Chapter Six

Yuri awoke the next morning to the aroma of fresh coffee.

Yawning, he padded to the kitchen and found his mother already awake, drinking a cup of coffee at the island. Though Yuri was still a little annoyed at her for what had happened at dinner the night before, he decided to forgive her. Alcohol did have a tendency to loosen her lips, and Layla was unlikely to learn anything damaging with just the knowledge of his father's first name anyway.

"'Morning, Mama," he greeted her, kissing the back of her head. "Did you sleep okay?"

She winced. "Oh, Yurochka, please don't talk so loud," she said, rubbing at her temple. "Mama has a pounding headache."

Yuri rolled his eyes but walked over to the cabinet where he kept his stock of over-the-counter medicine and shook out a couple of aspirin from the bottle. It wasn't the first time he had to deal with one of her hangovers. "Here, take these."

"Bless you!" She popped the pills into her mouth and washed them down with the rest of her coffee. "Next time, remind me that two glasses of wine is my limit."

"Will do."

He prepared himself a bowl of cold cereal while his mother helped herself to another cup of coffee, dumping several spoonfuls of sugar into the Kaleido Stage mug.

"What time do you think you'll be home tonight?" she asked. "I was thinking of making beef stroganoff for dinner."

"Probably around seven, but you don't need to make dinner every night, Mama. You're supposed to be a guest."

"I don't mind. You know I like to cook," she said, leaning against the counter as she took a sip of her coffee. "Will Layla be coming over?"

"No. She already has plans." It was a lie as far as he knew, but Yuri had already decided that he would not invite Layla back to his apartment until after his mother left. The last thing he needed was for her to make any more accidental slip-ups in front of Layla.

"Oh, that's a shame. I was looking forward to getting to know her better, especially since I ended up talking so much about myself last night." She paused, tilting her head to the side. "What about lunch? I'll be finished with my shoot around 1:30. You two should come to L.A. I just heard about this trendy new sushi restaurant. We could go check it out, my treat."

"I don't think we'll have time," Yuri said, frowning. "Why are you so interested in Layla, anyway?" She had never showed much interest in any of his previous girlfriends. Then again, he rarely introduced her to the girls he dated, never feeling the need when he knew the relationship was unlikely to last.

"Is it that strange for a mother to want to get to know her son's girlfriend?"

"No, but –"

"Things seem pretty serious between you two. I don't think you've ever had a relationship last more than a couple of months." She smiled. "I'm so happy for you, Yurochka. It's wonderful that you finally found somebody."

Yuri sighed, swirling his spoon around his bowl without taking a bite. He needed to clear up the awkward situation Layla had put him in. Pretending to be her boyfriend had been fine for a night, but he didn't want his mother to get too invested in the idea of their "relationship". It sounded like she was already becoming attached to Layla.

"Mama… Uh, about that…"

"What is it?"

"Layla isn't actually my girlfriend," he admitted.

His mother's blue eyes widened as she set her mug back down on the counter. "What do you mean? Did you two break up last night?" Walking over to the island where he sat, she cupped his head between her hands, a sympathetic look in her gaze. "Oh, Yurochka…"

Yuri pulled her hands away. "No, what I meant is that she never was my girlfriend in the first place. We just…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, we just sleep together, sometimes. That's all."

"I see." Her face unreadable, she took a seat on the stool beside him. "Why lie to me about it, though? I don't understand."

"Layla didn't want you to think badly of her."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry for lying to you, Mama," he said, reaching over to squeeze one of her hands.

"No, it's fine, it's fine." She pulled her hand from his grasp and frowned. "So, why aren't you two dating?"

After taking a bite of his cereal, Yuri cocked an eyebrow. "What kind of a question is that?"

"A perfectly reasonable one, I think," she said. "I mean, you are in love with her, aren't you?"

He almost choked on his next spoonful, covering his mouth with his hand and coughing. "No, of course not. Why would you even think that?"

His mother smirked, resting her chin on her hand. "I do have eyes, Yuri," she said. "I saw the looks you were giving Layla last night. It reminded me of the way your father used to look at me."

