Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ VIVA ❯ 18: Back Stage Pass with complimentary drinks ( Chapter 17 )

18: Back Stage Pass with complimentary drinks

 

Hilde finished pushing the amp into place, checked the tape over the leads to make sure nothing was going to trip her over, and then checked it again. She glanced over at Solo, just to make sure he hadn't run away, but he was chatting amicably with Relena, the two of them comparing their kits on the drum stage. Heero was putting new strings on his guitar, Quatre and Dorothy were picking at their bows and Trowa was shoving a cleaning rag down the throat of his flute. All was well.

 

“Hil, a hand?”

 

Hilde left her bass in its pretty stand and wondered down to the wall of mixing desks and the trench-like madness the tech crews were working out of. She found Sally yanking at a stretch of tape, face livid as she pushed a first year out of the way.

 

“What's wrong?”

 

“Dumbass hooked up Yuy's guitar to the wrong desk, it won't feed through the right colour lights or the right effects machines, the timing will be wrong…it's a disaster, and Heero will kill me. Of course, dumbass was also anal about taping the leads down correctly. I'll be lucky if I get them off within the week let alone before tonight!”

 

Chuckling softly, Hilde pulled Solo's pocket knife out of her pocket and began tentatively running it down the sides of the tape. It was still slow work because she had to make sure she didn't hit the lead, but it was much faster than picking at it with her nails, if she had had any nails, that is.

 

“Everything okay with the bass?” Sally asked and it was obvious she was trying to distract herself from the desire to go throttle the first year responsible for the extra chore.

 

“Yeah, dress rehearsal was perfect, you did gold babe. I think Dot wanted something fixed on her helmet though, did you get that?”

 

“Yeah, no one could miss hearing that, Wufei fixed it hours ago, won't hurt to do a quick sound check though…” Sally stood, glancing over the roof of the desk-trench to look into the audience, the swivel of eyes from one side to the other the only sign Hilde had that she was watching people move out there. There was so much noise in the auditorium as everyone went about their business it was hard to find specific people. Luckily, Sally and Wufei had managed to put together a decent Tech crew and all the acts had agreed to run their sound through the new system. Zechs was head of the new team, oddly enough. Hilde hadn't thought the drum lecturer knew that much about audio, but apparently she had been wrong because he was doing a damn good job. It still amused her he was doing it under Wufei's guidance, however. Still, any compensation that got Wufei out of the trench and on stage with them was worth whatever fiasco the Zechs might be responsible for.

 

“Hey, you!” Sally struggled at the edge of the trench, trying to motion someone over but barely managing to stretch her arm over the ledge. “Yeah you! Find Chang for me!”

 

Sally dropped back into the trench, apparently positive her order would be carried through. It amused Hilde, who was used to nobody doing anything anyone said. It was, after all, an arts school. There were more egos in the auditorium than anything else, she was sure.

 

Hilde freed the last of the tape from the floor and together they pulled the lead away from the old tape, dragging it around to the right desk and plugging it in, taping the lead down the front of the trench then following it up onto the main stage from the pit until they were face to face with Heero.

 

“This where you want the amp?”

 

Heero just nodded and they finished taping it down. Even Heero, Hilde noted with a faint smile, nervously checked the leads for anything that could trip him over or falter. They left him there to be his usual post-performance anal self and headed back to the trench just as a semi-familiar face appeared…or rather, the face wasn't familiar but the style of shirt was.

 

“Howard,” Sally grinned widely, clearing space for him to jump down into the trench. “I asked for Wufei but you'll do.”

 

“Kid's busy…” Was Howard's only explanation.

 

“Cello needs a quick sound check. It's on desk seven, up on the left side.”

 

Howard nodded and headed off, calling Dorothy's name loud enough to have been heard in the cafeteria mid-lunch. Hilde wondered how he did that sometimes, and then figured she was really bored and would generally go find one of her guitars and make some noise herself.

 

“Anything I can do?”

 

“Stay out of the way?” Only the massive grin on Sally's face let her know she was half kidding. Patting her on the shoulder, Hilde made herself scarce, heading up to the stage to get Solo to pull her back onto the stage. Couldn't let Relena have him all to herself. Besides, they had to go get dressed soon and Hilde had every intention of jumping Solo in the change room.

