Chapter Text
Happiness was abundant at a café that night. The patrons saw the familiar faces stepping through the doors, talking to one another as to what to order for themselves. The artists and director from the impromptu show that went on to the construction of the New Moon Theater, intended to spend the night in celebration of their inspiring achievement.
A table for six had been decided. After several minutes of attending new fans and aspiring artists with small interviews and even autographs, the other patrons continued what they were doing (save for some prying young eyes who continued to watch from a respectful distance), leaving the crew to make what they sat there for.
“May I?” Buster lifted his paper cup serving of green tea. “A toast to… rekindled hopes and dreams! To all of you who gave so much, whose voices you lent, to make this possible. To the art that we make so others can experience our love. From my passion, to yours!”
Everyone proceeded to tap their cups together, lack of sound notwithstanding; a mundane symbol among them, as a reminder to one thing: the thought that counts. Conversations at the table from then on ranged from casual banter, to hints of life stories and daily encounters. However, Meena had yet to contribute to the conversation, which, though attributed to her shyness, in reality meant lingering thoughts since hearing Buster’s speech… and the following weeks during the theater reconstruction. A feeling among the others that nestled uncomfortably in her mind since, which for once, had very little to do with shyness.
Another sudden touch made Meena shudder. Rosita tapped her on the shoulder to bring her attention.
“What about you, Meena? What have you been doing these few days?” she had asked her gently. Meena stammered slightly in her place, though with no indication of distress.
“Um… What-what were we talking about?” Meena stuttered.
“Well, Ash was just mentioning how this ‘Jake’ from the recording studio told her he’s going to find a drummer for her song. That…” Rosita took a moment to look back at Ash’s somewhat annoyed stare towards her own coffee, “... he would let her know in about two weeks.”
“Oh! Heh…!” Meena replied in sympathy. Ash snorted and rolled her eyes.
“I swear, he’s like… Buster without any of the charm,” she quipped, taking a sip of her cup.
“Oh, ya! He sounds tot-ally boring!” Gunter commented with a volume that allowed the other customers to hear the ensuing laughter from the table. Johnny looked at Buster with a smile as he let out flattered chuckles that seemed louder than they would.
Meena smiled, but noted that Rosita waited for a response. Meena hummed and pondered on interesting things that happened during the week. But as she opened her mouth to speak of one she remembered, her mind drifted back to the previous thoughts. The joy she felt seconds ago only lasted for a moment, and felt it replaced with a sliver of confusion, and in some strange way, concern. She glanced to see Rosita noticed her go quiet with an unmistakable questioning look she would give to children that tried to hide something, prompting a defeated sigh in the face of having to change the conversation.
“Actually…” Meena said truthfully, “I’ve… been wondering.” Meena breathed gently, while she searched for the words, thinking to herself that she wouldn’t want to ruin their special evening with her ever-present worry. “We haven’t really heard from Mike in a while… have we?”
Everyone lifted their heads, letting their previous enjoyment fade, soon focusing on an evident realization that something was missing, though not given much thought until then. Meena folded her ears inwards while she looked at the crew exchanging awkward glances with each other, her feelings darting back into concealed shame. Blinking for a moment, Rosita’s brow furrowed.
“… Mike?” She recalled the crooning, insulting mouse who had been so focused on the competition that he disrespected his fellow competitors. A chip on her shoulder that grew sour each time he mocked not only her, but the younger contestants.
“The… mouse?” With a squint, Ash struggled to remember. With all the times he ensured that guy was to be avoided as much as possible, she had practically lost all memory of him. All she knew of him vividly was back in the show they had all performed when the theater was torn down, which she had liked, but hasn’t thought of much.
“It was him wasn’t it? I didn’t realize he left.” Johnny, much like Ash, had not known much about the mouse, content with keeping to his own devices while the young ape had given more focus to his own paternal struggles. He hardly recalled the song the mouse performed during his father’s unexpected, yet ultimately welcomed visit to finally received a crucial time of love and validation.
