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Everything is cold. It could be because all she's wearing is a leotard and boots. It could just be one of those days.
She doesn't have any tips in her hand. That's an odd sensation, to have just finished a show and not have any dollars in her grips. Her money is larger now, she gets paid in ticket sales. The fans that come screaming her name, that know her life story. She never had that before. She was just Katya, your local Russian Hooker Queen.
Now, she's alumni. Everything is so much more; it's intense.
The boots click against the floor rhythmically, almost soothingly. Almost. Katya can still hear the show. The final number draws to a close. The applause is rabid and wild.
She did a good job. Why doesn't she feel like she did a good job?
The lights running down the side of the hallway are far too bright. She's heading to her dressing room. Her own dressing room. How wild?
There's laughter in the halls, echoing around her. The excited babble is poison. Katya feels sick. So, she runs. Running in heels is a lot like having pins stuck into her feet, but it's better than listening the noise.
Her room has her name on the entrance. She slams the door behind her.
It's dark, she flicks the light on. The room is even colder than the hallway. She rests her forehead on the door, her palms reach out and flatten against the wood. Looking down at her hands, she admires the way her nails look right now. Long, sharp. She wishes they would scratch the skin off her chest so she could breathe.
"Get it together," she whispers.
This is nothing.
After a long inhale, she pulls away from the door. She turns to face the room. It's not too big, it has an en-suite bathroom which is handy. There's two wig stands, her makeup, a wardrobe for her outfit. The lights in the room circle around a mirror which is on the left side of the room. There's a chair facing into the mirror, and a table next to it. She takes one step into the room, and turns to face her reflection. Her face. Her stupid fucking face.
You are nothing.
She looks at herself. Everything feels so cold, so distant, so suffocating. Why can't she breathe?
She only realizes she's crying when she sees dark streams of makeup trickle down her cheeks.
Everything is always cold.
******
"Sorry, I don't know. She probably went for a smoke when her set ended."
Katya's not usually this difficult to locate. She's normally in the middle of the action, even if she's not participating. It's strange for her to go for a smoke this early after a show too.
"Thanks for nothing!" Trixie shouts, earning a laugh.
She goes outside. She's not there.
Great. Now she smells like cigarettes for no reason.
Trixie's fucking tired, she just wants to find Katya and then go back to the hotel as soon as possible. She's not seen much of her friend today, and she wants to catch up.
So Katya's not smoking. Katya's not with the drag race girls. She won't have left yet, they need to let the audience leave first.
Trixie's tights are going to get dirty, her heels are in her hands. Katya's dressing room is right next to hers. She opens the door to her room and throws her shoes in before she knocks on Katya's door.
"You there? You naked? Is it at all sexually attractive naked or is it 'I walked in on my parents and want to bleach my eyes out' levels?"
There's no response.
Trixie pushes the door open slightly, the room hasn't got any lights on. Trixie's about to close the door when she hears a small sniff.
"Katya?"
She pushes the door open, stepping in and turning on the light.
Katya's curled up on the floor in the furthest corner of the room. She squints, with one hand covering her mouth. She gently rocks in her place. Her makeup is halfway down her face.
"I-I-I know this looks bad-" Katya starts.
"-You look like you're having a meltdown."
Katya laughs, "My whole life is a meltdown."
She's still rocking. The laugh sounded fake, bitter.
Trixie closes her eyes for a second, and then opens them. "What do you need?" she asks.
"I don't know. I'm sorry, I'm a mess."
Running her nails over her skin reminds her that she's still alive, Katya focuses on that.
"Okay, come on," Trixie answers. She holds out her hands to pull Katya up. Katya frowns before taking them and standing on her feet.
"I h-hate how stupid I am."
"I hate how stupid you are too." Trixie jokes, Katya smiles a little. "Can I hug you?"
Katya nods. Placing a hand on her back, she pulls Katya to her. The gesture is kind. The voice in Katya's head gets quieter. Katya starts crying into Trixie's shoulder. Trixie feels Katya's chest heave against her own despite the padding. Slowly, she strokes circles into Katya's back.
"I'm sorry. Everything's just-just so much-"
"-Hey, I'm serious. Don't apologize."
Trixie steps back. Katya swallows, keeping her gaze at the floor. She hates the guilt of making someone else share her burdens. Trixie doesn't deserve this.
"You can go if you want," Katya offers. "I'll be okay. I always am."
Trixie's eyes widen, she reaches out and gently lifts Katya's chin. She gains her eye contact.
"No. I won't leave," Trixie declares.
Katya's mouth falls wide, and then she begins sobbing. Her face contorts, breathe pushing in and out of her. She's shaking.
Trixie reaches out again and holds her. Shushing away the weeping.
"It's going to be okay," Trixie starts. "You're loved," she laughs, "Hey, you're one of the best friends I've ever had."
She repeats comfort in a cycle, and she holds Katya. Her wig nearly slips off at one point. Katya should know better than to touch her hair, but it's probably not the time to mention that.
After a little while, the crying subdues. Katya becomes quiet.
"I'm sorry. You should go," Katya starts.
Trixie pulls away from the hug.
"I'm not going." Trixie confirms.
"You should. This isn't fair on you."
"It's not fair on you to go through any of this alone."
Katya still has tears in her eyes. Her cheeks are black. Her lipstick smeared.
"That's all I've ever done," Katya whispers.
Trixie's heart stops.
"Then somebody should have loved you the way you deserve to be loved before I came along."
A choked laugh escapes from Katya.
"I'm not saying that nobody ever tried." Katya smiles. Trixie feels ill. "I never wanted to put-put anybody through anything? I'm just crazy. I'm not a good person. I don't deserve to be loved."
