The streets were busy at dawn, tired workers returning home, mothers calling their children inside and little by little, the town settled into silence. Antonio walked around slowly, his feet heavy as he neared his destination.
The lit up saloon roared with vitality, the facade displaying its name with bold red letters. Chipping white paint and a dusty entrance, the place had certainly seen better days. Antonio remembered when this was his goal, a show in the Mint Bunny was a synonym for fame, the fancy interior and the generous customers kept the place afloat.
His ambition and a bit of begging (more like nagging) at the owner had secured a late night performance, from then on, his silver tongue was the ticket to fame and fortune. His usual clothes were replaced with golden sequins and velvet as his mouth delivered half truths and amiable smiles.
He was described as mysterious, charming and kind, but if he spat out the truth, he'd be remembered as deceiving, simple and a scam. It's not like he didn't have any merit, it's just that these people believed he was something else. Antonio the passionate artist was merely a farm boy playing pretend. The first time he delivered the breathtaking show they expected, all he got in exchange was a cozy bed to lay on and hushed promises.
He approached the saloon smiling, knocking on the table lightly to annoy the owner. Curious glances were thrown his way, a glass of whiskey was unceremoniously tossed towards him, as the bartender filled it with a frown.
Antonio pushed the irritation in the back of his mind, Arthur acknowledged him as a common customer. Part of him says that's why he came back to this battered place, anonymity is a privilege nowadays and that is ironically alluring for him, perhaps he's a bit of a masochist, thriving for the attention of someone who despises him.
He doesn't attempt to start a conversation, knowing the other a string of curses would greet him, Arthur's too busy, too bothered and Antonio is too tired to care, but tonight he's feeling bolder, so, he allows his stare to linger.
Arthur moves around swiftly, delivering the drinks and pausing every now and then to reply to the questions of a talkative customer. The sight is amusing. Arthur Kirkland, the man who had never swept the floor in the past, is as swift as a fox at service. His hands work skillfully pouring the drinks without wasting a single drop of liquor, sometimes Antonio marvells at the dutiful mind the other has, a sharp memory that matches the drink to its owner perfectly.
A cruel thought crosses his mind, Arthur's misfortune has somehow changed him for the better. Or perhaps it's the power shift, Antonio is now the one with the upper hand, a golden opportunity to revive the good old days of the Mint bunny.
When one of the onlookers gets visibly shaken, Arthur is taken out of his work induced haze. As the blonde catches him staring his brows furrow in annoyance and then bewilderment. "What are you doing here?," he asks, turning away and motioning with his hand.
"I'm feeling nostalgic,"
The words seem to linger in the air, Arthur is frozen in place and his eyes travel to the empty stage. A dusty piano is what remains of the formidable scenery where quartets, dancers and singers used to perform.
There's a part of Antonio that enjoys Arthur's embarrassment, but his heart aches hurtfully at the thought of inflicting any kind of pain on him. This is the place that opened the gates of heaven for him, and likewise, Antonio was going to fight tooth and nail to restore its greatness.
"Do you mind if I steal your stage for a while?"
Arthur's face lits up with excitement though he quickly clouds it with skepticism. "If that's what you want, I'm not going to stop you."
Antonio chuckles at the reply, that's all the permission he needs. The wooden floor creaks as Antonio walks up to the front, the dim light that sweeps through the roof serving him as a spotlight.
His hands are sweaty, grasping on the guitar as he takes a deep breath, every show feels a bit like the first, but here his body shakes with anticipation, his heart beats faster when the roar of the voices grows lower.
The first few notes settled the silence among the viewers. Silence was delightful for Antonio, in those brief moments he got to appreciate the attention, the skeptical looks turning into mesmerized faces as he opened his mouth to sing.
When the opening verse is done, the audience is caught in his spell, that's when his nervousness eases and his body aches, a raging fire takes over his heart and the melody picks up its pace.
The front row begins to roar in excitement, their hands clap and their feet move rhythmically. A smile grows on his face as he delivers an out of beat line, toying with their expectations and taking away the last drop of control the audience has. From then on, he has to be careful, for the hearts of the audience were both a precious and fragile treasure.
Music allows him to cave in the deepest emotions of others, which is why after each show, he makes sure to give the public a break. To rock them gently into their shared farewell and plant the seed of admiration on their hearts.
The moments pass by in a flash and the song comes to an end, Antonio lets his gaze wander around, looking for a familiar pair of eyes and to his dismay, he finds Arthur sitting with his eyes closed, his fingers tapping on the table, following the beat.
A wave of clapping and cheering marks the end of his act and he gives a last glance at his companions, a cold sweat running down his forehead as he bows slightly. The ovation is silenced by his thoughts, the night passes by quickly after that, a couple of awkward compliments and a bit of gambling until the morning rays and the drunken stupor sends the customers away.
Antonio takes a moment to admire the mess they've left, quietness finally settling on the place.
"Why?" Arthur asks as he takes a drag of his cigarette and leans on the doorframe. "With that voice of yours, I'm sure there's better places to perform."
"Arthur, why didn't you ask for my help? I don't want you to close this place."
"It's still running, isn't it?" Arthur pauses, pacing around and moving a couple of stools. "You're on another path and this is my business, you don't have to worry about it."
"Another path?" Antonio hums, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "My whole life changed after you allowed me to sing here, you didn't have to, but you did, and now, I want to offer you some help."
Arthur's face contorted into a frown and Antonio spoke before the other could refuse, prideful, stubborn, deep inside Arthur was the same. "It's not a burden, it's my way of repaying what you've done for me."
"I refuse to accept your money," Arthur huffed, prying off his hand from him. "I don't need your pity."
"Then let me perform constantly. You know how much I love this place," Antonio replied, motioning at the empty stage. He extended a hand towards Arthur, not daring to complete his sentence, his mind was anchored to this place, to the memories it held but above all, to Arthur.
His gaze seemed to convey what his tongue couldn't deliver. The silence hung heavily on Antonio's shoulders but the small smile Arthur gave him set his heart at ease.
"Who am I to stop the great Antonio?" Arthur said, hesitantly reaching for his hand. "I couldn't stop you the first time, why would I do it now?"
Antonio smiled, wrapping the other in a tight embrace. Together, they'll keep this place afloat.
A/N: This was written for Wild Westalia Week 2022
The prompt was Rhinestone cowboy.