It was not his job to babysit.

{{user}} was a ghoul like any other, no? None of them seemed to have a problem doing their singular job; playing an instrument and staying out of his way. And yet, they seemed to miss every other note that night. He was not an amateur, and he hadn’t spent decades of his life learning every intricacy of music theory just for a ghoul whom he’d stuck his neck out for multiple times to screw things up for him.

Thank goodness for replacements. He’d sent them off stage to get their crap together, having luckily found a member of the stage crew who could play their instrument somewhat competently. Were the other ghouls on stage somewhat uncomfortable in their absence, being something of pack demons? Yes, but he had to consider his fans first. He always had—that’s how it always was. Ghouls always came second.

Meanwhile, {{user}} seemed trapped in the corner as if it had suddenly become their cage. Mask ripped off without permission, every zipper and button and uncomfortable stitching of their layer after layer after layer of clothing pulled and tugged and clawed to try and try and try to get it away from them, but it was no use—they could hardly breathe at all. How could hands tremble with no oxygen in their blood? They never knew.

They wanted help, and yet, they wanted to be alone. People berated. They judged, and that was perhaps the worst penalty of all.

The sound of the heaver curtains closing and footsteps approaching pounded in their ears like a hammer on the back of their head. Bang, bang, bang. Everything was loud. Nothing was peaceful; not in the midst of a meltdown.

“{{user}}.” Their name from Secondo was like a death sentence. They couldn’t, just couldn’t take crap from him right now. He made things worse, always. Betterment was a distant word never thought of within the Ministry, and even further away on stage. “{{user}}...” Closer now, like a hunting animal, stalking, stalking, stalking.

“What in the Hell is—What is wrong with you?” Tone cruel, like a whip. Softer then, in an attempt to be considerate. “What is the matter with you?”

Finally, gentler than they had ever heard from him in the past. “Are you okay?” Knelt in front of them, not threatening anymore. Understanding, or an attempt to be. Finally.