"You're imagining things, Mama." Having lost his appetite, Yuri got up and dumped the rest of his soggy cereal in the garbage. "Layla and I… We're just friends."

"Who sleep together? Oh, Yuri, you know I've always been open-minded, but that just sounds like a recipe for disaster."

She was probably right, but Yuri wasn't about to admit it. "It's fine. We're both satisfied with the arrangement."

"Maybe for now, but –"

He had heard enough.

"I need to get going," he said, placing his dirty bowl in the sink. "I'll see you later, Mama."

After morning practice, Layla retired to her dressing room, draping herself across the couch as she thought back to her research last night into Yuri's mysterious past. It bothered her more than she liked to admit that he never told her that Yuri Killian was only his stage name.

She wasn't his girlfriend, despite what they led Elena to believe, but weren't they at least close enough friends for her to know something as basic as his legal name? Of course, it was possible that he had legally changed his name to Yuri Killian when he joined Kaleido Stage. She hadn't thought of that possibility, but the point still stood.

She wished she could just ask him about it, but doing so would reveal the fact that she had been investigating into his family. Layla doubted Yuri would be happy if he found out, especially considering how secretive he was about his father, the mysterious Aaron.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Coming!" Layla walked over to the door and opened it, unsurprised to see Yuri standing in the hall. "Oh, hey," she said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Come in."

She didn't need to ask why he had come. As soon as Layla closed the door behind her, Yuri pinned her up against it and kissed her.

Whatever concerns Layla had about Yuri's family secrets flew out of her mind, her body automatically reacting to his touch. It was scary how much she wanted him sometimes, craved him like a drug-addicted junkie looking for a fix. She moaned as his thumb slipped underneath the elastic band of her sports bra, caressing the area of skin just below her breasts, and her fingers grabbed at the hem of his T-shirt, tugging it upwards until Yuri lifted up his arms and allowed her to pull it off of him.

Layla's eyes roamed over his bare torso, her hands slithering over his chest and arms. Yuri placed his hands on the small of her back, pulling her closer toward him, and she embraced him, taking in the musky, masculine scent of his skin. Neither of them had showered after practice, but after performing together for so long, the smell of sweat no longer bothered them. In fact, Layla found it rather a turn-on.

His hands wandered lower, cupping her buttocks. Her arms wrapped securely around his neck, he lifted her up, Layla hooking her legs around his hips as Yuri carried her over to the couch. He set her down, her head propped up by the arm of the sofa, and climbed on top of her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His pelvis grinded against her, letting her feel his growing erection even through the fabric of their pants.

It was all kind of high school – or rather how Layla imagined horny virgin high school couples behaved. She didn't have any personal experience to draw on, having never gone to high school herself. Starting from 7th grade, she had convinced her father to hire her a private tutor to take care of her education so that she could focus more on her acrobatic and dance training. She had found the elite private girls' school her father forced her to attend a bore anyway, so she hadn't considered it much of a sacrifice.

She wondered what Yuri was like in high school. She had a feeling he probably had been very popular with the girls.

Layla uncharacteristically giggled as Yuri's hand slid underneath the fabric of her sports bra, groping her left breast.

"Something funny?" Yuri asked, speaking for the first time since he arrived.

"No, I was just imagining what you were like in high school. I bet you were voted homecoming king."

Yuri smiled. "Well, I went to a performing arts high school, so sports weren't really a thing," he said. "I was nominated for prom king, though."

"You didn't win?"

"No."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "Who knows? I didn't really care anyway. It was just a silly popularity contest," he said, yanking up her bra to expose her breasts.

Layla sighed with pleasure as Yuri bent his head downward and took one of her nipples in his mouth. He continued grinding against her, and she felt a familiar pressure building in between her legs which grew stronger as she moved her hips in rhythm with his. The fabric of her leggings provided just the right amount of friction brushing against her clitoris to send her over the edge.

"Ah!"

With a gasp, she climaxed – not as strongly as when Yuri penetrated her with his cock, finger, or tongue, but still very enjoyable.

It would do…for the first one.

