#and that they had only one makeshift rehearsal before going onstage

[adridoesstuff]

Třetí Galaxie (performed by Pavel Klimenda, Dušan Kraus, Pavel Režný and Martin Holec for the concert Michael Prostějovský Superstar)

I was having a sad moment, so I had to revisit this instant good mood video

[prismaticpollen]

the things we do for friendship (4/4)

original characters, f/f, allergy

It’s finally showtime, and Vul handles the spotlight like a natural, but she can only keep up appearances for so long. Later, Wren enjoys an unexpected encore.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

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They’d made it. They’d really made it, the big day had come and gone and everything had gone according to plan.

The crowd beyond the stage stood frozen, shutters clicking and lights flashing as cameras captured what their wielders were struggling to process. Beyond the cameras, over the airwaves, Wren knew the whole world was watching. Anyone who hadn’t tuned in live would surely see reruns soon enough, and soon enough everyone would have to reimagine everything.

She almost felt sorry for them all. There was nothing to worry about, really, but she knew very well how hard the work ahead was going to be. She’d gone through the same process just a few weeks prior, and it had been exhausting.

It had been worth it, though. Vul had been worth it.

She was reaching for her, fingers fluttering in her direction under cover of the podium. Neither of them could move yet, not until the broadcast ended, so small gestures would have to do. This one’s meaning was fairly obvious: now what?

Wren shifted to the right, just enough to meet Vul in the middle without turning away from the audience. She grabbed her hand, squeezed it, and waited.

Vul didn’t squeeze back, but she did lean a little closer. As soon as she turned her head, Wren caught her eye and winked at her. You did great, she mouthed.

Yay. The other girl’s tail twitched, one tiny crack in her stoic exterior. Otherwise, she stood still, watching the crowd file out of the makeshift press room. None of the nobles, reporters, or other notable figures seemed to notice anything amiss; as far as they knew, Vul was perfectly content onstage.

Wren knew better. She was close enough to recognize her friend’s discomfort, and knew her well enough to pinpoint the source. That said, she also knew how she herself had handled her first experience with public speaking, back when she’d been ten years younger and eight inches shorter. All she’d had to present was a book report.

Vul, on the other hand, had just introduced herself to a room full of total strangers, trying to make a good impression on behalf of her entire species. A little stage fright was perfectly understandable, yet she was barely showing it. She really was doing a great job.

I mean it. Wren chanced another look down and to her right, flashing what she hoped was a reassuring smile. She squeezed Vul’s hand again, then let go.

A bright light in front of her captured a different smile, the practiced one she used at important events. The photographer smiled back and disappeared into the crowd. Another long moment of stillness, waiting for the last of the reporters to leave, then it was over.

Queen Zara rose from her chair as gracefully as could be expected from a woman in her sixties. Several attendants trailed behind her as she crossed the stage, stopping next to Vul to make a complicated series of gestures with both hands.

One of the attendants stepped forward to snap a few close-ups. The others stayed back, watching curiously as Vul reciprocated.

They needn’t have worried about that part. Vul copied the motions perfectly; they were a turresk ritual, after all, one she’d taught the Queen the night before while they’d done one last round of rehearsals.

One last photo, Wren and Vul and Zara beaming at the attendant with the camera, and they were free.

“Congratulations, Ambassador,” the Queen said. “Councilor Bailey.” She didn’t wait for any sort of acknowledgment, just dipped her head towards them and turned to leave without another word.

That was Wren’s cue: time to get Vul out of there.

The moment they were alone, she closed the distance between them, wrapping one arm around the shorter girl and stooping slightly to look her in the eye. “You really did a great job,” she said again. “I know we’re supposed to have the night off, but I’m thinking we might have to do one more thing once we get home. You in for a celebratory movie night?”

“Sure, ‘mm in,” Vul answered quietly. She sounded fuzzy, not quite slurring her words, but definitely not enunciating as much as usual. “Just one though.”

“You got it, one movie coming soon. Early night’s not a bad idea, we could both use the extra sleep.”

“Mmm.” Vul stifled a yawn, mumbling her agreement from behind her hand. She stretched her other arm above her head, shaking herself like a wet dog, then dropped both arms to her sides and moved toward the door.

Wren followed her off the stage, out of the courtyard, and down the hall leading to the guest wing of the palace. That was home, now. The Queen had insisted, partly for tradition’s sake but mostly for security, so Vul had been forced to move everything she’d salvaged from her old life for a second time in just under a month. Her new residence wasn’t that much bigger than Wren’s apartment, but it was fancier and much more private, plus it was on the ground floor instead of the fifth.

Technically it was Wren’s new home too, she just hadn’t officially moved yet. Her furniture was only halfway assembled, all her mail was still getting delivered to her old address, and she hadn’t even finished unpacking boxes. She’d been so busy she’d barely had time to care about the mess, much less do anything about it, but that was fine. Just what she needed, one more thing to deal with once everything calmed down a little. Totally fine.

Wait a minute. Speaking of boxes, there was a new one.

She hadn’t been expecting any deliveries, but there it was. Whoever had dropped it off hadn’t bothered to put it with the other boxes. They’d just let themselves in while she and Vul were gone, shoved it against the wall next to an end table, and left it there for her to find.

The delivery must have involved palace staff, probably housekeeping, but the package itself could have come from anywhere. It bore no return address, no label, no distinguishing features at all.

Weird. What could possibly be in there?

Nothing useful came to mind. No way to know what was in the box without opening it.

Oh well, no rush. She could move the box to a more convenient spot for now, then come back to it after movie night. She stepped closer, squatting down to lift it, and promptly did a double take.

Whatever was inside the box, it was packed tight, almost completely flush with the cardboard, and it was much heavier than it looked. Furthermore, there was a note after all, but it told her absolutely nothing about the box or its sender. It wasn’t even a proper note, just a scrap of paper taped to the side, bearing her name and Vul’s in an unfamiliar hand.

Interesting. Maybe movie night could wait a little while. “Vul, come here for a sec,” she called. “You have mail.”

Vul didn’t respond. With her senses the way they were, she should have heard Wren loud and clear, but if she had heard, she would have answered immediately.

Come to think of it, she shouldn’t have been far enough away to need summoning. She’d only been a few steps ahead on the walk back from the press conference, then Wren had stopped to inspect the mysterious package and she’d vanished into the depths of their shared suite. She could have simply forgotten about their plans, but that wasn’t likely. She wasn’t usually forgetful, and the trip home was too short to allow for any major distractions.

Could she have changed her mind and gone straight to bed? Still unlikely, given the time of night, but she had seemed tired earlier. At least that was easy enough to check. All Wren had to do was knock on Vul’s bedroom door, or poke her head in if she’d left it open, and if she wasn’t there then it wasn’t just exhaustion that had her acting weird. If anything else was bothering her, they could fix it together once they’d had a chance to talk about it.

