Her fiery breath tickles as she leans in closer.

She is going to kiss me.

I don't remember what she has said before. She leans in too close, that is the only thing I know for sure.

"We c-can't – " I want to stop her, because I know it's wrong. We cannot kiss. She cannot kiss me. Not here. Not ever again.

"Just for a second," she whispers begging. I feel my knees go weak at the sight of her pleading ruby eyes, as if she knows we won't have such a chance again.

She leans in closer. Closer, closer, closer. I can hear her heart beating, steadily so. Her body is so close to mine, the proximity makes my legs tremble enormously. And just when her lips finally brush mine, I feel a shiver travel down my spine like electricity. Her kisses are always this soft, this enchanting. Every time we kiss, I feel like loosing myself.

When she draws back again, her ruby eyes are watery. Their sparkle is unavoidable to register, it pains me to return their gaze. Such a sad and heartbreaking way of looking at me should be illegal.

"It takes one second to fall in love," she says with shaking voice, "just like it takes one second for everything to fall apart."

She reaches out for my hand. As her tender fingers touch mine swiftly, I stare at her with curiosity. She makes sure to rest her own palm against mine, the warmth coming from it makes me feel secure. I know I should not feel like that. I know it.

"Sometimes, we have to sacrifice what's dearest to us," she speaks up again, biting her lip in an attempt to suppress a sob, "I would not do so if I had another choice."

I am always speechless when she says those words, no matter how many times she has said them already. Before she leaves, my heart starts beating faster. I have never been able to explain why my body reacts to her so instantly. Sometimes I believe it's magic.

I watch her small silhouette trail off my sight, short sequences of uncertainty. She walks and walks and walks, further away from where she had been standing, further away from me. I watch her final step.

And then, I watch red and thick curtains swallow her small figure until she is gone, unavoidably.

The audience applauds.

Seconds later, she is back next to me and she reaches out for my hand again, this time, offering a wide smile as she does so. I reach out hesitantly, feeling her soft hand in mine as a result. When we bow to the audience as our sign of gratitude, I notice the excitement in her deep red rubies from the corner of my eye. They are always glowing with such rapture within whenever we finish off. Her hand is shaking a little. I tighten my grip around it.

I wonder what it feels like to be the starring role in her life.

"That went quite good today, didn't it?" She asks as we walk home that day. I haven't seen her after today's performance until now. She is always hovering around backstage, always busy with talking to other actors as if I wasn't her main partner in this regard.

I know I shouldn't be jealous. I know it.

I never planned on becoming an actress, quite frankly. I never wanted to be one either. It is just a solution to financial problems. My parents want me to be as independent as possible, thus they only pay part of my medical school education. I had stumbled upon the job offer as an actress at a theatre a year ago.

I am not good at concealing my honest emotions. I am not good at slipping into roles either. Honestly, I am not entirely sure why I was privileged to become part of this group of, I have to say, very talented actors and actresses. I have been told that she had the final say in those decisions as she is the one that has stuck around at the theatre the longest.

I don't know why she decided to take me. I believe it had been the lack of actresses back at that time that had caused her to agree to my application. And now, a year after, she can't bring herself to kick me out again. God knows why. Even my job interview had gone awful. I had stuttered the lines I was supposed to recite and improvising had turned out to be a very bad idea, too.

And I don't know why she chose me as her main partner on stage either. I did not question her decision back then. I still do not question it. I feel honored, knowing that she, as an experienced actress, decides on entering the stage with me on a daily basis.

"Yeah," I say half-heartedly as we cross a street on the way to my house. She looks at me from the side and I can feel her piercing stare watching over me intently as we pass buildings and apartment blocks. For a while, we keep on walking in silence.

"Maki," she suddenly demands earnestly, slowing down a little as she keeps her eyes focused on me, "are you alright today? You have been acting strange the entire week, actually. You don't…think about quitting, do you?"

She sounds discontent. I cannot understand why she is so concerned, as she knows exactly that this kind of job is only temporary. At least to me. I know that she on the contrary has been an actress since she is sixteen years old. She has told me once when we had practiced together. Being honest, most of our practicing sessions had turned into philosophical narrations of how we had imagined our lives to be, what we plan on doing in the future, what had happened and occurred before we had met the other.

We are close by now. Too close for my own liking.

Now that she is in her mid-twenties, she is way more experienced in this regard than I am. Years of practice had paid off for her. The way she acts in front of the audience is so convincing, almost too convincing for my taste. I feel lost whenever we enter the stage. I feel lost whenever I am next to her. I am probably pretty lame compared to her. She is a burning star on the night sky that cannot be compared to me in the slightest. I'm a lousy amateur. I am certain that the audience only claps for her.

