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He shouldn't have looked. He shouldn't have peeked, as he was so tempted to do, at the huge crowd of cheering fans, because now the world is spinning and he doesn't know which way is up anymore. A hand appears at his elbow, and it helps, but only a little.
"Woah. You look like shit." Boris comments, digging her claws into him slightly. "What, you're not nervous or anything, are you?"
Of fucking course he's nervous. He's terrified. How could she not be? She's just as new as he is, and every bit as confident as he pretends to be. But she's not. Even now he can tell that she's vibrating with excitement, eager to rush out there and show off. She's so good at it, it makes him look stupid. Just the thought of all those people out there, looking at him, listening to him, judging him….
"I don't feel good." He confesses, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder to steady himself.
”’Don’t feel good’ how?” She asks, scrunching up her nose in disgust. “Are you gonna pass out?”
Nausea floods him suddenly, and all he can do to respond is shake his head, scared that if he opens his mouth to even voice his concerns, he’s going to puke. Unfortunately, shaking his head only seems to make it worse, and he takes a shaky step back, hiccuping involuntarily. He doesn’t even have time to pull his balaclava down. He barely has time to turn his head. Phantom retches violently, reaching for his balaclava as he brings up the meager dinner he’d managed to scarf down a few hours before. The foul mixture gets stuck in the clingy fabric stretched over his mouth, choking him on it and causing him to retch harder at the thought. How Rain had known to be at his side with a bucket, he’d never know, but in the moment, he’s grateful for it.
”Wow dude. That is gnarly.” Boris comments, something just a little cruel in her teasing tone. “Are you gonna do this before every show? Maybe we could still call the other guy, if you can’t hack it.”
”And maybe while we’re at it, we can phone up your littermate and send you back to accounting.” He hears Rain snap. A long fingered hand appears on his back, stroking soothing circles against it. “She’s certainly got a better attitude than you. Why don’t you make yourself useful and get the boy a new balaclava?”
He hears her mumble something under her breath, suddenly sounding less confident as she walks off, but he can’t quite understand her. He’s too busy trying to remove his helmet with shaking hands. Rain puts down the bucket to help him, lifting it up and off his head with ease. It’s just a little too big on him, but he likes the extra room. Gentle hands roll the ruined balaclava over the back of his head, keeping any of the mess from getting into his hair as he peels it off of him. He thinks for a moment that he feels Rain’s pawpads stroke gently through his fur, but he must be imagining things. A hand- too small to be Rain’s- appears at his face, rubbing a baby wipe through the matted fur. Boris is rougher with him, but he doesn’t mind the help. He knows she’s all talk, and that even if no one else is, she’s glad he’s here. Glad it doesn’t have to just be her as the fresh meat.
”The first one is always the worst.” Rain assures him, and Phantom knows he’s not imagining it when the hand on his back slips casually to his waist, holding him gently.
”Here.” Boris huffs, handing him a fresh wipe and the new balaclava as she sinks back to the ground. “You can finish cleaning yourself up. You’re too damn tall.”
”Thank you.” He says weakly, and he finds he means it.
”You’re gonna do great, little shadow.” Rain assures him.
He looks towards Boris, who is already waving off his gratitude and peering once again at the crowd, an eager twitch in her tail. He’s not sure he believes Rain, but he is grateful for his words. Even still, they could never be more comforting than the knowledge that he doesn’t have to do this alone. It’s their first show, and if she fucks up, he’ll give her hell for it just the same.