She didn’t even have to go very far; Vul’s room was close enough to the front door that Wren didn’t need to maneuver around any significant amount of clutter. She just cut straight across the living room, turned left, and reached the threshold in less than thirty seconds.

Her roommate’s door was wide open.

Vul had, in fact, gone to bed, but she wasn’t resting. She sat upright, with her tail lashing back and forth against the mattress and her head tilted toward the ceiling. Every few seconds, she inhaled sharply, exhaling in slow, shuddery bursts like she’d been overcome with emotion.

She almost could have been crying, save for one detail: her eyes were dry, and she was baring her teeth like a snake about to unhinge its jaw.

Wren had seen that face before, many times, but the sight only made her more confused. Turresk bared their teeth like that when they were happy, but they lashed their tails when they were nervous or in pain, and they didn’t normally cry, at least not the way humans did. All together, it made no sense.

What was she doing? Another ritual?

Wren stood in the doorway, watching, because she wasn’t sure what else to do. Would it be better to wait quietly, or just leave? Should she check in on her?

She didn’t get the chance to decide. Vul moved first, rocking backwards with another giant gasp. One more breath, even bigger, throwing her down onto the bed with the force of it. Her eyes widened, then slammed shut. Another ragged breath.

“Hhaah…. hhaaaahh-! HhaaaHHH-EHHHH! HHAATSCHIEEWWW!”

Vul folded in on herself, pulling her knees to her chest and curling her tail tight against her body. She hadn’t noticed Wren, that much was obvious now. She probably wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings at all.

“HHAAAHTSCHIIHHH! HHTSCHHIIEEEWW!”

Those were huge for her. Still, Vul wasn’t done. Was she okay?

Vul shivered. Her eyes fluttered open for a split second, then her whole face crumpled. “Nnnngghh-! Nngh-HAAH! HHAAHH…”

Her hands closed into fists at her sides. She was trembling, whining and hitching uncontrollably, barely able to get a full breath in.

“HAAHTSHIII! HHHT’TSSSCH! HHEEHTCHUHHH! EHHTCHUUU!”

Vul sounded desperate. She was just sneezing, which wasn’t that unusual for either of them, but she almost sounded like she was doing something else.

“HAAH… HAAH… HAAHH-AAH-! HAAHH! HAAAHH-HAAH’EHTCHUU! EEHHTCHHUUU!! TCHUU! TCHUU! TCHUU! TCHUU! TCHUUU!”

She definitely looked like she was doing something else. She stretched suddenly, limbs flung out wide, tail extended to its full length and thrashing wildly. Her fists clenched tighter, gripping the mattress beneath her for dear life while she struggled with her own reflexes.

“HAAHTCHIIEEWW! HAAH… HATCHIIUUU! AAHTCHUUU! TCHUUU! TCHUUU!”

Finally, Vul lay still. Her muscles relaxed and her breathing started slowing back to normal, but she wasn’t in any shape to move just yet.

To Wren’s surprise, neither was she. Her heart was pounding, her mouth was dry, and her whole body felt flushed and tingly. She wanted to run to her own room, shut the door behind her, and hide there until she figured out what was wrong with her, but she couldn’t budge from the doorway.

She shouldn’t have stayed, but by the time she’d realized what was happening, she’d been captivated. Vul had looked so different during her fit, so unburdened and open and so beautiful that Wren couldn’t look away.

She was still captivated, even now. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Vul, so she stood still and waited.

She was still waiting when Vul hauled herself to her feet and stumbled towards her.

Brown eyes met ultra-vivid blue. Wren looked away first, blushing furiously.

Vul stopped short. “Wren? What’s wrong?”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Wait, really? You’re not messing with me?”

“Why would I- No!” Vul was indignant. “I’m not messing with you. I mean it.”

“Okay,” Wren giggled.

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. That actually explains a lot.”

Vul looked skeptical. “Does that mean we’re good now?”

“As long as you’re not mad at me. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“I’m happy,” Vul confirmed. She sat for a moment, thinking, then leaned forward, baring her teeth mischievously. “Actually, wait. Before we get to movie night, one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“If you liked the view so much, maybe you should join me next time.”

Wren wrinkled her nose and winked. “Maybe I will.”

[stubbornness-and-spite]

the ink on our skin and the blood in our hearts (are intertwined): Chapter 2

first chapter | next chapter

Read on AO3

Notes: I didn’t want to rewrite scenes that were essentially the same as canon just with a little bit of soulmate au mixed in, so I only wrote in the scenes that were either different or we didn’t see them in canon to begin with. Any scenes I left out happened basically the same as canon. In this universe, soulmates share any ink or marks on their skin after the youngest soulmate turns 16. Makeup companies design their products to not transmit through soulbonds. Next chapter gets into post-canon territory!

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 2218

Chapter Summary:  something ends and something begins. they go back to east high and things change

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

~

EJ POV

EJ and Nini’s summer flew by as they ended up performing as the leads in the camp musical. Nini’s album of pictures of Ricky was quickly overwhelmed by pictures of EJ and EJ thought that if being with Nini was how people felt with their soulmates then there might be something to it after all because he would do anything to stay by her side.

But as with all good things, summer comes to an end, and EJ and Nini made their way back to East High. They auditioned for the musical together and EJ knew they were going to be a perfect Troy and Gabriella. As annoying as Nini’s ex popping up at auditions was, it didn’t matter, because Nini had picked him and they were going to be the best onstage couple East High had seen since Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgens.

~

Chad. He got Chad. He wouldn’t have even been that mad if it wasn’t “Never Done Theater Before” Ricky fucking Bowen who got cast as Troy. He wasn’t just the lead, he was also opposite Nini’s Gabriella. Did Ricky and Nini really have more chemistry than he and Nini did? Was their showmance going to ruin his?

No. EJ smirked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, straightened his jacket, and strode out with the confidence he deserved. He was Troy’s understudy and he could damn well get the role and even if he didn’t, the largest supporting male role wasn’t bad either. Of course, he was going to make sure everyone knew that he should have been the lead, but it was fine. He had a big part, and an amazing girlfriend. and nothing was going to get in the way of that, not even having to play the best friend to her ex.

(story continues under the cut)

~

Everything was fine. Everything was absolutely fine. He’d stolen Nini’s phone and gone through it and deleted a voicemail in a jealous panic. It was fine. He couldn’t say anything without making Ricky fucking Bowen look like the good guy. It was fine. Ricky fucking Bowen had thrown a basketball at his face. It was fine. He already had his shirt off so that the blood didn’t get on his shoulder and he was poking at his face, trying to figure out the fastest way to get it to stop bleeding.

