes as he brings his hands together, imagining someone else holding it out of pathetic misery. Yes, he needs to realize that he’s been fine on his own, more than fine in fact, and get the show started. Whoever Sehun implied doesn’t have to be around for Baekhyun to be amazing tonight, he’s been amazing on his own, and with Sehun. Who needs that ghost from the past anyway?
Yet, this bravery only lasts until Sehun leaves and closes the door. Baekhyun’s hands shake once again, choked by the lump in throat until he sniffles. I do. I still need you. And every bit of this life reminds me of you. Where are you, Chanyeol? Can you see me from where you are? I’m already a shining star like you wished. Are you proud of me? “Please. Please tell me you’re proud of me one more time, Chanyeol.”
They say being on top can be lonely, for it only has room for one and no one else, just like being under a spotlight. What’s next after reaching the peak? Baekhyun doesn’t know. He hears everyone, the world, tell him praises and puts him on a pedestal in this ambitious industry, but he never felt the recognition nor found meaning in those words. To him, he just needs to perform until his body surrenders in hopes that one day, his best friend would see him. That’s the only praise he’ll take.
“Sehun, should we go in?” The head of the makeup team asks the musical actor blocking the door, glancing at her coworkers and the other actors around.
“Give him five more minutes.” Sehun hears Baekhyun’s anguished sobs through the door, sharing the same longing.
“It's true then. Baekhyun has terrible opening night anxiety.” Someone gossips, sending an awkward air in the hallway as Sehun glares at them. People can only guess where Baekhyun’s actions stem from, not the entire story. It’s not anxiety, but trauma…of Park Chanyeol’s sudden disappearance, who promised to be there when Baekhyun finally reaches his stars.