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The theater, shrouded in a hushed sense of anticipation as the play approached its final moments. The dimmed rows, only illuminated by the stage lights’ soft glow, casting an otherworldly aura. The presence of those around you seems to dissipate into nothingness as your entire focus is drawn to the actors on stage.
you cannot help but be completely mesmerized by the narrative. As the story of love, joy, sorrow, and heartbreak unfolds before your eyes, you become immersed in the magic. Your logical mind surrenders to the tale, allowing you to fully engage with the characters and their world, and you willingly allow yourself to become fully immersed. Your heartbeat slows down during the characters' moments of calm and quickens the moment the storm arrives, as if you were one of them, part of the story, living and breathing the same world. The characters' emotions closely mirror different aspects of life, YOUR life, prompting you to find yourself in each of their movements and words, frustrations, and happiness. Your mind draws parallels to the experiences that have shaped your life, and you know that everyone else in the audience, whose faces are lost to the darkness and serenity of the theater, feels the same way yet so different, each one seeing something else in the story, entirely shaped by their own unique experiences and background.
As you feel yourself being swept into something greater than yourself, experiencing it together yet in solitude, you realize that this is the same sensation that every soul must feel when they are embraced by the mighty bird. It's the feeling that speaks to everybody yet finds personal meaning for each individual. It's a sensation that helps you understand why, since the beginning of history, your kin have been willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of creating art. All in the hope to capture even a fraction of this powerful feeling.
And with each heartbeat, a serene tension builds within you, coiling like a tight rope around your heart. It's a feeling you know well, the prelude to the end. Your mind is so transfixed on the action on stage that it fails to fully comprehend it. Yet, your heart senses the approaching finale, knowing when the final act is near its conclusion when the villain is defeated and the heroes are poised to live happily ever after. It recognizes the moment when the characters dissolve into the nothing they came from, leaving behind the living, breathing individuals that brought them to life for the duration of the play, and who could have absolutely no connection to the characters outside of the play. All of this for the sake of telling a story, whether it be one of humor, tragedy, or something in between.
This tension in your heart, no, in everyone’s heart, rises and rises, your heartbeat slows as you take in the eerie silence of the theater that appears during the few moments between the final sound of the last line, and the bow of the actors, signaling the end of the play. Your mind struggles to accept that it's over, but before you know it, the tension finally snaps, and the spell that held the audience captive dissolves in seconds. The theater erupts into a frenzy of applause and cheers, a storm of admiration and gratitude. The serenity that pervaded moments earlier is now replaced with disorienting euphoria and the sound of your heart beating in your ears, like the dizzying sensation of spinning on a playground carousel while surrounded by the laughter and cheers of those around you. You join in on the thunderous applause, your mind happy to be freed from the dreamlike state of immersion, but your heart still longing to relive the magical serenity of the play. You wonder if fairy tales about being spirited away into another world were inspired by this experience of consented dizziness and delusion.
Rhythm was intimately familiar with the stage: the creaking of the laminated wood floors and the heat of the lights. No matter how different each stage was - whether it was hastily assembled with transferable lamps and boxes or a grand, longstanding stage of the kingdom's arts scene - Rhythm knew that each shared the same quality: the intoxicating high of being the center of attention. The way projectors blinded you and hundreds of eyes burned into you with their gazes, while you became as blinding and burning as a star. Every breath, cough, and blink of the audience dependent on you and your actions. It was terrifying, like riding an untamed manta, it was addictive, like black water, and Rhythm lived for it, chasing the high of being the grand event of the evening, the one for whom it's worthy to travel through realms just to see. Even if it could burn them to ash, Rhythm would rather die burning than live in shadows.
But sometimes, even the center of the universe needed to hide away and let others shine. Now, standing between the audience, as the stage was taken by someone else, Rhythm realized that it was... nice. To simply observe other stars instead of drawing all attention to oneself. Being a part of the story as an observer reminded Rhythm of the serenity that the theater and plays had that pulled them in in the first place. The ability to just exist as a unity of hundreds of other faceless people in the darkness of the audience seating, and observe something together brought back memories of the magic that the theater held and Rhythm’s heart unknowingly longed for. Of course, Rhythm would never give up entirely on being the shining star, but they would certainly seek the serenity of the audience rows again, now that they had been reminded of it.
The grand star of the Rhythm troupe rose to their feet, along with others, squeezed among the loud audience. The sound of their handclaps blended with hundreds of others, creating a chaotic cacophony of celebration and awe. Rhythm could never have imagined that the quiet, serene village they had grown up in and longed to escape as a child to follow their dreams of grandeur, would one day be filled with the bustle and noise of hundreds of people struggling to find a place to stand or sit. Mothers scolded their children to avoid being swept up in the crowd, while street merchants were drawn to the large number of potential customers seeking souvenirs to bring home or something to satisfy their cravings for unhealthy street food, even if they weren't hungry.
All of this was thanks to the small theater located in the farthest corner of the village. No, it was more than that. The theater building itself wasn't particularly exciting unless you were an admirer of handmade structures created with love and passion. It was small, and many of its props were improvised on the spot. Compared to the stages Rhythm had seen and performed on in the capital city or even in the wealthier parts of the Valley, which were covered in delicate golden carvings, built inside walls of marble, and architectural perfection, this stage would fall short even on technical levels.
And yet, the little sitting area around it drowned in numbers of people it wasn’t designed for, and the loud cheers and whistles from the audience were deafening, like those heard at the final competitions held in triumphant coliseums. Because in the end, the stage was just an accessory, a mere backdrop that could only enhance, not create. The real magic that took the crowd by storm was made entirely by the actors, bringing to life a groundbreaking romance story about star-crossed lovers that left the audience teary with a healing heartbreak, playing their characters so well that they became real enough to touch. As the actors took their final bow with flutter and pride, trying to avoid being hit by the countless flowers thrown onto the stage in admiration, Rhythm joined in with the applause and whistles, knowing that while their voice wouldn’t be heard by itself, it will strengthen the cacophony that showed the actors their work was appreciated.