"No, I am not." I reply quietly, avoiding her deep red eyes as I keep my pace steady. I bite my lip. I'm not sure if I am lying to her. I am not sure. She refrains from deepening the conversation and I am thankful. If she knew the real reason for my reserved attitude these days, she would never want to see me again.

What happens on stage stays on stage. Exchanged kisses on stage are nothing more than part of the performance. Swift touches and brief moments of security are part of the performance. Even the way her watery eyes look at me as if she is so desperate for my affection towards her – It is part of the performance, too.

She is an actress. And I am a fool.

When our feet take us to the gates of the house I am living in, she stops in front of the steel doors of the gate. I am astonished. She usually accompanies me to the stairs in front of our door as well. I don't know why she does it. She did it the first day we met, too. Ever since, she does it every day. It is probably part of her personal performance. Her performance of driving me crazy.

But not today, it seems.

"Tomorrow's the big day though." She mentions casually, resting her arm against a brick wall. People pass by in the background. I watch as business men walk past us, children and teenagers, parents and elderly people. When my mind has conveyed the meaning of her words, I open my mouth to reply, but she is faster than me.

"Are you nervous?" She asks interested. I scan her appearance from the short distance. Today, she is wearing a pale pink dress that covers half of her thighs. It suits her perfectly. Her ebony hair falls smoothly onto her petite shoulders, rippling in the frosty evening air. I feel like she is not aware of the beauty she has within. I am not even sure if her appearance really is the aspect that makes her so beautiful. Though it certainly is not a minor matter. But when she is on stage, beauty is all she is.

It sounds silly. But after a year of having had the time to think things through, I am sure of it. I am sure of what I'm feeling. How I am feeling towards her. And it's probably the first time in my entire life that I am entirely sure about something. When she was still my mentor back then in my first weeks at the theatre, she used to give me lessons on how to act more convincingly. My heart had always skipped a beat whenever she had touched me, if only for a few, lingering seconds. Those weren't even touches with a deeper meaning. Their only purpose had been to show me what kind of gestures could support and emphasize my lines. She never meant to give me the feeling of being loved by her. And yet here I am. Stupid as always. You had one job, Maki.

The day she had told me I apparently would not need any lessons on acting anymore (I did not believe a word), shortly after my first two months of calling myself an actress, she had announced a shift in the schedule of acting partners, making me her official associate. From that day on, we practiced together on a daily basis and whenever it comes to performing on stage, we pair up. I am still intimidated by her high position in this theatre. Sometimes, when she is stressed out, which is usually just before a performance, she bosses everyone around. And that is when even the dumbest fool realizes how big her reputation actually is. Though this theatre isn't the most famous one around by far, it still impresses me how dedicated and thoughtful she is when managing inner-directed situations and perhaps even problems. She tries hard to keep a friendly attitude amongst everyone around her. Even towards me.

"I was even nervous today," I admit, a laughter escaping my dry lips. It is true. I am always nervous when we go on stage. I am always nervous when we kiss. I am always nervous when she leaves the stage. We have performed the play from earlier a lot of times already. Yet every time we repeat the play for another audience, I feel like loosing part of my sanity. I am not sure if I have any of it left by now, actually. Not even a piece as tiny as a cookie crumble, quite honestly. Not even that.

"You were?" She asks astonished. For a moment, she looks at me bewilderedly as if she couldn't believe I would ever feel nervous. "We're a team, Maki!" She emphasizes firmly, "There's no need to be nervous! I know you can do it."

My heart beats faster. I hate knowing that she believes in me. I hate it when she's kind to me. "After all, you had me as your mentor." She adds chuckling, and I chuckle too, forcedly so.

If only she knew.

"Make sure to rest well," she continues, "We are going to rehearse the new play twice tomorrow. A lot of people will be there. Even more than usual. Actually," she interrupts herself, laughing mildly, "even I am nervous this time. If everything goes well, we will get lots of new applicants because of it."

"Yeah, that would be good." I state consequently. I know she hates it when I lack communication, but it is draining. Draining that she does not know.

"And make sure to shake off that awful attitude," she scolds me as a result. I smile weakly at her remark and nod in confirmation. There's not much more for me to do than to obey.

"Good night, Nico." I say quietly as she waves with her hand to signalize her leaving. I observe her quickening pace, her hands buried in the pockets of her white flannel coat. She walks faster and faster until she is gone, out of my sight, out of my reach.

I wonder what it feels like to whisper a good night into her ear as she lays next to me.

