#sing 2 buster moon

His Heart On His Sleeve (Johnny & Buster Hurt/Comfort Fic)

… or, buster finds johnny crying at the theater at night and offers him some useful advice along with a friendly reminder.

it’ll be my first time showing you guys any of my actual writing, but here it is! (by the way this is not a ship oneshot, nada, nothing like that. just some father/son bonding.)

also, i am currently dying for a good johnny angst prompt at the moment (really, any type of angst is fine) so if you guys have any ideas for one, please let me know?

Before everything, Buster Moon didn’t remember having many animals within his life.

He remembered his father — his kind, warm-hearted father — who had died several years after buying Buster the local theater with the money he had saved up, penny by penny through the carwash. That every penny, every car his dad ever washed, had been a step closer, a token for Buster’s dream-come-true.

For years after his father’s death, Buster had been hard at work within the show business; with the little money he had, he kept a wide smile plastered on his face and his feet running. Put on the shows he was just certain would be the breakthrough of his career. No matter how battered and bruised he got, he rose back to his feet in seconds. He strived to live up to the theater’s name. Strived to dream big dreams. Strived to make his dad proud.

And at the end of a long journey, he finally had.

Buster Moon sat at his desk inside his homey little office, the theater so eerily quiet as everyone had retreated home hours ago. The practice rooms and the stage were empty now, but there was a sense of comfort knowing that they would again light up with music tomorrow, and the day after.

Tonight, stars shone as sugar spilt over black marble, glistening in the sun. The night sky was such a welcome sight, appearing like magic at each sunset, promising to return as it faded in dawn’s first light. There were times in the daytime, under skies of blue, Buster would think of those faraway stars and how they’d return after the shadows blended into the dark.

They rose up from the dust every night and they shone like the stars they were born to be.

Buster stood on his tiptoes — and when that wasn’t high enough, did a little hop — to shut the lights off in his office and with his keys, safely locked the door with the help of a small stool sitting at the side. Humming a happy tune, he gave Ms. Crawly’s desk a fond look before turning the lights off in that room too.

Buster made his way down the flight of stairs that led to the entire backstage of a theater — a place he wouldn’t hesitate to call home, honestly. Sometimes he couldn’t really believe that he had managed to come this far; for years he had been labeled as “crazy, mad, a danger to society, a disgrace to the world of theater production”… now he was Buster Moon, named best showman and show producer of all of Calatonia. He couldn’t have been more proud of his cast and his new found family, they were everything to him and he couldn’t see himself being able to throw any of that away.

He hopped down the final several steps of stairs and checked the time: it was almost past twelve thirty and Buster knew he had to head back inside his living area above the theater soon for a “good night’s sleep and another great day’s work.” And he was just about to do that when his feet were stopped by the sound of an awfully familiar sob. And then there was someone sniffling and choking back their tears, and a weak cough.

Buster followed the sound, looking for the source of the noise — and as soon as he turned the corner towards the backstage rehearsal rooms, the sight he saw just simply broke his heart.

Johnny — kind, caring, talented Johnny — was sitting perched upon one of the wooden steps that led up to one of the rooms, his worn skateboard by his side, while hugging his knees to his chest and his cheek resting on top of it, seeming to try too hard to keep his sobs to a minimum. His shoulders were hunched and shaking, his whole form was trembling entirely. Between seconds he’d break into sobs before he caught himself again and tried to stop, but was having a hard time doing so.

“Johnny?”

The noises were immediately swallowed by an uncomfortable, forced silence. His broad shoulders stopped lurching with every sob but Buster could make out the frames of both his hands, slightly trembling in his wake.

“Johnny, is that you?”

“M-mr. Moon!” Johnny scrambled to his feet, nearly knocking over one of the standing props, and Buster winced as his foot bumped against the metal costume rack on the side. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Ah, I was just about to shut her down for the night and return to my humble abode.” He gave one of the wooden pillars on the side of the backstage area a firm pat, the tiniest smile of pride on his face. “Johnny, I thought you left hours ago. It’s past midnight.”

“Oh, yeah, uh, I did, but… I-I left my skateboard down by the parking lot… and I didn’t want it to get lost.” Buster watched as Johnny’s eyes nervously darted away from his own, suddenly seeming very interested in the clock on the wall.