“How's the lip?” EJ looked away from the mirror to see Ricky fucking Bowen looking at him and looking surprisingly guilty. EJ probably wouldn’t have looked that guilty if their positions were reversed. Yet another reason that “Never Done Theater Before But Somehow Got The Lead” Ricky fucking Bowen was better than him.

“All good,” EJ snapped.

Ricky sighed. “Listen, I don't know what happened out there. It was an accident.”

“Really?” EJ whipped around to face Ricky. “Because "infinity plus one" sounded pretty real.”

“That's not even a number,” Ricky mumbled.

“Do me a favor and stay away from me and Nini, okay?” EJ’s lip curled into an ugly sneer, but he didn’t care enough to smooth his expression back out. The only person who could see him was Ricky fucking Bowen and EJ didn’t give a shit what he thought.

“Excuse me?”

EJ scoffed. “Don't act like my best friend or her boyfriend. Just stop acting, period. Why can't you be real?”

Ricky looked like he was trying to diffuse EJ’s anger, but EJ had been stewing for weeks, and getting smacked in the face was the last straw. “I'm trying to make the best out of a bad situation-”

EJ cut him off. “Stop trying, Ricky." He let out a derisive laugh. "Don't try so hard! It's embarrassing.”

Ricky took a step back, finally looking a little defensive. “Dude. I'm just trying to say I'm sorry.”

“You want to apologize?” EJ growled. He felt a speck of spit fly past his lips and he snarled, moving forward like a cornered animal. “You can start with that thirsty voicemail you left for Nini. You broke her heart. She doesn't need to hear from you anymore.”

“What did you just say?”

EJ opened his mouth to fire something else back at Ricky, but his eyes caught on a dark mark on Ricky’s face, specifically his right upper lip. EJ’s hand drifted to his own right upper lip and traced the spot where the blood had marked his face the way he’d been so careful to keep from happening for two years. His face went slack. His shoulders dropped. Every bit of breath in him fell out.

“Just go home, Ricky.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

~

EJ went to Ashlynn’s house instead of his after rehearsal, actually knocking on the door and waiting to be let in for once.

“EJ!” Ashlynn greeted him cheerfully. “Why are you knock-” she stopped, taking him in. “You’re shaking. EJ, what’s wrong?”

“I found my soulmate,” EJ whispered, staring at the ground. “Ash, I found my soulmate.”

“Oh my god,” Ashlynn’s eyes went wide and she gaped at EJ.  After a second, she cleared her throat. “Come inside, come on.” She dragged him to her room and sat him down on her bed. EJ stared at her helplessly. “Do you want to tell me who it is?” she asked. “I can just give you some company if you don’t. Also, less important, what happened to your lip?”

EJ scoffed. “Fortunately the answer to both questions is the same: Ricky fucking Bowen.”

“Oh, EJ,” Ashlynn sighed, sitting down next to him. “What are you going to do?”

EJ shook his head. “Nothing. He doesn’t know. He didn’t see the mark on his lip and I got the blood off mine before he could. I said I wasn’t going to let soulmates get in the way of who I wanted to date and I meant it.”

“He’s going to find out, EJ.”

“How?” EJ snapped. “How is he going to find out, Ashlynn? He’s almost seventeen and he thinks he doesn’t have a soulmate. The stage makeup is designed to not transmit through soulmate bonds. After the musical, we never have to talk to each other again. How is he going to know that I’m his soulmate?”

“The universe finds a way,” Ashlynn said. “It always finds a way.”

“Not for me,” EJ said firmly. “I don’t care if I’m playing against the universe, I play to win and I’m not losing twice over to Ricky fucking Bowen.”

Ashlynn shook her head and sighed. “I’m not doing this. Come talk to me if you want to have an actual emotional discussion.” She stood up and walked to the door, pausing as if giving EJ a chance to change his mind.

“Can I sleep on the couch?” he asked. “I really don’t feel like going home.”

Ashlynn just shook her head again. “Do whatever, EJ.”

~

Ricky POV

For all that went wrong with High School Musical, Ricky still loved it so much. He finally understood why Nini loved musicals so much. He didn’t think he was going to start watching or listening to them by himself, but he wasn’t going to complain if the rest of the theater kids did while they were all hanging out. He was a theater kid now and he liked it.

He wandered around the makeshift backstage area looking for Nini. Eventually, he found her in one of the rooms they’d turned into a small dressing room.

“Hey! There you are!”

“Hey!”

Ricky zoned out a little while they talked, just saying anything to keep the conversation going. Nini was amazing, seriously amazing. He’d gotten in his own head about soulmates, but as he had learned with his parents, soulmates weren’t the be-all and end-all of relationships. Being happy was more important. The conversation was stilted and awkward but it was still one of the longest conversations they’d had since before the summer started. Nini started to leave and Ricky realized that he could either take a chance now or let Nini go for real.

“I love you!” he blurted out. “I’ve loved you since the first time we learned about soulmates in second grade and I looked over at you because I knew that no matter what the universe said, you were my soulmate. I love you.” He took a shaky breath.

“And on your birthday, in your room, when you told me you loved me, I meant to say it. I meant to say it. I was so scared of what the marks on your skin meant but that didn’t mean that I didn’t love you. I've kicked myself every day since then because I didn't say it. Because I do. I love you.” Ricky balled his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

“I've loved you since seventh grade when I made you ride in the front row of Demon's Destiny at Six Flags, and you told me you sometimes get a little seasick on roller coasters, and I said, Come on, live a little."

“I remember,” Nini murmured.

Ricky laughed breathlessly. “Yeah. And then I puked all over your shoes and you didn't even make me feel bad about it. No. You just said-”

“No worries,” Nini remembered. “I've been wanting to get rid of these shoes for a while.”

Ricky’s smile grew. “Yeah, because you outgrew them. The thing is,” he shook his head. “I never outgrew you. I've loved you since before I knew the meaning of the word. And I don't really know what happens tomorrow, or in two minutes when we walk out that door. All I know is: I don’t care whose ink is on your skin or if someday someone else's is on mine. I don’t care. I want you. I choose you. I’m not ready for this to be over. I’m not ready for us to be over.” He shook his head fondly. “And if that means doing another musical, then fine.”

“I get to pick the musical,” Nini said, her voice slightly choked up and her eyes damp.

Ricky laughed. “Fine. That's fine. It's all fine.” He sobered, but his smile didn’t fall. “I just don’t want this to be just a showmance. I want it to be real. I want to be the guy you deserved on your sixteenth birthday when I fucked up the best thing that ever happened to me. I want a chance to prove to you that I can be that guy.”