When said big day is there, I feel nervousness rushing through my veins early in the morning already. Around the table at breakfast, I gulp down my cereal hastily, earning a few concerned glances of my parents as they watch their supposedly adult daughter turn into a wreck. I know it's embarrassing – A grown ass woman that still lives with her parents. But like I said, they don't want to spoil me. And as a medical student, I don't have the money to rent my own apartment. Yet.

I comb my hair in a hurry and put on some casual clothes, as I know that I would change into my costume later on anyway. My eyes register a certain object taped onto my pin board the moment I am about to leave. I look at it one last time, though I have looked at it so many times before already. It is a flyer for a certain play, coincidentally the one that Nico and I are going to perform for the first time in front of an audience today. Usually, we reenact well-known and popular plays at the theatre. But today is different. That is why it's considered the big day for her.

Because this time, there won't be a re-enactment. This time, we will perform a play that has been written by her.

I know she has been working on her own play for a long time. Years even, if I remember correctly. I do not want to discourage her, the opposite even. She is going to handle it perfectly. I have no doubt about that.

Whereas I won't be able to handle anything this play demands from me. I know she has started writing on it before we met. I know it. However, I am nervous. When we had rehearsed the play, we had avoided those scenes. She had said they weren't as important as the others ones. I don't know why she had said so. Every scene of a play is important and needs to be perfectly memorized in order to be successful in its completion.

We have never done anything more than kiss on stage. And by never, I really mean never. And every single time, she had been the one to kiss me. A kiss is an essential thing for a good performance as it represents romance. And romance is what people want to see. However, the plays we have performed before never dealt with romance as a major topic.

Knowing Nico nowadays, one can imagine that the entire play she has written is just so enormously romantic in its entirety. There won't be just one kiss. There will be several ones. And there won't be just a simple kiss. I really don't know how I'll handle undressing her on stage – Even if it's just the top she will be wearing. I don't know how to handle seeing her in her bra only either. Of course, there won't be any further interaction in this regard and for my taste, that's already being the overkill, especially when you're a hopelessly lovestruck fool. I know it's just part of the performance. I know it.

To put it in a nutshell, I am not going to make it out alive.

I've never regretted teaming up with her more. I mean, I did not even have a decision. She just decided for me. Falling in love with those ruby gem-like eyes had been the worst thing to happen to me, because I know that she is focused on her career, just like I know that she would never return my feelings. Every romantically charged movement of hers towards me is routine for her. I'm surely not the first person to relish her soft kisses.

I am afraid I will ruin everything for her. It kills me that she does not even know.

When I arrive at the small theatre in the alleyway this afternoon, she is running around already, hurrying through the compartments, handling a pile of clothes around her one arm, a clipboard under the other. When she sees me in the doorway, her expression turns into a relieved one. She hurries towards me with gleaming eyes.

"There you are!" She exclaims as if she had been waiting years for me to show up. I know for sure that I am not unpunctual. She is just stressed out.

"Take this one," she orders, handing me the clothes for my character's role. When she notices my bewilderment, she sighs annoyed. "Hurry up, Maki! We don't have all the time in the world!"

I try to suppress a chuckle. It's the first time I have ever seen her this nervous. Yazawa Nico isn't nervous. That is just not a personality trait of hers. She is certain of her abilities, as she knows exactly that she is great at what she is doing. But today is different. Today she makes sure that everyone knows she is superior by yelling at us to hurry the 'fuck', as she likes to express it, up.

I rush backstage and as soon as I've slipped into my costume – A sailor's uniform; this play is just as cheesy as one can probably imagine by now, – she walks in, a dismissive gesture following her movements.

"Suits you pretty well," she comments as she puts her stupid clipboard onto a table aside, "where's the tie though?" She gestures towards my chest, an irritated expression plastered onto her pretty face. I adjust the collar of the button-down shirt underneath the sailor jacket, flushing slightly as I explain myself.

"I'm a girl after all! What makes you think I would know how to tie a tie?"

Yeah, I know. That's a lame excuse. As if suits and ties were made for men only. If I'm being honest, I think they suit girls just as well. If not better. But I can't admit that to her now. She'll be even more confused and I will just make an even bigger fool out of myself, if that is even possible. Even Nico must have realized how stupid my excuse had sounded, as she looks at me in surprise, her ruby eyes widening. For a few seconds, she remains mute.

