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It was dark behind the auburn curtains, dark and cold, setting into his bones like icicles. The curtains themselves casted an ominous shadow on the young man standing there, his guitar and its case slung over his shoulders, his form slouched.
It's almost showtime, his mind reminded him. Just a few more minutes.
Sighing, he tucked his rusty hair behind his ear.
He didn’t much like the idea of staying here, alone, for the remainder of these minutes. But he knew he had no choice.
He felt something—someone?—missing, but he had no choice in that matter, either.
It would be just him and his music.
...He didn’t much like his playing, just as much as he didn’t like being here.
It’d be better if he wasn’t alone.
(It’d be better if—)
It was almost time.
Given the severity of the disembodied voice’s words, the guitarist set his protected instrument down on the floor, zipping open the case and taking the desired object out.
This is it, he told himself. You can do this, Jake.
It did little to help, even still. His throat tightened, his muscles tensed, and his chest filled with static.
But he was ready—as ready as he could be.
No, where was...?
Holding the neck of his guitar carefully, he pulled back the silky drapes framing the center stage and finally stepped out into the fray.
...And he stopped short.
His brain briefly halted itself as he stared out over the vacant seats, only the lights of the hall, not a singular spotlight or stage lights, illuminating the room.
He was completely alone, and yet,
he drew in a breath, knowing they were there anyway.
He positioned his guitar, his right hand with the pick hovered over the strings. He plucked once, then continued, just a bit shakily on first attempt. What came in response was a soft, romantic set of notes, echoing through the empty air and leaving it empty no more. He strummed delicately, imagining the words of the song in his head to accompany his work.
He reached the bridge of the song in no time, changing the key just slightly, heart humming the tune alongside; he closed his eyes, forgetting himself, forgetting the nonexistent, perhaps invisible crowd.
And then, just as he began replaying the bridge...
Like a river flows, surely to the sea,
Darling, so it goes,
The smooth voice drifted in from his left, and he further forgot himself, even as his hands went on meticulously moving. His amber eyes shot open and, though he saw no one there with him, he could feel her presence even still.
A soft smile graced his face, expression filled with affection and wonderment as her beautiful bell-like singing carried on:
Some things are meant to be.
He slowed the pace of the song, until it was just a few chords and her.
Take my hand,
Take my whole life, too,
For I can’t help
Falling in love with you.
And on the last verse, he joined her in the moment, his eyes seeking hers out, even if she wasn’t truly there.
“For I can’t help,” he echoed quietly, strumming even slower, his own voice just barely audible.
“Falling in love with you,” they finally sang in unison, the perfect combination of two voices flowing together, ending on a melodious, bittersweet note.
As soon as they were done, the crowd cheered, clapped, and cried all at once.
The uncertainty in Jake faded away, as he stood with her on the stage, looking out over the invisible people before them, the echo of their applause reaching the pair’s ears, flowing through their hearts, through his.
He felt whole.
He felt loved.
As he lost himself in the moment,
he forgot everything.
~
Then he woke up.
And he remembered everything.
And he wept, until he could no more.