Work Text:
***********************************
"That was a great answer, Cynthia," the interviewer praised, his grin wide and friendly.
Cynthia smiled warmly, tilting her head slightly in acknowledgment. "Thank you, sweetness," she said, her tone poised but genuine.
The interviewer shifted his attention, his smile sharpening with enthusiasm. "Alright, this one is for you, Ari," he began, leaning forward slightly as if to draw her in.
Ariana blinked, her heart lurching slightly in her chest. Her throat tightened instantly, the dryness scraping against the edges of her voice. The faint dizziness she'd been ignoring all morning flared again, and her back stiffened against the plush chair.
It was a breezy November day, and with Wicked nearing its debut, Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo were deep into their press tour. Interview after interview, the pair handled it with grace, even enjoying the buzz and excitement. But today was different for Ariana.
She had woken up feeling miserable—her throat raw, her head pounding, and her energy completely drained. Staying home wasn't an option; the packed schedule loomed over her like a storm cloud. Press wasn't just work—it was a necessity.
Now, she sat through her fourth interview of the day, forcing a smile as the relentless questions rolled on. There were at least five more to go, and the thought alone made her chest tighten. She blinked hard, willing the sting of tears to retreat.
Ariana was no stranger to crying when she was sick. It didn't take much for exhaustion to overwhelm her, turning frustration into tears. But today, she surprised herself. The urge to break down was there, stronger than ever, but something held her together—Cynthia.
Every time Ariana faltered, Cynthia would reach over, clasping her hand gently between her own. The warmth of that touch, steady and calm, grounded her. It was like a quiet promise: I'm here. You're okay. And for Ariana, that small gesture saved her. A part of her wanted to surrender entirely, to let the tears spill and let Cynthia's quiet reassurance carry her. But instead, she held on, leaning on Cynthia's strength as her own faltered.
It wasn't an easy day, and Ariana wasn't sure how she'd get through the rest of it. But with Cynthia by her side, she thought, maybe—just maybe—she could.
Unfortunately, she couldn't have been more wrong.
"Glinda is such an iconic character. How did you find the balance between honoring the original and making the role your own?" The interviewer then asked.
Ariana's hands gripped the armrests tightly, knuckles brushing against the fabric. Don't show it, she told herself firmly. You're fine. Just breathe. But her breath felt shallow, like the air refused to reach her lungs.
She nodded faintly, her gaze flicking briefly to Cynthia, who was watching her now with a subtle but knowing concern. "Um," Ariana started, her voice coming out softer and raspier than she'd intended. Her stomach churned as the room seemed to press in on her.
The pause stretched just a little too long, and she quickly tried again. "I think..." she began, her words tumbling out like she was grasping for them mid-air. The edges of her vision blurred slightly, and her cheeks burned—not from embarrassment, but from the heat building in her body.
And then she felt it, the tears welling up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she tried to keep her composure. Her lips trembled, and she tilted her head slightly, as if searching for the strength to hold back the emotions threatening to spill over. But the quiver in her expression gave her away—she was barely holding on.
"Ari?" Cynthia's voice was soft, laced with worry. Her thumb gently stroked over Ariana's fingers, a silent plea for her to look up, to meet her gaze.
But Ariana didn't respond.
"Can I have a second?" she pleaded, her voice shaky, barely able to hold the wave of emotion at bay. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stifle what was threatening to spill out.
The interviewer hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowing with concern. "Of course," he said, his voice gentle but unsure, sensing something was wrong.
Ariana didn't give herself a second to think. She pushed her chair back with a quiet scrape and stood up too quickly, the world spinning slightly as she hurried off the set, her footsteps echoing in the silence. She didn't care who saw, didn't care about the cameras or the voices behind her. She just needed out.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the nearest door, practically slamming it open before stumbling into the hallway. She didn't slow down until she found the restroom. She burst through the door, the cool air inside doing nothing to soothe the heat rising in her face.
The moment the door shut behind her, she was no longer trying to hold it together. The dam broke.
Ariana's breath hitched as the first sob wracked through her chest. It was a sharp, jagged sound, like a gasp for air that couldn't quite come. She covered her mouth with trembling hands, but it was no use. The sobs came fast, wild, escaping her like a flood. The sound was raw—loud, desperate—and her body shook with each tremor of breath.
"Fuck," she choked out, her trembling fingers brushing against her sideburns in a nervous, restless motion. Another sob tore from her chest as she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red and glassy, her cheeks streaked with tears, and her flushed skin only made her look as fragile as she felt. The pounding in her head intensified, sending another broken sob spilling from her lips.
She barely registered the sound of the door opening, her sobs muffling the faint creak of the hinges. But when she turned, she was met with Cynthia's concerned, wide eyes.
"Ari, my love," Cynthia gushed softly, her voice low and soothing as she closed the door behind her. She crossed the room quickly, her heels clicking faintly against the tiles before she was by Ariana's side.