I feel like she is astonished, though I cannot tell what it is that makes her feel that way. Stupid excuse aside. I certainly wasn't the one to beg for being forced into playing a man's role. I had told her that we could adjust the schedule, so she could perform with an actual male person. But her response had left me speechless, saying that it would not matter and that love was not a matter of gender. I could not have agreed more in that certain moment and regard - no surprise - but I know that she does not mean it that way. The way I want her to mean it.

When she has finally stopped scrutinizing me with her deep red eyes, she walks over to me and stretches her flat palm out, anticipation growing. Without hesitation, I hand the subject of matter to her; a pitch black tie with an anchor sewn onto it.

Oh no. She's going to-

Perhaps, I should have hesitated.

When her soft fingers touch my neck, I feel paralyzed from head to toe. I remain stiff for a long time as she stands in front of me, her silhouette so small, her fingers experienced. The smooth fabric of the tie tightens around the back of my neck as she adjusts it with a few swift touches of her tender finger tips. Soon, they travel to my front side and adjust said item just as certain as on the back. The warmth of her finger tips makes me feel uneasy and suddenly, it is way too hot in this insanely cheesy sailor jacket, in those ivory white pants, in the entire room.

I hate myself for being such an idiot.

As she is still busy with smoothing the silky fabric of the accessory that is now hanging around my neck finally, she ventures to speak up again, breaking through the silence.

"Didn't you ever help out your boyfriend with such things?" She asks.

Boyfriend. Yeah. Sure.

I shake my head, slowly. With one final movement, she lets go of the tie in her small hands, looking up to me instantly. I meet her ruby eyes.

"You didn't? What kind of girlfriend are you even, Maki?" She laughs in between and I know she is just mocking me, just like I am aware that she couldn't possibly know.

"I never had a boyfriend before." I decide to admit. Yet again, she seems to be surprised, although there is a certain flicker in her ruby eyes as she listens. She doesn't say anything more. She just nods slightly as a sign of understanding. I let my own finger tips travel down the silky fabric of my entire outfit, pensive for a few seconds until I decide to be bold.

"What about you?"

Well, damn. They say you have to chase after your dreams. But I am not entirely sure if I really want to know the answer to this question.

"Yeah, I used to be in a relationship a year ago." She admits quietly. I watch her movements become slower with each word spoken. "But we had different imaginations as to how our future would look like. He tried forcing me into quitting my job as an actress because I apparently spend too much of my time in here."

I don't know what's worse. Knowing that she is into guys or knowing that she really does value her career more than having a relationship. My heart clenches inside of my chest as I listen to her, its steady rhythm of pulsating beats turning into a confused cadence of unsteadiness.

After all, I had been right with my assumption. At least I can spare her the embarrassment of a confession.

"What do you think, Maki?" She suddenly asks. Yeah, what do I think?

"I don't think he should have forced such an ultimatum onto you," I reply hesitantly, putting on the white gloves that match my outfit, "There's nothing wrong with having a dream to live up to."

She has turned around in the meanwhile, busy with writing something onto a piece of paper on that clipboard she had put aside before, but when she hears what I say, she stops doing so instantly. She turns around again and looks at me with certain gratitude in her ruby eyes. A shiver travels down my spine. I feel captivated whenever she looks at me so agonizingly. "Thank you, Maki." She says. I can feel the honesty in her words and it makes me feel even more miserable. "At least you can understand."

I can't. I'm lying. I'm just the worst.

Nico quickly checks her watch around her wrist before slipping into a whole other topic as if we had never exchanged such seriousness before. "I'll get into my costume and we will rehearse in ten minutes." She is almost on the hallway, ready to rush into another room as she turns around again, flipping her raven hair off her shoulders as she does so. "Don't worry too much. I wouldn't have chosen you for this if I didn't believe in you." She reassures before leaving finally.

My heart drops into my stomach immediately. I need to sit down for a brief moment, exhaustion creeping up just because of what she has said to me. Words can make you sick, too. I am sure of that fact.

Honestly, I don't know what to do.

I know the instructions, I know my lines, I know how to act. I have memorized every however small thing of this play. I want the performance to turn out well, as I know that it has a big reputation on her. Lots of people are coming, more than usual. We have checked the income for the sold tickets already – Even though my parents are wealthy, I had been impressed nonetheless. It makes me realize how well-known and appreciated she really is.

I can destroy what she has been working for so hard in just the blink of an eye. Just because I had been a fool to fall in love with an actress.

When I catch a glimpse of her small body hovering around through the hallway again, I stand up and follow her. I have to suppress the urge to tell her how good she looks in that marine blue flounce dress. We have never rehearsed with our costumes on before. They just got delivered two days ago, when we were too busy with our usual schedule to slip in some rehearsals. She walks into the audience hall and I continue following her.