The Rhythm troupe star wasn't only clapping for the actors, but also for those who worked tirelessly behind the scenes. For the overworked and very exhausted stagehand, who was crucial to the success of the play, making sure every single light, every single backdrop, every single sound, and the special effect was at the right place at the right time, allowing the insane immersion the crowd experienced. But most importantly, the star was also clapping for the one who created the story itself. The one who spent countless sleepless nights perfecting the script, getting to know the characters inside and out, and choosing the right actors to bring them to life. This was the director and writer behind the play and the village’s theater itself, affectionately nicknamed "Performance", and the one who was now shying away, coming onto the stage only for the final bow, preferring to give the spotlight to the actors.
Rhythm didn't want to be biased on the grounds of relation. They never were and were quick to offer constructive criticism if they thought that any of their family, both biological and found, needed additional work. But this time, they were truly mesmerized. They had been able to sit through the entire play without a single thought of "this love story is so basic" crossing their mind - a rare occurrence considering their sharp sense of perfection, which they demanded not only of themself but of all those around them. And the fact that the one who wrote and directed the play was their own twin sibling made Rhythm proud. Very proud, in fact. It seems that one single bad review Rhythm anonymously left on one of Performance’s last year’s works, while still tethering the perfectionist theater director, gave them enough motivation to perfect their craft to finally earn Rhythm’s full, honest respect.
Despite usually being the center of attention, Rhythm couldn't help but be happy that their twin took the spotlight this time. Were it not for the giant crowd blocking their path, Rhythm would have run upstage to swipe their sibling into a bearhug, haughtily showing them to everyone so that the people would know what a talented family the star of the Rhythm troupe has.
They couldn’t help but continue clapping and cheering even as the blue curtains gently descended, hiding the actors and Performance from view, marking the end of the play. Rhythm kept clapping even as the crowd dwindled and disappeared into the alleys, on their way back home. The lead of the Rhythm troupe knew that their twin could hear the applause, and they imagined their twin softly chuckling to themselves over Rhythm's antics.
And Rhythm was right. Both annoyed and excited, Performance tried to wrap up the after-play talk and encourage their crew to discuss potential improvements for the next rerun as quickly as possible, eager to go out and meet their twin. Even if they had been apart for a long time, Performance could always recognize when their twin was visiting, no matter if the blue curtains that dimmed the backstage were now closed, hiding the world outside, finally giving the crew a breather.
The theater after closing is an eerie yet comforting place. The silence is deafening, the air is thick with the residual energy of the performance that just took place, and the darkness is only pierced by the bluish dim glow of the few remaining lights that were forgotten to be turned off.
Sitting on the stage, surrounded by rows and rows of empty seats, you can feel the weight of the performance that took place, the emotions that were shared, and the stories that were told. The place feels ghostly in a beautiful way, lonely in a comforting way. In this quiet, serene atmosphere, you can let your mind wander and your thoughts flow freely. The theater walls become an extension of your mind as if the space is inviting you to fill it with your thoughts and imagination. The emptiness of the stage is a canvas waiting to be painted with new stories and performances, even if they are just your own, for yourself, or with someone you trust. In this quiet emptiness, the stage becomes a canvas for one's thoughts and feelings, a place where you can reflect on the play, be it the performance you put up on the stage, or the performance you put on your daily life, hiding the things you would consider ugly inside yourself, putting on the face of a perfect actor, of a character that has no flaws that make us all so human.
It's ironic, that a space designed for constant bustle and life can become the most serene and quiet once left alone.
It’s ironic, that a place designed for performance is where you can become your true self, taking off any mask you have worn, a space where you can be vulnerable and open, where you can show the ugliest parts of you, the ones that scare you or disappoint you the most, and the stage will gently cradle you and take it all, for it is used to host the worst of villains on it as well as heroes, and for it, you are not as despicable as they are. As you feel yourself in this embrace of the solace of the serenity of the silence, you realize that it’s probably what it feels like to be embraced by the mighty bird – where your soul appears as clear as a night after rain, with no hiding or shame, and the bird takes you whole as it is, no matter what you were or what you did, never judging, always loving. No wonder the hurting and sad stay around in the place after closing. All in the hope to capture even a fraction of this comforting feeling.
It's as if the theater is whispering to you, telling you its secrets, and inviting you to share your own. The feeling is both intimidating and exhilarating. The theater feels like a sacred space after closing, a place where anything is possible, where secrets are safe, and where dreams are born.
It's as if the theater is a living entity that feeds off the emotions and stories of those who perform and watch, and when everyone leaves, it is left to bask in the afterglow of the energy, sweat, and tears that filled the place. Sitting on the quiet dim stage, you can't help but feel a sense of awe and gratitude for the beauty that is the theater. The stage may be empty, but it is full of possibility and potential. The serenity of the theater after its closing is a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is beauty to be found.
- “It was amazing! I’ve never felt so much emotion in a romance story before!” the star of the Rhythm troupe gushed, helping their twin pick up the left-over cables and boxes. Performance had sent the stagehand home early as a gesture of appreciation for their hard work, opting to lend a hand and provide them with some much-needed rest before the preparations for the next performance began.
However, the praise went seemingly unnoticed, with Performance not lifting their head a bit. Completely focused on the work, they quietly handed Rhythm another prop they picked up, clearing the stage, as Rhythm continued to blabber about the play, completely unbothered by the fact they almost tripped on a loose cable
- “Honestly, you surprised me, penguin. Who would have thought that a dork like you could take my breath away, and with a love story? Great job! I’m almost proud!” Rhythm continued, teasing their sibling, expecting a light-hearted tease back from them. However, instead, they were met with silence, as if Performance was lost in thought.
– "Hey, are you even listening to me? The brightest star of the traveling troupe is complimenting you. That's not something you get every day! Or did you go deaf from all the clapping and cheering?" Rhythm joked, trying to snap Performance out of their reverie.
Performance suddenly shivered, finally coming back to reality, before realizing they were being talked to.
