Break a Horn / Fantoccio X Reader

12 / A Pinch of Sweetness

You stayed awake all night after the dream, only leaving the comfort of the dressing room when you heard the reckless rummaging from the stage area.

You noticed Fantoccio, already dressed in the simple tuxedo the scene called for, tinkering with a control panel near the back of the stage. Looking frustrated, he resorted to using magic on the mechanics, sparking up the connections and turning the stage lights on manually.

"... Cease your staring!" He suddenly bellowed, "it makes me feel anxious!" His exclamation surprised you, as you thought he loved being stared at.

"Oh. I'm sorry," you apologized, averting your gaze to the cardboard cutout audience while he worked. Then, he got your attention again, holding up a dress to your figure, checking how it looked on you. Then, he threw it into your arms, "there's your costume for this role, hurry along and get dressed, there's no time to waste."

You quickly went off to the dressing room, changing into the costume. You examined yourself in the mirror. The white, knee-length dress was very fitting, hugging your figure close, yet still pertaining modesty. Even with your mismatched horns, you looked... gorgeous.

When you returned to the stage, Fantoccio was caught up in his own lines, practicing by himself. You picked up your script that was laying on the ground, gaining the puppet's attention.

The lights dimmed, and little sparks of magic poured from the ceiling, Fantoccio's magic imitating that it was raining.

"I love you now, but I'm afraid that my delusion will shatter and reveal who you may truly be," you said, dramatic and emotional.

Fantoccio stepped forward, hands outstretched towards you, making you internally wince, reminding you of your nightmare, "this is the real me! I am just a man, in love with a woman, willing to do anything for her, and all I want is for you to truly understand how much I need you."

You gulped, "perhaps the delusion has affected you too. Is everything you have now made from that false view of what you see the world as? I haven't been with you in fourteen years, and you got your life together without my help. What more adventures could we have together if we've already written our stories on our own?"

"You were always there," Fantoccio confessed, voice cracking on cue, "you never left my side; as you were in every dream, every decision, and every moment. My success is accredited under your name, as you've stayed in mind for fourteen, long years."

Fantoccio was a great actor, so much so that his words resonated within you, giving you a warm feeling inside your chest, "but how am I to know that what you say is true, and nothing but? How could I have influenced your life when I wasn't even there for most of it? How do I begin to understand what I mean to YOU? ... How do I understand what people view me as, instead of the veil I put up?"

The puppet raised an eyebrow, subtly breaking character at your all-too-real emotional state, "that's not in the script... take tw—"

"They think I'm nothing but a device of entertainment, who has no feelings and no desire to grow for myself," your mouth was running on auto-pilot as you felt a breakdown fast approaching, "nobody cares about me. I have nobody, Fantoccio," you blurted out his name, desperate for somebody to listen for once and realize how much you actually suffered.

You stepped back, now registering that you've ventured far too close to Fantoccio, who was frozen and staring at you with an astounded expression. You felt bad for intruding on his space in your own moment.

You stumbled over your words, trying miserably to find what to say, "I've been—it's just... I'm... I-I don't know what to say anymore, there's so much that needs to be said! I'm so goddamn lonely, and nobody cares!"

Your volume raised into a shout progressively, your battle against the tears was lost as the first several drops of desperation crashed onto the stage, "I'm so exhausted, Fantoccio! I might just die from the pressure of it all! NOBODY," you shrieked, striking the wooden, prop lamppost that stood to the side of the scene, "IS ON," you stomped, dangerously shaking the stage, "MY SIDE!"

Fantoccio was still wincing at your sudden anger, even when you backed off again and stood there with an apologetically lost countenance.

The air was tense and silent between you two. Nobody was brave enough to speak yet. You jerked once you heard a couple of claps from in front of you. You looked up to see Fantoccio a few inches floating above the stage, his large, star-struck eyes, and his feet shaking giddily.

"BRAVA! MAGNIFICO! SPLENDIDO!" He exclaimed, "what a stellar performance! Though, you seemed to have mistakenly used my name in your spiel... no matter! What a demonstration of grand, thespian ingenuity! Brava!"

You stared in disbelief. Had he not understood?

Slowly, you lowered your head in despondent acceptance, "thank you."

Once Fantoccio stopped excitedly bounding about, he floated close to your face, smiling brightly, "I look forward to see what else you do from now on, what a performance, my, I feel undeniably proud!"

His words once again came as a shock to you. Nobody has ever felt proud of you before, unless it involved their own benefits.

He relaxed his face, his smile was as genuine as genuine could be, "you are a talented performer, coming from someone who is a talented performer himself, and you deserve to be proud."

Finally, you realized what he was doing. He knew you were venting about your personal life, but he wasn't socially-inclined enough yet to tackle the issue head-on, so he resorted to the next best thing—acting.

He acted as if you were putting on an act, showering you with the praise and well-deserved support that you've never experienced, consoling you in his own way.

You smiled, nodding appreciatively, not yet trusting your voice to be able to speak at such a moment.