I lean against a wall in the audience room and observe her yelling at two lighting assistants. Though she is so small, one would never believe how much energy she has within. Both of the assistants nod in awe at her commands and hurry backstage again. A few minutes later, the room turns dark, only a circular spotlight on the stage is left illuminated.

I take a look on the set up of the stage; the background resembling a cruise liner.

If I didn't know better, judging from what it looks like, I would think Nico and I were about to reenact the Titanic. I hold back my snappy comment, although I am sure she would be flattered if I told her. She loves cheesy romance movies. No wonder she has written a play based on a romance between a sailor and a married woman. And it even takes place in the early 20s. Fantastic. Just when you think it couldn't get any cheesier, she chooses the golden twenties for her setting.

And honestly? A romance between a simple sailor and a married woman? Very uncommon and certainly a specific choice. Not to mention that it's a little…old-fashioned. Perhaps, she likes it corny. I realize, I don't know enough about her to tell exactly, and it makes me upset.

But I am not the one to question her decisions, she must know what she is doing. At least I hope so. Because I surely don't know what I am doing, slipping into the role of a male character that falls in love with a married woman.

It simply resembles forbidden love. And I'm surely not in the mood to be put up with such a topic when I'm in love with someone that will never return my affection.

Before I can sink deeper into the void of a cheesy romance atmosphere, Nico walks towards me, after having given literally everyone around us orders on how to arrange the set-up of stage and lighting. She offers a wide smile as she does so, as if she knows that my heart is too weak to handle her beauty. I look at her silky hair, elaborately pinned-up and held in place with amber jewellery. Then, my sight travels down to the heart-shaped cleavage of her dress. I realize it would have been better for my own good if I had averted my eyes.

Why does she even have to look so beautiful?

"Everything should be set in a few minutes." She tells me with a certain sparkle in her eyes that makes my heart drop to my knees before adding jokingly, "I hope you've prepared yourself for falling in love."

Believe me, I don't even need to prepare myself.

I look aside as she stands next to me in that awfully accentuating dress, following her gaze that is set onto the spotlight on the stage. I know she is nervous. I know she wants today to be a success. I know she wants people to not only appreciate her for her talent as an actress, but as a writer too. She wants people to see that she is capable of so much more than it seems. Out of an impulse, I reach out for her hand – This time, it is not part of the performance, as nobody else is in here except us.

Rows of seats are in front of us, the stage in our back. Yet, there are only me and her. As my fingers embrace hers, her head turns toward me again, expression flustered. Sometimes, one has to give fate a little push. Although I know that we can't be together, although I know that her career as an actress occupies her, although I know that she apparently isn't into girls – I can have one or two moments of pretending that all of those matters are irrelevant, can't I?

"Stop worrying so much," I scold her weakly, "If there's anything I've learnt from you, then it's that worrying will only kill you for sure. You always told me to let go of all of my worries when I'm on stage. And you always told me that nothing is deadlier than striving for perfectionism. You need to let things happen instead of wanting to control everything."

Wow. I for sure didn't know I was capable of such philosophical advice.

She looks onto her feet as she listens to my so called advice, a few strands of her black fringe denying access to her expression. "I know what I said," she mumbles grumpily.

"Then why can't you follow your own advice? I am by far not the best actress and I might not be able to boss you around like you can, but I know that you won't mess this up today."

"How can you be so sure?" She asks in return. I realize that we are still holding hands when her grasp around mine tightens. I don't know how to feel about this situation, as I am completely confused regarding her behavior.

"Since when do you even doubt yourself?" I venture to ask; the heat coming from her finger tips making me shiver, "Everyone's going to love it. Your hard work will pay off. And if you don't stop pitying yourself, we won't be able to rehearse."

For a few seconds, she is silent, and her sudden change of behavior worries me a little. Then again, since she is an actress, I will never be able to understand her real feelings.

"You're right." She responds certain, her voice solid again as she looks at me with her ruby eyes.

I'll never get tired of the way they look at me.

I think I can get used to being right.

"No. No, you need to put it there- No, not there! Oh my god, just give it to me, I am going to do it. You can go look for Maki instead. That woman's everywhere, but not where she needs to be!"

"I am right behind you, Nico." I state grouchily, but she doesn't even look at me. I'm not sure if she even pays attention to anything besides the red curtains in front of her.

There are twenty minutes left. We are behind the stage, a few assistants are adjusting the sound and lighting quality, fumbling with our microphones. There are familiar red curtains in front of our sight. I know that as soon as those scarlet curtains will open up, there will be hundreds of people waiting for us, looking at us, expecting entertainment at its finest from us.