“Ricky?” Nini asked suddenly. “You know in musicals when people burst into song when they've run out of things to say?”

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes it's easier to just kiss.”

And they did. Ricky pulled away for a moment to just look at her and bask in how absolutely lucky he was before kissing her again.

Nini pulled away after a minute. “Hey, wait,” she said. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small box.

“What's this?” Ricky asked, having a hard time talking through his smile.

Nini rolled her eyes. “Open it.”

Ricky opened the box and saw an engraved dog tag on a chain. “To Freaky Callback Boy,” he read.

“This is nice,” he said, slipping the chain over his head. “I am a guy who wears necklaces now, apparently.” He laughed and reached for his own pocket, pulling out the box he’d put her gift in. “And I also feel less stupid for doing this.”

Nini smiled as she read the engraved guitar pick he’d gotten her. “To Freaky Math Girl. Of course.”

“There's a song, too,” Ricky admitted. “And this.” He pulled out a pen from his pocket. It was a pen designed to write on skin. “I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but I-”

“I know,” Nini said, cutting him off and keeping him from having to explain again. She took the pen. “Will you be mad if I don’t use it?”

Ricky shrugged. “Just try it the once,” he suggested. “For tradition.” Nini pulled off the cap with her teeth and drew a heart on the back of her hand. Ricky huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes as he dramatically looked at the back of his own hand, smiling at what he knew would be blank skin.

Ricky froze. His jaw dropped open and his eyes went wide. “What the fuck,” he whispered.

“What?” Nini asked, her smile frozen on her face. Wordlessly, Ricky turned his hand around to show Nini the heart on the back of it.

“I didn’t draw that,” Ricky said breathlessly.

Nini lifted up her hand so that the two hearts were next to each other and slowly drew a line on the back of Ricky’s hand. It faded into view on hers.

“You were wearing a shirt,” Nini muttered. “On my birthday. Maybe you just didn’t notice the ink.”

Ricky threw his head back and laughed. “I ran away from you, the best person in my life, because we didn’t think to check that my shoulder wasn’t stained too.”

“Kiss me again,” Nini blurted out. Ricky lunged forward and clutched her face as he heard her pen clatter to the floor and kissed her like his life depended on it.

“Knock, knock.” Ricky and Nini turned to see Kourtney grinning at them in the doorway. She turned to Nini. “Nini, your moms are asking for you, and I think your grandma wants pictures.”

“Got it,” Nini replied. She turned back to Ricky. “I should probably…” she gestured towards the door.

“Yeah,” Ricky said, distracted by her face.

“One more.”

~

taglist - let me know if you want to be added or removed! 

@after-nine-at-the-oasis

[queer-as-in-slightly-odd]

Here’s your gift!

@caitlinesmewilliams - I got you in the gift exchange, and I wrote you a Ricky/Nini one-shot, which I hope you like! It’s called ‘We’re Breaking Free’, and I’ve cross-posted it to AO3 in case you want to read it there (here’s the link). If not, I’ve posted it under the cut :)

In a rare moment of quiet, Nini sits backstage, quietly strumming. Her chords clash a little with the familiar beat of ‘Getcha Head in the Game’, barely audible from the makeshift stage in the school gym. She didn’t plan on bringing her ukulele tonight, but on her way out of the door this morning, she grabbed it on impulse and took it with her. As a good luck charm, perhaps. I need it now more than ever, she muses with a dry smile, thinking of the talent scout from the Y.A.C., Kalyani Patel, out in the audience.

She relaxes a little, though, as she reflects upon the first act thus far. She can’t deny it’s been… a little chaotic, particularly with Gina’s surprise return, prompting a very sudden cast change which, she thinks with a grimace, probably seriously confused the audience. She’s pretty sure they pulled it off, though, and Gina’s incredible dance break in ‘Status Quo’ made it worth it.

Suddenly the sound of drums pulsing through the walls stops, and she pictures Ricky, suspended on wires at the turning point of the song. And she smiles – something she’s finding herself doing a whole lot more lately, when she thinks about Ricky.

That said, on this particular occasion, she’s not sure whether she’s smiling at the thought of Ricky himself, or simply remembering what happened when they first used the wires at the dress rehearsal yesterday.

Most of the cast had been sceptical when Mr Mazzara, of all people, had arrived at their first meeting after the disastrous tech rehearsal, and told them that his robotics club had constructed a pulley system in the gym by which they could lift Ricky off the ground for the scene.

When they tried it, however, it worked fairly well – the harness held, and it turned out that Ricky was perfectly capable of singing whilst being hoisted up. The problem came when the industry-grade steel cable made Natalie’s hands sweat, and she lost her grip.

With a terrified yell, Ricky plummeted about eight feet before EJ and Seb seized the cable, halting Ricky’s gut-twisting descent and leaving him spinning in his harness, seven feet from the ground. A nervous laugh rippled around the gym as Carlos, looking distinctly pale, proposed using one of the climbing ropes instead. Ricky was white as a sheet when they brought him down again, but he quickly saw the funny side and was laughing with the rest of them.

Nini shakes her head fondly, but frowns as she realises that the production has been silent for a weirdly long time. The band stopped playing almost twenty seconds ago, and Ricky’s only supposed to wait about five seconds before giving them his cue line. Suddenly, though, the music starts up again, and she lets out an involuntary hum, hoping that there’s nothing wrong.

Less than a minute later, she sees someone – who looks suspiciously like Ricky – march past the open door. She carefully puts down her ukulele and jogs to the door to ask him how the scene went, but by the time she gets there, he’s disappeared. She looks the other way, where Kourtney, Carlos and Seb are looking in the direction Ricky vanished. Nini’s unnerved by how concerned they look. “What happened?” she asks, as Big Red’s voice sounds over the speakers, announcing the intermission. “We’re not sure,” Kourtney says with a shake of her head. “He sort of froze,” Seb adds. “While he was in the air. And he dropped the ball.” “Why, what’d he do?” Nini asks. “No, as in, he literally dropped his basketball,” Carlos says, widening his eyes to emphasise the point. Nini feels her heart sink. “Did he say where he was going?” Carlos shakes his head, but Kourtney speaks up. “He’ll be back for the second act.” Her voice is confident, and Nini hopes she’s right.

