a million dreams [tgs klance au]

tightrope (pt. 2)

Keith

The riots were getting worse. Ezor and Zethrid kicked out the rioters when they got into the stands, but they'd just stand outside with their loud, ugly, opinions. Business was plummeting, anyone could see that. The morale of the performers was dropping too.

As I prepared Hunk, Acxa and Veronica, and Pidge and Matt to go onstage next, I glanced through the curtains to check in on the current performers. Allura and Lance.

Lance swung from the trapeze, arms outstretched to catch Allura's, but he missed. My heart lunged to my throat as I watched him fall and it stayed there even when he was safely caught by the spotters. I turned away, biting my lip. I could hear the rioters above the applause when the act was over.

The climax of the show, the tipping point of the rioters, the big crescendo was coming. And I didn't have hope that it would be good.

...

Shiro

"'It is as though we have learned for the first time what singing really is'," Curtis read from the newspaper, eyes bright and shining as he spoke. "'Mister Lind deserves our nation's highest esteem and most lavish ovations.'" He looked up at me, pointing at the author of the article. Lotor Princeton. My most fearsome critic turned to my most generous appraiser. Was I dreaming?

Curtis and I sat on a long loveseat in his hotel suite, relaxing before the final week of the tour. The whole journey had been incredible. Each night, a new theater, a new crowd, more roses thrown to Curtis' feet, more applause to my name and his. It was stunning.

And the crowds and luxurious theaters and hotel rooms weren't the only things that set my heart pumping with excitement. Curtis himself had reeled me in more than he knew, more than I should have let him. He was not only incredibly talented but intelligent and kind as well.

On long train rides we spent together, we talked about the Garrison and the economy and a number of other random and wild topics, his cobalt eyes never leaving mine, the warmth of his skin just faint enough to feel as I slept beside him in the train car, his head resting gently on my shoulder, my cheek against the top of his head.

I refused to allow myself to think of what all of it meant. All of the flirting and coy gazes and sly smiles... Whenever I did, Adam's face swam in my vision alongside Amelia's- the daughter I had yet to meet. And then, like a tsunami washing over a peaceful town, guilt rained down on me until I made myself avert my eyes from Curtis' lips or skin or hands.

He made me feel as if I had lost any and all control over myself. It was new and refreshing and so foreign to me that I was constantly waiting for more. We poured attention and validation over each other and swam in a woozy pool of heart-throbbing confusion and lush luxury. I didn't know how I felt about Curtis but it was strong and warm and fuzzy and I didn't want to let go of it yet.

"I mean..." I started in response to Mr. Princeton's article. I was speechless to his flattering praise.

"The whole world at our feet," Curtis hummed, his dark hair falling over his eyes. Suddenly, he stood, brushing off his plum-colored suit and walking over to a small side table near the couch that held a decanter of brandy and two crystalline glasses. "Well, Mr. Shirogane," he poured the amber liquid into both chalices as he spoke, "this is to making dreams come true."

Curtis sat back down on the couch with me and handed me one of the glasses, clinking them together delicately before drinking. "Thank you, Curtis," I said, drinking as well. The taste was strong and floral, but I liked it.

When I lowered my glass, I realized how close we were. Curtis was staring at me with a small, curious smile on his lips. His eyes flickered from mine to my mouth and back, leaning in a little closer. I heard blood rushing in my ears and felt a little dizzy. Curtis' breath brushed my cheek and he leaned even closer.

Suddenly, Adam's eyes replaced Curtis'. The eyes of my baby daughter in his arms. My Adam. I jerked away, the brandy in my glass sloshing. "It's two hours to curtains," I managed to whisper. Curtis didn't seem fazed. 

"I've given you the world, haven't I?" he said thoughtfully, prim and proper and gorgeous as always, his smooth accent rolling over my ears. 

I bit my lip. I'd made my decision. I couldn't let this go on any longer than it already had. "I should go," I whispered, looking away from Curtis' sapphire eyes. This time, he was the one to look away, freeing me from the intensity of his gaze. I fumbled for words as he slowly began to lean back. "I'm sorry, Curtis, really. I shouldn't even be here right now, you should be practicing. I've become a distraction."

"No," he tried, irises flashing nervously, anxiously. 

"You should just finish the tour without me," I half-joked, setting my glass down on the low table that stood in front of the loveseat. 

Curtis frowned, his delicate brows arching together in hurt confusion. "You're leaving?"

"Well, Ezor and Zethrid told me that the itinerary is all planned out, you're all set until the end of the tour. Why am I even here?" I was rambling now, pulling excuses out of thin air, desperate to get away from the awkward tension that now hung in the air. 

Curtis interrupted me, his eyes suddenly hardening. "So, that's it, then?"

"What?"

He nodded as if finally understanding a difficult concept, his face growing stormier and more upset by the moment. "I'm just... another one of your little acts." He said the last word as if it were poison on his tongue. 

"No, Curtis, listen-"

He got up from the couch and began walking away, heading towards the door to the room. "I'm done, Shiro."

When I called out to him, asking him to wait, I was surprised that he did. 

Standing, I straightened out my jacket and walked to meet him, pleading him with my eyes. "You have to finish the tour, Curtis."

"Must I?" he spat, anger flaring in his tone. 

I was speechless for a moment at his temper- usually, he was the calmest in the room. "It would ruin me if you didn't, you know that."

Curtis scoffed, running his long, delicate fingers through his hair. "When you're careless with other people, Mr. Shirogane, you bring ruin upon yourself."

I ignored his words. I didn't need him to teach me life lessons- I had a show to run. "I risked everything for this, Curtis."

He smiled joylessly. "Well, so did I! And now, it seems like we both lost." His voice quivered dangerously as he talked and I noticed the tears pooling in his eyes. When I couldn't bring myself to respond, he turned away and walked out the door. 

I buried my head in my hands, wanting so desperately to break down, to give up, to just damn it all and never think of it again. But I couldn't because I had a show that needed to go on. 

That night, as Curtis sang his final song, his voice quivered and shook just as it had in the hotel room and I watched as a single tear slipped down the perfectly smooth skin of his cheek. Concerned applause met him when he finished and, when he held out his hand to me in the wings I somewhat nervously stepped on stage to bow with him one final time. 

Bright flashes of cameras momentarily blinded me as I stood center stage with Curtis. His fingers were ice cold as we bowed to the crowd together and, upon straightening, I turned to him, trying to mask my emotions. "Thank you," I said, relieved that he'd agreed to perform one more show. 

But, before I could stop him, he leaned forward and kissed me softly on the lips, in front of the entire crowd as the photographers' flashes went crazy. I stepped back, confused and bewildered. "What was that?!" I said quietly. 

His tone was soft and broken. "That was goodbye, Mr. Shirogane."