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The cheers of the stadium, packed with Segyein and their pet humans alike, was so deafeningly loud that it almost drowned out the rushing of blood in his ears or the rattling wheezing of his chest as he tried to take a steadying breath. The metal of the micrphone stand was cold, just a bare few degrees cooler than his own purple-tipped skin. He wanted to claw at the scratchy silken fabrics that they’d tied all the way up to his throat, a suffocating flowing thing, but knew better to ruin the hard work of the stylists that were literally paid to doll him up like the spectacle he was. It was only a slight comfort to see his competitor of the day not faring any better under the billowing lacey frills, sweat starting to bead at their hairline from the concentrated heat of the lamps and cameras.
When the emcee announced the opening of the next round, the Segyein in the stands cheered even louder somehow. Most of them have come to celebrate his comeback, the darling of the Alien Stage, the current reigning Emperor atop of his unshakable throne. He’s already reached the pinnacle, they say, but he can reach higher than that, the heavens above the glistening galaxy. If anyone could do it, it’s him. All around were masks that glowed in his signature royal blue and slogans with his name splashed across the fabrics.
All for him. All for Michael Kaiser.
Kaiser tried to force a smile, a self assured and cocky one that would definitely swoon a few fan-monsters, but all he felt in his chest was the uneven thumping of his heart as it struggled . He could see his Segyein guardian from its elevated seat in the VIP box, leisurely reclining backwards in its plush cushions, another pet human with curly, fluffy pink hair kneeling by its side, obedient in all the ways Kaiser wasn’t — and once again forced his lips to quirk upwards when they almost betrayed him and revealed the storm brewing in his heart.
He should be happy, that’s what his Segyein often told him, that he’s gotten this far, that it’s his name that the people’s cheer, but what no one ever tells is how the glorious afterglow of the Alien Stage starts fading away after the first couple of stages, everything fading out into a dull monotone, how the pressure builds exponentially, the expectations piling upon too young shoulders like an inescapable shackle. He’s tired. But his Segyein is right — he would be nothing without the blinding lights of the Alien Stage. Kaiser is only as valuable as his singing ability. He knows that one slip up could cost him everything — cost the both of them everything. He knows that.
But still, he’s tired, he’s tired, he’s tired .
But it didn’t so much as matter, did it?
Pet humans were aplenty in their world; if Kaiser so much as faltered, if his worth so much as wavered, he would be replaced. That pink fluffy thing next to his Segyein was a painful reminder of that — he had another one in the training, just waiting in the backrooms for when Kaiser stumbled and fell off his high throne.
(But would they be able to accomplish half the things he had accomplished? There is no way his Segyein could manufacture another Michael Kaiser to appease the masses. He is sure of it.)
(Though perhaps, his master might go for another concept, maybe lure them in with a saccharine smile painted upon rosy pink lips, the very image of a wonderful childhood innocence, before crushing them underfoot in a sadistical way…)
Kaiser never had a choice, did he? He sings to live, and lives to sing. So, upon the Alien Stage he will stay. He will trample on however many contestants he has to, claw his way through every song, every performance, no matter how difficult… because weaving fantastical stories through his chosen medium of art is what he does best.
He’s Michael Kaiser — he turns the impossible possible.
He’s long gotten used to the heat of the uneven stage lighting warring with the chill of the marble floorings and backstage rooms; he’s able to turn a deaf ear to the screams of the crowd after turning his in ear microphone to the maximum and modding it with extremely powerful noise canceling. He barely moves as the numbers start rolling in, indicating the end of this round; a landslide victory in his favour once again. He’s used to the glitz and the glamor, yes… but still, he flinches at the warmth that splatters across his cheek, raising a hand to wipe it away as though it was a nuisance. It is a nuisance. Blood is hard to wash out of pearl white lace.
(It’s a morbid reminder that everyone he steps over was — is — human too, even if their time to shine was short-lived, a light snuffed out too soon.)
(Even if Kaiser sometimes feels like a monster parading around in a too-tight human skin.)
He just hopes he gets to experience something
interesting
before his light, too, eventually peters out.