- “Ah- right, well… You should be complimenting the actors. They really did a great job. I knew I was right at picking Dancer and Storyteller for these roles, they absolutely nailed them.”
Oh, this Performance and their humbleness. How can anyone be a part of the art world if they can’t let themselves bask in well-deserved praise? Rhythm shook their head, unwilling to let Performance downplay their contribution.
- “Well, of course, they were wonderful… but I doubt they would be able to do so well without you writing the script? Come on, bro, you aren’t that amazing, but you need to give yourself some credit when you are!”
- “Mm… my writing wasn’t that great, really. As I said, it’s the others who should be getting the praise, not me. They certainly did more in bringing this play to life…”
Performance answered with a distant and preoccupied tone, their attention seemingly elsewhere as they continued to tidy up the stage. Rhythm fell silent, taken aback by their twin's uncharacteristic response. They had anticipated a light-hearted exchange of teases and banter, but it was clear that something else was occupying Performance's mind, something that was weighing heavily on them, that Rhythm could easily tell.
Rhythm and Performance's bond was unbreakable, and they knew each other like the back of their hand. Before they went their separate ways, the twins were virtually inseparable. The two were rarely seen apart, except during an occasional childish argument, and even then, they quickly reconciled, realizing that the feeling of separation was worse than any dramatic disagreement they could have. This level of closeness meant that Rhythm could read Performance like a book, from their smallest gestures to their slightest changes in tone. Despite the long separation when Rhythm decided to become a traveling performer, while Performance chose the quiet life of a small village theater, the two could still understand each other from miles away.
Naturally, Rhythm could sense the weight on Performance's soul, which caused them to seem distant. Although Performance's face was hidden by their iconic penguin-shaped mask, Rhythm could still sense the sadness in their eyes. Performance had always been reserved, never as boisterous or talkative as Rhythm, preferring to wait their turn to speak instead of interrupting in the middle like their twin, and also tended to be humble when receiving praise, which again, was unlike Rhythm, who loved to bask in the glory of their accomplishments, gloating in any possible chance. But even with that personality in mind, Performance's current quietness and stiffness, as well as their reluctance to accept any compliments, made Rhythm extremely concerned. Something was seriously wrong if, after such a successful play, Performance was feeling blue. The theater’s director’s twin knew they had to do something. As an entertainer, it was their job to make people happy, after all, especially their twin.
Perhaps it was Performance's sadness that stirred a feeling of homesickness within Rhythm despite being miles and miles away from one another, tugging at their heartstrings and reminding them of their quiet village. Despite being on the road with the Rhythm troupe, their soul longed for the comfort of home without their mind even realizing it, which prompted them to decide to come back for a visit.
Regardless of the reason, Rhythm was here, and they had to do something.
- "Well, I suppose we've got everything then. You can head back and rest up now. You've got an early start tomorrow to rejoin the troupe, don't you? Thanks for your help, I appreciate it. It would have taken me much longer on my own. The usual stagehand usually handles this, but they deserve a break after all their hard work. I think I might even give them a raise, haha..."
As if suddenly becoming aware of the distant atmosphere they accidentally created, Performance's sudden chatter seemed like an attempt to lift the somber mood that had settled between them, or maybe an effort to conceal it altogether.
Rhythm wasn’t convinced. Indeed, Performance was better at writing than acting.
Before Performance could take a step towards the exit, they were halted by the sound of Rhythm slamming down the boxes they were carrying onto the stage. The leader of the village theater turned around, confused to see their sibling sitting on the edge of the raised platform. Before Performance could even ask, Rhythm spoke up.
- “You are always such a glum, by the bird!” Rhythm pouted, squinting their eyes. “Always on the schedule. You work, you go home, you wake up, and you work again. How can anyone live like this?!”
Performance was taken aback, raising their brow.
-"I've been like this since we were little. After knowing me for your entire life, literally, you'd think you'd already know that. Not everyone has giant thorns in their butt that don't allow them to stay in one place for long like you, you know?" Performance continued, a small, genuine smile appearing on their lips for the first time that evening.
Rhythm's masked face lit up with a smile, pleased that they had managed to spark some sibling banter between them, just like in the good old days.
-"Well, I may have giant thorns in my butt, but at least I don't rush home as soon as my dear poor twin, whom I haven't seen in months, comes to visit me! Why do you always run away so fast? I know I'm so amazing it’s hard for your mind to grasp, but surely my presence isn't that unbearable!?" Rhythm teased, a mischievous glint in their eye. "Come on, sit with me, and let's catch up! I want to know how the less cool twin is doing." They patted the cold stage beside them, inviting Performance to join.
At that, Performance became silent, seeming unsure about joining their twin. Seeing this, Rhythm tilted their head with concern, already wanting to ask what was wrong, but before any sound escaped them, Performance complied, slowly walking towards Rhythm, putting down the boxes they held with the same loud thud. They sat next to Rhythm with a quiet and heavy sigh. With their twin so close now, the twin of the theater’s director could feel the heaviness and burden that Performance was feeling even stronger.
The stage fell into silence.
The cold breeze of the Valley at night forced a shiver down Rhythm’s spine. They were ashamed to admit it, but it seems that their endless travel to other, much warmer realms, made them grow unused to the cold of the snowy mountains. It wouldn’t be that much of a problem were Rhythm’s inner pride for being a true Valley native that can withstand any cold wasn’t at stake, and the uncomfortable realization that they are growing distant from their home and roots Rhythm didn’t wish to confront, at least not yet.
They leaned back with a sigh, hoping to catch a bit of warmth from the projectors that were yet to grow entirely cold after being turned on for so long, their legs dwindling off the end of the stage. Rhythm peered out into the night sky, taking in the clear view of hundreds of white stars that shone on the deep dark blue colors of the night.
Rhythm could never understand why people called the night skies black. Were one to observe a clear night sky, they would quickly realize that the night sky was a tapestry of blue shades that black could never replicate. The leader of the Rhythm troupe, after spending sleepless nights in true owl fashion, gazing longingly into the distance while lying on the back of their trusty elder bird companion, concluded that the night sky changed shades depending on the realm they were in. In the Valley, for example, the sky was the color of a very ripe fig.