“… well, if you came to get your skateboard at the parking lot, how come you’re inside the theater?”

Johnny’s mouth opened as if to answer, but all that escaped past his lips was a sharp inhale and nothing else. Eventually he closed it without a word.

“… ‘s cold outside.” It seemed to be the best answer Johnny could come with at the moment.

“Is there a reason you’re upset?”

“Upset? Why would — why would you think tha’ I’m upset?” He nearly stumbled on his words and he slightly froze up when Buster fixed his eyes on him with a tentatively raised brow. “… just got sum’ dust in my eye, ‘s all.” He said, his voice barely a mumble as he gingerly lifted his arm to wipe his eye on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

Buster carefully made his way up to the much bigger mammal and sat himself on the empty seat beside him on the short flight of wooden steps. He gently patted the area next to him, and Johnny slowly sat back down. The stair slightly creaked underneath his bigger weight.

“So, why exactly are you upset, hmm?”

“But ‘m fine.”

“Johnny.”

The gorilla didn’t say anything for a long time, and Buster patiently waited. He wasn’t going to do anything else to pressure the poor kid, as he already seemed pressured enough by some sort of weight or burden he couldn’t make out. But he knew that whatever it was he had to get it out of Johnny, even if it took him the entire night.

“Mr. Moon,” Johnny finally said after what seemed like almost ten minutes, and Buster noticed the tremor in his voice. “… could you keep a secret?”

“Of course — swear it on New Moon Theater.”

Still, Johnny seemed to be hesitant to tell him whatever was troubling him so much — his brows were furrowed into a scrunched-up frown, almost as if thinking was hurting him, his finger tapping nervously against the knee of his worn jeans, lips pursed into a bit of a line. Occasionally he’d open his mouth slightly to chew down on his bottom lip, his canine poking against his skin.

Buster gently cleared his throat. “It’ll all be easier if you talk to me.”

“I know, I know that, but…” Johnny then groaned and put his hands over his face — it wasn’t long until Buster heard a quiet, restrained sniff from him and a silent mutter of ‘sorry’. And Buster gave him all the time he needed, sitting next to the gorilla who was much bigger than him in comparison but seemed so small at the moment, seen at his most vulnerable state.

“… before the concert and everything, well… something happened between me and m’dad.”

Johnny didn’t continue for a while and Buster patiently waited until he was ready to talk.

“… see, well, my dad — h-he’s not like most dads, he’s…” And then Johnny mumbled something barely under his breath, too quiet to hear even under the complete silence of the theater.

“What’s that, Johnny?”

“… a gang leader.” And then Johnny hung his head, looking as if he were about to cry, like a scolded child who had done the most terrible thing.

Buster thought back to the day of the theater flood disaster (a day he didn’t really want to recall but his mind made him anyway) and he thought of the front headlines of the newspaper Johnny had been holding, sitting on that very flight of stairs they were on right now—he had pretended not to notice back then, but the thing was… he had.

“GANG LEADER ARRESTED.” Big, bold letters printed across the very front page, right above a picture of a rather huge gorilla’s mugshot which took up about more than half the page. Of course, back then, Buster hadn’t given it much thought — but maybe he should have.

“So…?”

Johnny turned to him, the look instantly vanishing from his face to be replaced by one with complete confusion and what seemed to almost be frustration. “… so? Shouldn’t you be scared of me?”

Buster let out a quiet chuckle. “Johnny, give me one good reason why I should be scared of you.”

“Well, I did just admit to being the son of a mob leader, didn’t I?”

“And is that supposed to be the good reason?” In response, Johnny dropped his gaze to the ground almost shamefully and simply shrugged. “Johnny, if you believe that what you said is going to change my mind about what a brilliant kid you are, you might want to rethink that.”

“… really? And you’re not just sayin’ that to make me feel better?” Johnny asked carefully, moving his eyes off the wooden floorboards briefly towards Buster.

“I promise.”

For a moment, Buster could see the flash of a smile on Johnny’s face but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“… but I can tell that that’s not really the thing that’s troubling you here.”