She pushed him off of her, Yuri moving to sit on the other end of the couch while Layla straddled his thighs. She then wrapped her fingers around the fabric of her pink sports bra and finished tugging it over her head, tossing it in the direction of her clothes hamper. It fell in easily, not even touching the rim.

"Impressive," Yuri said.

Layla smirked. "I should say the same thing about you," she teased, looking down at his crotch. His erection was fully visible, straining against the fabric of his pants.

"What do you plan to do about it?" It sounded more like a dare than a question.

"Hmm…" She placed her palm against his chest and slowly slid her hand downward. Yuri sucked in his breath as her fingers brushed against his package, but she didn't stop there, continuing further down his thigh, then travelling back up again until she found his hardness once again. Undoing his fly, Layla slipped her hand inside and rubbed him through his boxer briefs until Yuri could take no more.

Breathing heavily, he pulled her hand away. "Condom."

Layla smiled, giving him a lingering kiss on the lips before climbing off of him and beginning to walk over to her vanity where she kept her stash of condoms. Halfway there, she glanced back over her shoulder at Yuri, pleased to see that his eyes were glued to her backside. She stopped where she was and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her leggings, pulling them downwards and kicking them aside. She then continued toward the vanity, rummaging in the second drawer until she found one of the loose foil packets.

By that time, Yuri had come up behind her, licking the shell of her ear as he reached around and snatched the condom out of her hand. She heard the foil crinkle as he tore the package open, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she placed her palms against the vanity's top and bent forward. Yuri's cock slid inside her with ease as he gripped her hips, entering her from behind.

Her eyes met his in the reflection of the vanity's mirror, a slight smirk on her lips as Yuri began pounding inside her. She had to admit, it was an incredibly erotic sight to watch herself being fucked. Her breasts jiggled with almost every thrust, and she enjoyed the view of Yuri's face over her shoulder, contorting in pleasure.

After a while, one of Yuri's hands left its spot on her hip, moving temporarily to fondle a breast before sliding down her abdomen and in between her legs. Layla moaned when he found her clitoris, his fingertip lightly circling the sensitive nub. She had already been close to climax, but with the addition of his finger, she quickly lost control, her entire body trembling from the force of her orgasm. Though she usually tried not to be too loud whenever they had sex at Kaleido Stage, Layla couldn't stop herself from crying out in ecstasy.

As the waves of bliss finally faded away, she slumped forward, a heavily-breathing Yuri leaning against her back. She hadn't noticed, so consumed by her own orgasm, but he must have come, too. The two of them stayed like that for a long moment until she felt Yuri lift his weight off of her, allowing Layla to stand back up and turn around.

"That was…yeah…" Yuri ran a hand through his hair, at a loss for words.

Layla nodded her agreement. They would definitely have to try doing that again sometime.

Grabbing her white silk robe from the back of her vanity chair, she pushed her arms through the sleeves and loosely tied the belt around her waist. "So, is Elena coming to the show today?" she asked conversationally, sitting down at her vanity and letting her long hair loose from the ponytail it was styled in.

"Nope," Yuri said, pulling his pants back on.

"Oh. Does she have to work late?"

"No."

Layla frowned, twisting around her chair to look at Yuri. She was accustomed to her father not attending her shows due to his hectic work schedule, but why wouldn't Elena come to see Yuri perform if she had the time? "Did you two have another argument?" she asked, making a random guess.

"I wouldn't call it an argument, exactly, but…." Sighing, he pulled his T-shirt over his head and yanked it down. "I told her the truth about us."

"What? Why?"

"Because it was wrong to lie to her."

"Oh." It was tough to argue against that. Layla regretted she had put him in that position in the first place.

"Don't worry, she still likes you," Yuri said, smiling. "In fact, she –"

"What?"

Losing his smile, he shook his head. "No, it's nothing."

Layla was curious to know what he had been about to say, but decided it was probably best not to pry. "You should invite Elena to tomorrow's show as an apology," she suggested instead, turning her attention back to the mirror and reaching for her brush. "It would be a shame if she didn't get to see you on stage before she goes back home, and I should probably apologize to her as well. It was my idea to lie to her, after all."

