Say You'll Share With Me | Phantom Oneshots

pre-show jitters

for day 2 of POTO Fluff Week 2022 - concert!

~

"Papa, I don't think I can do this."

Erik looked over at his son to see him twiddling his thumbs—a nervous habit inherited from him—where he sat on one of the little wooden chairs backstage at the local theatre that had been rented out for the recital that night. Though Gustave was being taught piano by his father, Christine still thought it was important that he got the chance to show off his talents along with other children and for other people to be able to appreciate his musical abilities. It had taken a while for Erik to warm up to the idea, as he knew his son was an anxious boy and he wasn't overly keen on having to venture out around others to see those recitals. Nevertheless, Gustave had been excited initially at the idea of performing, so Erik couldn't find any reason to deny him his wishes.

He seemed to be regretting that now, though. "Why not? What's wrong?" Erik asked, crouching next to the boy and resting a hand on Gustave's back.

"I just don't think I'm good enough," his son quietly admitted. "I heard some of the other kids practicing and they're really good. I don't know if I can play as good as they can."

"Gustave, that's nonsense," Erik replied with a quiet sigh at seeing just how dejected his son seemed to be. "You're a wonderful piano player; your mother and I both tell you that."

"You guys are my parents. You have to say that," Gustave grumbled.

The corner of Erik's lips turned up as he leaned forward to kiss his son's temple, cradling the boy's head in his hand. "We love being able to tell you that you're a wonderful pianist because it's true. We wouldn't lie to you; we would never do that," he said softly, turning Gustave to face him with the crook of his finger. "You can do this, Gustave. Mama and I are going to be in the audience the whole time, and when you've played your song, we'll be clapping and cheering the loudest of anyone in the audience. You can do this, I know you can."

His chest warmed as Gustave smiled, nodded, then leaned forward to tightly wrap his arms around his neck. "You're really going to clap that loud?"

"Oh, we're going to clap so loud that you'll end up embarrassed and not wanting to look at us anymore," Erik said, smiling when he heard his son's quiet giggle. "But you're our son and we love you and all that you did. Just let us be proud of you."

"Okay, I guess that's okay," Gustave replied, laughing quietly as he leaned back and kissed his father's cheek. "Thanks, Papa."

"Of course," Erik said as he straightened out his son's suit jacket. "Now, I'm going to go join your mother before it's your turn to perform. You're going to do great, don't you worry. We'll see you soon."

Seeing him nod, Erik kissed his cheek again before he stood and left the backstage area with only one or two more glances over his shoulder at his son. He knew that he could only do what he'd promised and support Gustave from the audience, so, with a quiet sigh and a small smile, he weaved his way through the rows of chairs in the small auditorium to find his wife, who was already sitting in their front row seats.

"There you are," Christine said, smiling up at him as she moved her purse from the chair next to her so he could sit down. "How is he?"

"Nervous, but I gave him a bit of a pep talk," Erik said with a nod, crossing one leg over the other and looking up on the stage as the lights dimmed. In a whisper, he added, "At least he's going first. He'll be done with it and can relax for the rest of the show."

"My thoughts exactly."

Watching the stage, Erik immediately smiled when his son shuffled out from behind the curtains and sat down on the piano bench. He went through the same ritual as his father before starting to play—stretching his back and cracking his knuckles, the latter of which his mother was desperate to get him to stop doing—and then cast a nervous glance at the audience. He scanned the chairs before his sights settled on his parents and he gave them a small smile, to which Christine gave him a wave and Erik a reassuring nod.

That seemed to be the encouragement he needed, as with a deep breath, Gustave settled his fingers on the keys and began to play, the auditorium filling with the perfect melodies. Erik's chest swelled with pride as he reached over to take his wife's hand while they looked on at their son playing with all of the passion for and love of music that ran through his veins. They were raising a blossoming little musician, one with so many of the opportunities that his parents had never had, and Erik, for one, couldn't have been prouder. After all, what father wouldn't be?