“Well, it’s just…” Johnny lifted his hand and rubbed the back of his neck, something Buster had noticed as a habit of his from quite a while ago. “… after my dad was, um, arrested —” He glanced at Buster and only slightly relaxed after Buster gave him a little nod. “— I’ve been tryin’ to work to get the bail money for him and my uncles. They told me it’s 50,000 dollars per person, a-and —”

“Woah woah woah, hold up.” Buster interrupted. “50,000 dollars per person? So —”

“150,000 dollars in total, yeah. At least, tha’s what they told me.” Johnny’s foot shifted uncomfortably against the wooden floor. “I-it’s quite much, I know.”

“It’stoo much.” Buster found his finger tapping nervously against his own knee. “And… how are you going to get all of that money?”

“I was initially plannin’ to use the 100,000 dollars for the singing contest if I could, but —” Johnny froze and stopped midsentence, noticing late what words had left his mouth. “… Mr. Moon, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to —”

“Hey, don’t — it’s okay. That… that’s a huge mistake on my side. Not one of my proudest moments, but… it’s what brought me here, isn’t it? I try to think of it that way.” Buster merely gave him a smile. “Anyways, go on.”

Johnny didn’t seem too sure of himself but continued anyways, seeming to grow more nervous by the second. “… I opened up my dad’s car repair business again, it’s bringin’ me an occasional few hundred bucks every week, but I’m tryna pay for all the expenses and the food, and the water and electricity bill and it really isn’t leavin’ me with anythin’… so I figured that I would be able to earn a little more with a part-time job.”

“Johnny, you balance your dad’s car repair business and a part-time job with theater practice?”

Johnny bit back down on his lip. “Actually, it’s two jobs… one didn’t really make the cut.”

“Two part-time jobs — where?”

“… one at a bar as a waiter and the other as a cashier at the supermarket.”

“Johnny, I…” Buster was at a loss for words. One major job as a cast in the theater was enough. Maintaining a business along with that was tiresome. Another part-time job to that was gruesome. But another? Buster couldn’t possibly see Johnny getting any time to sleep or eat at all — was he even doing that? “… Johnny, this is way too much for you. You can’t balance three jobs and a garage business altogether — that’s just impossible.”

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Moon, I really shouldn’t have told you all this.” Once again Johnny was reduced into what seemed like a reprimanded child, suddenly looking down to avert Buster’s eyes altogether.

“No, Johnny, it’s just… how do your shifts go?”

“… I work as a cashier from seven to eleven thirty after I leave the theater.” Johnny quietly admitted. “And then I head over to the bar and work the night shift from twelve… until five.”

“Do you even get any time to sleep?”

Johnny drummed his fingers nervously against his lap for a while without answering before eventually he opened his mouth. “I mean, yeah… about two to three hours. B-but I have coffee and energy drinks every mornin’.”

Buster always greeted every one of his cast with the widest smile and sometimes the occasional hugs. Johnny had been no exception — but now that Buster took a better, more careful look at the young gorilla, he looked terrible; the skin of his face looked a tad bit clammier, lips chapped, and the dark circles underneath his eyes were quite clearly noticeable. It made Buster think if he had possibly been the last one to notice when he should have been the first — and he felt absolutely awful.

“Johnny, this… all this… you shouldn’t have to be doing all of it. It’s too much for you.”

“But, Mr. Moon… he’s my dad.”

“And you’re just a kid. You don’t need to work so hard to be earning any sort of bail money. That’s not something a kid should be doing.”

“But…”

“You shouldn’t have to be working more than one job to try and pay your bills and to free your dad and your uncles from jail — you should be going to school, getting good grades, making friends, going out with them with that skateboard of yours, going to parties and having fun and whatever kids do these days! This… this just doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Mr. Moon…” Johnny swallowed, lifting his head to look ahead of him without much of a focus. “He might be a criminal and I know he is servin’ his sentence there in jail… but it’s too long. It’s gunna be years of me without him, and… a-and for almost forever, he’s really all I’ve had. I love ‘im, and… I don’t want him to spend the rest of his life in a cell. It scares me so, so much — thinking I’ll have to be… alone. Without my dad.” He again rubbed the back of his neck, but the touch seemed almost like an act of a cocked gun — ready to spring at a given chance. “… I just want to give ‘im a chance. I want him out, Mr. Moon. But…”

Johnny lifted his hand to move it over his mouth, as if trying to choke back on his own words. Buster then realized that there were tears gathering in Johnny’s eyes and they finally gave in, sliding down his cheek and eventually across his already-damp fur.