Plus, if I talk to her, I might be able to learn more about Aaron, she thought, immediately feeling guilty for even thinking it. Still, her curiosity was too great, and if Elena just happened to mention him again…

"She wouldn't come even if I invited her," Yuri finally admitted after a short pause. "Mama doesn't like to watch me perform on the trapeze."

"She doesn't? But why?"

He shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. "She gets scared, I guess, but it's no big deal. I don't mind." He tried to sound nonchalant, but Layla sensed there was more to the story than Yuri was telling her. "She's flaying back to New York tomorrow morning, anyway. I'm driving her to the airport, so I'll probably be little late for practice."

"That's fine. Of course," Layla said.

"Thanks. Anyway, I'm going to work on my Corde Lisse some more, so see you later."

From his spot in the wings, Yuri glanced out into the audience. It was yet another sold-out performance. The publicity from the kiss had done its job. Today's show would mark the end of six weeks of performances with no signs of closing any time soon. It still annoyed him that the kiss was overshadowing everything else about the production despite him and Layla making changes to better their routines, but it looked like she was going to get her wish of a two-month run after all.

"Do you see her?" Layla asked, coming up behind him and looking over his shoulder.

Though he knew exactly who she was referring to, Yuri played dumb, crossing his arms over his chest. "Who?"

"Elena."

He turned around, frowning. "I told you, she's not coming."

"Yet you still look for her, don't you?" she asked. Letting out a sigh, Layla hugged herself. "I'm the same way, you know. Whenever I know my father is in town, I hope to see him in the audience, but he never comes. Too busy with work, I suppose."

He'd noticed, of course, that Mr. Hamilton never attended any of their shows despite owning the biggest share in Kaleido Stage. Mr. Kenneth, the other major investor, made a point of attending every opening night and sometimes even the occasional random performance, so Mr. Hamilton's lack of appearances stood out even more. Yuri had always wondered why he never came, considering that he always seemed so proud of his daughter in public, but Layla had never brought up the subject herself until that moment. Though she tried to act like it was no big deal, he could tell that her father's continued absences bothered her more than she let on.

"Layla…"

As if on its own volition, his hand started to reach for her. At the last moment, however, Yuri pulled back, coughing into his fist when he saw a stagehand passing by with a part of somebody's costume.

"I was just checking out the crowd. It looks like a good audience," he said. "It's almost time for the show to start. You should get into position."

She nodded. "Let's put on a great show."

While Layla prepared to begin her opening silks routine, Yuri looked one more time out into the audience. He had to admit, it would be nice for his mother to see at least one of his performances, but even if she had wanted to attend, he wouldn't have allowed it. It was far too risky. If Kalos, Sarah, or any of the crew members who had worked at Kaleido Stage from the start recognized her as Aaron Brass's widow, it wouldn't take much for them to connect the dots and realize he was Aaron's son.

He was about to prepare for his own opening number when a woman walking down the aisle to a seat in the fifth row caught his eye, his blood running cold. No, it couldn't be…

Her hair was hidden underneath a curly brown wig, and she was wearing the black-framed glasses that she only used when she needed a break from contacts, her face otherwise bare of her ever present make-up, but Yuri still recognized her even through her disguise.

What the hell was his mother doing at Kaleido Stage?

His hand reached for his pocket, Yuri cursing when he remembered that he was already in costume, his phone safely locked away in his dressing room as it usually was during performances. Even if he had his phone on him, his mother had probably already turned hers off so not to be distracted during the show.

It was worth a shot anyway. Ignoring Ken's warning that the show was about to begin – he didn't appear on stage until the third scene, anyway, giving him about a ten minute window – Yuri hurried back to his dressing room and called his mother's number. It rang three times before going to voicemail.

"Dammit!"

He flipped the phone close and slammed it down on the vanity. What on Earth possessed her to come to the show? After his father's death, she couldn't even bear attending a Kaleido Stage performance, claiming the memories too painful for her. The possibility that she might come to today's show never even crossed his mind.

Was it Layla's doing? Had she invited his mother behind his back in some misguided belief that he felt the same that she did?

"Yuri, you're on in five minutes," Ken said, knocking on the door. "Should your understudy prepare to go on instead?"

"No, I'm coming."