Rhythm realized just then how much they had missed the tranquil shade of the Valley at night and how clear the sky looked. The longing they had felt in their heart was now soothed by the stillness of the theater stage at night, which took on a different kind of serenity after the curtains were drawn and the lights turned off. Even someone who craves the chaos of Broadway shows and the din of the audience could still yearn for the calm and quiet of a little village at night. However, the heavy atmosphere, growing with each passing moment, weighed heavily on both twins like a boulder. The peaceful silence became a deafening one, one that rings unpleasantly in one’s ears.
Performance tried to say something. Anything! They knew their twin was worried for them. They knew that Rhythm could see right through them, and trying to hide their worries would only make things worse. But there was a reason why Performance tried to avoid a conversation. They knew that Rhythm would want to know what was troubling them, and each passing moment of this silence hurt them more and more, but no matter how much the theater’s director tried to open their mouth to speak, no voice came out. There were so many thoughts, so many worries, brewing inside of them, so much so that they couldn’t coherently form a single sentence. So, they had no choice but to keep silent, begging in their heart for forgiveness for making their twin worry. Why couldn’t they just be happy? After all, the two had finally been reunited after a long time apart. They should be celebrating, laughing, and catching up on the news. Instead, Performance's anxieties that kept them up all nights, though giving them more time to work on their plays, had now grown to the point where they had lost the ability to speak. It’s like they were robbed of words with which they were, before this moment, always fluent.
Upon realizing that their twin was not ready to speak up anytime soon, Rhythm decided not to push them further, sensing that Performance was already at their breaking point. Instead, they looked around, searching for anything in the darkness that could help ease Performance's mind, or at least lighten up the mood. Their eyes landed on the closed curtains of deep blue, which reflected the moonlight in shades of calm and serenity.
- “So... why the blue curtains?” Rhythm asked, trying to add some humor to the heavy atmosphere.
Performance, rudely cut away from the inner torment they were putting their mind through, looked up confused, before glancing at the curtains and then back at Rhythm, their confused facade changing into bewilderment. Rhythm pressed on.
- “The curtains… if my memory doesn’t fail me, you always have red ones, to fit the red theme of the village and the red color symbol of the left Valley elder… so why the change? Did the red ones need a wash?” Rhythm let out a forced chuckle, trying to add to the lighthearted mood that was so lacking.
It seemed the comment caused so much confusion in Performance that they snapped from their melancholy, and after a moment, a quiet laugh was heard from them, causing Rhythm to light up in a smile.
- “Ah, THESE curtains? Oh, I’m sorry, I just thought- um… you just sounded SO much like our literature teacher back in school… do you remember her?”
Rhythm immediately sprung up, excited, as the memories of their school years came flooding back
- “Do I remember her? Of course, I do!!! Who could forget her and her ‘Nothing is written for no reason, so the curtains were blue because…’” Rhythm imitated the teacher’s tone to an almost perfect degree, her screechy voice that the two equated to a chicken forever burned into the two’s minds. This caused another burst of laughter from Performance, which Rhythm interpreted as a sign that they were on the right path
- “Oh, yes, this voice and phrase have haunted me for years after I finished school…” Performance shivered, realizing that this teacher, indirectly, still influenced them and the way they approached their work, to this very day.
- “Same here. Do you remember the pages of work she forced us to do just on this topic alone? I mean, who can write 5 pages about freaking curtains!” exclaimed Rhythm
- “Well, you certainly can! I still remember how our parents were called in by the school after you submitted your very, err, extravagant paper on this topic.”
- “The school system was simply unprepared for my genius and sharp tongue.” Rhythm murmured in playful arrogance, puffing their chest and cheeks.
A moment of silence passed, and the two erupted into loud laughter, their voices drowning each other out. Before long, more and more stories were spiled, each story they shared sparking more humor and causing them to almost fall flat on the stage. Eventually, they were left as wheezing messes, their memories of school days causing uncontrollable fits of laughter. The twins were always eager to leave a lasting impression, and back then, they didn't care if it was a bad one.
As the laughter died down and the twins caught their breaths, Rhythm mentally congratulated themselves for finding a way to make Performance smile. They hadn't expected such a positive effect from their random question, but they were glad they could lift their twin's spirits.
- “Well… but you didn’t answer the question: why the blue curtains? Don’t tell me they actually have a meaning here?” Rhythm asked with a smile, but it quickly faded as they saw Performance immediately go quiet again, tension rising to the levels it was before. Internally, Rhythm cursed themselves for always managing to ruin the good things they built moments prior, this time being the good mood that now disappeared as if it was never there.
Performance nervously played with their cape, looking solemnly into the distance, their eyes clouded with blue yet again. After a few heartbeats, they grimly replied.
- “Yes… I think. I- Stagehand told me it would go well with the themes of the play. That it would symbolize… something. That- well… it’s not like I- it’s not like I would know what it was exactly, or even understand.” With a shaking voice, the playwriter finished, their hands gripping their cape with strength that made their knuckles white.
Okay. That’s it.
Rhythm tried to come to the root of the problem gently and accurately, to not accidentally hurt their twin further. However, the situation was rapidly deteriorating and if Rhythm didn't take bold and direct action at that moment, it would only worsen. With determination, they gripped Performance's shoulder and gently squeezed it, although Performance refused to make eye contact.
- “No, no, this isn't how things are going to go. I won't tolerate seeing you feeling like a soaked pathetic blue curtain, drowning in whatever you've decided to drown in. And now that I’m holding you, making sure that you can’t just run away, you're going to tell me precisely what happened. Actually, no, you know what? Forget that - please at least explain what, by the darkness, you meant by what you just said???”
Performance trembled, a shiver running down their spine. A part of them wanted to get up and leave, but another, larger part wanted to stay. The part of them yearned to let out all of the frustrations, disappointments, and fears that had been troubling them for the past few months. However, Performance's tongue seemed to have forgotten how to form words.