“It’s just so hard.”

His voice just broke right then and there, cracking with pressure — and it just tore Buster apart. “I feel like… like everything’s being ripped apart, and it hurts so bad that i-it’s like, like somethin’s tryna choke me.” He rambled on. “I’m tryin’, I swear, to try and make it alright, b-but sometimes I feel like something squeezing me and I just can’t breathe, a-and my hands don’t stop shaking, I try to stop but my heart just feels like it’s going to explode, and sometimes I get so scared because it just feels like I’m dying —” Johnny glanced sideways towards Buster, a look of a scolded child etched across his face and a glint of panic flashing across his features. “… I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m just really scared.” He released a very shaky breath, eyes downcast.

“Johnny, what is there to be scared of?”

The gorilla hesitated answering before opening his mouth to reply. “… of bein’ alone. Without family.” He sniffled again and wiped the corner of his eye. “Sorry.”

“… Johnny, we don’t apologize for being afraid.” Buster said quietly. “Being afraid isn’t something to be ashamed of — it’s what makes us strong enough to fight against what we face.”

He lifted his eyes from the floor. “Wh-wha’ do you mean by that?”

Buster stayed quiet for a little while. “… after my father passed away, I didn’t know what to do. Growing up, he was the only one who really believed in me.” He shrugged and gave Johnny a tiny smile — Johnny didn’t quite return it. “He was all I ever really had.”

Buster took out his old wallet from his back pocket (he ought to buy another one pretty soon) and carefully opened the folds of leather, slipping out an old photograph. Johnny finally removed his eyes from simply watching space as the photo caught his attention.

In the photo was a young koala being held by an older one, both of them wearing huge smiles on their faces. They both looked carefree. Happy.

“This was my father.” Buster said quietly, keeping the smile as he handed Johnny the photo, knowing he’d handle it with care — without a word, Johnny took the small photo from him and gingerly held it between both his thumbs and index fingers with both hands. “He was caring, and oh, so warm-hearted, made the worst jokes… but most of all, he was hardworking. Very diligent. Set his mind on something, there was no turning back. He wouldn’t stop until he had accomplished what he had decided to do. And for him, it was earning enough money for me to be able to call this place Moon Theater. A theater of my own.”

Johnny spoke for the first time in a while. “He sounds like a wonderful person.”

“He was, he really was.” Buster watched as Johnny gently moved his thumb over the grayish worn image of his own father. “After he was gone, leaving me this theater… everything seemed so lost. I had had tons of plans on what I was going to do, what type of shows I was going to produce, what I’d do for the theater and how I’d improve on it for more and more shows… I had all planned it for him. With my father gone, it just all seemed fruitless… if that makes sense.” He let out a weak chuckle, and Johnny shifted uncomfortably at Buster’s side, holding the small photo loosely between his fingers on his lap.

“I mourned for a while, couldn’t really get back up on my feet. Believe me, I was a complete mess. The feeling of loss, it was just too much. The notion of having to go on without him, all on my own, it just really… really got to me, y’know? It scared me. He had been my guide my entire life, knew what the right decisions were — I didn’t know if I would be able to follow his footsteps and do the same. I was just… Buster Moon at the time. I wasn’t anything else.”

“But you are more than that, Mr. Moon.” Johnny said softly, the volume of his voice slightly raised than before. “You’re… you’re passionate, you’re enthusiastic, and you always see the best in us. Saw the best in all of us, didn’t you? I think…” He cleared his throat. “… I think you’re a millenia more beyond just your name.”

Buster couldn’t help but crack a smile at Johnny’s sincerity — he could see it through the kid’s eyes. “Thank you, Johnny. Means a lot hearing it from you, you know?”

Johnny offered Buster a tiny smile — small, but nonetheless a smile. It soon faltered, however, as a look of deep thought overcame his face, the canines biting into his lip again. “So… how did you overcome it?”

“Not gonna lie, Johnny… it was hard keeping my head on straight and trying to maintain the theater business, let it live up to its name. It was my pride, it was my father’s pride. Every day there would be instances where I had to avert what I didn’t want to face — things that I didn’t have the confidence to face on my own. Well, until…” Buster gave Johnny a little nudge against his arm, although it was nothing merely more than a small poke. “… until I had the greatest luck of being able to find the greatest, most talented cast members I could ever ask for.”