Ariana's breath hitched, her tears falling harder. "C-Cynthia..." she whimpered, her voice breaking as she tried to speak.
"What's wrong, sweetness?" Cynthia asked gently, leaning in closer. Her hands rose to cup Ariana's tear-streaked face, her thumbs brushing delicately against her damp cheeks. "Talk to me, darling. What's hurting?"
Ariana hiccupped through her tears, her sobs bubbling up as she tried to form the words. "I-I feel so dizzy," she managed, her voice trembling. "And my stomach hurts."
Cynthia's expression softened even further, a wave of sympathy washing over her face. "Ari," she murmured, her tone brimming with affection. She reached for a box of tissues from the counter, pulling a few out before gently dabbing at the tears streaming down Ariana's cheeks.
"It's okay, my sweet," Cynthia whispered, her voice steady as her other hand stayed on Ariana's face, grounding her.
Ariana's sobs only grew louder as she leaned into Cynthia's touch, her body trembling with the effort of crying.
"I know, love. I know," Cynthia murmured, her voice soft as she wiped at the tears streaking down Ariana's cheeks. Her careful strokes were slow and deliberate, as though she could erase the hurt along with the tears.
A sharp knock at the door broke the fragile quiet of the room. Cynthia turned her head slightly, her brows furrowing.
"Excuse me, ladies," a staff member's voice called from the other side. "We really need you both back on set. There are some questions waiting specifically for Ari."
Ariana's breathing hitched, her eyes widening in panic as she straightened up quickly. "I—I need to go," she stammered, her voice high and trembling as she began to move toward the door.
"No, Ari," Cynthia said firmly, her hand catching Ariana's wrist gently but securely. "Not yet."
Ariana shook her head, her eyes darting frantically. "No, I have to! They're waiting. I can't just—"
"Ariana." Cynthia's voice was calm but commanding, and it made Ariana freeze mid-step. Cynthia's grip on her wrist softened, but her eyes remained steady as they met Ariana's tear-filled gaze.
"You don't need to rush back out there," Cynthia said, her voice gentle yet unwavering. "Take a second. Breathe for me, my love. They can wait."
"But—" Ariana whimpered, her bottom lip trembling.
Cynthia stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair away from Ariana's face. "Sweetness, you're more important than any question or schedule," she said softly. "Look at me."
Ariana's watery eyes fluttered up to meet Cynthia's, her breaths still shallow.
"There's no rush," Cynthia reassured her, her thumb tracing soothing circles on Ariana's wrist. "Just take a moment. One breath at a time, okay? You don't have to push yourself so hard."
Ariana sniffled, nodding hesitantly, though her lips wobbled like she was about to start crying again.
Cynthia smiled gently, grabbing a tissue to dab at the fresh tears welling in Ariana's eyes. "You're doing so well," she said softly. "Let them wait a little longer, alright? You deserve a second to feel better."
Ariana let out a shaky exhale, her shoulders beginning to relax as she leaned into Cynthia's touch once more. "O-okay," she whispered, her voice soft and uncertain but sweetly obedient.
Cynthia's smile widened, and she gave Ariana's cheek a gentle stroke. "Now let's just breathe together for a moment. We'll go back when you're ready. Not a second before."
They stood there quietly for a while, Cynthia holding steady as Ariana's breathing slowed and softened. The occasional sniffle broke the silence, but the panic that had overtaken Ariana earlier was beginning to fade.
Eventually, Cynthia gave her hand a light squeeze. "Feeling a little better, love?"
Ariana nodded slowly, though she still looked a bit fragile. "Yeah. My head's still pounding, but... it's better," she admitted quietly.
Cynthia glanced at her thoughtfully, her brow furrowing slightly. "I know you're not feeling great, and if you start to feel worse, we can absolutely think about heading home. But for now..." She hesitated, brushing her thumb over Ariana's knuckles. "For now, we might have to push through a little longer. I promise I'll be right here with you the whole time."
Ariana's lips quivered again, but this time it wasn't from panic or pain. She sniffled, her watery eyes meeting Cynthia's steady gaze. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Of course," Cynthia murmured, her voice warm and reassuring. "I've got you, Ari. Always."
Without warning, Ariana stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Cynthia, burying her face in her shoulder. Cynthia didn't hesitate, her arms coming up to hold Ariana securely, one hand resting on her back while the other cradled the back of her head.
Ariana's voice was muffled but heartfelt. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Cynthia chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of Ariana's head. "Luckily, you don't have to find out."
They stayed like that for a moment, the warmth of the embrace doing more for Ariana than any medicine could.
When they finally pulled apart, Cynthia straightened Ariana's blazer, brushing her hair back into place. "Ready to give it another shot?"
Ariana took a deep breath and nodded. "As long as you're with me."
"Always, Ari," Cynthia promised with a smile, linking her arm with Ariana's as they headed back out together.
And this time, Ariana felt just a little stronger knowing Cynthia was by her side.