- “Bro…” Rhythm gently called out, attempting to console their twin enough to get them to speak. “Please don’t play the quiet game with me… you know I hate those! It doesn't matter if you struggle, stammer, or stutter... just please talk to me. I promise I won't judge you, no matter what's happened. I just want to help.”
Performance took a deep breath, followed by another. One heartbeat passed, then another. Finally, they slowly turned their head toward their twin, but their eyes remained averted. They knew they had to say something. They had to say something.
- “… Rhythm… do you… do you ever feel like- like you are deceiving people? Like you are presenting things to the crowd that isn’t true? That you don’t truly feel?”
There was a silent pause as Performance's sibling processed the information. They furrowed their brows, attempting to grasp what their twin was trying to convey.
- “I- well, I wouldn’t call it lying, since… isn’t the entire point of stage play and performance to put on a fake persona? A character that doesn’t exist, to play out events that never happened?”
Rhythm responded, trying to understand Performance's dilemma.
- “Yes, of course, it is the point, I know that! But...but it's different for me. Like..." Performance trailed off, frustrated and exhausted, burying their face in their hands. "What I mean is... isn't it untruthful for me to write entire plays about things that I've never experienced myself? To draw crowds to a performance that has no true experience or feeling behind it? To sell it as a story that can touch hearts when my heart never beat in this experience?”
Rhythm moved back a bit, still trying to comprehend what their twin was getting at. A moment passed, and then another. A heartbeat passed, and then another.
- “Well...what do YOU feel when you are writing those stories?” Rhythm finally asked.
- “That's...that's the thing,” Performance replied, their voice sounding subdued. “When I write, I feel so...happy. So alive. My words flow from my pen and I take great pleasure in it...seeing the characters go through these experiences makes me giddy with excitement, my heart beating in anticipation. When I SEE those characters on stage, going through the events I wrote, I feel euphoria. But... when I imagine myself in these situations? In all of these scenarios, that I stay up all night to write? I just feel nothing. Not even a single skipped heartbeat. Just... complete indifference...”
Rhythm hummed, trying to grasp what the issue was. Was there something they were missing?
- “Perhaps that's why you excel as a director rather than an actor. Some people are better at writing about experiences they haven't had, rather than living them. I'm willing to bet that most authors who've written the adventure books we’ve read as kids haven't actually explored jungles and forgotten temples. It's normal, and it doesn't make you dishonest, just a skilled writer- “
- “BUT DOESN’T IT MAKE ME A HYPOCRITE TO WRITE ABOUT LOVE WHEN I NEVER FELT IT AND PROBABLY NEVER WILL?!?!”
Rhythm instinctively moved away from their twin as they let out this cry, filled with anger, disappointment, and sadness. The cry reverberated through the empty theater halls, carried away by the wind into the night. A few birds, nestled in their sleep, fluttered away from the roofs of nearby houses, disturbed.
A tense silence fell over the space, palpable and thick.
Then, a quiet sob broke through the stillness. And another. Rhythm blinked in surprise, taken aback.
In an instant, they reached out and removed Performance's penguin mask, revealing drops of blue pooling in their eyes before falling down their cheeks as they let out another shaky sob. Acting on instinct, Rhythm discarded their own mask and drew their twin into a tight embrace, allowing them to silently shake and cry into their shoulder.
oh.
OH.
So many things started to make sense now. Both about the present and the past.
The two set silently like that for a short, or maybe long while. Both couldn’t tell, each lost in their thoughts, Performance trying to calm the inner storm that was brewing inside them and finally spilled out, and Rhythm running through recounting of the hundreds of times they gushed about all the pretty boys and girls around them, expecting their twin to join in, only to be met with awkward silence or indifference.
In the past, Rhythm had assumed that Performance was simply more focused on work than on dating, but now they realized that it was much deeper than that. They had to come up with something, anything, to answer. They wanted to say something to comfort their twin, to reassure them, but their mind was racing with too many thoughts and they didn't know where to begin. As a performer, clown, an entertainer, Rhythm was used to making light of situations, always ready with a joke or a witty comment, which meant that sometimes, it made it hard for them to find the right words when the situation was clearly not one for joking around. It broke their heart, to see Performance this way, and it broke even more when Rhythm failed to find any words, with which they were usually fluent.
Over time, Performance's quiet sobs subsided, replaced by shaky breaths and dry coughs. They felt embarrassed by their outburst, ashamed that they had let their emotions get the best of them. They hadn't meant to ruin what should have been a night of celebration with this grim confrontation of their inner torment that had been eating away at them ever since a well-meaning fan had asked if they based the characters' feelings in their plays on their own experiences. It was then that the theater's director had come to a terrifying realization that they had never truly felt those feelings they were so eagerly writing about themselves. And now, here they were, crying like a child in the arms of their twin who had traveled miles just to see them. And for what? For them to be burdened with Performance’s own struggles and insecurities? They were sure Rhythm had enough problems as it is.
Embarrassing.
But also… strangely comforting. As they sat there in near silence, with their masks off and the cool night wind on their face, they felt a weight lifted off their shoulders. It was a feeling of serenity that only came after finally letting go of something that had been weighing on them for so long. It was like the relief of submitting a long paper that had been causing anxiety or the relief of finally facing a dreaded interview. It was the feeling of finally speaking out about the worries that had been eating away at them and allowing themselves to break down and confront those feelings head-on. And with Rhythm there to hold them as they cried, it was all the more comforting.
Sitting by their sibling's side, allowing themselves to be comforted, brought back memories for Performance of all the times they had sat like this before. Yes, most of their days were filled with sibling rivalry and teasing insults, each trying to prove to the other who was the better twin, but moments of intimate serenity like this were also present. Even as babies, their older siblings would tell stories of the two huddling together as much as they could, like penguin or owl chicks cuddling for warmth.
When Performance had their first breakdown after sleepless nights working on perfecting their craft, their twin held them.
When Rhythm had their heart broken for the first time, their twin held them.
When their parents passed away… they held each other.
It always felt comforting, to have someone that has been by your side ever since you took your first breath.
As they sat together at that moment, both realized how much they missed this during the long periods of being apart.