 

*

 

Quatre fiddled with his bow one last time then put it down, determined to just leave it be. Dorothy was moving off to do sound check with Howard, which left him alone. He glanced around the auditorium and took a deep breath. It didn't seem that long ago that he had stood at home and listened to the cd the Wing College of the Arts had put out after their last concert; the first time he had heard the Electric Orchestra. He had been entranced, and now here he was, a part of it, about to step onto the stage he had struggled to imagine.

 

Only this stage surpassed imagination. This stage would mark the new standard for musical performance and it had the Electric Orchestra's names stamped all over it. Smiling faintly, Quatre moved off stage using the back entrance, avoiding the trench. Someone had put on a loud cd, heavy rock-pop that made the air bounce as it thundered from the trench, but the effect was instantaneous as everyone fell into the rhythm and got down to polishing everything off. Quatre had no doubt that when he stepped back inside everything would be as the audience would see it. Perfect.

 

The air outside was cool, less stifling, but lacking the anticipatory air of the auditorium. Few people were around; most of the school was locked away in last minute preparations whether that be rehearsals or as members of the Tech crew. Even the lecturers were scarce.

 

Quatre headed to the cafeteria and found it abandoned save for Duo and a few of the vocalist majors in one corner, poking at a score, feet tapping out a rhythm, hands clapping as they wound their way through a semi-warmup, final run through of one of the more complex vocal parts. Quatre smiled at the massive jug of water between them, went to the cook's door and stuck his head around the corner.

 

“Uh…can I have a bottle of coke?”

 

The cook looked unsurprised and tossed him a bottle. Quatre remained there, a little sheepishly as he pointed the canteen section of the cafeteria.

 

“Uh…and a packet of fruit tingles?” The cooks looked a little more suspicious at that, but after Quatre handed over his money that was really all there was to it. He headed back out to Duo just as his friends were leaving, probably to get dressed.

 

“Coke, Quatre?” Duo arched a lean brow at him.

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

“Uh…that depends…what the hell's the coke for?”

 

Quatre didn't reply, just opened the fruit tingles and handed the first one, a green, to Duo.

 

“Put it in your mouth, then take a mouthful of coke. Don't swallow, let it fizz up until you want to spit it out, then swallow.”

 

Duo balked, staring from the fruit tingle in his hand to the coke in horror.

 

“Quatre, I have to sing in…like…an hour!”

 

“I know. Trust me.”

 

Duo took the fruit tingle like it might turn into a gorilla and chase him around the cafeteria saying `you Jane'. But he stuck it in his mouth, he took a rather large mouthful of coke and he stood there, waiting, staring at Quatre until Quatre was sure the guy's face was going to turn blue, then he swallowed.

 

There was a long pause and Quatre wondered if maybe he shouldn't run after all, then Duo grinned.

 

“Shit, Quat, that stuff's gold!”

 

“I know,” Quatre smiled back. “Kills anything in your throat, clears the vocal chords, clears the head and gives some sugar to your stomach to burn all those nerves off in.”

 

“Got some credits I can borrow?”

 

Quatre handed over the right amount of money and waited as Duo bought his own `miracle' fix.

 

“How'd you know about this stuff?” Duo tossed another fruit tingle in his mouth and took a swig of coke, swishing it around in his mouth playfully.

 

“My sister thought I was too nervous before a performance once…I was hyperventilating at the time…” Quatre grinned, trying not to remember. “Uh, just don't drink too much or it won't sit properly in your stomach. Three is usually enough.”

 

Duo just nodded happily and swallowed his mouthful.

 

“I'm heading to the bathroom to get dressed…you wanna come or you gonna change in the dance block?”

 

Duo shrugged, considered it for all of five seconds then dragged Quatre toward the dance block.

 

“Come on, we'll pick up my stuff and head over to music. Everyone else'll be getting changed there anyhow.”

 

Letting Duo lead, Quatre took his time, simply examining the dance block. It was newer than the others; as far ahead of the music block, as far as standards went, as the art block was behind it. There were mirrors and paintings and it was just aesthetically pleasing in a way none of the other buildings had been designed to be. Except maybe the admin block and the performance spaces, for rather obvious reasons. Maybe dance students just didn't trash the place as often as the rest, who knew.

 

Duo's room was as messy as Quatre had expected it to be, mildly reminiscent of his own. The rooms were too small to ever be tidy. Even spotless there was always something falling over, or out or on…just falling really. It was nice to know, however, that it wasn't just him. Duo grabbed a suit bag from his closet and they headed off again.

