I had most of what I needed already, so went ahead to the theater straight from Pearl’s place. On the way I thought about Curtain Call. I remembered seeing his notebook, how many notes there were. I thought it was strange that I could possibly remember that kind of detail, but I did. I also remembered that our dear stage director would stay up much too late the night following rehearsal reviewing all those notes, and that he’d likely want some coffee to perk him up today.

I grabbed a tray of coffee from the café for him, the choreographer, the set captain, and music director. Not exactly knowing how each of them liked it, I decided to grab a few hooves full of sugar packets and creams.

I was embarrassed upon arrival, having forgotten that there happened to be several coffee makers at the theater. They all acted grateful nonetheless, some more than the others. I don’t think I saw any of them take a sip of the drinks I brought.

We were scheduled to go over the dream-sequence scene from yesterday, so I felt like it would be easy: just a repeat of before. I kept thinking, though.

As most ponies often do, I had trouble ignoring the feeling of anticipation for my coming surprises. I imagined what kind of gifts my friends would think of, if they’d keep it classy or try to make fun by getting more erotic things. I hoped to hell that they wouldn’t get me anything too obscene. I don’t even know if I’m into that kind of stuff, whatever “that stuff” is. This got me to thinking what kind of stuff I wouldn’t want them getting me and while I argued mentally with Aura we always seemed to get back to price. I really only hoped they wouldn’t spend too much on me.

I did tell Pearl not to.

(But knowing her, she might try to anyway.)

God I hope she doesn’t. What if Stitches or Patches does?

(They might, it’s no big deal.)

It is, though. You know how expensive college can be!

(I only know as well as you do.)

Stop saying that! I know you only know whatever I know. Just, tell me they won’t spend too much on these gifts.

(I only know what you know. Whatever you don’t know—)

“Shut up!” I dropped the wooden sword I was carrying and shouted behind stage. Everypony on stage looked at me, I hardly noticed. I’m sweating, breathing heavily, shaking. I know what’s happening, and wanted to stop it. Why couldn’t I?

Ponies would likely start asking, I had to contain myself before anyone stressed out over me.

(You’re the only one stressing out, Timber.)

Shut up… I turn and start walking to the dressing rooms. No, everypony not in this scene would be lounging there. I keep walking. Maybe the food room? No, there’d be ponies in there, too. I could go in the restroom, maybe wash my face off? Anypony could walk in.

I’m panicking over where I should go to wait out my attack. I find myself in a mad gallop heading toward the box seats above the auditorium. I lie down on my belly and cover my face, hiding behind the wall of the balcony, trying to take deep breaths. All I can manage are shaky breaths and sobs. Why is this troubling me so much? Why can’t I just manage this? I’ve got to get back to work!

“Timber?” I uncover my face and realize my glasses were pressed uncomfortably against my forehead. I take them off and replace my hooves. Whoever was coming up couldn’t know I was crying. “Timber…”

It’s Curtain Call, I recognize his voice. I don’t respond though.

“Timber, is something wrong?” He’s standing right above me.

I’ve finally, somehow managed to stop quivering. Without uncovering my eyes I respond softly, “No…” With how dry it comes out, there’s no way he believes me.

I hear him sit down, and feel like he wants to reach out and pet my head. I hoped he would. “Is this about the coffee? I’ll go and drink it.”

I bite my tongue, and shake my head. Now I have that back in my head, sieging my subconscious with the rest of it.

“Look, I know show business can get stressful. I know as well as anypony, trust me—“

“Sir,” another voice comes in, female. I think I recognize it. I hear Curtain Call stand and step away, the newcomer lies down in his place. “Timber?”

I do recognize her: she’s one of the supporting actresses, I’m pretty sure she’s an alto but still very strong and powerful. I remember thinking she has the heart to take on a lead, but not quite the range. I uncover one eye and see the lead male actor standing just behind her, his magenta eyes filled with concern. I look at her, can’t remember either of their names…

“What’s wrong sweetie?” When was the last time anybody called me “sweetie?” Memories come back from childhood, a teacher comforting me after an ordeal with bullies. My eyes start acting up again, I cover them. The actress moves closer and takes my head into her breast. This is what the teacher did then, too. I sob while she strokes my neck and shushes me softly. I start to calm down.

I really start calming down when the lead actor lies down beside me. He’s not touching me, but I feel his body. I’m still being cradled by the mare, which is lovely, but all I can focus on is the stallion. I hate myself for it.

He speaks, “It’s gonna be ok.” Is it? “When I was getting started, I was going through the same stuff.” I find that hard to believe, but mentally force myself to believe him. It calms me down, somehow. “I went to college for acting and some of the other students can be real pious.” I don’t think that’s the right word to use. “And when I was an intern, my stage director was just, such a pain.” His voice was so cheery. Could it be this easy to be happy? Reminiscing in good memories? Was there something more to it? Haven’t I tried that? Did it work? “Like, I get he was stressed out, too. But like, did he have to take it out on me?”

I snicker suddenly. I don’t know what came over me.

“There,” the mare coos. “It’s not so bad.” She lifts my head and looks me in the eye. She has magenta eyes, like him. I think I remember that she’s his sister. What are the odds?

I sniffle, and blink a few more tears away. I look to my left to see the stallion lying down there. I can barely see him without my glasses, but I can’t help but feel attracted to him. His magenta eyes. His night-blue ponytail mane. Could I have him? Would I have the chance?

My lip quivers again, and before I can stop myself I sob. Then drop my head into the lap of the stallion beside me. My ear is beside his chest, listening to his heartbeat quicken. All I want is this. Why can’t I just have this?

I’m still crying heavily, but silently. I hear the others leave and wonder if he gave them the signal to do so. I wonder if he understands I just want this. Some alone time with a stallion who cares. He lowers his head to rest atop my own. “It’s ok,” he reminds me.

I shudder, more tears, another sob. “I…“ I stumble. “I’ve just been here s-so long. I-I d-don’t *gasp* don’t know what…” I don’t know where that sentence was headed, so I trail off.

“Shh, shh…” his voice rumbles through my skull where he rests. Lightning shoots through me and my crying stops. “I understand, I’ve dealt with the same stuff.”

I sniffle again, “Really?”

He lifts his head, I do the same, and we look each other in the eye. Our muzzles so close. “I mean, I’ve never quite… relied so heavily, on another male, but I do understand.”

I want to spite him, to lower my head and look away, because that figures. But, I keep looking at him.

“I’ve needed comfort,” he explains, “and haven’t been able to know where to look. I ended up moving in with my sister. I didn’t even finish my internship, but she got me a spot in a live cast, and now I’ve got a lead role. I owe so much to her, being there for me.”

My eyes drop then. I like the story, and I understand his feelings. I know I’ll likely never be with him, but want this for as long as it lasts. I rest my head in his lap again.

He sighs, likely just relieved that I’ve calmed down. “I’m sorry,” I tell him.

“Don’t be,” he says. I feel my glasses slip back over my eyes. I open them just as the magenta-colored aura of his magic fades. I look up at him and he’s smiling. He’s adorable. “Don’t you dare.”