Johnny chuckled. “Really?”

“Yes, really — never thought I knew it, but… I guess all I needed was a new family to help me get by.” Buster hummed throughtfully. “It started with my father, of course. But after you guys came along? I’ve been the happiest koala in the history of koalas.”

Johnny smiled. “A found family.”

Buster nodded in return, placing his much, much smaller paw onto Johnny’s hand. “A found family. A found family that will support you no matter what, with anything you need. That’s what helps to overcome fear, Johnny. Because with people like us by your side? I can promise this — you’ll never be alone. Never in a million years. Because sometimes,” Buster nodded towards the photo, still in between Johnny’s fingers. “things that you think scare you, can become your motivation to find what you’ve lost. It’s always somewhere out there — you’re just not looking in the right places.”

The gorilla flicked his gaze downward towards the small photograph he had still been holding — he carefully handed it back to Buster. “I guess I haven’t really thought of lookin’.”

“Well, now you know where to start looking, don’t you? It’s like I always say — Moon Theater is the solution to every problem.”

“You never say that.”

“Eh, it’s worth a try.” Buster shrugged as he got to his feet, tucking his wallet back into his pocket and lightly dusting his suit before turning to the gorilla. “Johnny, I mean it when I say this — your health and well-being comes first. Two part-time jobs is just way too much, one seems more than enough.”

“But then what about the bail money —”

“Bail money comes after your health and well-being, of course. Johnny… you don’t have to do this all on your own, alright? Remember you have a family to look towards.”

Johnny shrugged and rubbed his arm with his other hand. “Well, I dunno…”

“I’m sure everyone would love to help you if you just get yourself to open up to them.”

“You mean… tell them about my dad?” Johnny slightly winced and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Yes, what else would it be?”

“But Mr. Moon, I-I don’t think it’s a good idea, I mean — Ash is still dealing with that ex-boyfriend of hers, Rosita is already busy with twenty-five kids, and I’m really sure Meena wouldn’t really like to know that I have a personal blood connection with a crimi —”

“Johnny, what you told me today hasn’t changed my view on you a tiny bit — there is not a bad bone in you whatsoever that tells me you’re anything close to a criminal… or any gang member, for that matter. You’re gentle, kind, caring and talented and soulful… kid, I could go on forever and ever. And knowing our cast,” Buster gave Johnny’s arm a gentle pat. “I’m sure they won’t think any differently.”

“… thank you, Mr. Moon. Really, I appreciate it. I… I really needed to hear all of this today.” Buster watched as Johnny’s tense shoulders finally seemed to relax, the look of relief spreading across his features. “Feels good to, y’know… be able to talk to someone.”

“Anytime, Johnny — now, promise me you’ll try to give yourself more time for yourself?”

“Yeah, promise.”

“Well, it’s getting late — do you maybe want a cup of hot chocolate before you go?”

The way Johnny’s eyes lit up like a child on Christmas day at the mere mention of hot chocolate sent Buster into chuckles.

“Really, hot chocolate?”

“I bought an entire stash of it after I saw you kids last week emptying three thermos of it each in the rehearsal rooms.”

“… if it’s not much trouble, Mr. Moon —”

Buster laughed and set off to find Johnny a clean mug and the hot chocolate mix he had stowed away somewhere in his cupboard.

“when the cast is sick” cute headcanons (that live rent free in my head)

buster:

- when buster gets sick with the cold or flu, he never mentions it until someone points out much he’s sneezing or sniffing.

- buster isn’t the type to deny having any sort of sickness but always tries to put the topic down by saying it’s just a “lil’ bug”.

- of course the theatre family is never convinced and they usually find buster passed out from exhaustion in his office chair, snoring away.

- usually when this happens one of them just place a fuzzy blanket over him and let him sleep throughout the remainder of the day.

- buster always tries to keep himself busy when he’s sick with more show-brainstorming or other work (it helps with the stress).

- rosita is usually the first to notice buster isn’t feeling well and makes soup for him (she’s such a mom, i love her).

- meena is the second one to notice and also makes him soup (+ ginger cookies because buster loves those).

- his sneezes are adorable, though. fight me.

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johnny:

- never admits to being sick until someone (usually it’s ash or nooshy, others can’t really do it) give him a death glare that reads “tell me the goddamn truth or i’ll crush you with love”.