 

“So are you nervous this time?”

 

Quatre just shrugged. Wasn't everyone a little nervous? Wasn't that half the fun of it?

 

“Just…yanno, don't puke on me or anything. Drink coke...it's all good.”

 

*

 

Trowa sat on the front of the stage in his rather eccentric jesters suit, toying with the bells off one edge of his hat, watching the empty seats, letting the thundering bass from the cd someone had left playing liven his blood. Everyone was getting dressed, prepping themselves and in the foyer outside thousands of people were gathering, sipping champagne and studying a program that probably made no sense to them at all. But they would pretend they knew what they were talking about, as they whispered the names of musicians and actors, proclaiming them new geniuses of their day. They would examine on the artwork on the front, be stunned by its perfection that hadn't seen the light of day in years. He could hear them, their voices muted by the soundproof walls but such a cacophony unable to be kept out for long. The doors would open, they would come in droves, guided to their seats by the art majors in their clean black and white suits, each with blood red lips and glittered hair to be just that little more effective, to make them wonder just that little bit more.

 

The curtains were drawn, hiding the stage they had carefully constructed. The pit was raised to look like the stage, the cages attached to the ceiling smothered in heavy red drapes to hide themselves, looking for all the world like part of the décor. The stage itself was a masterpiece, let alone what would walk across it tonight. It was everything his mind had dreamt of since he walked off the stage last semester, and when he walked off tonight he would have new dreams, better fantasies to outdo what he had crafted, but for now…while he sat, and simply observed, he could bask in what he had written, hearing the score in his head, already knowing what those people would see and hear, what words their voices would speak when they left.

 

The Wing College of the Arts was the best Arts school known to man, but it wasn't because of the walls, or the teachers, or the amount of money they somehow managed to raise. It wasn't even because the best of the best went there. It was because the best were drawn to one another there; egos were traversed, locked away in closets with their keys thrown away and all that remained was the desire to make the greatest music known to man, to perform as no one else had ever performed, to create pictures that would be remembered long after all of them were gone.

 

Wing was the best because it surpassed the individual, or the group and drew everyone to it. Even Trowa Barton, who left the circus; the pinnacle of the performance arena, at the end of every holiday to slave over pages of manuscript under a tyrannical maestro who believed her day had passed until Trowa came along to learn and showed her that legacies could live on.

 

Cathy was going to be in that audience tonight. Duo's priest. Heero's uncle. Hilde's sister. Relena's parents. Quatre's twenty something sisters. Dorothy's grandfather. Wufei's cousin. So many familiar faces drawn to this place, for the one purpose. To listen, to watch. To hear and to see.

 

While those they loved spoke and were heard.

 

A hand squeezed his shoulder and Trowa looked up at Wufei in the garish, glittered glamorous macabre costume and smiled. He picked up the mask from his side and put it on as Wufei snatched up a sword and threaded it through his belt. Together, they turned up the lights for the audience, turned off all the stage lights, leaving only a spotlight on center stage, where Wufei dropped a single red rose.

 

“I am assured it is the flower with the greatest dramatic effect,” Wufei noted softly. Trowa simply laughed, the sound muffled slightly by his mask.

 

The doors opened and from behind the stage curtain Wufei and Trowa watched the team of penguin-clad art majors file in, spreading out across the various entries, programs in hand, torches, sharply shined shoes. When the doors opened again the first of the viewers arrived, lead to their seats in an excited hush, and slowly the sound grew, the seats were filled and they left the curtain alone.

 

Heero came first, waiting backstage in a corner, scantily clad in black pants that looked made of spandex and a barely there green shirt, arms, neck and face painted in the same design that swirled up one leg of his pants.

 

Hilde matched Duo, marched in with Dorothy who matched Quatre, then Relena and Solo walked in looking like royalty. Duo was last to arrive, smirking at them all around a perfectly constructed mask of paint, looking for all the world like the court king, but what an odd court it was.

 

Trowa's blood thumped in his veins. He stared at it in his wrist and smiled, looking at the doors to the stage. There was sound out there, anticipating but not sure what. But out the back, all sound was hushed to silence, as if all the school stood there, holding its breath.

 

Trowa heard Une take the microphone. Heard her lean over to pick something out. Heard the soft inhalation of breath as she took in the scent of the rose. The silence spread.

 

And the curtain rose.