"Everyone deserves love," Trixie defends.
Katya lifts an eyebrow, "Would you say that about a serial killer?"
Trixie rolls her eyes, "You've never killed anybody Katya."
"How do you know?"
Trixie laughs, "Fuck off." Trixie runs a thumb over Katya's makeup stains. It comes back stained black. "We should clean you up."
"Nobody can clean a soul with this much filth on it," Katya jokes.
Shaking her head, Trixie grabs Katya's hand and forces her to sit in the chair by the mirror. Trixie makes quick work of unpinning her own wig, which she puts on a spare stand on Katya's dresser.
"You look like a clown," Katya jokes. Her breaths still shake in and out of her.
Trixie flips her off, "Have you looked in the mirror?"
Katya shakes her head, "No. It's the easiest way to hate myself."
Trixie's mouth opens to comment, but she is speechless. It shuts on its own accord.
"I look at your fucking wrinkles everyday and I still like you," Trixie jokes.
Katya laughs. "You don't have to live with them Trix."
Shaking her head, Trixie hands tense up. All of Katya's makeup is in bags on the table by the mirror, she rummages through and collects some make-up wipes. Trixie kneels by Katya's side, and starts gently wiping at the black masses of makeup.
Katya stares at her whilst she does it. Trixie bites her lip as she concentrates.
Gentle. This is gentle. Katya's mood rocks around her.
She guesses this is just exhaustion. Maybe she's homesick? Maybe she just misses when life was simpler? She doesn't need thousands of people watching her every move.
Trixie wonders what brought this on. She guesses she should have kept a closer eye on her. Has she been drinking? She doesn't smell alcohol. How does she answer what Katya just said? How does she show her she cares?
Most of the smudged makeup is gone, well, the stuff that can be removed with a a wipe. Katya needs a shower. Trixie can get her wig off her, shoes, dress. She chucks the wipe on the side.
"I can see you thinking," Katya comments. "Quiet down."
"I want to live with it," the words escape Trixie's mouth. Katya's eyebrows raise. Trixie can see the red outlining of Katya's eyes. "I want to live with the problems you have, because all of the good parts of you are like, really good. Could you believe that?"
Katya frowns. She can't think of the words to answer her. Trixie's hand rests on the table to Katya's side.
She reaches out, and puts her own on top of Trixie's. They both stare at where their skin touches. Trixie's skin is hot against her own.
Trixie looks back at Katya. Her heart lifts.
"Thank you for trying," Katya says.
Trixie sinks again. She shakes her head, and finds a new task.
She leans down, and slips off Katya's shoes, one by one. She strokes Katya's leg with her whole palm.
"I'm your friend. I'm supposed to try," Trixie defends. "You should talk to me more often. What's even caused this?"
Katya swallows. She feels empty, all cried out.
"I don't know. I think I miss how things used to be, before Drag Race. Before everything got so..."
Trixie whispers, "Before you met me?"
Katya immediately shakes her head. "Never. You are a good thing. A good person. I miss when things used to be simple. I could just go do drag and go home and be Brian," Katya shakes her head. "I feel fucked up constantly. It's like everyone wants a piece of me. There's so many voices in my head, and they're all so loud? It's... horrible? I'm horrible."
"No." Trixie gets to her feet, "You're not horrible. You just need help."
Katya rolls her eyes, "I'm not seeing a fucking therapist again. I've already done far too much of that, even if it does help."
Trixie smiles. "If it gets worse, maybe. But for now, listen to me," Trixie slips a hand onto Katya's jaw.
"I'm listening," Katya answers.
Trixie guides Katya's face until she's looking at the mirror. Katya watches Trixie's face in the reflective surface.
"You said this is the easiest way to hate yourself, right?" Trixie asks.
Katya nods. "I look and I just see, what everyone else must see."
Her breath shakes again. She can feel tears bubbling. Trixie takes her hand away from Katya's jaw and puts it on her shoulder.
"You see what you think you see. Look at yourself," she orders.
The room gets colder again.
"Please don't."
"Please, trust me."
The feeling in Katya's chest is tighter again. Biting her lip, she makes eye contact with her herself.
Disgusting.
"What do I do?" Katya whispers.
"See the person I love," Trixie asks. "For a few seconds."
"I can't," Katya murmurs.
Trixie leans down, and places her head on Katya's shoulder.
"You're a good friend. You make thousands of people happy. You make me happy. Your smile is beautiful," Katya smiles lightly. "Yes, that one," Trixie comments. "The man behind it all, is brilliant. I love every aspect of you, even the parts of you that you can't love. That's what a friend is for. Next time you hurt like this," Trixie swallows. "Try and see yourself the way I see you. Or the way your mother does. Or the way, the bus driver you make laugh does? Anybody else but yourself, until you can view yourself the way I do all the time."
For a split second, Katya is able to look at herself and see it.
Trixie is warm. the only warmth she's felt all day.
"Thank you."
Trixie stands up, she smiles at Katya in the mirror, before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The smile on Katya's face grows.
"Take a shower. You stink, you filthy whore," Trixie orders.
Laughing, Katya slaps at Trixie's knees.
"Fine, Mom."
After grabbing her wig and hugging her once quickly whilst Katya is still sat down, Trixie moves to the door.
"I'm going to go de-drag. Meet me when you're done and we'll head to the hotel together?"
"Can we order room service and watch sit-com reruns?" Katya asks.
Trixie snorts, "Duh."
"See you in a bit," Katya says. With one more smile, Trixie leaves.
Katya looks at the door as she goes, and then back in the mirror.
Loved.
The room, finally, feels warm.