Chapter Text

In the darkness, there was but one source of illumination: scattering droplets of blue and white that fluttered in varied diagonal directions across the panels positioned at the back of the stage. And two people stood in the center of it all.

Amidst the lights, twenty-four-year-old Porter Weston Robinson found himself as one of those two, playing an angelically-chiming keyboard while his long-time friend and recent musical collaborator, Hugo Pierre "Madeon" Leclercq, prepared a microphone on a stand next to him. The crowd they faced was packed with hundreds, if not thousands, of attendees, and floods of raw emotions - happiness, joy, hope, and wonder, among others - ran unrestrained throughout it. Even though he was not physically touching anyone in the audience, he could sense the auras of their aspirations and feelings.

Hugo began to sing sometime after Porter had begun pressing the keys.

"I could never find the right way to tell you:

have you noticed I've been gone?

'Cause I left behind the home that you made me,

but I will carry it along."

His voice, tinted ever so noticeably with a French accent, flowed like water from his mouth to the ears of listeners. It was mesmerizing, calming...beautiful.

"It's a long way forward; trust in me.

I'll give them shelter like you've done for me.

And I know I'm not alone - you'll be watching over us

until you're gone...oh..."

As his friend finished the first verse and chorus of their song "Shelter", Porter felt gentle pressure on his shoulder - a pat on the back. He smiled, a feeling of serenity beginning to seep into his body, while the crowd cheered. After a brief vocal rest, the singing started up again.

"When I'm older, I'll be silent beside you.

I know words won't be enough.

And they won't need to know our names or our faces,

but they will carry on for us.

"It's a long way forward; trust in me.

I'll give them shelter like you've done for me.

And I know I'm not alone - you'll be watching over us,

and when you're gone..."

Porter played a few more notes on the piano, then he walked over to Hugo - and together, they each raised one arm as the latter finished singing.

"...I'll be okay."

Within seconds, the dimly-lit area was alive with lights, and the electronic pulses of Porter's 2012 song "Language" filled the air. The audience cheered wildly - loud enough so that not even the music could drown out their awe - and the two artists then exchanged a tight hug before going back to their individual setups.

The song progressed, the visuals shifting as it did, and Porter's inner feeling of peace grew stronger; he now knew his life had purpose after all. It had taken the entirety of the Shelter Live Tour for him to fully realize that fact, but now that he did, he felt better than he had in a very long time. Was Hugo feeling the same way? He unfortunately didn't know that - but he also had reason to believe the answer was "yes."

No matter the case, though, this was the end of an era, their final show together.

And Porter never wanted it to end.

Ever.

Ever,

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Porter, in an abyss devoid of any light, was falling.

The blackness choked him, strangled him like a tight rope, as he descended further and further and the world above him pixelated away. It could've gone on for mere seconds, maybe a few minutes, or perhaps even longer than either of the previous options... In any case, though, the descent was all he knew. Nothing else was clear to him.

Was it really true that just moments ago, he'd been performing at Coachella with his best friend?

Was Hugo even alive? Had he ever existed at all?

Was anything he "knew" real, or was life itself nothing more than a complex lie?

The threads of the universe were unraveling around him, but he woke up just in time.