Work Text:
Venti stood outside the door of the conference room, aimless. He tried to process the contents of the meeting he’d just had- that he’d walked out of- of its implications and consequences, but it was like his head was filled with white noise. After a pause that could have lasted a second or an eternity, he turned and wandered away.
Find the stairs.
It wasn’t like he didn’t know how record labels worked. He’d been in the business, peripherally and then actually, for almost two decades. He’d picked up a thing or two. But then, he’d been so young back then… and everyone had been so accommodating, and nice, and he’d trusted them, still a scared little kid who’d been told he was special…
Open the door. Go up.
He’d been allowed to experiment, and it had seemed then like he’d had a Midas touch; everything he wanted to do, he did, every instrument sang under his hands, everyone he met seemed to love him- but Venti had always been a poor student. He forgot that everything had a price. He forgot nothing came for free, that everyone wanted something in return. He forgot that Midas had a tragic ending.
Up, and up, and up… how many stairs are there?
All he wanted was a break. A gap year or something- a hiatus. A retreat. Venti had been creating music of one kind or another for years and years on end, and although he loved it, he was at the end of his rope. Approaching burnout, honestly; his seemingly endless well of inspiration was almost dried up. That was all he had come to ask for.
Go faster. Almost there.
And he was utterly shut down. He was mocked; his contract, faithfully renewed every three years with barely an adjustment, waved in his face. Oh, yes, of course he could take a vacation- as long as he was willing to pay for the flight, the housing, the food, the bills, the cancellation fees for venues already booked, the studios for recording space that wouldn’t be used, the advertisements that wouldn’t be shown, and so on, and et cetera… As long as he paid for all of it, immediately, out of his own pocket, with no help at all from the company that he was only now learning owned him. Venti had money, true. But not that much, not all at once- and as it turned out, not enough to break his contract, either.
Finally- the roof access door. Shimmy it just so… and there, open.
Venti stepped out onto the skyscraper’s roof, barely registering the biting winds that came from being this high up. He felt like a puppet that hadn’t noticed its strings until they were cut, sending it crashing to the ground. He’d been betrayed by people he trusted, by the label who’d supported him throughout his career, who’d discovered his talent and nurtured it, giving him every opportunity to shine… and yet, he couldn’t muster any anger. He thought of the tours that had been scheduled, the endless road trips and shows, hundreds and thousands of people screaming his name and not knowing one single real thing about him, and was abruptly exhausted.
Doesn’t the city look so small from up here?
He had no friends. No family. No partner; even if he’d had time to date, who could be content with a lover who was always traveling, always busy, always just out of reach? Nearly everyone in the world knew his name, he thought sometimes, but he had always in the back of his mind felt so terribly alone. That desperate loneliness threatened to overwhelm him every so often, and now it was as if he was drowning in it.
Don’t you feel small, up here?
Would anyone mourn? Venti wondered suddenly. He’d wandered over to the edge to see the city better; now he leaned onto the short wall that separated the roof from open air, resting his head on his arms. Would anyone care, if he were to disappear? Or would it be just another celebrity death, a story in the news, a period of remembrance before the world swiftly moved on? He’d done enough to make it into the history books, probably; at least he’d be remembered.
What will it feel like?
And just like that, he realized that somehow, he’d already decided. He was well and truly trapped by life, after all. He didn’t have many regrets either. Venti stared down at the roads below, cars like toys speeding through the streets, and thought- No. Just one.
Will it hurt?
He was already here, and his mind was made up. Someone would start looking for him soon, if they hadn’t already. Venti straightened, and climbed on top of the wall. His clothes billowed around him, the wind tugging at him almost playfully.
Will I even be conscious for the end?
He heard, distantly, the sound of a door opening, and a dismayed cry.
“Someone stop him!”
He took a breath. He stepped off.
I bet it will feel like freedom.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Do you want freedom?
…What?
I can offer you freedom.
What do you mean? What kind of freedom?
The freedom to go where you wish, when you wish, or to stay. The freedom to do what you want. The freedom to be yourself, your true self.
Is that even possible? Aren’t I dying right now? Besides… nothing comes for free.
That’s true. Freedom is the most expensive thing you can buy; I suppose that’s why I was always penniless. But half of the price I will cover, as I will not only be purchasing your freedom, but my own as well.
Your freedom? Are you trapped too?
I am trapped and lonely, as you are. But here is your price- you will be a stranger in strange lands, with only a few belongings I may leave you to ease your way, with little knowledge of the people and their customs, and no one to guide you. I can leave you hints, but no explanations; I can give you means to defend yourself, but not tell you how to do so.
…That’s all? No other catches?
One other. In truth, you would be taking my place; assuming my identity, as it were. But those who once knew me have not seen me in many years, and I have very little in the way of responsibilities. In addition, those responsibilities are mine, specifically; they will not apply to you, so you will be free to do as you wish, unrecognized.
That doesn’t sound too bad, I guess. And, well… What do I have to lose? But, you’re sure this will benefit you too?
Yes. I will gain what I have longed for for many years now; the final freedom.
Okay, as long as you’re sure. So… What do I have to do?
It is very simple. Simply reach out, and take my hand.
A hand, stretching out from the darkness, into the unknown. Another hand reached out- hesitated- and took it.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“A well known and well-loved musician recently committed suicide, by jumping off of the roof of his record label’s building. The label has refused to comment at this time…”
The body that hit the ground was a perfect match to the musician in question, and there was a witness. But the first responders and the coroner found it a little strange, for reasons they couldn’t quite put their fingers on. The fall had seemed to happen almost in slow motion, for half a heartbeat. And although sadly, these incidents were far from out of the ordinary, they were strangely moved.
The body had one arm stretched out, as though it was reaching for something.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And somewhere, somewhen, a universe away- Venti gasped awake.