I can't guarantee entertainment at its finest, but I can guarantee that after today, I will be even more of a fool than I already am. If I hadn't fallen in love with her before already, today would have been the day for it to happen.

A few of our colleagues are there, too. I smile at each of them, if only very weakly. Some of them have important roles in this play as well. I can only pray for them not to notice.

Finally, Nico turns around in order to face me, her expression reflecting astonishment. My lips curve into an amused grin despite of my nervousness.

"You probably did not expect that woman to be exactly where she needs to be?"

She is speechless. I can see it in the way she grits her teeth and clenches her fingers slightly, though I know she does not mean it personally. I walk a few steps up to her and as I stand next to her, I try to sound not too sentimental. But feelings are a strong force, too strong to be pushed away at times. They meddle in your business, though you don't want them to decide for you.

"My place is right here next to you." I say without thinking about the consequences. I get carried away too easily. I hope she mistakes my honesty with encouragement.

If she didn't know I was into her already, she must know about it now. She couldn't possibly be that blind. Nobody would say something like that to a friend. Leave it to me to make a fool out of myself whenever I look at her.

But surprisingly, Nico does not make fun of me for saying such silly things. She does not even comment on it on the slightest. All she does is leaning in closer, too close.

She's going to kiss me.

Well.

She wasn't going to.

If it's not part of the performance, there is no need to do so. Instead, she leans in even closer and before I can react, she has wrapped her arms around me, clutching onto the fabric of my costume tightly, resting her chin on my shoulder. I know she must be tip-toeing. There is no way she could reach my shoulder without doing so.

Instinctively, I try to return her sudden embrace as good as possible despite of my stun. Her hot breath tickles my ear she speaks up, quietly, almost a whisper – "Thank you, Maki."

The seconds go by even faster than usual; I can only remember how she had jumped back so suddenly as soon as someone had mentioned the audience being impatient already. I can hear their mumbling and chatting even from my position behind the curtains overly explicit. Everyone can, probably.

"It's going to be fine." I promise to her as I hear someone counting down the numbers, beginning from twenty. She looks at me one last time with those awfully glowing rubies and she does not even need to say one more thing in order to make me fall all over again, as if I am caught in an endless vicious cycle of trying to push away what I've been feeling, when my feelings work against me so consequently.

"I hope so." She says determined.

And as soon as the curtains open up, I feel like running away.

Don't be a coward. You can be a coward at some other time.

The first hour goes well. I do mess up a few lines here and there, but nobody seems to have noticed. Thankfully, I am quick to catch myself and improvise a little. But of course, it can only go so well until it's actually going to the climax of the story. The introductory part, the first little moments of suspense and tension; they are not as difficult as what will follow soon enough.

And when the beginning of the scene I fear so utterly is there, I don't dare to back down. This is not a play at high school. This has an effect on Nico. The way she acts today is as fascinating as always and she is so in character, I fall in love all over as hundreds of people watch and I feel stupid all over as hundreds of people witness.

"They can see you in here." I say my lines cautiously, my one arm carefully wrapped around her shoulders.

"What if I want to be seen with you?"

She looks up to me and I know this is the sign for me to respond. I know it, yet I am frozen solid, engrossed in the way she looks at me, engrossed in how beautiful she is. The audience is as silent as ever. Either they expect me to finally do something or they think the silence is part of the play.

And I know I am supposed to say my next line. And the words are on the edge of my lips. And I know it's not time for the scene where I'm supposed to kiss her. But I cannot tell what's wrong and what's right anymore and as I am standing there, leaning in closer to her, I know that all of this has been a huge mistake.

But I still do it impulsively and the worst thing of all is: She doesn't even try to avoid my lips. She doesn't even try to make it subtly clear that I'm doing the wrong thing. I know there are a few dialog parts left until it leads to this. I know it and yet, my mind shuts off completely. I captivate her soft lips almost instantly, in front of everyone to see, in front of everyone to realize what this is actually about. This is not a play, at least not for me.

This is as far as I can get to requited love.

The arm I had placed onto her shoulder wanders down to embrace her waist and as I notice the way she softly returns the kiss I basically force onto her, I have to try hard to suppress a moan. When she draws back, I stutter the lines I was supposed to say before already. I hear the muffled whispers of the audience, as I know exactly that now, after the kiss, the lines actually don't make any sense anymore. But Nico plays along since she has no choice.

I had known I would ruin everything for her. But I have to pull through. I have to continue what I have begun and after this disaster, I can still quit. I have to. She won't ever talk to me again. She won't ever forgive me for ruining what she had been working on for years.

