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@twpan
Dongwoon loves the overflowing energy backstage, the atmosphere reminding him of electric circuits. He’s accustomed to panicked, half-naked performers stitching a wardrobe malfunction and others caking on stage makeup in front of mirrors. It helps excite him before the performance -- breathe life into a man otherwise stiffer than cardboard. It doesn’t matter if the actual backstage is a little dingy and cramped; he loves it all the same.
He auditioned for a small production and was disappointed to receive a small part, but at least this place paid. The soldier was surprised at how many dancers were expected to work for free in the human world. He’ll take a few unpaid auditions here and there, but keeps in mind that it won’t pay for glamour.
Dongwoon doesn’t go onstage until the third act, which is after the half hour intermission. He has plenty of time considering that the show, Coppélia, had started only a few minutes ago. The stagehands will stop by later, organize those in the third act, and run over the music cues or last minute changes. Hectic, but all in the name of dance.
They’re responsible for their own hair and makeup, so he sits in front of a mirror to tidy up. He combs back his hair, slathering it in enough gel to keep it slicked back even during the fastest of pirouettes. “I hate how this dries -- always feels like straw,” he mumbles. On the table in front of him, the rest of his stage make-up is lined up. From the heavy, sweat-proof foundation, to setting powder, to the eye shadow pallets. He doesn’t need to be done up as heavily as the ladies, but being subtle requires a certain finesse.
Just as he combs through his rusty-colored hair one last time, he sees in the mirror reflection that someone is peering at him from behind. Looks like a young boy and oddly familiar, but he’s not concentrating enough to recognize. “Did you forget your makeup?” he asks. “You can use some of mine if you need to. It’s not very sanitary to share, but we do what we have to. Right?”