Harmony sung her heart out as she played the part of Christine in the Phantom of the Opera. She took pride in her voice, it was the only thing that boosted her confidence. She was scared easily, everyone teased her about it since she was a young girl. Teasing led to bullying which made her insecure about herself.
“Alright, Harmony,” the director broke the illusion of the audience and brought her attention down to the front row “Take a rest. We’ll go through the Masquerade scene with the chorus to clean up the dancing.”
Harmony walked off the stage silently with Marcus who played the Phantom. He placed a hand on his shoulder, making her jump. She took a moment to pause and catch her breath as he chuckled quietly.
“Are you feeling alright, Harmony?” he asked as she took off the brunette wig to let her silver hair loose.
“I want to go home,” she whispered to maintain her voice.
“We all want to go home,” Marcus chuckled “Hey, there’s no need to whisper. You won’t be singing anymore now we’re focusing on the dancing.”
Harmony shook her head. She was strict with her voice, ever since she took singing lessons when she was nine years of age, she made sure to keep it healthy and not strain it. Marcus smiled and walked with her to her dressing room. Harmony hated having to walk so many stairs when the lift was temporarily out of order. She was really tired by the time they reached the end of the second set of stairs. Marcus smiled sympathetically and picked her up, in the style that the Phantom would pick Christine up, and carried her up the stairs. Harmony rested her head on his shoulder shyly, her cheeks flushed with exhaustion and her eyes half closed from sleepiness.
“You’re going to need to redo your make up,” Marcus muttered and Harmony grunted in annoyance.
Harmony registered just barely Marcus carrying her into her dressing room and laying her down on the sofa.
“How about I tell the others that you’re taking a nap so they won’t disturb you or call you down?” he offered and Harmony whispered a yes please to him.
Marcus lingered and ran a hand through her sweaty silver hair that had been under that itchy wig for over two hours and bent down to her ear. Harmony tensed when she felt his breath.
“You alone can make my song take flight,” he sung gently “Help me make, the music of the…”
As he sung the last note, he withdrew, put his costume cloak over Harmony and slowly tiptoed out of the dressing room. Harmony sighed softly with a sleepy smile as she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of her debut performance at the West End Theatre.