Buster drummed his fingers against the table, brow furrowed and jaw slacked. Quietly, he recalled the interactions he had with the mouse. Mike, whose talent and looks he had praised so fondly. Who impressed him with every step of the way from his charisma to his voice. Who showed so much passion in his comeback performance that left him yearning for at least one encore. Whom he personally witnessed being choked between the claws of a gigantic bear if he didn’t fork over the prize money… A dreadful sense made his way into his tightening chest, realizing he never heard from him again.
“He…” Buster cleared his throat, “He never even showed up for the reopening, now-now that I think about it!”
“Didn’t he leave after the show or something?” Ash said.
“But then why wasn’t he there with us when we got on stage and bowed with us?”
“Ya, zat is strange, not wanting to hear ze cheers from ze loving fans!”
“Well, I think he just didn’t want to share the spotlight with us!” Rosita replied somewhat bitterly, “If he would rather do everything by himself, that no one ever pays attention to anyone except him, to the point where he denies his own opportunities, then good riddance!”
Ash let out a laid-back ‘hmph’ in agreement, Rosita’s statement going largely unrefuted but sparking a discussion at the table on who the group believed Mike to be. Meena remained quiet throughout this discussion, and thought about Mike herself. The very mouse who denied her chance to properly audition the first time, and spent every step of the way insulting her, belittling her, calling her names, lashing out, which only served to deepen her insecurities. His song that made her stiffen up afterwards when she went to change her outfit, wondering if she could ever measure up to THAT. Who last time she saw, was watching her go on stage… Finding herself wondering why she kept thinking about him when she could no longer find him.
Unbeknownst to her, Buster was mostly quiet too. He continued to wonder about that interesting mouse… before he felt his phone vibrate in his trousers.
“Oh! One second!” He lifted an index finger towards the others in order to take the call. Buster put on his typical jolly face. “Y’ello?” He said in his usual showman persona. “Why, yes, I am Buster Moon! How can I help you with, sir?” He replied to the caller. The discussion on the table faded into another topic.
None of them except Meena noticed his slow change in demeanor as he listened to the call, dropping his cheery act. Buster hastily turned to face away from the others.
“I’m—I’m sorry?”
Meena curiously leaned in. Her ears folded slightly more.
“What about ‘one of my performers?’” Buster listened closely to the call. Meena gulped and took a quick glance at the others on the table upon hearing this, but remained patient. Buster seemed to fidget more uncomfortably in his seat, and soon his ears drooped. His heartbeat increased so quickly in that fearful distress he felt ten years ago, as well as the time his theater collapsed. With a deep breath, he attempted to respond to the words being spoken on the other line, gathering up composure that he was quickly losing.
“What’s… What’s wrong with Mike?”
Meena’s eyes instantly widened, and barely suppressed a gasp. This time, Johnny turned to face the koala and the elephant. It wasn’t long before Rosita, Ash, and Gunter focused on the increasingly upset showman, listening attentively as he instinctively started to curl up. The group watched him finally jolt. Buster felt his head spinning, holding on to the back of his chair so as to keep himself from collapsing. Johhny and Meena got up and rushed to his side. His phone remained glued to his ear while mumbling something quietly to the caller. Slowly, he set the phone down, and brought his hand to his temple while blinking rapidly.
“Buster??” Meena tried to reach for the shocked koala, his eyes watering up and his throat choking up. Buster took a deep breath, then a gulp. He straightened his back and addressed the concerned eyes of the group with what little composure he had left.
“E-everyone, uh…” he closed his mouth tightly and twiddled his fingers, “I’ve… I-I think… I just r-received… we’ve-we’ve-ve got some, b-bad news.” Buster cursed all his stuttering of it. Everyone stared silently, eyes widened or otherwise staring with brows furrowed. Buster inhaled through his nose, thinking, pondering, producing a tight frown before relaxing in defeat. With no way out, he said it as it was.
“Mike is dead.”