Performance heaved a deep sigh, clearing their throat and pulling away from their twin. They averted their eyes in shame and wiped the remaining tears from their cheeks. Rhythm continued to look at them with shared sadness, and the theater director realized that their twin was waiting for them to continue talking. But Performance just wasn't sure what else they could say. How could they explain to someone who seemed to fall head over heels for every person they met, what it was like to experience what they were going through?
After a moment of silence, Performance finally spoke up.
-"And that's... that's what I meant when I said I can't understand the meaning behind the blue curtains," they said in a sorrowful tone, their eyes fixed on the blue curtains that waved slightly in the wind. "It's supposed to symbolize something for this play about love! It's supposed to symbolize LOVE! But I can't... I can't truly grasp it. How can I, when I, myself, can't love?”
Performance bit their lip, trying to hold back the tears that welled up in their eyes again. Another dreadful moment of silence passed, and the theater director nervously fiddled with their cape. Shame washed over Performance as they caught a glimpse of their twin's face - their eyebrows furrowed in contemplation, their worried eyes reflecting Performance's sorrowful pose. For a moment, Performance hated themselves for making their twin so concerned. It was selfish, they thought. Today was supposed to be the best day ever - a successful play that they had put so much sweat and tears into, a large crowd that recognized the actors’ work, and their twin returning home. They should be grateful for their wonderful life, but instead, they were acting like the most miserable person in the kingdom.
Performance fidgeted nervously, their eyes darting around as they tried to come up with a way to extricate themselves from the conversation.
- "I'm sorry, forget it," they stammered, "I didn't mean to ruin the night. It was just a long day, too much coffee, you know how it is. Just… forget it." They started to rise from their seat.
- “It’s not true.” Rhythm interjected, grabbing Performance's shoulder to stop them from leaving.
- “W- huh?”
- “What you said about not being able to love. It couldn’t be farther from the truth.”
Performance could see the sadness in their twin's eyes, but also a glimmer of determination to prove them wrong.
Performance sighed. They knew Rhythm wouldn’t understand. They shouldn’t have brought all of this in the first place. Their sibling wanted to help, but they would just make it worse. Trying to free themselves from Rhythm’s grasp, they muttered with frustration.
- “You don’t understand, I really do not- “
- “No, no, I understood completely. I know what you are talking about. And yet, I am ready to bet 10 candles that what you said isn’t true. But first of all, calm down and sit still.”
Performance was taken aback and confused, ceasing their attempts to free their shoulder and rise. Observing this, Rhythm cautiously released Performance's shoulder, taking a deep breath to gather their thoughts. Finally, they spoke.
- “Bro… look around and tell me, what do you see?”
Performance furrowed their brow and scanned the empty theater, unsure of what Rhythm was getting at. But the only thing that was around was the cold stage on which they were sitting and the audience area, now empty like a ghost town.
- “I… see the theater? And the sitting area… that’s all.”
- “Exactly. Now, how many people were here during the performance?” Rhythm pressed.
- “Um… a lot? I think we sold around 350 tickets.”
- “Yea dude, that was A LOT! Especially for this little village. Heck, the last time there were so many people was when the Valley elders came for a visit to congratulate our niece on the skating show in the coliseum.”
- “Well, yeah, okay, but what is your point?” Performance replied, still confused.
- “What I’m leading to…” Rhythm straightened their posture and made eye contact with Performance “is that no show can attract so many people to such a remote place unless it exudes pure, genuine LOVE. Nothing. People would rather stay at home, most of the time… and yet, there is an energy that pulls them into a place, a play, or an event, and this energy is love. Only love.”
Performance squinted their eyes in confusion, struggling to grasp what Rhythm was trying to convey.
- “Of course, it is, I know that. I think that’s one of the reasons why the plays about love are the most popular ones, but I can assure you no real love was in “
- “I don’t mean the love between the characters, dummy!” Rhythm cut them off mid-sentence, frustrated.
- “I mean- by the bird, I mean the love of the whole performance. I mean the love of the carefully written lines, the love behind every handmade costume, the love behind the cleaned stage and painted backgrounds, the love behind every single detail and alteration!
Listen, I have been to many shows. Some of them, even on the biggest of stages and grandest theaters, were put on simply for the sake of the show, to give the stuck-up rich a reason to get out of their mansions sometimes. And these shows were so boring most would fall asleep in the middle, including me. No passion, just rehearsed lines. But when the show was made of love… when in a play you could feel how much the actors enjoyed it, and how much attention every single aspect got out of pure passion, you feel it. You can’t take your eyes away because you FEEL it. And today, while looking at your play, I could feel it too. And I can vouch for every single other who had been here, that they felt it just like me. There was love, true love, not only the one shown between the characters and in lines of fluttery but in every single dust particle that was seen in the projector’s lights. It was there. And it means that it was made with love. This means that YOU, without whom this whole theater wouldn’t even exist, love. You love your job, you love the sleepless nights of writing your scripts for comedy plays despite how hard it is for you to think of punchlines, you love your crew and actors, you love helping them rehearse their lines again and again, you love giving directions and finding just the right intonation in which a line should be said. You love, you love!”
Performance was at a loss for words, not sure how to respond to Rhythm's passionate speech. Rhythm didn't give them a chance to speak anyway, continuing to make their point.
- “What, you don’t believe me? Okay! Here are some more examples, then!” Rhythm exclaimed, riling up. “You love to go to the Saturday market, sometimes just to watch the little trinkets and handmade knickknacks the local masters make. You love to slide down snowy slopes and collect weird-shaped rocks, and you love a very specifically prepared fish dish, and you love music and trying out different instruments even if you are bad at playing them. You love- no, you are OBSSESED with coffee, able to identify where the beans were grown and their age just by the aroma! Who knows, maybe you'll even marry a cup of espresso one day!"
Rhythm laughed shortly and continued, despite being out of breath.
