𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

3rd Dimension

The opera house crowd was on their feet, cheering their 'bravo's and tossing roses onto the stage for Julian. He did a final grand bow and exited stage right, heading straight for his dressing room. The rustling of the crowd on the other side of the velvet mask competed with the sounds of the stagehands packing props and moving equipment across the wooden stage floor.

There was a knock on Julian's dressing room door. He sat on the couch, hunched over with his face in his hand while the other held a half-drunken liquor bottle. Another rapping, and Julian only replied by putting the bottle to his lips for another sip. The doorknob began turning, and he bowed his head back down to stare at the carpet.

"Sorry, I thought maybe you'd left," a sweet voice came from the doorway. Julian's head lifted slightly to find the makeup artist standing there timidly. He'd always taken a liking to her, but she and him were always so rushed that he never actually got to talk to her. "I forgot something. Sorry to bother you," she apologized again. Though his eyes were beginning to lose focus, they still watched curiously as she stepped in.

"Shut the door, will you?" he nearly spat, not wanting anyone else to see him drinking and slightly upset that she saw him in this state. He didn't mean for it to come out so harshly, and even he was taken aback by the tone because -- though he didn't want her witnessing the downfall he experienced every night -- he was happily surprised with her company tonight. She nodded obediently, clicking it closed behind her as she crossed the room to swipe the makeup brush off the vanity. "Don't you ever get sick of all of this?" he suddenly spoke up, hoping to stop her from leaving, "Running around like a puppet on a string?"

She paused, shoving the brush into her makeup bag, flustered by the sudden inquiry, "It's what I signed up for."

"I'm told what to sing, how to look," he rambled, "Even what direction to walk, and our boss pays next to nothing." He wasn't trying to gain sympathy, but the alcohol was skewing his thoughts, causing him to be unsure of how to suddenly start a conversation to keep her from brushing him off and disappearing until tomorrow night. She'd never seen this side of him and was taken aback with how miserable he truly was. Her lack of response slightly sobered him up, realizing that he wanted to know more about her and not just sound as though he was unloading his problems onto whomever was nearby. "And you," he leaned back onto the couch, motioning a hand towards the beautiful girl standing there awkwardly, "You stay on the sidelines to make someone else look like a star. I bet you don't get half the recognition you should."

She gulped with uneasiness, unsure of whether she should honestly agree which would only add more fuel to his fire. Julian inwardly cursed himself at her still silent demeanor. In defeat, he held out the bottle, offering her a drink. She exhaled a breath and accepted the offer, taking a swig, her glands twinging at the bitterness before handing it back to the star. He didn't take it, but instead, eyed the spot next to him on the couch. It wouldn't hurt to stay a bit, so she slung off her bag and gently sat down.

"We should just run away, you and me," Julian laughed, hoping to illicit some sort of reaction from her. He wished she would have just taken him up on the offer, but she only returned an honest laugh at his dreamy words. But that laugh was enough to give relief to Julian.

"Imagine that," she said, taking another sip from the bottle before handing it back to him, "A big shot star running off with a struggling makeup artist."

"I bet they'd make operas about us," he shot her a gorgeous grin, earning another laugh from the girl. And, finally, the ice was broken, and they talked about their interests and how they got into the business, where they grew up, and what they wanted to do with their lives. They talked and laughed and drank until the bottle ran dry and talked some more until the cleaners kicked them out.