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The door slammed open, and in stumbled Legend, looking like a wet cat: grumpy, soaked, and utterly done with the world. He was gripping his viola case tightly and looked ready to swing it like a battering ram at the next person who approached him. This, of course, did not stop Fable.
“Legend! Call time was forty-five minutes ago, where were you?!”
Fable was dressed up for the opening scene. She had her wig with brown curls, a dancer’s outfit on, and was wearing heavy makeup, though it did look very nice. She also had her arms crossed and was glaring, ready to set Legend on fire.
“Look, I know the show starts in fifteen minutes,” Legend started, running fingers through soaked hair, “but I got caught up in something, alright? I’ll head down to the pit right now, and I can tune, and it’ll be fine. It's not like I have a lot to set up anyway,” he huffed.
Stepping forward, Fable poked him in the chest, and her eyes narrowed even further at the slight flinch in response.
“Fine,” she said, “but you better go warm up, or so help me Hylia if you mess up the overture of the show because your fingers cramp, I will stab you.”
Legend laughed a bit too loudly at that.
“Yes, ma’am,” He replied, saluting. However, as he raised his arm, he winced again, hunching over. Unfortunately, Fable was unable to do anything else because she was finally called over for a mic check. Her mic had broken. Again.
Before she left, Fable turned and pointed at her eyes, then at Legend. I’m watching you. Then she turned down the hallway, jogging to see Wild and Flora in booth. How Flora had managed to rewire an entire mic pack in less than an hour was beyond anyone.
As she left, Legend followed her down the hallway, albeit slower, trying not to limp. No one had to know; everything was fine.
Legend made his way to the pit entrance door, avoiding everyone. That was, until he realized he had a problem: he couldn’t open the door without causing himself immense pain, and possibly reopening something. Usually, he would just do a shuffle, putting down his viola, opening the door, catching the door with his hip, grabbing his case again, squeezing through the door, etcetera, but the thought of any pressure near his abdomen made him want to cry.
He stood there for a few moments, torn between asking someone (and then dealing with their questions) or just sucking up the pain, before someone tapped his shoulder. Turning around, Legend came face to face with Four, who was dressed in black.
There was a pause before Four spoke.
“Why are you staring at the door?” he asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion and curiosity.
“I don't know,” Legend snarked, “aren’t you supposed to be at your spot right now?”
Usually, the people on the spots sat there on their phones the whole time, from arrival to the end of the show. Four usually wasn’t an exception, what with Shadow and Dot being there to keep him company.
Four shrugged. “I’ve got time, and Dot mentioned on the Discord that you finally made it.”
The joys of the stage crew discord. Once, Legend had looked over Four’s shoulder to see Shrek memes, people simping over the giant prop chandelier, and a picture of Wild with sunglasses and a slurpee, hanging from the booth by one hand.
“So,” Four repeated, “Why are you staring at the door?” His arms were now crossed, and he looked a little irritated.
Legend took a moment to debate. He could ask Four to open the door for him, but knowing Four, that would spark more questions. However, Legend didn’t know the next time someone would stop by to help him with his predicament.
So, gritting his teeth, Legend managed, “Could you…open the door for me?”
Four’s deadpan expression made Legend wince.
“...why?”
“Because I asked you, and you're my favorite brother?”
Four snorted at that one. “‘Rulie’s your favorite. Try again.”
Before Legend could, in fact, try again, Four jumped slightly and held up a finger for silence, hand pressed to his ear where an earbud was sitting. Soon enough, Four started grumbling.
“Shadow lost the lighter for the fireworks again? Tell him he'd better start running, I’m going to shank him with the rusty piece of metal we found on the catwalk last week. HYRULE, DO YOU HAVE A LIGHTER?”
Something crashed in the distance.
“...I HAVE ONE!”
“WAIT ONE MINUTE.”
Aaand, Four was gone, leaving Legend in the same place he was five minutes ago.
Then, from inside, Warriors opened the door, jumping at the sight of Legend. His eyebrows furrowed in a look of consternation.
“Legend!” He shouted, “Where were you?!”
“No time,” he said, squeezing past Wars and finally sitting down at his seat, sending a jolt of pain through his stomach. He inhaled sharply as he put his case on his lap. Not ideal to take out a viola balanced precariously on his lap, but it was better than bending over the floor to get his viola out.
Wars sat down behind him, his own flute sitting by his stand. He glared at Legend.
Seeing as they were now in the auditorium, Warriors opted to stage whisper his grievances. “We start in ten minutes!” he said.
“I know!” Legend ‘shouted’ back, “It’s not like I wanted to be late!”
He had been planning to be early, actually; it wasn’t like he had asked to be stabbed.
There was another sharp pain as he took out his instrument, which agreed with him. The bandages were really starting to itch, and he hadn’t had time to properly clean or stitch his wound yet. It wasn’t like he carried alcohol wipes on him.
