Chapter Text
The net had been tampered with, he was sure of it. Not a single practice had failed, not even the ones where he purposefully messed up. The net always caught him. Always. It was unacceptable for him to fall. Someone loosened it, somewhere, somehow. He didn’t know how that was possible, but it had to have happened.
It was just like last time.
Lyney frowned as he stumbled through the doors of their dressing room, catching himself on the doorframe with unsteady hands, pushing past the entrance to plant his hands on the vanity.
Lynette had convinced him he’d need to trust a stagehand again sometime in the future. They couldn’t keep doing everything by themselves. It was spreading them too thin, making them too scatterbrained, trying to keep track of everything, it was simply too much. And so he’d taken on a girl named Penelope, sweet and seemingly diligent, very excited to work with them and genuinely handy with the tasks they gave her too…
Today was her first real show with them. And the net had been tampered with.
The fall hadn’t hurt nearly as much in the moment as the spike of hot anxiety in his chest had. That moment of breathlessness as you realize everyone is staring at you and this wasn’t at all planned and you somehow need to salvage the situation within the next one and a half seconds because this wasn’t supposed to happen.
Lyney closed his eyes and tried to force a deep breath into his lungs. The smell of pyrotechnics was still stuck in his nose, burning his airways, making his head flare up. He couldn’t tell which cheek that teardrop was on again. He couldn’t see it in the mirror. He didn’t remember.
“Lyney!” Lynette exclaimed, bursting through the doorway after him, by his side in a second. She laid a hand on his shoulder and he hissed upon impact. She pulled it away as if burned. “You need to sit down.”
“I need to talk to Penelope,” Lyney said, still frowning at the vanity. If he looked anywhere else, that nauseating feeling might creep back onto him from behind and he could not have himself throwing up when Lynette was around, he simply couldn’t.
“No, you-” Lynette cut herself off with a soft gasp, cold fingers finding their way to the side of his head, shifting his hair out of the way, “you’re bleeding.”
“I’m-” Lyney carefully lifted his head, slow and steady, or so he tried. He caught sight of what he supposed was his reflection, if the tall blur of black on top of blond was anything to go by. Somewhere between the glitter on his face and the pink stained bangs that fell across his head, gleaming red trickled down the side of his cheek. It was no use trying to find that teardrop now, “-bleeding?”
The moment the word left his mouth, it’s as if some kind of spring had come loose, a release of his act, the shattering of his mask. He was bleeding. That felt about right. Maybe that was why his head was pounding so much. Maybe that was why his heart wouldn’t stop racing and his shoulder wouldn’t stop burning at the slightest of movements.
The vague silhouette of his own reflection tilted to the side and the moment he blinked, bright lights squinted down at him.
What… No. Can’t let them see. Cut the lights. Cut the lights, they can’t see, please, they’re too bright-
Something collided with his cheek, first softly, feverishly, as if trying to pat powder onto them, then harsher. A sharp smack made his head flinch to the side and made him snap out of his thoughts.
“-eyes open, please. It’ll be just fine, just don’t move okay, but keep them open. Don’t close them. Stay awake for me. Penelope, call for emergency services, tell them it’s urgent. Thank you. That’s it, stay awake. Lyney. Lyney?”
Another smack, albeit softer this time, made him realize he’d, in fact, closed his eyes again. The lights were just so bright. He couldn’t hear the audience's reaction but he doubted he looked suitable to grace the public eye right now. He didn’t even have his hat, the cold air brushing the top of his head without its usual protection.
A sluggish hand trailed up to feel the crown of his head, just to make sure. Nope, it wasn’t there. Where was it then?
“Where’s my hat?” Lyney mumbled, patting his hair, scrunching up his nose as his fingers came into contact with something sticky.
Another hand caught his wrist, guiding it back down. That hurt. Moving it up had hurt a little bit but moving it down somehow hurt a lot. Lyney let out a pained gasp, pulling his arm free from their hold.
“Don’t touch that, just stay still, okay? Lyney? Are you with me?”
Lyney blinked as he tried to make out the shape in front of him. It hung in front of his vision, blocking the direct assault of the lights, making his eyebrows unfurl slightly. Blond hair tickled his cheek, ears flicked softly at the top of his vision, familiar violet eyes stared at him with an uncharacteristic amount of worry.
“Lynette?” Hh asked, just to be sure. He believed their stagehand was a brunette, and Freminet always wore a hat so his ears wouldn’t show. Wait…
“Yeah, it’s me. Can you hear me?”
Ah, okay. No need to ponder further then. Lyney hummed an affirmative noise, eyes darting back and forth between her features. Some kind of blur marred her cheek. It was kind of purple-y and not at all something a person would naturally have, not even as a birthmark. Then again, birthmarks came in many varieties...
“‘re you hurt?” he asked, squinting at the mark, trying to get the outlines to stop morphing so strangely back and forth.
“What? Me? No, you’re the one who’s hurt.”
“You h’ve a… bruise. On your face.”
“Hm? Oh... Don’t worry, that’s just make-up. I’m alright.”