“Gabriella, you’re on in one minute!” Natalie calls, and Nini relaxes. They’re about five minutes into the second act, and as far as she can tell, nothing has gone completely wrong. She follows Natalie to the wings and, as rehearsed, looks around the set and the gym as she walks casually onstage. This is right; this feels good. “Wow, this is your real stage?” she says curiously, but her voice shakes on the final word as her gaze falls on EJ, wearing Troy’s basketball shirt. Ricky’s basketball shirt. No. No, this is wrong. Where the hell is Ricky? “Guess you could call it that,” he replies, looking altogether too relaxed in this topsy-turvy situation. “Or, just a smelly gym.” It kills her to break character, but she has to make sense of this. “What’s going on?” she hisses, surreptitiously covering her microphone with one hand. “Where’s Ricky?” EJ frowns minutely and, without replying, passes her the basketball. She narrows her eyes at him as she catches it, but dutifully makes a shot, watching with a bizarre sense of satisfaction as it misses the hoop and bounces off the backboard. “Whoa!” EJ says, jogging across the stage to retrieve it. “You shoot hoops too?” She stutters; she’s suddenly having difficulty breathing. Ms Patel can’t be impressed by this; she has to do better. “I once, uh, scored forty-one points at a league championship game.” “No way.” “Yeah,” Nini says, functioning purely on autopilot. The words are muscle memory to her, but she can barely hear them. Her mind is swirling. “The same day I invented the space shuttle, and microwave popcorn.”

The rest of the scene is a blur. Again, on impulse, she whispers desperately to EJ for an explanation, infuriated by his plea for her to trust him. At her cue, she all but runs offstage. As she exits through the temporary stage door, she can hear the words of Ashlyn’s beautiful song taunting her from behind.

What I did felt right, but was I wrong? Is this where I’m supposed to be at all?

Everything after that passes in a blur. She’s so angry, at everyone. At Ricky, for bailing on her – on them. At EJ, for letting him go and just taking the part so readily. At Miss Jenn, for casting her in this role she feels she’s so abjectly failing. At Kourtney, for inviting Kalyani Patel when she’s sure she’s never going to get in. At herself, for thinking she could do any of these things.

She kicks a chair backstage in fury, feeling her heart pound in her chest as she watches it topple over and skid across the wooden floor. A figure bedecked in an elegant black pant suit appears in the doorway, looking worried. “Nini, you okay?” Miss Jenn’s voice is soft and full of concern. “Will be,” she says, pressing a hand to her temple. “Just… a lot going on.” “I heard about the talent scout,” she says. “It’s not surprising that you’re stressed.” She nods slowly. “It’s not just that. But thanks.” “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, and Nini hesitates, picking up the chair she kicked and sinking into it. “I guess I’m just scared of screwing up,” she says quietly, and Miss Jenn lets out a low chuckle. “Are you serious? You’re killing it out there.” “Thanks,” she says, not even slightly believing him. “But this is not my best performance.” “It’s not supposed to be,” she says, and Nini does a double-take. “What?” “Nini,” she says, crouching down in front of her and taking her hand, “I spent nearly fifteen years assuming that my best performance had already happened.” Nini nods, wondering where she’s going with this. “But the truth is, it turns out you guys are my great performance. My magnum opus, if you will. This isn’t Broadway, Nini – no one here is looking for the perfect show.” She cracks a smile. “Which is good, because God knows we haven’t had it tonight.” Nini laughs and sniffs, feeling her eyes moistening. “This isn’t going to be the best performance of your life, because you’re only going to keep getting better. That talent scout is looking for potential, and that’s what she’s going to see in you.” She squeezes Nini’s hand and stands up to go. “How do you know that?” Nini asks desperately, and Miss Jenn pauses at the door. “Because I did.” She smiles once more and disappears out of the door. After a moment’s thought, Nini exhales deeply, gentle wipes her eyes and follows her out.

By the time she’s back onstage, she’s forgotten her anger. EJ’s explained what happened – what Ricky told him to do, and why. She’s not even concerned about the Conservatory anymore – as EJ begins the chorus of ‘Breaking Free’, she remembers what Miss Jenn told her: she saw Nini’s potential. Maybe Kalyani Patel will too.

And then she sees Ricky, standing at the gym doors with Gina, and the last embers of her fury at him evaporate as well. As EJ lets her go – possibly in more ways than one – she looks into Ricky’s frightened eyes, and she realises that she loves him.

“You know the world can see us, in a way that’s different from who we are…”

As she walks towards him, she pulls out her phone and flicks on its flashlight. Since Big Red hasn’t put a spotlight on him yet, she’ll do it herself.

“Creating space between us, ‘til we’re separate hearts…”

He shakes his head and murmurs, “I’m really… not at my best.” And her heart aches because of how wrong he is. She’s known him for nearly their entire lives, and this, right here, is the best version of Ricky she’s ever known. He’s open and vulnerable, and he might have given up on something he was committed to – but this time, he did it entirely because he wanted her to succeed. “Just look at me, Ricky,” she says, slipping her phone back into her pocket as Big Red finally gets his act together. “Right at me.” The music starts up again, and Nini lifts the microphone to her lips again. “But your faith, it gives me strength…” A grin breaks out onto his face as he joins in. “Strength to believe…”

She can’t help smiling as she pulls him back to the stage. They’re going to be okay.

[a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives]

EXCLUSIVE: On Set With The Cast Of INXS: Never Tear Us Apart

LOCATION # 1:

New Council Chambers, Trades Hall, Carlton (7.30am)

Approximately 45 extras file down Lygon Street. There's an abundance of acid wash denim and it could be 1987 all over again. This morning, Trades Hall becomes the makeshift venue inside which one of INXS' college gigs as they targeted the US market is about to be recreated. During a previous shoot, Sidney Myer Music Bowl became Wembley Stadium. “Being on that stage and imagining what it would be like to play to 70,000 people” is a highlight from Ido Drent's experience portraying INXS drummer, Jon Farriss. Luke Arnold, who's perfectly cast as frontman Michael Hutchence, marvels, “It was pretty ambitious what we set out to do in the timeframe we had, really: turning Melbourne into places around the entire world over a couple of decades.”

As soon as Arnold heard about the project, he sent in some tapes “before they were even asking to cast anyone”. After auditioning other actors for the role, it was a tape of Arnold dancing “as Michael”. “I think it was on a Friday night while I was in Cape Town, after a big day of filming [Black Sails],” he remembers. “I set up my iPhone and filmed myself dancing around to an INXS song and that was the last thing that clinched the deal.”

Inside Trades Hall, the band cast of INXS: Never Tear Us Apart – which is rounded out by Nicholas Masters (Tim Farriss), Andy Ryan (Andrew Farriss), Hugh Sheridan (Garry Gary Beers) and Alex Williams (Kirk Pengilly) – get acquainted with the stage and their instruments. Masters wanders past and good-naturedly corrects us when we 'admire' his “dirty, rotten perm” (turns out they're his own natural curls). Williams wears a lot of Pengilly's “actual clothes” for the mini series, but the red billowy pants the actor sports today are brand new. “His red suit which he gave us was looking a bit tattered so we got another one made,” Williams clarifies.  

