Work Text:
a connoisseur of the arts and innovator, you'd never sought any critique other than your own and you'd learned that profession in performing arts meant enduring and effacing brutal commentary left by those who didn't share the same eye as yours for unique and inconventional perspective.
you hadn't any reason to sulk as you'd mastered masking and never lingered on their words for longer than what a mere brush of your finger took, and you for sure wouldn't leave for project for dead; you were too passionate, too bold and persistent to give up now and never a quitter. but you couldn't help but admit it hurt this time. the decries of the audience from beyond the curtains mocked you. the light tread of pattered footsteps prompted you to leave, with the possibility of it being a judgemental straggler who snuck backstage to critique your work further.
but a familiar aroma pervaded your senses and drew you back from the weight of the crowd's word; your childhood best friend, vronsky. the insolent and cocky, loquacious and headache-inducing beauty in all his glory. only you knew how his words coursed from the expanse of his lips like poetry, and only you would ever know, because he loved you and his words were only yours to waste away.
"they speak blasphemy. and absurdity." he asserted matter-of-factly. he knew, more than anyone, and more than ever when you needed reassurance, and so he continued. "as the sensations linger before every atom disperses like vapor, after all the chaos subsides leaving only the wreckage, still you are there. only you remain, and only you are here to stay. you inhabit the unexploited corners of my brain and the crooks of my heart even when all else shatters. as constant as the pull of the moon towards the tides and the soft patter and fall of rain on pavement for hours. you are art, and so is your work, my love." he finished. you were brilliant to him and it was fascinating the way your mind worked; the way all the gears within it turned. and with that, he took your hand with relative reluctance moments after, bearing in mind the frigid sensation of it as he took it. the warmth of his would surely permeate your body with comfort, at least he'd hoped. and you wondered how hands could feel like home, but the answer was right within your palm, literally.