Chapter Text
The air backstage was too still.
Verso stood just behind the red velvet curtain, the heavy fabric brushing against his sleeve like a breath held too long. His hands trembled—not from fear, but anticipation. His heartbeat thundered against his ribs, quick and uneven, like a metronome ticking out of time.
He took a shaky breath.
And then another.
Each inhale caught in his throat, thick with the scent of dust, resin, and something older—wood polish, perhaps, or the ghost of performances long passed. The piano waited centre stage, its lacquered surface gleaming under the low golden lights.
A drop of sweat traced the line of his spine.
He clenched and unclenched his fingers, as if summoning the memory of keys beneath them.
His breath hitched.
He risked a glance.
Peeking through the narrow slit in the curtain, he saw them—rows upon rows of people filtering in, murmuring, settling into their seats like waves gathering before a storm.
He knew the hush would come soon. That moment when breath and thought and time would stop, suspended in the space between silence and sound.
Beneath the soft golden glow of chandeliers, the stage waited—empty, quiet, sacred.
“Will you be alright?”
A voice, gentle and close. He startled, turning around—then exhaled with relief. Alicia stood behind him, smiling softly.
He gave a hard nod, too fast, trying to hide the nervous flutter in his chest.
Alicia chuckled and patted his shoulder. “You’ll be alright…”
“It’s just... I haven’t performed in so long,” he muttered.
She arched a brow. “Then pretend it’s just me. Or... perhaps her,” she added with a teasing grin.
“That’s not helping,” Verso grunted, though a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. He sighed. “I’ll be fine.”
“Very well,” she said, peeking through the curtain. She pointed toward one of the upper boxes. “Look to me after the performance—I’ll be right there.”
“Yes, yes,” Verso murmured, stealing a glance toward the box before returning his gaze to the piano.
Alicia gave his shoulder one last pat. The velvet of his obsidian tuxedo caught the low light, and his slicked-back hair gleamed like ink.
“I’ll see you after the performance, brother…”
Her footsteps receded, soft and sure.
Verso stayed still. The hush before the curtain call settled over him.
Then—
a breath—
the first sharp burst of applause as the spotlight hit the black lacquer of the grand piano.
The red velvet curtain rose.
He stepped forward, bowed.
And then he sat. Fingers poised above the keys.
And played.