Drent actually learned how to play drums for a couple of years as a teen and took drum sticks along to the audition. “I was tapping away during the scene as if I was practising at home,” he recalls, “and that kinda worked 'cause – I didn't know about this, but Jon had requested that whoever plays him has to have at least played the drums along the line.” As Kick cranks through the venue soundsystem, hearing Hutchence's original snarling vocal makes his presence felt somehow. Onstage, Arnold's a bit more buff than the naturally streamlined Hutchence, but the actor has clearly done his homework.

INXS: Never Tear Us Apart director Daina Reid agrees. While filming this project, she says Arnold “has these weird moments where you go, 'Woah!'�� because his resemblance to the beloved late INXS frontman is “quite uncanny at times”. And it's not just physical similarities; Arnold has perfected the Hutch strut, international accent and mannerisms. On his preparation for the role, Arnold shares, “I locked myself in a little house in Elwood and kinda got up every morning, had a beer, put on some INXS, watched every video that was available, read every book, listened to every song, read through all the lyrics and just kind of immersed myself in it and spent as much time as I could on his walk and his voice.

“Occasionally in the rehearsal room, I'd do something and Tim Farriss might be like, 'Oh, that! Like that!' If it jumped out at him that it reminded him of Michael, I'd kind of put a little pin in that and try and incorporate it in the show somewhere.” Although Sheridan spent a lot of time chatting with Beers, who is currently based in LA, via Skype, he confirms Farriss as “the go-to overseer of the whole thing”. ”I run everything by [Tim] and if he thinks I'm doing a good job then I don't care,” Sheridan laughs. “I go, 'Does this look like Garry?' and he's like, 'No, spot on!' I go, 'Thank god'.”

“It was great having the band there,” Reid acknowledges of their presence on set from time to time, “but I felt for them in a way because it seems like a long time ago, but it's not really, emotionally… You would see Kirk or Tim acting in a certain way [on set], and in a way I probably didn't expect, which would have to be confronting.”

Reid promises, “There's a lot of people who have a personal connection with Hutchence and we approached it in a very respectful way.”

UNIT BASE # 1:

Entrance driveway to Royal Exhibition Building, Rathdowne Street, Carlton

“Those girls were asking me who INXS are!” Sheridan points out a couple of the extras, 16-year-old twin sisters who originally thought he was Guy Pearce before correctly identifying him as “That guy from …Rafters”. “They were like, 'We've never heard of this band.'” The actor then busts out some footage of Reid teaching the 'band' some '80s moves. “I just had to get back and film it because I was like, 'This cannot be the job that I'm working on now',” he cackles. “I couldn't stop laughing. Look at how shit they are!? They're SO shit!”

LOCATION #2:

Wilson Street (near corner Macpherson Street), Princes Hill

As the minibus delivering us to this location rounds the corner, Arnold (styled immaculately as Hutchence circa 1981 in a flowing, red, long-sleeved shirt and jeans combo plus trademark cascading mullet-mane) is leaning back against a Citroen ID21 safari wagon ready to shoot the next scene. Definitely another 'Woah!' moment. When the production sound mixer hands us some cans, we can not only hear the scene's dialogue once action is called, but also Arnold and Jane Harber (portraying Michele Bennett, Hutchence's first love/girlfriend whom he referred to as his “touchstone”) engaging in banter between takes. They cheekily discuss whether or not Bennett should in fact put down her uni books and jump into Hutch's car to move to Sydney (as is scripted) given that there's probably crossover with Kylie Minogue just around the corner and history shows the pair didn't work out romantically.

Hutchence and Bennett remained lifelong friends, however. The final phone call Hutch ever made, from Room 524 in the Ritz-Carlton hotel, was to Bennett. When asked how the star's death is handled in the mini series, Reid responds, “Because the world is divided, we cannot take a stance either way on that and it's not for us to do… Just because we are observers into someone else's life there will always be our own version of the truth. We're presenting the facts as they came to us from the band, but no one knows what went on in that room – nobody – so there cannot be a judgement. There just cannot be. There can be things people said, things that we know or heard, you know, a sequence of events and a result, but then we have to step back from that slightly.”

Arnold is acutely aware of the profound effect that the aftermath of Hutchence's 1992 motorcycle accident in Stockholm – following an altercation with a taxi driver – had on the singer. “When you're condensing someone's life into a story, you're looking for those big turning points,” he tells. “That really changed so much of who he was and his essence.” Hutchence suffered a fractured skull as a result of the incident and permanently lost his sense of smell. “When you talk to anyone about it, too, that's the moment where things just changed and, whether he always had demons or they were new, his ability to control them – the way his emotions worked – just changed after that.”  

When he contemplates watching the finished product, Arnold sounds tentative. “When I wanna see Michael, I'm gonna see me. I mean, I have real faith in everyone that I worked on this with, but this is probably gonna be the toughest thing for me to sit back and watch at the end because it means so much [to me] as a role… I'm sure it's gonna be great and I'm sure everyone's gonna love the show, but I'm gonna be over in Africa with my phone turned off I think,” Arnold laughs, thankful that Black Sails will have commenced filming on season number two in Cape Town. - The Music Australia

[evenifyoudontfic]

Even If You Don’t: Chapter 19

Previous chapter

Calum’s POV; 20 minutes later

After coming inside from meeting fans, I strolled throughout the venue in search of Mari. I was a little puzzled when she wasn’t in either of our dressing rooms – where she could usually be found when she wasn’t outside with fans herself – but I did my best to remain calm. I didn’t want to seem like a clingy boyfriend who always needed to know where his girlfriend was, but as I was running out of rooms to check for her, I couldn’t help but feel a panic start to bubble up in my chest at the thought of her going missing.

“Please tell me one of you has seen Mari,” I said, hurrying to the stage since I could hear Luke and Ashton talking.

“She’s fine, Cal,” Ashton assured me as he turned to look at me, “Michael just texted me that they were eating lunch; They’ll be back soon.”

“She went on a lunch date with someone else?” I frowned, but he knew it wasn’t a serious question.

“Yeah,” he nodded stoically, his eyes narrowing at the blonde who had yet to speak, “Luke, would you like to tell Calum why Mari went out with Michael?”

“What does that mean?” I cocked an eyebrow, my gaze flicking between the two. Luke didn’t even make a motion to say anything, so Ashton went on for him.

“Luke here decided to take his anger out on Mari while we were trying to rehearse Waste The Night,” he informed me, “He yelled, she left, and Michael went to go looking for her.”

“Why the hell did you do that?!” I exclaimed, throwing my arm up.

“She kept messing up her part,” he murmured.