Glaring at Legend, although he had dropped the argument for now, Wars flipped through his music and started playing something.
Turning back to his own instrument, Legend finished setting up and started practicing the overture. And honestly, whoever wrote this needed to stop with the stupid amount of accidentals.
Then, five minutes later, the lights started dimming, and Legend would have to hope his brief warm-up had been enough.
The conductor lifted his baton, and the pit got ready.
And, with a wave, the show started, Fable and Sky walking on stage.
They nailed the first half of the show, Sky and Sun performing spectacularly, and Ravio doing incredibly well for his first major role. Sure, there were a few slip-ups, like when the door got stuck or when the organist pulled a wrong stop, but they were played off fairly well.
What was not going well was the blood slowly seeping into Legend’s dress shirt. Thankfully, his shirt was black and hid the blood fairly well. Unfortunately, this shirt was expensive. During intermission, Legend managed to sneak off to the bathroom and stuff paper towels under his gauze pad. Satisfied that it would hold until the show was over, Legend made his way back to his seat with a few minutes to spare.
Playing the viola had minimal pain involved for his wound, which Legend was thankful for, but it had just enough movement to still tear at his--admittedly terrible--stitching job. He must have made a face as he sat, because Warriors was starting to look uncharacteristically worried every time he glanced at Legend, who just glared and hoped the message came across.
Then the lights dimmed again, and the pit took up their positions.
At first, the second act was fine. It was running smoothly enough, nothing more than a few hiccups, until they hit the swordfight, and Legend’s nose started bleeding.
He was going to kill someone.
…someone other than the guy who stabbed him earlier.
Of course being stabbed wasn’t enough; he just had to get a bloody nose too. He could feel the blood running down his face and dripping onto the wood of his viola, making him wince.
Naturally, Legend kept playing. What was he going to do, stop? During a few measures of rest, he managed to grab a tissue and stuff it up his nose. It wasn’t until after the song that he was able to glance down and see the blood all over his viola.
Lovely. The blood really added to the wood pattern.
So, with the three minutes he had before playing again--seriously, the second act just kept going--he wiped the blood off his instrument, checking for stains.
Then, continuing the second act, things hit their peak right at the climax of the show.
It was “the point of no return”, which was very fitting, and was actually Legend’s favorite song. However, he had forgotten a crucial thing: the scream in the middle of the song.
So, when Groose screamed on stage as Sun ripped away his mask, Legend jumped enough to feel his stitches tear completely.
Legend hunched over in pain, but kept playing, feeling more of his shirt starting to stick to him.
Hmm…that might be an issue.
He could feel Warrior’s eyes drilling into him from behind, but what was Legend going to do, get up and walk out? He could suck it up until the show was over. There was only about half an hour left anyway.
Time is going to kill me, Legend thought dazedly. The music was starting to look a little blurry, but he had practiced enough to figure out where his fingers were supposed to go.
He started counting down the minutes.
Twenty minutes left, just a few more songs.
His pants were slightly wet now, too, from blood dripping down his side and onto the seat.
Fifteen minutes to go, Sky and Groose were fighting on stage.
Legend’s arms were starting to shake, and he had a splitting headache, not helped by the wind instruments right behind him.
Five minutes, and the curtains were closing. Only bows were left, then he could finally go to the hospital. He just had to get through bows.
Legend’s vision was starting to black out. He might have lost too much blood.
And then it was over, and Legend could only feel immense relief as they finished and the conductor signaled for them to stop. They all set down their instruments, and the after-show chatter started. Wanting to get in on the gossip, he turned to Warriors behind him.
Legend started, “Did you see when--” before passing out.
---------
When Legend woke up next, he was in a hospital room, and his entire family was standing around his bed.
Everyone.
It was Warriors who spoke first, to Legend’s surprise.
“So,” he started, voice void of any emotion, “Would you like to tell us the reason you were late to the performance tonight?”
Legend mumbled something, turning away.
Having heard what Legend said, War’s face drained of color. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took a deep breath.
“Legend. Say that again. Slowly.”
Turning to face everyone, Legend made eye contact with Warriors. In a clear voice, he said, “I got mugged.”
The room exploded.
“You performed after you got mugged?!”
“Oh come on, I only got stabbed lightly! There was that one time that Marin dropped a cowbell on her foot and broke a toe, and she kept playing too!”
“Legend, breaking a toe is very different from being stabbed.”
“I mean, not really. What was I going to do, miss the show?”
“Yes!”
“There were five other Violas, Legend--”
“And there were four trumpets! You try playing a string instrument with that many brass idiots who don’t understand what ‘piano’ means--”
In the corner, Hyrule leaned over to whisper to Four.
“Do you think I should mention I broke my hand?” he asked.
Four looked over at him, surprised.
“When did that happen?” he asked.
Hyrule shrugged.
“Was on the catwalk,” he said, like that answered anything. In some ways, it did.
Four just sighed, questioning his life.