Chapter Text
The pit of your stomach tingled with anticipation as you shuffled sideways into the, strangely empty, balcony seating on the left hand side of the stage. You supposed it shouldn't be that much of a surprise considering these were the cheapest (worst) seats in the house, but besides the few elderly couples seated at the frontmost rows, you were completely alone, not that you minded.
Not wasting a moment, you folded your skirts behind you onto the plush red seating, leaning back with a sigh.you tilted your neck this way and that, earning a satisfying crackle along your spine until finally, your muscles begin to unfurl and soften beneath you. The lingering tenseness, a direct result from the hellaciously arduous week you'd had of course; settling work disputes, collecting tabs from tight fisted busters, and arguing with sexist bankers, insisting that your “husband” sign off on any legal work concerning your large withdrawal from /your/ account with /your/hard earned money. But all of it seemed to melt away in the elaborately crafted theater. you’d have to squint if you wanted to see anyone actually on the stage but honestly you didn't really mind either way, you came for the music, not the people. Aside from that though, the atmosphere was immaculate .Lights carved from ivory and glowing red and yellow stones lined the walls nearest to you, their designs twirling and twisting into seashell shapes and ocean waves that held a pearl like light at its center giving the whole place a warm honey glow, not to mention the endless rows of red seats , standing neatly like uniformed soldiers facing their commander; the stage. Oh the stage, glorious obsidian marble flowed over the slanted rise, and even from a distance, you didn't miss the gold accents along the carved stone. Its musicians, though, were well hidden behind the thick velvet curtains that ruffled and swayed with the breeze as people paced behind it. The whole thing was so comforting and homey, it would have lulled you to sleep if it hadn't been for the sheer excitement of it all, and needless to say, it was worth every minute of the mental countdown tick-tick-ticking around your skull since the day you'd bought your ticket to the orchestra.
Hushed chatter rose and fell below your hiding place in tides, though it was more ambient than anything as you watched your fellow theater goers trickle slowly down the isles in shimmering gowns and sharp black or blue suits like drops of water on a rainy city street to take their seats.
“And tonight,” you thought, “I'm finally one of them.”
Maybe not amongst their ranks as equals, but under the protection of these delicately painted ceiling tiles, disguised in your (only) fine ball gown and matching slippers, you could be someone different, someone special, someone like the elite men and women sipping champagne in their private boxes, or those on the front rows chittering comfortably below your oasis on the upper left circle. The idea was comforting, no matter how far off that illusion was when compared to your reality.
By day, you were a humble florist assistant at a corner flower market in town and by night you slung coffees and cakes for the city that never took a night off, a far cry from the shimmer and shine you were sporting tonight, but over all, you couldn't complain, bills were getting payed, food was on the stove thanks to your peach of a grandmother who you began taking care of last summer, and (hopefully) thanks to your 4 years of nonstop hard labor, you’d finally have just enough saved up for the downpayment on a gorgeous apartment in the city that would make even Colleen Moore consider domesticity. Lady Luck hadn’t exactly been in your corner these last few years, but it seemed like maybe she was coming around to visit, and you could only hope that it would last. Not wanting to jinx yourself with the thought, you reached over and knocked twice on the wood partition separating your balcony from the connecting one at the center. You know, just in case.
What you weren't expecting though, was a response.
“...who’s there?” asked a deep, rumbling voice from the other side of the ledge.
You panicked for a moment, wondering whether you should try explaining yourself or stammer out a weak apology for the distraction, though in the same instance, a voice at the back of your mind began to whisper.
“You aren't back at the diner placating a customer, Y/N, tonight, you're at the orchestra,” and tonight, you were someone new.
However dramatic the thought may have been, your painted lips curled slightly at the edges as you slid a bit closer to the railing.
“Wendy.” you replied.
“wendy who?”
“Wendy ya think this show is going to start?” you finished, It was silent for a moment, and you were almost certain you’d just earned yourself a one way ticket back to silence when finally a hearty snort came from beyond the dark oak paneling.
“dunno, but maybe we could ask the watch-dog.”
“Watchdog?” you quirked a brow curiously
“ yeah I hear they're great at keepin’ time,”
It wasn't a good joke by any means but you decided to reward the mystery joke man with a small chuckle anyways.
“aww that's all i get? C’mon doll, lemme hear your real laugh”
“Let me hear a real joke and you'll get one.” you quipped back amused with his flirtatious tone.
“touche, but unluckily for you, I only save my comedy routine for the third date.”
“Is that what they’re calling it now? A comedy routine? Seems fitting, considering every third date i've ever been on ended in me laughing my ass off and calling a cab home.
You weren't sure where this conversation was going, or that you'd made the right move in saying something so uncouth, but you couldn’t help it. (Gran said etiquette was never your strong suit, a real shame considering you'd formed a taste for the finer things in life ever since the first concert your grandpa took you to when you were 5.) Though apparently it was the right move, as you heard a rumbling laugh bubble up from beyond the partition.
“heh, that was pretty cold , but if that's the kind of act we're talkin’ about, then i don’t think you’d be laughin’ for very long.”
“Oh? Then what exactly would I be doing?"
“what dollies do best,”-you could hear him take a drag off of what smelled like a cigar before slowly exhaling with a purr- “...scream.”
You swallowed thickly at the insinuation and decided that maybe getting tangled up with this stranger wasn't the best move. It had, admittedly, been a while since you'd gone steady with anyone, and you'd be lying if you were to say the offer wasn't tempting.His low drawling accent was quite nice in your ear and you could only imagine what it might sound like up close and personal, but you couldn't afford to let one, horrible, hormone riddled, decision derail the goal you’d spent 4, almost 5, long years working towards.
Instead you let out a pensive humm of your own in response “Oh I see, so a doll is the only thing you can get to jump your bones. Kinda sad if you ask me”
He must've been drinking something because in the next second all you could hear was spluttering coughs.
“ careful coquette -heh- your jokes are gettin’ better by- haha- by the minute.” you smiled at his myrth until eventually, he was able to compose himself once more “ what did ya say yer name was again?”
At least his ego knew how to take a joke, unlike some of the wet rags who hit on you at the cafe, yet you still hesitated. part of you felt like your name was a harmless detail to give. It was a big city, and after tonight, you and mystery joke man would fade back into blissful estrangement, you'd be faceless names in an endless crowd. But the other part of you, a voice deep in your stomach said to hold your tongue.
“I didn’t” you replied, and like it was confirmation from the heavens, the conductor struck up the orchestra, and the conversation ended.
The rest of your night was spent alone, though the space “mystery man’s” silence left seemed less empty when you closed your eyes, letting yourself become lost in wave after wave of lilting strings and booming brass. The sheet music wasn't even written by your favorite composer, yet something about the raw strength and emotion of the music being played before you held such life that you nearly cried at the crescendo and as the final bow was taken, curtain closing quick on the conductors heels, you stood, giving a round of applause and a hearty whistle, a well deserved rest indeed.
Drying your eyes you gave the theater one last longing glance,tracing the edge of your beautifully crafted seat with a gloved hand while trying to etch every last detail of the night into your mind. You wished you could’ve stayed longer to take in the theaters full grandeur alongside with the mingling crowd, but with the pure exhaustion you already felt beginning to settle in your bones, you knew you'd be lucky to make the bike ride back home without passing out on your front steps first. As you made your way down the back steps and into the alleyway where you left your bike for safe keeping, you silently swore to yourself that ,one day, you’d take gran here, in a nice car with a mink coat wrapped around her frail shoulders and you'd have the best seats in the whole damn house. But for now you needed to focus on getting both you and her out of the boonies and into something more… sustainable.