Yuri took in a couple of deep breaths, calming himself down. After all, there was nothing he could do about his mother now. At least she had been smart enough to come in disguise. As long as she didn't draw any undue attention to herself, it was unlikely she would be recognized by Kalos or any of the veterans after so many years.

He took a moment to fix his hair, then headed backstage, Ken following after him. "Are you sure you're okay to go on?" the stage manager asked.

"I'm fine," he said with a dismissive wave. "Just needed a bathroom break."

Yuri pushed his concerns out of mind as he took the stage on his ridiculous "horse".

It wasn't his best performance. He missed a couple of cues, hyperaware every time Sarah faced the audience to sing, but he managed to cover them up well enough. Only Layla seemed to notice, asking if he was okay during the short intermission. He insisted he was fine and doubled his efforts to concentrate only on the show during the second half.

After taking their final bows, Yuri grabbed Layla by the wrist. "We need to talk."

"Yuri, wh—"

Without giving her an explanation, Yuri pulled Layla backstage and looked around for somewhere that might provide them with a little privacy. There wasn't really any place like that, though, as the tech crews broke down sets and performers ran through their cool down exercises.

"My dressing room," he decided, as it was closer than hers.

He led her to his room and locked the door behind them, not wanting to risk anyone walking in on their conversation. Layla arched an eyebrow when he turned around to face her.

"You want to go for another round?" she asked, reaching for the hook of her skirt. "I don't mind, but –"

"This has nothing to do with sex," he interrupted. He was hardly in the mood. "Did you have anything to do with that little stunt out there?"

Layla let go of her hold on the skirt, smoothing it back down, and tilted her head to the side. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't act coy. You asked me if I had seen my mother in the audience."

"Elena came to see the show? But I thought you said it scared her to see you perform. That's wonderful. You must be thrilled."

"No, it's n—" He rubbed at his temple. "Never mind. Were you the one who invited her?"

"How could I? I don't have any of her contact information."

"You really had nothing to do with it?"

"Of course not," Layla said, looking at him with a confused expression. "Yuri, is something wrong? Aren't you happy your mother came to see you? I noticed you seemed a bit…distracted on stage."

Yuri sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's…complicated," he said, unable to think of anything else to say without compromising his cover. "Never mind. Don't worry about it. Do you have anyone to drive you home tonight?"

"Yes, I told my driver to pick me up since I assumed you would want to spend some time with Elena."

"Good." One less thing he had to worry about.

"Speaking of which, I should probably get changed before Henry arrives," she said, walking over to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow. Tell Elena goodbye for me, and let her know I'm sorry for lying to her yesterday."

"I will."

Once Layla left, Yuri shut the door behind her and pulled out his phone, hoping that his mother had turned hers back on. Luck was on his side; she answered on the second ring.

"Yurochka! What a –"

"My apartment, twenty minutes," he said. "I'll meet you there."

The moment she arrived home, Layla headed upstairs to her room and sat down at her computer.

She still didn't know Yuri's birth name, but after he had left her dressing room that afternoon, it occurred to her that she did know some facts that could prove useful in discovering who he really was. The night before he had told her that he grew up in Los Angeles, and today he mentioned he had attended a performing arts high school. Doing some quick calculations based on his birthday, he most likely graduated in 1998. It wasn't a ton to go on, but maybe she would find something.

It helped that Yuri was such an unusual name. It might have been common in Russia where he was born, but it definitely stood out as unique in America. Hopefully, he had only changed his surname.

She pulled up Google and typed the keywords "Yuri", "Los Angeles, California", "class of 1998", and the name of the most prestigious performing arts school in L.A. into the search box. Some results came up, but her triumph was short-lived when she realized that they all referred to a female Japanese-American violinist.

Layla wasn't ready to give up, though. There were several performing arts high schools in the Los Angeles area; he may have attended one of those instead. She performed a quick search for a list of school names and plugged them into her previous inquiry.

"Bingo!"

The third school she tried provided the result she was looking for. She clicked on a link to a review of a play the school had put on and smiled at the picture of a teenaged Yuri in costume that accompanied the article. He was incredibly cute even back then. Underneath the photo, the caption read: Senior Yuri Brass, 17, gives a riveting performance as John Proctor in the school's fall production of "The Crucible".