“Well, you certainly weren’t helping her with it,” Ashton rolled his eyes, “You can’t expect Mari to know what you want her to do if you don’t tell her.”

“She’s not a mind-reader, Luke!” I reminded him, “I have bad moods too, but I don’t take them out on other people for not being able to just know what I want without me telling them!”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, shuffling away from Ashton and I. I waited until Luke was out of hearing range to start talking again.

“How’s she doing?” I asked Ashton.

“Not sure,” he shrugged, “Michael didn’t say anything apart from that they were eating. I can’t imagine she’s taking it too well though – she told Luke that he should have one of the other girls sing it with them tonight. And you know she doesn’t really want someone else to – she practically begged everyone to let her do it.” I chuckled softly at remembering how desperate Mari seemed to sing the song with us tonight before letting it fade out. I sighed to myself, just accepting that I wouldn’t get to see her until she and Michael got back to the venue.

~

10 minutes later

The group and I – minus Luke, of course – were all sitting around on the stage, talking about anything that came to our minds as we waited for show time. We were in the middle of talking about the upcoming Australian leg of the tour and how excited we were to show the girls our home country when we heard laughter coming up behind us. Mari was riding piggyback on Michael, giggling about something he must have said.

“What’s so funny, Mar?” Ashton asked, clearly curious as to what was said that drastically changed Mari’s mood from the last time he saw her.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything about your time in school, Cal?” she asked with a smirk, making my eyes widen.

“Michael!” I shouted, making him laugh.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, “She just knows how to get stuff out of me!”

“Well, I, for one, would love to hear these stories that have Mari sent into a giggle fest,” Kaylynn cocked an eyebrow with a mischievous grin on her face. I was silent for a moment, prompting Mari to speak again.

“They’re gonna find out one way or another,” she shrugged, “You might as well be the one to tell ‘em.”

I rolled my eyes but I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as she hopped off of Michael when he reached our little circle and stepped between Ashton and I before moving in front of me and sitting herself down in my lap. She sat down so she was facing me, wrapping her legs around my waist as well as her arms, settling herself against me. My own arms wound around her, hugging her close.

“How are you feeling?” I murmured into her ear as if everyone else wasn’t close enough to hear anyway.

“Better,” she whispered, nuzzling her face into my neck as I kissed the side of her head.

As Michael, Ashton, and I reminisced on our school days and the times before the band became as popular as it is, I could feel Mari’s body shake as she laughed along with everyone. She was pretty quiet throughout the time we were there, but as we were winding down to begin getting ready for the show, she finally spoke again.

“As fun as your embarrassing stories are to hear, I like listening to you talk about music more,” she told me.

“Yeah?” I hummed in response, “Why’s that?”

“I like how rambly you get-” I could feel her smile. “-when you talk about the first song you ever wrote or your favorite song to play on guitar… I like seeing your face light up when someone asks you how you got into bass or says they started playing because of you.”

“If you think he lights up when he talks about music, you should see him when someone mentions you,” Michael snickered. Before I could even scold him, I felt her grin again and press her lips to my neck, prompting me to squeeze her gently.

“You’re one to talk, Clifford,” Kaylynn snorted softly as we all got up, “Have you heard your reaction when someone even suggests food?”

“Are you implying that you don’t give the same reaction?” he scoffed as he rolled his eyes.

“No,” she stated seriously, “I’m implying that you seem to think you don’t.”

“No one’s blaming you for loving food, Mikey,” Mari giggled, her voice slightly muffled from how she had her head on my chest, “We’ve just noticed that you’re very…passionate…about it sometimes.”

“We have an entire song about it, you know,” Ashton reminded him, “I sing it at every show.”

“Ah, yes!” Kenzie chimed in, “The song so brilliantly titled Pizza and containing only one line! How could anyone ever forget your best song?”

“You know what?” Ashton tried not to smile as he grabbed her waist and started tickling her.

“Oh, get a room!” Mari shouted over Kenzie’s squeals, “You two are disgusting!”

“You’re one to talk, Miss PDA,” Vanessa laughed when Ashton and Kenzie finally quieted down.

“I don’t make it a secret that I like Calum when we’re in public,” she reminded all of us, “I make sure everyone knows about it.” I rolled my eyes playfully but I definitely wasn’t disagreeing with her. “You two are the ones who act like no one can tell,” she went on, “You guys stare at each other all the time. I’m pretty sure ‘Ashton and Kenzie’ has trended on Twitter before!”

“You’re just upset because you and Calum have never trended,” Kenzie replied with a blush, the gesture of her sticking her tongue out at Mari being happily returned.

“I don’t need a Twitter trend to admit to everyone that something’s going on,” Mari replied sassily, “If I want to remind everyone, I’ll just kiss him when paparazzi is around.”

“That doesn’t count if you already do it anyway!” Michael laughed loudly as Mari wiggled out of my grasp and walked away toward the dressing rooms.

Mari’s POV

After coming out of the bathroom in my dressing room, I found all the girls already standing around the clothing racks looking for tonight’s outfits.

“Oh, Mari!” Vanessa squeaked, “What were you thinking about wearing tonight?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, stepping in between her and Kenzie to look at the clothing myself, “Maybe that shirt that Kenz wore when we were on Ryan Seacrest – unless someone else is planning on wearing it.”

“So your grey Hollister dress is up for grabs?” she asked hopefully, “It’s obviously an outdoor show, so I don’t wanna be wearing too much and get too hot onstage.”

“I told you guys it was going to be hot while we were here,” I reminded them with a giggle.

“Yeah, but we didn’t think it was gonna be this hot!” Kenzie whined, “This heat is too much! I can hardly even breathe when we go outside!”

“That’s why we plan our outfits for the weather and not the season like you guys do in England,” I replied, “You basically know what kind of weather you’re getting in London – you never know in the Midwest, especially Indiana.”

“I’m starting to think that’s why you moved,” Kaylynn shook her head.

“It is!” I laughed again, “You’re just lucky we’re not here in winter. I don’t think y’all could handle it.”

“At least you can put more on than you can take off,” Vanessa pointed out, “Americans are very vocal when they see any part of a woman’s body they feel is ‘inappropriate’.”

“Another big reason I moved,” I nodded, grabbing Kenzie’s striped crop top and a pair of dark blue denim shorts before heading behind our makeshift changing station just in case anyone came into the room while I was changing.

After coming back into the main room, I was digging through our trunk of shoes looking for my all-black Converse when we heard a knock on the dressing room door. Kaylynn shouted for whoever it was to come in – we thought it was Gabrielle, to be honest – and they slowly came into the room.

“Mari,” I heard Luke said, making me freeze, “Are… Are you busy…?”

