Stage Fright

The backstage area of the auditorium was a maze of dark nooks and shadows, with the air heavy with the smell of sweat, dust, and the subtle tang of metal from the overhead rigging. Standing in a small nook, Lalin used her fingers to twist the hem of her outfit, which was a flowing, deep indigo-dyed tunic that felt cool against her damp skin. Each beat of her heart's frenzied rhythm served as a sharp reminder of the stage beyond the curtain, where the audience was whispering like a storm building in the distance. She attempted to regulate her breathing, but it came in shallow gulps, her chest constricted as though by unseen cords, and she pressed her back against the wall, the rough plaster slicing into her spine.

Kiet crouched across the room, tuning his violin for the twelfth time, his bow moving in a low hum over the strings. Lalin saw the little trembling in his hands and the way his jaw tightened with each peg pluck, but his face was a mask of concentration. He looked up, their eyes briefly meeting, and in that eye contact a quiet understanding—a thread of nerves and determination intertwined—went between them.

"You good?" he said in a low voice that was nearly lost in the din of the backstage area.

With her throat too dry to speak, Lalin faked a nod. She wasn't even close to being good, but acknowledging that would just exacerbate the worry. Rather, her sneakers squeaking on the scuffed floor, she pushed off the wall and crossed to him, her feet shaky. "Just… don't let me fall apart out there."

A glimmer of warmth pierced Kiet's icy exterior as his mouth twitched into a half-smile. "You won't. This is within our grasp.

The harsh notification that their show was up next came from the stage manager's voice, which cracked across the intercom. Lalin's fingers clenched into fists as she swallowed down the nausea that was rising in her stomach. With his violin case slung over his shoulder, Kiet stood up and held out his free hand to her. After a moment's hesitation, she took it, his palm firm and warm on hers. A lifeline in the midst of the pandemonium, the world briefly shrank to that point of contact.

As they took their positions, the heavy velvet of the curtain brushed their shoulders as they moved together toward the wings. Beyond it, the audience was thrown into a sea of blurry faces as the stage lights flashed like tiny suns. The emcee's introduction was muffled by Lalin's pounding heartbeat, and her name was a faint echo. After a quick reassuring squeeze, she felt Kiet's hand leave hers, and the curtain slowly rose, exposing them to the onlookers one inch at a time.

Lalin's breath caught in her throat as the spotlight fixed them, intense and unforgiving. She could feel their gaze, hundreds of unseen weights bearing down on her, even though the audience was a jumble of shadows. For a split second, she was back in that terrible solo performance—frozen, vulnerable, the quiet suffocating—her limbs immobilized, the familiar panic tearing up her spine.

The first note sounded out, a crisp, resonant call that cut through her panic like a sword when Kiet's bow touched the strings. The rhythm was a heartbeat she could rely on while the melody unfolded, a fusion of contemporary beats and ancient Thai cadences. Lalin's arms raised in a steady, purposeful arc as her feet stirred, her body reacting before her mind could react. The glossy wood of the stage creaked slightly as she moved forward and started dancing.

Her steps were first rigid, each one a deliberate attempt to counteract the wave of panic. However, something changed as Kiet's music grew, enveloping her like a second skin. She allowed herself to lean into the sound, her muscles relaxing, her breath easing as the notes enveloped her in a cocoon of sound, their tempo matching her heartbeat. She attracted Kiet's attention across the stage as she spun around, her tunic flying wide. He nodded slightly, his face intensely focused, and the connection ignited something deep within her—a glimmer of confidence she didn't know she had.

The harmony was startled halfway through the piece by an unexpected discord—Kiet's bow slipped, causing one note to skew sharply and incorrectly. Lalin's rhythm stumbled and her step slipped, but she continued. She corrected herself, moving around the error like water around a rock, and Kiet became better, his fingers returning to their proper position. Lalin sensed the slip, a reminder that perfection wasn't the aim, but the audience didn't see it because it was hidden beneath the energy of the duet. It was survival. There was a connection.

They persisted, the movement and music blending together and nourishing one another until the lines became indistinct. Though it still lingered, a shadow at the borders, Lalin's terror no longer controlled her. It was sufficient that she was here, breathing, moving, and performing. She struck her closing posture as the last notes rang out, her brow glistening with sweat, her chest heaving, and the ovation crashing over them like a tsunami.

The stage went dark when the curtain came down. Lalin remained motionless, her heart still pounding, shock mixing with excitement. As Kiet's footsteps drew closer, his arms encircled her in a quick, intense embrace that grounded her in the present. He muttered, "We did it," his breath warm against her ear.

She withdrew, her eyes gleaming in the low backstage illumination. "Yes. We did.

Later, the cool night air felt like a balm across their red skin as they slid out the side door. The rooftop extended above them, a peaceful sanctuary, but the shadow of the school loomed behind them, its windows glimmering like embers. The city's lights stretched out below them like a dazzling tapestry as they silently ascended the stairs, their footfall echoing in the stairwell, and emerged onto the concrete expanse.

Leaning on the railing, Lalin traced the ragged skyline with her eyes, the metal cool and sturdy. With his hands in his pockets and his violin bag at his feet, Kiet took a seat next to her. Now that the tension between them had been removed, the stillness was effortless.

"That slip in the middle," Kiet remarked in a wry tone, "thought I'd wrecked it."

Lalin let out a little laugh and shook her head. Seldom observed. You withdrew it.

His face softened as he looked at her. "You also persisted. More powerful than you may imagine.

A silent appreciation blossomed in her chest as she looked him in the eye. "Guess we both are."

Watching the stars pierce the twilight, they stood with their shoulders touching. The road ahead remained curved into shadow, despite the fact that they had overcome the obstacle of the talent contest. This included futures, scholarships, and the uncertain pull of their own desires. However, for the time being, the mutual quiet contained a promise, a tenuous assurance that they would confront whatever came next together.