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Nene stared at herself in the mirror with contempt. Her makeup artist just left, and it wasn’t long until she had to take to the stage. Arguably, she was as pretty as ever. The white, frilly dress outlined her figure amazingly, alongside the well-fitting corset. If Rui were to walk into this room, he’d practically faint on the spot. But Nene despised it.
She wasn’t sure what was up with her today. Maybe it was the lack of sleep? Well, she did feel immensely pressured due to the sheer size of the audience filling the seats. And a lot was hanging in the air today. All of it weighing heavily on her shoulders, like how she nearly developed shrimp posture some years back after a particularly long session of grinding quests and materials. Whatever.
This was fine. She was—and would be—completely, undoubtedly fine. No question about it. If she lied to herself a few more times, maybe it would stick.
She’s got this. She’s done this before countless times. But, the more she thought, the more her imagination wandered to places she’d rather not visit—the disappointed looks on her troupe mates’ faces if she failed, the cringing of an audience at a voice crack, the subsequent cyberbullying she’d receive once someone posts a clip.
But she was a veteran now, wasn’t she? There was no reason for her to fear something as simple as a voice crack or a line slip. If she carried herself confidently, she could make it seem purposeful. Improv wasn’t her strong suit, but… but…
…
Did she really? It was inevitable for her to slip, to break. She was as fragile as glass—just a small push, a little tip, and she’d shatter on the ground.
Nene braced herself. No use in wallowing in these feelings. If she pushed them out and forgot about them, maybe ignoring them could make them disappear completely.
Was that a healthy tactic? No. Not at all. But she hoped she could lose herself in her acting to the point that it overshadowed her worries. An override. A poorly constructed veil.
She stood, the foldable chair screeching behind her as she did. All she had to do was march to that stage and put on a brave face. Easier said than done. But that didn’t matter.
And yet it did. Too much.
♫彡*:･ﾟ✧
All Nene could hear was the distant murmuring of the audience. She stood petrified in her place. Though it’s been a long time since she’s felt like this, they were working on a stage bigger than any she’s ever seen before, in such a popular area too. And she was the opener.
Despite the curtains dividing her from the crowd, Nene already felt jittery. Her fingers twitched, her breath unfocused, and her heart leapt in her chest. The stage lights felt too bright. The floor could’ve collapsed under her emotional weight. She hated this. She didn’t know what was wrong with her now.
All of these improvements, after everything she’s done to be here today… and she’s acting like the same, frightened girl she was the first day. She liked to believe she had rid herself of her past timidity, popped her stage fright like an unsightly pimple. Yet the scar was still there, right where she left it.
But she couldn’t run away. She needed to do this. She needed to—
“What’s wrong?” A familiar voice found her. She hadn’t heard the backstage door open.
Nene snapped out of it and turned to face Rui. “I… I don’t know… I don’t know why I’m like this.”
“Hey, I’m here. You’re safe.” Rui smiled reassuringly. “Can you follow my breathing?”
Nene nodded and followed him—four seconds of intake, another four to hold, then a slow release. They kept doing this until Nene felt her lungs ease up. “Now, could you give me five things you can hear?”
She glanced around, her mind focusing on finding answers. There were the crowd’s whispers, the rushing of crew members backstage, an actress practicing her lines in the distance, and… and…
“Okay, good job. How about four things you can feel?”
Um… Nene could feel the goosebumps on her skin, her fists digging into her palms, the tightness of her clothes, and the sweat pooling on her chin.
“You’re doing great, love. Feel any better?”
Nene thought about it. She wasn’t panicking anymore, and she regained feeling in her hands. She unclenched her fists and sighed. “Y-Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I think I do.”
“Good.” Rui closed the distance, tucking a strand of stray mint-green hair behind her ear. “May I?”
No hesitation. Nene nodded.
Warmth pressed against her lips. Nene exclaimed, but slowly leaned in and kissed him back. Her chest relaxed, her tense shoulders deflated. The emotions washed away into the kiss, with Nene holding onto Rui as if she couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving.
“Kusanagi. You’re on in—” A staff member called, peering behind the stage door, and paused. “…five. Kamishiro, back to position.” Granted, this wasn’t the weirdest thing he saw as a staff member—this was quite a common occurrence. Part of the job at this point.
The door slammed, and the pair ripped apart like Velcro. “So.” Rui chuckled, a small smear of her lipstick on the corner of his mouth. Nene stared at it and her heart fluttered. Instead of beating fast in fear, it was in a fluster.
“So.” Nene reached and swiped it off with a cute grin, red as the curtains. God, Rui was falling for this girl harder at every interaction.
He gave her one last, quick kiss on her cheek. “Good luck out there, love. I’ll be just behind you. Well, not right behind you, but I’ll be in the back wishing you the best.”
“I get it.” She giggled at his absurdity. “Thank you.”
He quickly excused himself as Nene readjusted her appearance. Not long left until the show started. Despite herself, she smiled, knowing soon enough, she’d run back into his arms, her safety.
She took a breath and readied herself, and so the curtains rose.