The girls friends looked at her and it looks could kill..well. “I’ve obviously hit a sore spot!” Anya laughed hoping to scoot by the worst moment of her career so far but instead the girl just sobbed louder. 

“For what it’s worth, which isn’t much, her boyfriend just dumped her. So thank you, thank you so much for that. It’s exactly what we needed” Anya cringed so hard she could feel her brow cover crack. 

“Look, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ Anya’s embarrassed muttering was interrupted again by another friend 

“Look. Why don’t you just piss off and go back to pretending you’re a star okay???” 

Anya recoiled. The sweat was running under his wig and down her face. It tickled her collar bones and gathered in her cleavage. And suddenly it was Oliver on stage. He walked off stage, staggering in his heels and sweating off a line of lashes. He could feel the breath catching in his chest and he knew he had to get out of that dress and corset before he had a full blown panic attack. But if he did that here, people will see. People will see his scars. 

Dina suddenly appeared before him, his vision swimming. His breath coming in short bursts. “Baby it’s okay. It’s okay you didn’t know come on.” Dina tried to bring him to the dressing room but Oliver just stood there gaunt and breathing hard. “I- breathing-“ Oliver started but Dina had had enough. Chris was a helluva man and Dina was a helluva Queen. She scooped Oliver up like he was a mere child, not something someone having a panic attack usually needs but it got him to the dressing room in time for Oliver’s corset to get flung across the room. 

His breath still came in gasps and stutters and his heart did a horrible fluttering thing that made hypochondriac Oliver worry his panic attack was getting worse but then he had a hoodie wrapped over his shoulders, a glass of water in his hands, his best friend in front of him and someone else on stage doing damage control. 

Dina asked “hug or no contact?” Once Oliver had stammered out the word hug he was engulfed in Dina. Breathing the glitter of her beard in and letting his breath out in grunts and sighs but it was helping. Slowly, ever so slowly, Oliver pulled back from his friend and said “what have I done?” And Dina laughed. It wasn’t an unkind laugh but it made Oliver recoil. “My love, you made a mistake. I don’t know why you said it but it happened and we’re gonna move past it” 

Oliver took a deep breath and launched into the story of the girl from the salon and how she’d been sure she was getting proposed to. 

“Ohhh honey. That’s not your fault but god sweetheart, that was so your fault! Keep it separate hon. Anya doesn’t work in our salon.” Oliver took a deep breath and held it. “Anya needs to be strong and stroppy. If this happens again, or anything like that happens, you need to play it off and cut it off at the pass” 

“Anya didn’t know what to say and neither did I” Oliver dissolved into tears and started his chest heaving again. He felt like such a colossal twat for making a mistake like that and he was embarrassed that he had fallen apart like this. 

Dina held him tightly, ready to let go at a moments notice, until his sobbing eased again. “Pet,” she said gently “it was just a mistake. They got a round of free drinks and it’s over now. Please stop beating yourself up about this. These things happen. You’re not a bad person” 

Oliver’s heart turned over at Dina’s comment. He must be still feeling anxious he thought. He gave a great sniff and summoned a watery smile “guess I better go fix my face” he continued that brittle tense smile. 

Dina sighed. “I think you better go look in the mirror” 

Anya looked in the mirror and shrieked. Part of her wig seemed to be missing it was so deflated looking. Oliver had cried so much she had false eyelashes stuck to her chin like a sad little teenage attempt at a goatee. Her glitter was in creases all over her forehead and around her eyes. Her eyes. Her beautiful eyes. Red, shrivelled things. Positively shrivelled with emotion. Anya sighed. All that hard work and beauty gone. And for what. A silly girl who couldn’t take a single comment? Oliver faltered. He couldn’t quite make the persona stick. Anya was the kind of woman to sweep others along in her wake and damned be the consequences. Oliver was the kind of man who apologised so much he always seemed to be one step away from bowing or even dropping into a curtsy. 

Oliver gave up. He wiped away what was left of his brows, peeled his lashes off his chin, scrubbed and cleansed and actually felt a little better. 

He could do this. He made mistakes. He could do better.