But honestly, it's her fault. It's her fault for choosing me when I am so completely in love with her and although she does not know, it is still her fault. Those ruby eyes aren't just there to see things, but to understand them.

But I continue; for her, for me, for this theatre, for us, for god knows whom.

Since she has changed her clothes in the five minute break we had after the first hour, she is now wearing a white blouse with a matching white skirt. I'm thankful the outfit isn't as accentuating as the dress from earlier, but she still looks unbearably gorgeous in it. Just when I am about to undo the buttons of the blouse with awfully shaking fingers, she wraps her own hands around them and stops me from my intentions. Well, technically, from her intentions. She has written those instructions. She has written all of this mess.

"We shouldn't let it come this far." She whispers, removing my hands from her clothes, and with that, from the warmth of her body. I take the hint, though there is a certain bitterness arising inside of me that makes me frightened of facing her after today's performance.

Basically, that scene, that unavoidable nightmare of mine, has been cancelled by her just in the blink of an eye, in front of an audience, leaving us to improvise for the next few minutes. And even though I have complained so many times about this scene, even though I should be beyond glad in this moment, even though my fingers are trembling like leaves, I am disappointed.

From that point on, we continue. Eventually, the scenes overlap and we come back into a steady rhythm. But she doesn't look at me with affection anymore. She doesn't look at me agonizingly anymore. I'm not sure if she ever looked at me again that evening.

It's silent backstage, at least in the room I am in. From outside, I can hear muffled chatting and talking of our co-workers and assistants on the hallways and the stage. Surely they are laughing and talking like there's no tomorrow; they don't even know how horribly wrong things went today. I am sure the audience didn't notice either. Everyone thinks of it as part of the performance. Everyone but me and Nico.

We shouldn't let it come this far.

The words linger in my mind as I slowly get rid of the tie around my neck, the jacket following. Usually, I know that everything she does is supposed to have an effect on the audience. I know that she does everything, because it is part of her job. But as much as I try to think of it that way, something tells me that this specific sentence of improvisation had been directed towards me.

And I wonder if she has finally realized.

Now that there are no spectators anymore, everyone that has been eagerly participating and supporting today's performance is helping take down the backdrop and other material requirements.

I change back into my casual street-wear from earlier. The sweatpants and the loose shirt are comfortable, though they don't give me the kind of comfort I need right now. I feel weak and lost and stupid for having let her down. This one time she had counted on me. And this one time, I couldn't be the one to count on.

I tie my hair to the side and put the baseball cap I had stuffed into my backpack some days ago on. Usually, I don't wear it very often, but I don't want her to recognize me this fast. I want to avoid her stare. I want to avoid her.

I fold my custom and put it into one of the drawers. Hastily, I leave a note that informs about date and title of the play this custom was used for, just like I write down my name. We always do it like that here. Nico says it's to remember the preciousness of each performance and to remember how far one has come. Looking back onto it, there really are a lot of customes on which there are notes with my name stuck on. I smile weakly. Without her, I wouldn't have been able to improve like this, to understand that acting is art in itself and not just some fancy-seeming side activity.

But she has also shown me that, despite of its artistry; acting can be deadly for those who have never been good at dealing with emotions.

I try to leave in a hurry, but a sound assistant prevents me from my intentions and unfortunately, Nico is standing right next to him. I curse inside of my head, lowering my baseball cap as I ask about the matter.

"The quality of your microphone wasn't as good as usual today. Has there been any complication as you two rehearsed?" I think he alternated between looking at me and Nico, although I am not sure, as I am too busy with scrutinizing my shoe laces.

I shake my head, not daring to look towards Nico's direction. "It worked fine during rehearsal. I think I was just nervous." I explain myself and I know, without having looked at her, Nico doesn't buy it. Though I really was nervous. But she knows it's not because of the audience. And it makes me even more nervous.

"Well if that's the case…" The sound assistant replies and I think he mentions a few more aspects, but I don't really listen to his words. I just wait for him to finish off, so I can leave. When he finally does, I try to escape, but a familiar voice holds me back. Trapped, Nishikino.

"Not so fast, Maki." She shoots ahead of me and takes off my cap, which I consider as unlawful interference, but I let her do it anyway. She throws it onto a table aside that is next to the exit. I wonder if I'd let her push me off a cliff by now as well. I'd probably let her do anything.

But I can't admit that.

"I need to leave now. I still have to do some things." I bluntly lie. I try to walk past her again, but she catches me by the wrist and holds me back again.