- “You love to wake up early to prepare sandwiches for your crew to make sure that they don’t get hungry. You love giving inspirational speeches for your actors, giving them countless tongue twisters you remember by heart to warm up their tongues for their lines, and you love working with Dancer on their stage anxiety, and you love whispering Storyteller the lines when they forget them, and you love to constantly pester Musician so that they show up on time, and you love to stay up late to help Stagehand with their work so that they won’t have too much on their shoulder even though it’s their job, and- and! And you love this! You love THEM!”
Almost yelling the final line, Rhythm threw their hands up in the air, their emotions exaggerating their movements. As Rhythm was catching their breath, calming down, Performance could only stare blankly with awe and surprise.
Rhythm took a deep breath and continued in a softer tone,
- “And you know what else? They love you too. All of them. They appreciate you and your hard work, and they wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. You created something beautiful here, and it's all because of your love for this craft and the people involved in it.”
Performance stayed still for a moment, their mind barely able to grasp the amount of very specific details that their twin, who had been away for so long, was recounting so perfectly. All the little things that Performance LOVED were being mentioned, and it was almost surreal to hear them all being remembered so accurately. A gentle feeling of warmth and understanding started to spread in their chest, bringing the so-needed serenity to the director, and a slight smile of genuine happiness and awe appeared on their lips. However, despite this newfound sense of comfort, the fears and self-doubt that had built up in Performance's heart still lingered, refusing to let go of the sweet home they made in their heart.
- “If you weren't my twin, I'd say you were stalking me with all this information…” Performance chuckled, both siblings knowing what it's like to have over-enthusiastic fans.
-“If I weren't your twin, I wouldn't be here trying to prove a point to my grump of a sibling," Rhythm replied with a mischievous grin. Performance sighed, closing their eyes.
- “I- It’s truly nice to hear you know me so well, despite all the time we spend apart… and yes, I love many things. But… I mean… the love I feel for those things is not the same as the love I'm trying to portray in my plays, you know..." Performance trailed off.
- “By the bird” Rhythm groaned “You need to go outside more if you think that that’s how this type of love looks like in real life.”
Performance grumbled in shame and opposition, as their twin rolled their eyes and continued.
- “Listen, as someone who's been in many romantic relationships--"
- “No need to gloat,” Performance interrupted.
- “Shut up, I'm on a roll here,” Rhythm retorted. “Anyway, what I’m saying is that no relationship looks the way it’s portrayed in any play, even those that are written by the most hopeless romantics out there. Even more, no romantic relationship looks like the other! So, what if your love doesn’t look or feel the same way as the love of others? No love does!
Performance’s face twitched in bewilderment, their eyes wide open.
- “Wait… you want to tell me… then- how can you even tell if love is romantic or not???”
Rhythm chuckled, patting the back of their twin.
- “You are starting to get it, buddy. The truth is- you can’t! Every single one of them is so different because love is such a personal and intimate feeling it is impossible to put it accurately into certain boxes with labels on them. An abstinent monk would see handholding as an outrageous display of romantic feeling, while for others it would simply be a sign of platonic affection. It’s only up to each person to decide what their love is and what kind of relationship they have. I’ve seen people raising children together and yet never calling each other romantic partners. Love comes in so many, strange and beautiful shapes and forms that to try and say that one love is more important than another is stupid.”
Performance took in their twin's words and felt the warmth of serenity grow stronger within them, burning away the dark roots of doubt and sadness they had been feeling. They brought their knees to their chest, finally relaxing their tense back and shoulders.
Rhythm chuckled, seeing the change in Performance's demeanor.
- “So yea, you absolutely can tell the meaning behind the blue curtains! it may not be the same meaning that Stagehand saw, but frankly, every other person who saw these curtains surely thought a different thing. Because there is not one single correct way for anything, be it love or examination. Unlike what our teacher had thought back then when I submitted that paper…”
Performance smiled at their sibling’s antics, letting the cold breeze dry the remains of their sweat and tears that have built up from the conversation. The quiet went from an oppressing one into a serene one, bringing balm on the wounds in the theater’s director’s soul. The blue curtains swayed gently in the moonlight, casting shadows on the floor.
- “I never considered it from that perspective," Performance said, their voice soft and thoughtful.
Rhythm grinned, enjoying the lighter mood.
- "Yeah, I could tell from the tears and snot on my shirt."
Performance playfully smacked their twin's shoulder, trying not to laugh.
- "You comfort me, then shame me? That's not fair."
Rhythm chuckled.
- "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just don't want to wash this shirt again, but I guess I have no choice now."
The two shared a nostalgic chuckle, before both laid down on their backs on the chilly stage, gazing up at the brightly shining stars against the deep dark blue canvas of the night sky.
- "I guess... other than being scared, I was, and maybe still am, disappointed," Performance spoke wistfully, stretching out their hand to the stars as they did since childhood. "I just... I remember when I was a child and how I would go to every possible play about romance, even if, thinking about it now, most of them were pretty bad."
- "Yeah, I remember how you dragged me to every possible play of that Romia and Julio story," Rhythm hummed.
- "Exactly. I don't know why, but when I saw the actors acting out these stories, it made me so... excited. Happy. It warmed a certain place in my heart and made me feel butterflies in my stomach," Performance continued. "I would smile so wide at the finale when the two lovebirds could finally kiss, after a long torment of the narrative. The idea of someone being ready to cross the entire world and go through horrors just for someone else inspired me. So... I believed that if I were to experience this myself, it would be even better. I was really looking forward to it, you know? For that special one to appear in my life and sweep me off my feet... but it never came, and might never come.”
Rhythm stretched out a bit, their eyes reflecting the hundreds of white dots in the sky.
- “I understand," Rhythm said softly. "You were hoping for a love story like the ones you saw on stage, and it never happened. It's okay to feel disappointed. But it’s just how it is. Sometimes life is disappointing. We can’t get everything we want, even if we really, really, want it. It’s just a thing we have to accept. It doesn’t mean we can’t still be passionate about something, though. I mean… just think about it. Maybe in our generation, the astrologists and space scientists have an actual possibility of one day going up there, close to the stars, with all the insane darkstone technology that gets invented every day… but in the past? These people looked every night at the stars knowing very well they would never touch them, never look at them from up close… and still, they studied them and viewed them loyally, their love for them stronger than the limitations. I think this can be applied to anything in our lives…"
Performance nodded, their hand still reaching out to the stars.
