I'm so sorry for taking so long to publish this! I got caught up with school work and other commitments :( Regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter; this was an especially fun one to write. Feel free to leave your thoughts/constructive criticism in the comments below - I LOVED reading your amazing comments for the first chapter <3 you guys are the best [again, you're welcome to press play on the video above for some music accompaniment]
I dedicated this chapter to czmmmm because not only has she been incredibly helpful and kind, but her comments always make me smile :) thank you!!
Scott halted abruptly in the VIP entrance area, jaw tight, eyes wide, as he turned his head to take in the magnificence of the arena. Red was the only word he could use to describe it all – the beauty and elegance of each addition to the area served as another blow to his knees, and he felt the need to catch his breath. The ceiling stretched upwards to an impossible height, beams, organic shapes, and tightropes pulling at the walls; soft instrumental music wound around him like butter. Every doubt at the back of Scott's mind was whisked away in an instant, having been promptly hypnotised by the space around him.
He turned his head to look at Kirstin, who was already scratching furiously at her notebook, sketching drawings of the composition, the staging. Her brows were pinched in concentration, though Scott could see that the atmosphere was definitely affecting her as well by the way her hand trembled as she drew.
Kirstin had always been an amazing artist, particularly with her 3D conceptual designs in high school. He remembered sitting by her during lunch on hallway floors, staring in awe at the way she created things out of a blank page. He always knew that she'd make it in the artistic world; there was never a doubt in his mind. Scott always joked back then that he'd only live in a house designed by her, but at this point, he was relying on it. Cash was tight for a poor college student like himself, and he was sure that Kirstie would give him a sweet discount in the future.
He was suddenly zapped back to reality when she loudly snapped the elastic around her notebook and tucked it back into her purse. "Perfect!" Then, much like a small child, she yanked at Scott's sleeve and began pulling him down the carpeted stairs. Scott couldn't help but laugh; they must've looked so out of place amongst all the other sophisticated circus-goers.
An usher met them enthusiastically at the bottom, and directed them to their seats with a glowing smile. From this distance, Scott could notice numerous props and such placed strategically on the stage: golden hoops, ribbons, a transparent bathtub of water. Silk drooped down from the ceiling and lay in folds on the sides of the stage like napkins. On the far wall of the stage, a large screen displayed photos of past performances, all of which looked very, very impressive.
He politely waited for Kirstin to take a seat first before carefully drooping his coat over the back of his chair. She immediately plunged her hand in the bag of popcorn, and covered her mouth as she spoke. "So what do you think, Scooter?"
"It's... literally amazing." He took a moment to pop a few pieces of popcorn in his mouth. "I'm actually really excited."
"Good, I'm glad." She bounced a bit in her seat, and quickly pulled out her catalogue. "Let me show you who's performing tonight." Scott watched her in amusement as she flipped through the pages, going through what she had probably been rehearsing.
Kirstin showed him nearly every page of faces, eagerly spewing out facts about each of them. The first was a picture of a short-haired woman, legs bent over her head as she smiled; next was an incredibly bulky man wearing heavy eye makeup and an intricate headdress. He slowly began to drift off a little, but the moment she turned to one page in particular, Scott felt a jolt surge through him. Even though it had been years, Scott knew instantly who it was, and his stomach began to turn. His hand shook as he pointed at the figure on the page. "W-who is that?"
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The Funambulist
Fanfiction{fu·nam·bu·list: a tightrope walker/rope-dancer} Scott Hoying had been sitting in row 4, seat number 23, when he had been sure that his heart stopped beating. With his fingernails burrowed into his dark jeans and his lip between his teeth, he could...
