Kristal||ONC 2020|| {Complete}

Epilogue

"Ten minutes," the familiar shouting of Jeremy busted through the air like a twenty-one gun salute. "Next performer, you've ten minutes."

Did Jeremy lose the papers for the list of performers again?

Harold groaned internally as he gave his students two huge thumbs up before bolted down the stairs of the stage eagerly almost tripping over the huge bulk of wire in front of him. He apologized to the students there and hurried his way down the flight of stairs that seemed to be endless.

As much as he appreciated Jeremy's perfection, why does the man have to arrange his performance right after his students? He was dying to watch them.

"Where's Kristal?" the make-up artist yelled between the crowds of performers, bumping into the dancer who dressed in swan-like attire. "Where's he?"

"I'm here! I'm here!" yelled Harold in unison, trying to prevent chaos from erupting. "Let me change into my outfit, first."

He would have preferred to watch his students' performance, but from his schedule, he had to miss it. Losing the dark blue coat he had been wearing, Harold turned to the closet to search for his attire. He picked up the neatly pack clothing bag, brushing the edges before heading towards the changing room. Upon reaching the quiet room, he heard the familiar music echoing above him and the sound of the dancer's shoes squeaked in sequence above him.

"Harl," called Tiberius, sending a knock on the door. "Harl, you in there?"

"Yup," replied Harold, slipping into the bright red and blue attire. "What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to stay in the front row with Becky to watch the performance."

Harold opened the door after changing and came eye to eye with his best friend who marvelled at how the clothing fitted him perfectly. It showed off Harold's perfect curves and muscles, making Tiby's square shoulders to stand high at his perfect design.

"I've got to look at you one more time before I let you out on stage," chirped Tiby, locking the door as he motioned for his best friend to sit down. "Zahid's performance was marvellous. No wonder you adored that boy so much."

Harold glanced towards Tiby's figure in the mirror and gave him finger shots.

"Told you," he said, sipping from the bottle. "It's worth watching. I am glad I managed to persuade Jeremy to place him as the opening. I mean the others are good too, but you know, the first impression lasts. I don't want people walking out of this event anyways."

Trying to form a perfect ribbon on his outfit, he stood up, ready to head over to his make-up artist only to have Tiby pressed him down like a play-dough.

"I'm not letting your make-up artist do your make up," said Tiby, whipping out a large make-up set from his backpack. 

Harold laughed at the pout Tiby put on and reached out to tap on his chin gently.

"It's..."

"Nope," said Tiby patting onto his shoulders. "I mean sure they are good but..."

Harold casted Tiby a smirk with a sharp glare since he knew the boy sure had been lying about his words about their make-up being good.

"Fine!" he exclaimed. "It's horrifying! Have you seen how he did the performers' make-up? I'm sure you have seen your students' ones. God, it's horrifying! They look like a bunch of rising dead."

Harold closed his eyes as he felt the brush across his eyelids, humming at the answer.

"Don't be so hard on them. They are all students. Apparently, Jeremy says it trains them to cooperate with each other at such intense time. Clearly, I'm violating that."