Lyney hummed in satisfaction. That was good. Still, that stagehand, Pen… Penny? Penne… well- her. She couldn’t be trusted. She’d tampered with the net. She’d made him fall. It wouldn’t be so strange to think she’d hurt Lynette too while she was at it.
“Hey, stay awake, Lyney,” Lynette ordered, giving him a harsh pat on the leg to startle him out of his train of thought again, “Focus on me. How many fingers am I holding up? Can you tell?”
Now that was a task. It took him a moment to even locate her hand in front of him, her pale skin blending into the beige ceiling paint, but he found it because there was some of that red stuff smeared onto her fingers as well, contrasting starkly even in the shadows. Now, let’s see… If he was right, that had to be at least three. He hoped. It looked more like four now but he decided to trust his gut and go with three.
“Three,” he mumbled.
“Eh… not quite,” Lynette said, shifting the fingers again to throw off his whole game, “How about now?”
“That’s cheating…” he complained, frowning at the fingers in concentration. The throbbing of his head made his vision flicker in and out of focus in sync with his heartbeat. Lynette hadn’t informed him that the game would have so many difficulties.
“... Seven?”
“I’m holding up one hand, try again.”
“... Six.”
She let out a sigh and glanced to the side. Lyney tried to follow her gaze but his head wouldn’t allow it. Instead he closed his eyes against the flash of white that suddenly appeared before his eyes. It was brief but enough to startle him into staying still, like Lynette had said.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. You’ll be alright. The medics will be here any moment now, they’ll take care of everything.”
“Lynette…”
Lynette met his eyes, worry written all across her face, yet seemingly calm at the same time. Wasn’t she worried about the audience at all? They hadn’t said much this far but first witnessing a fall and then having the great magician himself struggle to count fingers was most likely enough to send them into shock. He hoped they hadn’t noticed the blood. It would ruin his illusion.
“What is it?” she asked, her hand wiping away something at the corner of his eye.
“They can’t know.”
Lynette’s ears flicked and she tilted her head.
“The medics? Of course they can, they have to in order to help you.”
“No, the- the aud’nce. Medics on stage will… break the illusion. They’ll worry.”
“Lyney we’re… we’re not on stage anymore. We’re in our dressing room. No one saw.”
“Oh… that’s good. They shouldn’t see. You w’rked so hard with the- the smoke. And the talking,” Lyney trailed off for a moment, closing his eyes to think of his words, before dragging them open again. “Do you think they sus-suspected… us?”
Lynette shook her head, taking one of his hands in his gently and raking a thumb across the back of it. Lyney relaxed slightly at that. It was familiar. Not as confusing as the rest of everything around him right now. She often did that to him. He knew the feeling, he liked it.
“No, I don’t think so. No one noticed, don’t worry. We’ll get you all fixed up and the public will think it was all part of the show. Now if only those medics would hurry up. Didn’t I tell Penelope to-”
“She- you asked her?” Lyney interrupted her, squeezing her hand, not intending to let go.
“Yeah, she’s getting them for us, right now.”
“No… She can’t- don’t trust her.”
“What? Why?”
“She broke… the net.”
A soft huff of breath escaped Lynette as she loosened his grip and patted his hand a few times.
“I can assure you she didn’t.”
“She did.”
“I was with her the entire time before the show, and she was within sight during the entire thing. She couldn’t have done it. It was just an accident.”
Lyney dared to shake his head softly, moving it back and forth ever so slightly.
“Gr’t Magicians don’t make… accidents.”
“They can. Even you. It’s no ones fault. Just an accident.”
“Hmm…” He wasn’t convinced. He never made mistakes. The fact that he’d fallen in the first place was already strange for him, but that was the whole reason they’d had a plan B, with the safety net and the confetti and the trapeze bar… Maybe it was a good thing he’d fallen. Who knows what could have happened if he’d actually tried to use the trapeze bar. “Don’t go please.”
“What? Why would I go?” Lynette asked.
“To find the medics. Don’t go,” Lyney said. If she went to find the medics she might run into that stagehand and he’d be all alone and even though Lynette said he shouldn’t move, he didn’t want to be in a place where he probably wouldn’t be able to find the exit on his own.
“I won’t,” she said, patting his hand again, ”They’ll be here any moment now.”
“Good. Okay,” Lyney sighed. A heavy breath that released some of the lingering tension that was still knotted in his chest from everything. They hadn’t seen. It was (probably, maybe, hopefully) just an accident. He wouldn’t be left alone. Medics would be here soon. They could stop the bleeding and pounding in his head and that strange thing his eyesight was doing, right?
“I’ll stay with you the entire time,” Lynette said, shuffling closer so their thighs were touching, warm and grounding, her tail coiling around his leg, steady and soft.
“Okay,” Lyney said, keeping his eyes on her face. She gave him a careful smile. Well, if she was able to smile throughout all this then it must not be too bad, right? His mind halted a moment at the fact that he’d actually been able to make out her smile in the midst of her blurry features. Her eyes were rimmed with individual lashes now and the star on her cheek was indeed a star and not a bruise. She still swayed and blurred every so often, but at least she was here, and she wouldn’t leave. “Okay.”
That was all he needed.