- "I just feel like I'm missing out on something special. The idea of someone being willing to do anything for someone else, to cross oceans and go through hardships just to be with them..."
Rhythm smiled.
- "You know, that kind of love exists in all kinds of relationships, not just romantic ones. You have friends who would do anything for you, a family who loves you unconditionally… I just know Dreams and Sparkler would send someone to Megabird early if they messed with you. Even after all these years, we are still their ‘little baby bros’. And I would do the same too. The only one who gets to be a nuisance in your life is me.”
- “But what if someone falls for me, and I won’t be able to return those feelings? I don’t want to hurt anyone…” Performance sighed, finally returning their stretched-out hand to their chest.
Rhythm sat up, laughing.
- "Hold up, why do you think would anyone want to date you?"
- "Wow, what a compliment," Performance replied sarcastically, but with an amused tone.
- "But even if someone did, it's not your responsibility to control their feelings. No one owes anyone mutual love, even if the other person has genuine feelings or attraction. Look at me, for example. I'm desired by a significant portion of the kingdom's population-"
- "Oh please, spare us your modesty," the theater director interrupted, dripping with sarcasm. "I shudder to think how many people with no taste must exist in this kingdom to consider someone like you a suitable partner."
-"Stop being jealous, dear penguin. What I was saying is that if I tried to return the feelings of every single person who loved me, I would exhaust myself. There's only so much of me to go around, you know."
Rhythm smirked playfully before adding,
- “And who knows, maybe you'll find someone who loves you for who you are, quirks and all, in a way you can return the feeling.”
As the blue curtains waved, creating a soft background noise of cloth and jingle of metallic parts that held them, Performance let out a deep sigh of relief, as the serenity of the theater and reassurance set in completely, getting rid of all the worries and fears that thrived in their heart.
- "Thank you, Rhythm. You always have a way of making me feel better."
Rhythm grinned.
- "Of course, that's what I'm here for. Who else would put up with your dramatics?"
Performance rolled their eyes playfully.
- "I can't believe that such a clown like you can talk so seriously about things."
- "Well, the greatest philosophers were always the jesters in the king's court. Besides, of course, as the older one, I’m more mature. Oh, how I remember the time when I was YOUR age, still worried about stuff like this… but I have grown up since~"
- “Excuse me??? When YOU were MY age? You mean 2 minutes ago?!”
Another round of chuckles was heard, as the two were ignoring the chills on their backs from the cold stage, basking in the calm of the night, Performance felt their heart beat freely with their twin by their side. Even on the cold stage, the presence of their sibling warmed them, and they realized how much they needed moments like this to simply talk or be in each other's company. Both of their lives were filled with chaos and noise, often losing themselves in the hustle and bustle of their respective troupes. It was only in the presence of their twin that Performance found true peace of mind.
- “You know what? I missed this,” Performance finally spoke, breaking the silence.
Rhythm turned their head to Performance, surprised. Performance smiled gently and continued.
- “All this. Just… lying on the stage at night after a crazy day, switching between roasting each other and discussing philosophical topics that would leave anyone dumbfounded about how we do it… there's a certain feeling to it. The feeling that I can trust you and take off my mask, literally and figuratively. I missed it, and I can’t believe it took you physically being here and me breaking down in front of you to realize it.”
- “Slow down there, bro,” Rhythm's voice quivered, their eyes softening. “You’re going to make me tear up! We’ve had enough tears for tonight, haven’t we?”
Performance scoffed but continued to smile.
- “But... yeah. I missed it too. I love my troupe, they are like a family to me, but... as much as I'm open with them, it's just not the same, you know? Only our older sibling, Director, maybe knows me as well as you do. It’s hard for anyone to compete when we’ve been together since conception.”
Rhythm's smile widened, as they caught a happy glimmer in their twin's eyes.
- "I don't know how you do it," Performance said. "Traveling to different realms all the time. I don't think I could ever do that."
Rhythm shrugged.
- "You know me and the giant thorns up my butt. I can't live without it. I'm a free bird. But just like a migrating bird, my heart always leads me back home, to my nest, in the end. And you know, I always come back to you, don't I?"
Performance nodded
- "Yeah, you do. And I'm grateful for that. I just wish you were around a bit more. It would save me a lot of worries, I think."
Rhythm chuckled in amusement.
- "It's nice to have a personal therapist that will remind you that your brain is just being mean to you, isn’t it?"
- "Absolutely. And, um... If you need an overworked, coffee-addicted therapist too, I'm here. Will always be here."
Rhythm's eyes twinkled with genuine care.
-"I'll keep that in mind. And I'm glad to know there will always be someone waiting for me, no matter how long it takes... It grounds me, even when my life is a storm."
The two bumped their fists, with appreciation smiles plastered on their faces.
- "And, about being around more… You know what? Maybe I’ll stay for more here this time," Rhythm said, already determined in their choice despite framing the decision like a question.
-"Wait, really? But don’t you have an early boat express to catch tomorrow?" Performance asked, surprised.
"Yeah, but it’s already very late, and knowing me, I will just oversleep. So why not simply stick around? Our troupe is on hiatus anyway. They can live a few days without me…”
Performance’s eyes lit up with happiness at the thought of spending more time together, making up for lost time, and actually enjoying the reunion instead of wasting it on tears.
- “I’d love to have you around as long as possible. But as much as I enjoy lying here with you, we should probably head home. I’m starting to feel a little frozen.”
- “Ha! Look at that, a Valley native feeling cold?”
- “Oh, and you’re one to talk! You’re shivering like a featherless manta!”
The twins got up, continuing their playful banter as they made their way to Performance’s home, leaving behind the tears and secrets that they had shared on the stage, allowing the theater to absorb their emotions like it always did.
The curtains fluttered in the wind as if bidding them farewell.
The curtains were blue.