"So his real name is Yuri Brass," Layla said to herself, frowning. That name seemed vaguely familiar, although she was certain she had never met Yuri before he joined Kaleido Stage. "Yuri Brass… Brass… Brass… Aaron Brass…"

She gasped, the name ringing a bell. Was it possible…? Kneeling beside her bed, Layla reached underneath until she felt the corner of a box. She pulled the box out and took a seat on the edge of the mattress, lifting up the lid to see inside.

The box contained all of her most treasured mementos, among them an old Kaleido Stage program for a production of Alice in Wonderland. It was the first Kaleido Stage show she ever saw, the one that inspired her dream to become a Kaleido Star, just like her idol Donna Walker, who had played the title role.

Layla quickly found the program and flipped to the cast list. Sure enough, Aaron Brass was listed right underneath Donna's name. Yuri favored his mother more in looks, but it wasn't hard to see a family resemblance between him and the man pictured next to the name.

"Yuri's father is THE Aaron Brass?"

She couldn't believe it. Though her attention had been mostly held by Donna during the show, she remembered Aaron in the role of the White Rabbit. He had been amazing as well, so strong and powerful with a natural charisma that reminded her of Yuri.

No wonder Yuri had decided to use a stage name when he joined Kaleido Stage. It would be tough to live up to Aaron Brass's legacy. He had been one of best trapeze artists in the world, a former International Circus Festival winner, and the very first Kaleido Star – not to mention, one of the original founders.

But…

Layla set the program aside, bringing a hand to her mouth.

Aaron Brass had died shortly after the production ended under mysterious circumstances. No official cause of death was ever released, although the most common rumor was that he fell while attempting an incredibly dangerous, mystical maneuver.

"Oh, Yuri…"

It made sense now, why he didn't like talking about his father and why his mother had avoided attending Yuri's shows until tonight. Sighing, Layla drew her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees. Poor Yuri. She knew very well the pain of losing a parent. Not a day went by when she didn't think of her late mother, the ache dulled by time, but never forgotten.

If only she had known… Layla shook her head. What was she even thinking? Her relationship with Yuri wasn't like that. They were physically intimate, but that was all. It wasn't as if she had been open about her mother's death either, so she couldn't blame him for not confiding in her. She really should have respected Yuri's wishes in the first place and not gone digging into things that weren't any of her business.

After putting the program back in the box, Layla slid it back under her bed. She would just have to do her best to forget about everything she had learned.

His mother arrived back at the apartment ten minutes after Yuri. She let herself in with the emergency key he had loaned her, carrying a couple of bags. Though she had taken off her wig and glasses, her face was still bare of make-up, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.

"Sorry I'm late," she said breezily, heading straight to the kitchen. "I ran to the store to pick up some last-minute things for dinner and it took forever to find a ca—"

Yuri followed after her. "Did anybody recognize you?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

"At the grocery store?" She laughed as she began unloading the contents of one of the bags onto the island. "I dress celebrities for a living, Yurochka. That doesn't mean I am one. Well, unless one of the cable networks wants to give me my own show…"

"No, at Kaleido Stage," he said, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the counter.

"Ah." She set a bottle of wine down on the island. "So, you saw through my disguise," she said, not even trying to deny it.

"Mama, you knew how risky that was! If anybody recognized you…"

"But they didn't! I walked right in front of Kalos Eido and he didn't even give me a second look."

"Kalos saw you?" Yuri took a seat at the island, rubbing at his forehead.

"I told you, he had no idea who I was. It's been years since we last saw each other. I wouldn't be surprised if he forgot what I even look like."

"That's not the point, Mama!" he shouted, unable to contain his anger any longer. "What if he had remembered? Or Sarah? Or Jean?"

"Yurochka…" Coming up behind him, his mother moved to wrap her arms around his shoulders, but Yuri shrugged her off.

"Don't." He stood up, the legs of the stool scraping against the hardwood floor. "I need some air," he said, too furious to talk to her at the moment.

