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Keito doesn't need to be here, considering he's not in tonight's play. But since it's for the troupe, he figures it's only proper to show up. To support everyone, and all that.
So he says to everyone else. But to himself, he cannot deny that he's here to observe one person alone.
There's something about him, under that spotlight. Something that he becomes. That figure is not Wataru Hibiki, or it is the most pure form of him. It's hard to say which. He is everything and nothing all at once, the god of the stage, a slave to the audience, and no more than the mask he wears.
The way he acts off stage may very well be yet another mask, one replaced as easily the last is discarded. He is an enigma that Keito cannot quite parse, no matter how desperately he tries to. Wataru is a character in a story that none can follow... Unless he allows them to. And he's far too fond of twists and turns to let anyone do that.
He's an actor, through and through. Keito wonders if this is what Eichi had seen so long ago. Something bright and ephemeral and unreachable. Dazzling, distant, liable to take flight at a moment's notice.
Keito truly only knows one thing, and it's that he'd like to be around until the end of that story. If only to find out what happens. If only to unravel the mystery.
Of course, he would not let word of any of these thoughts get to the man himself. God knew he would probably never allow Keito to live it down. Wataru is many things. Annoyingis absolutely one of them.
***
He should be used to sensing Wataru's presence after this long, but it seems the clown can still sneak up on him. Keito turns from putting away the costumes in the empty backstage area to find him standing there like some sort of ghost, still and silent until eyes are on him. "Did you need something? If you're just going to lurk around, at least make yourself useful."
He does not receive an answer, only a question in return.
"Did you enjoy the performance, Keito-kun?"
"You act as if I wasn't there for all the practices, Hibiki."
Wataru waves a hand. "That's quite different! Practice is a far cry from the stage before an audience, you should know this, as a performer yourself. So do tell me," he pauses, gaze intent on Keito's. "Was it satisfactory? Or shall I rethink my characterization?"
"...As if you have to ask. Are you fishing for compliments?"
"Am I? Indulge me, though, like you always do. I do value your opinion, my dear Keito-kun."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," Keito murmurs, distracted from his task by how unnecessarily, increasingly close Wataru had gotten as they'd spoken. What is he really after? It's quite impossible to tell. He could be messing with Keito, making a nuisance of himself as always. Or perhaps he was seeking ways to improve that mask he wore. Who could say? "It was a good performance, is that what you wanted to hear?"
Wataru's piercing gaze lingers only a split-second longer, before he sheds even that and slips into the usual dramatics, throwing his arms around Keito and clinging on through his struggles. "Oh! So you love me after all! You could have fooled me with how much you scowl, though even that is a form of love on it's own~"
"I do not love you. Get off of me this instant, you wretched creature."
"I should have known by how intently you stared-"
"Hibiki."
"Keito-kun, if you can see the audience, they can see you," His voice quietens, as he leans in ever closer to speak into Keito's ear, and it's like he's in his head. Practically is, with how much he's been turned and examined within Keito's thoughts. "That is to say, understand that as much as you watch me, I too watch you."
As he's trying to figure out how to reply to that particular statement, Wataru bursts into a shower of rose petals. Flighty. And making even more of a mess to clean up.
Leaving behind more questions than answers, in typical Wataru Hibiki style.
Keito sighs, gets out the broom and sweeps up the reminders of a man that seems unable to choose between existing or disappearing.