Go Ask the Wind, or Better Yet, Go Ask Herr Forehead

Chapter 20

wooooo new chapter

enjoy sinners

The pre-concert routine wasn't new to Klavier, but this time, it was different.

Well, of course it was. The differences were too stark and apparent to be poetic, or anything of the sort. Klaver wasn't part of a band anymore, he was the only man performing, Daryan was in jail, the Gavinners were disbanded, and Klavier was coming out with a solo album. The standard difference was that it was just him, Klavier Gavin had an entire show dedicated to him and his music.

And people wondered why stars had such egos.

It was difficult alone, though, and predictably lonely. There weren't any inside jokes from practice, no one was laughing with Klavier and no one had his back. No one noticed as his breath hitched at the thought of Kristoph, or made fun of him when he recited the lyrics for the millionth time, tapping his foot against anything he could find.

Klavier always got the pre-show jitters, though never because of the gigantic crowds. The audience is my friend, ja?

He'd said that once, and been quoted in every magazine and newspaper. So no, it wasn't the crowds that intimidated him. Most of the time, he got terrified by himself- or rather, his fallibility.

He made a point of seeming overconfident and egocentric to everyone he met, carefully constructing a pretty Klavier Gavin to show to people when they asked for him. His rock stardom seemed so fragile, able to fall apart with a single word or bad performance. One trip on stage, and he'd never forget it. One mispronunciation, and the whole world would know. One mistake, one slip-up, and he'd have failed. Game over.

Klavier hated his perfectionism, he hated it when he'd panic and blame others and he hated it whenever came short of being perfect. He was human, he told himself, humans weren't meant to be perfect. His inner monologue wasn't fooled, though, reasoning that humans really weren't meant to fly, either, so really, anything is possible.

And so, Klavier expected himself to be perfect.

He knew why. It wasn't natural, it wasn't something he'd been born with and struggled with since birth. That might make it bearable, knowing that, despite it, it was Klavier in control all along. That is was his choice to expect perfection.

Klavier had a funny feeling that there was a reason that that inner monologue voice sounded like Kristoph.

Oh yes, there was no way to deny that this little feature was installed exclusively by Kristoph. It was too logical, in a way, because who wouldn't want their tool to accept nothing short of perfection?

Kristoph hadn't ever been proud of Klavier, or acknowledged a single thing he did. It was never good enough, never worthy of Kristoph's high praise. And oh, did Klavier ever want that praise.

It seemed easy, at first, to blame it all on Kristoph. Classic daddy issues, he never came to my baseball game. Yet it felt like so much more than that, especially now that the truth about Kristoph had been revealed. Klavier had always felt like he was withholding his praise, holding it all back to watch Klavier work himself to the bone for it. It was the treat you never gave the dog, the reward you dangled in front of his nose and watched as he drove himself mad in crazed frenzy. Kristoph could have his cake and eat it, too, as Klavier blamed himself and tried to fix problems that didn't exist.

It made so much more sense now, looking back. Those nights when Klavier would smash his fist into the wall, wondering why it was all him and no Kristoph, and if there was something wrong with him. Wondering if he wasn't good enough to deserve love in return, wondering if he was too broken to elicit a smile. Nowadays, it made more sense. Hard as it was to believe, he wasn't the broken one.