Yuri left the kitchen and headed out to the balcony. The night air was surprisingly chilly for summer, a light breeze tousling his hair. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself, staring up at the starry sky above.

After a while, he heard the sound of the slider opening behind him, his mother joining him out on the balcony. She came up beside him, leaning against the railing, neither of them speaking until she decided to break the ice.

"For the record, it really was a wonderful show," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Don't lie, Mama. The show's crap, and everybody knows it." Yuri sighed. "If I could have chosen a show for you to come see, it would have been Romeo & Juliet."

"No, I don't like tragedies. I've experienced enough in my life. Give me a 'happy ever after' any day."

Yuri turned his head, kissing the top of her hair. That was true enough. His anger from earlier had mostly faded away, but there was something he still didn't understand. "Why did you come to tonight's performance? After Papa died…"

His mother's posture straightened, her eyes gazing out at the Kaleido Stage tent in the distance. The lights were still on, a festive sight against the dark sky. "It was too hard, back then, the scars too fresh," she said in a soft voice. "But he loved Kaleido Stage, and I did, too. Your father was never happier than when he was standing on a stage. He was so proud of the company he and Kalos created..."

Her voice trailed off, and for a moment, Yuri feared she would once again try to convince him to give up his plans for revenge, starting yet another round of their never-ending argument. It was her last night in town; he didn't want to spend it fighting even more than they already had.

"You know, I attended your debut performance, too," she revealed instead.

"What?" He looked over at her, his eyes widening. "You never told me that."

"I left during the intermission," she admitted. "I-I got scared, watching you perform such death defying stunts. I was so afraid I would lose you like I lost Aaron."

Yuri reached for her hand, which was gripping the railing so tightly that her knuckles were turning white, and gave it a light squeeze.

"But I promised myself that one day I was going to stay through a full performance," she continued. "I'm glad I finally got the chance. You really did inherit your father's talent."

Shaking his head, Yuri released his hold on her hand. "I'm only a pale imitation of Papa," he said, unable to hide the trace of bitterness in his voice. "When Papa took the stage, nobody could take their eyes off him. Now it's Layla who everyone comes to see."

"There certainly is something special about that girl. She lights up the stage, like she was born to perform in front of an audience."

"Yeah, she does," he said, a soft smile on his face. Even though a small part of him was jealous of Layla's natural talent, she was also an inspiration to him. Yuri doubted he would be the star he was with any other partner at his side.

His mother stared at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Are you sure you're not in love with her, Yurochka?"

He rolled his eyes. "Not this again. I told you, we're just friends."

"Friends don't kiss the way you did on stage."

"We were acting."

"Your father never kissed any of his co-stars like that," she said. "I would have – what's the American phrase? Slapped him silly, if he had kissed someone like that on the stage."

"It's only a publicity stunt, nothing more," he said, deciding to turn the tables on her. After all, if she wanted to stick her nose in his love life, then hers was fair game as well. "You should say 'yes' to Oleg already."

"Oh, Yurochka…"

"I mean it. Enough time has passed. You deserve your own 'happy ever after'."

Brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his mother sighed. "Maybe next proposal, if I haven't finally scared him off for good."

"The man is crazy in love with you, Mama," Yuri said. "He wouldn't keep coming back and proposing to you if he wasn't. And I know you love him, too."

"You really wouldn't mind? Me getting remarried?"

"Oleg is a good guy, and he makes you happy, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," she said, playing with the pave diamond heart-shaped pendant around her neck. Yuri recognized it as the gift Oleg had given her for her third "thirty-ninth" birthday. "Yeah, he really does. As happy as your father made me."

"Then I don't mind at all," he assured her truthfully.

"I'll think about it," she promised, rising on her toes to kiss Yuri on his cheek. "Thank you, my Yurochka. Now, come back inside. I'll warm up dinner."

DISCLAIMER: Kaleido Star doesn't belong to me.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm so sorry for the long wait. Like I mentioned at the end of the last chapter, I've been busy moving. Good news is, I'm really close to finishing the next chapter, so you won't have to wait so long for the next update. I'll probably post it next month, December at the latest.

Feel free to follow me on Tumblr. My username is kaleidodreams.