- poor beans usually overworks himself with the theatre business—workaholic to the core.

- takes johnny, like, ten tries to finally convince him to briefly lie down or go home and get some fuckin’ rest.

- worst thing about being sick is that he can’t sing and he gets sad.

- when one of his friends come over to take care of him, he refuses to let them do anything for him.

- well, anything besides getting him a bunch of pillows. he needs pillows.

- drinks tea. drinks hot, earl grey tea. 

- still a child inside so refuses to take any medicine.

ash: eat it! eat it—

johnny:nO—

ash: oh come on,stop being such a baby—

johnny: it’s absolutely minging!

ash: it’s like, onespoonful.one, spoonful.

johnny: it tastes like ointment.

ash:*about to throw the spoon*HOW DO YOU KNOW WHAT OINTMENT TASTES LIKE—

johnny:I JUST KNOW, LEAVE ME ALONE I’M SICK—

- when johnny’s really sick, usually just curls up in his bed and sleeps literally 24/7.

- will absolutely make himself a nest of blankets and pillows because HE NEEDS IT.

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nooshy: 

- nooshy has a rock-hard immune system, so she usually doesn’t get sick.

- when she does, she gets very angry at herself.

nooshy:*sniffles while being wrapped in hundreds of blankets* this is so dumb.

johnny: i know, you’ve said it twenty-seven times in the past six minutes.

- nooshy has to play video games in bed—it’s the only way to keep her sane and from running away outside of the building.

- ash and johnny (sometimes they drag meena along) all come over to play video games with her.

- nooshy says at first that she doesn’t want anyone to come over to see her in “such a pathetic state”.

- but then of course she carefully she admits that she loves them all and enjoys their company, although said very grumpily.

nooshy: i ought to crush you guys. *aggressive sneeze* 

meena: is she serious?

johnny: that’s just her way of saying “i love you”.

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ash:

-deny, deny, deny.

- nope, she doesn’t admit it.

ash:*looking like a zombie*I’M FINE GODDAMN IT—

meena: we should really get you to bed, i mean—

ash:HISSSSSSSSSSSS—

- stubborn as well, and she will go on and on until her body just refuses to function like a normal porcupine.

- ash eventually ends up working all day.

- someone (usually johnny or rosita) will eventually get a phone call and ash will carefully ask them that they can’t get home from the theatre.

- johnny (being her bi-best-friend) brings his truck along to save her and on the way there buys her hot chocolate.

- she’s thankful for this but she’s grumpy and embarrassed at this point so she mutters a quiet “thanks” with her arms crossed.

- she physically has to be dragged or carried to the doctors office.

- ash sits in bed with thousands of tissue boxes surrounding her while she stares at a netflix rom com without any emotion.

- she needs to get up and do at least something.

- so ash gets up and starts cleaning her apartment without a word—inch to inch.

- usually pissed off that her voice sounds like a scratchy record player and that her stupid cold won’t let her sing.

- gets a very specific craving for lemon tarts when she’s sick.

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porsha: 

- beautiful when healthy, a complete sniffling, shivering mess when she’s sick.

- doesn’t deny being sick, but never one to mention feeling under the weather first.

- usually she’s grateful that someone points it out for her.

- porsha recovers from her sicknesses very, very quickly. a good night sleep and she’s good to go.

buster: wait, weren’t you sick yesterday?

porsha:*completely fine*yea!

buster: a-and you’re all better now in a day?

porsha:YEA! :D

- porsha is always cold—wrap her in ten thousand blankets and she’d still say she feels a bit chilly.

- she wants cuddles and needs cuddles when she’s sick (and they’re usually given to her without much hesitation).

- when she feels absolutely awful from the headaches and the coughing fits she gets a little dramatic.

porsha: ash, ash, i thinK I’M DYING.

ash: porsha, for the last time, you aren’t dying—

porsha:*sobs* i’M DYINGG—

- she calms down immediately when she’s given one of rosita’s cold-curing soups and laughs at how ridiculous she must have looked earlier.

- she usually keeps herself cheerful even when she’s sick and eventually she can’t stop smiling from all the love she gets from the theatre crew (when she was sick it was usually one of the house workers who took care of her and not her dad).

(+ might add more!)