"Don't you think you have to explain a few other things first?" She asks sourly and I can feel the pressure of her piercing stare on me, as it leaves a horribly awful aftertaste behind. Her words echo through the now empty audience hall and I am afraid the others from backstage can hear everything she says.

"I'm sorry…" I say contritely.

"You should be!" Her loud voice forms a strong contrast to my quiet one, but as I hear the accusing tone of hers, I don't feel like being quiet anymore.

She should have noticed weeks ago. She should have noticed and she should have never thought of this as a good idea. We should have never paired up and I should have never fallen in love with her.

"I don't know what you want to hear!" I raise my voice, even though I know there is certain despair in my words, "I'm sorry for messing this up for you! But what did you even expect? An amateur to be a flawless actor?"

"You've had a year of practice!" She strikes back, "You could have messed up every other play, but not this one."

Ouch. She lowers her voice consequently. It matches the way she averts her eyes and I wonder what is going on inside of her head right now. But she is quick to return to her fury as I keep on arguing.

"They probably didn't even notice!"

"Yeah, but I noticed."

My heart surely would have stopped beating if I were the one to control it. I refrain from saying anything further, yet I know she expects an answer.

"I told you I am sorry. I was nervous and I mixed up the scenes." I lie again.

"I don't believe a word. I don't know what's going on with you these days, but if you want to quit, you better do it now. Actually, I would have preferred if you had quit before then."

She hands me my hat back and makes an attempt to walk away, away from me, but this one time we are not performing. And since we aren't, I am allowed to set against her instructions. "If you are too blind to see what's really going on, then there's no use in continuing anyway."

I admit I regretted those words the moment they had left my lips. But they are true and I have a feeling even Nico knows it. Though she halts shortly, she doesn't turn around. For a moment I think she is about to respond to my accusation, but she doesn't. She walks away, not slow, but not fast either.

When I leave on that day, I wish we had never met.

And I wish I had never fallen in love with an actress.

I don't think she ever realized and if she did, she never told me. After the day I had, more or less, quit, we never saw each other again. I don't know how she had mastered avoiding me so perfectly - This city is big, but it's not big enough to swallow the existence of a person that meant something to you.

Now that I don't live at my parents' anymore and now that I've completed my medical education, I barely ever have the time to think about her again. I never once visited the theatre in the alleyway again. My apartment is quiet, but I like the tranquillity. When I used to work at the theatre, tranquillity had never been an option. It had been loud and noisy and chaotic and – Though I don't want to admit it, I had loved all of these bothersome factors. I had loved all of them and I had loved the person responsible for them even more.

I have always wondered what it would feel like to be part of her personal, romantic life so thoughtfully that I have forgotten that she never returned the feelings I held for her. I know I cannot say that with hundred percent of certainty, but the conviction of her feelings towards me had never involved anything that happened behind a performance. She had loved me when we were acting and she had acted as if she was in love with me, but she had never meant a greater deal with that.

I sit around the table in my living room and because of my poor cooking skills, the drive out fast food I have bought after my shift has to do for me. The television is turned on and as I shove the food into my exhausted body, it happens.

My eyes won't believe what they are seeing, yet I know it is true and real and present. The flashing light of an advertisement – no, a movie trailer – on the bright surface of my flat screen television gives me a headache, but I force myself to keep on watching nonetheless as I recognize the face of a person that once meant too much to me for my own good.

There's no way I wouldn't ever recognize her face.

When the short sequence of the movie trailer ends, I stare bewilderedly onto a blank space in front of me, the fork I've held onto before has fallen onto the plate underneath in the meanwhile. Then, my astonishment and incredulity turn into something I cannot name first, but eventually, I know for sure it's pride.

And maybe, just perhaps, there's a hint of relief inside of me as well. It makes me feel secure, knowing that she has come this far. It makes me feel as if I have known it all along, as if I have known that even with the obstacle of my affection towards her, she will achieve what she has been dreaming for.

Now I realize why I haven't seen her all these years after. She never avoided me, just like I probably never avoided her. She wasn't even at the theatre anymore. She had moved onto bigger aims, moved onto bigger future goals, just like she had always told me she would one day.

I don't even wonder what it feels like to be the starring role in her life anymore. She doesn't need a starring role in her life when she is her own lead already.

And I really wish I had realized sooner.

Note: I am so sorry for this one. Straight Nico is just the worst, I despise myself for writing such a thing. But I've always wanted to try myself on unrequited love. I really hope it kind of worked out well, though. I am sorry, Nico, I never once thought of you as a heterosexual; it only serves the purpose of breaking my own heart.