“A little,” I grumbled – I was obviously in the middle of searching for shoes, so I was a little annoyed that he had to ask.

“Oh… Well… When you’re done, can I… I need to talk to you...” he said softly.

I felt a nudge on my arm, causing me to look over at Kenzie as she was looking for shoes as well. She nodded her head in the direction Luke’s voice was coming from, making me finally look over my shoulder. Luke was staring down at his hands as he played with his fingers and I didn’t know why, but it made my heart ache for some reason.

I sighed lightly and turned back to the shoe trunk, only to find Kenzie holding up the other shoe I was looking for. A smile pulled at the corner of my mouth and I thanked her before quickly putting both shoes on my feet and tying them.

“We can go if you guys want the room to yourselves,” Vanessa spoke up.

“No, we’ll leave,” I shook my head, getting up from the floor, “You guys finish getting ready.” They nodded and went back to doing what they had been while I made my way to Luke.

The walk to wherever Luke was taking me to talk was a silent one – and I had to admit, it was pretty awkward as well considering the fact that we hadn’t spoken to each other in a few hours. But the moment we sat down on the catwalk of the stage overlooking the venue that would soon be filled up with fans, he couldn’t keep himself quite anymore.

“I’m sorry about earlier…” Luke said, looking at the hands on his lap once again, “I was in a bad mood because… Well, I don’t even know why and that’s what makes it a thousand times shittier for taking it out on you…” He sighed softly and I heard him breathe in shakily. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re not smart or that the other girls are better than you at reading music or whatever… I mean… You’re the only one of all of us who actually graduated, so you’re obviously a lot smarter than any of us…”

“Graduating doesn’t mean I’m smarter,” I reminded him, making him look at me, “I don’t use any of the things I learned in school in my everyday life. So you dropped out? Who cares? You’re already doing a lot more than any of the people I went to school with ever will. Dropping out doesn’t make you any less smart than someone who didn’t,” I shrugged, “Just means you knew what you wanted to do with your life sooner than everyone else. And I think it’s pretty cool that you actually get to do it.”

“So you’re not mad at me?” he asked.

“No, I am mad,” I nodded, noticing his shoulders slump out of the corner of my eye, “But I forgive you. And the next time you wanna yell at someone for not being able to read your mind, don’t.” I heard him chuckle lowly just before feeling his arms wrap around my shoulders and pull me into him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured again, sighing in relief when I laid my head on his shoulder and hugged him back.

“I forgive you, Lukey,” I repeated, feeling him smile since his face was pressed to the side of my head. He kissed my temple before releasing me.

“You’re still gonna sing with us tonight, aren’t you?” he started chewing on his inner cheek, “We didn’t really need to practice the song anyway… We know you could probably do it in your sleep.”

“We could test that theory,” I mentioned as we both stood back up, “You’ll just have to push it back in your set so I have time to fall asleep.” Luke couldn’t help but laugh loudly, pulling me back in for another hug before immediately leaning over and throwing me over his shoulder so he could take me back to my dressing room.

idk how i feel about this ending but. u know. whatever.

Next chapter

[iwrotemywayto-revolution]

If you love someone

Request: You’re dating Daveed and playing Eliza, and Lin is pining for you like nobody’s business.

Pairing: Lin-Manuel Miranda x reader, Daveed Diggs x reader

Warnings: piiiiining, drunkenness 

Word count: 2,187

A/N: let’s hear it for day five (sorry it’s published on day six because life got in the way) of the @hamwriters​ writeathon... also known as “reverse pov” day. title from the Sting song “if you love somebody set them free”

@gonnamurderyou​, @pearltheartist​, @whitestorm547​, @pancakebunny

--

Lin didn’t fall in love with you right away. When you auditioned for the ensemble, he was pleased with your skills and your potential. When you became fast friends with everyone and started to turn up in whatever dressing room the cast was crashing in during the afternoon, he laughed and got to know you. When you became the alternate for the Schuyler sisters, he was a little nervous, but you never seemed to be needed on the nights he was there.

When Pippa decided to take a month off, making you the full-time Eliza, he realised he was screwed.

The night of the first performance, Lin was uncharacteristically nervous. Groff sauntered into his room about an hour before places, most of his costume on though his hair was still brown and loose. “Hey,” he grinned and flopped on Lin’s couch, “you look nervous.”

“No more than usual,” Lin insisted, gaze fixed on the video game he was playing. Groff picked up a controller and joined in, a little player two has entered the game notification flashing at the corner of the screen.

Groff smoothly vaulted over an obstacle and grabbed the coins stashed there. “Is it Y/N?” he asked conversationally. Lin promptly dropped his control. He scrambled for it, swearing as his character was killed. Groff laughed, “How apt.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Lin said resolutely, quickly regenerating his character. His slight blush gave him away and Groff smirked triumphantly.

“Someone has a cru-ush,” he said in a sing-song voice. Lin shoved him lightly.

“I do not have a crush,” he said, “Crushes are for high-schoolers.” He just enjoyed your company, had grown used to having you curled up in a corner, reading or chatting. You were kind and funny and of course he liked you. Just not like that, right?

--

It wasn’t until Helpless that Lin realised exactly how wrong he was. You were captivating. He found it difficult to concentrate on Renee at all when you were there, staring back at him with adoration in your eyes. He had to keep reminding himself that he it was just good acting and that needed to concentrate before he found himself messing up Alexander’s smooth flirtations.

You looked at him like he was the sun, and he found himself wishing he could pretend, just for a moment, that you meant it.

“Elizabeth Schuyler,” you curtsied, “It’s a pleasure to meet you?”

“Schuyler?” Lin was supposed to look at Renee but he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

Renee laughed, “My sister!”

He bent to kiss your hand. “Thank you for your service,” you said as he straightened. 

“If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it.” He extended an arm to you. You took it and the two of you moved into the dance.

The wedding march started playing and Lin’s heart was thumping painfully loudly. Oak walked down the aisle and tossed his flower petals and you sang your final “helpless”. Lin moved forwards and gently kissed you. He felt hyper aware of your hands in his, the slight brush of the veil against his face, and the fireworks display behind his eyes.

He was in love. As the lights dimmed, he decided to ask you out after the show.

The transition to Satisfied started and you moved away. Lin focused on getting into place, one arm around your waist. In a moment he would kiss you again, he realised. Your emotions were so rawly presented in your acting and the kiss- as staged as it was- had felt real. It had felt so natural to cup your cheek, pull you to his side, look down at you as if you were his world.

Rewind, rewind-

The stage started to rotate and Lin readied himself to go through it all again.

--

After the show he changed into a comfy pair of jeans,a t-shirt, and his favourite hoodie. He hurried downstairs, hoping to catch you before you went to the stage door. 

When he arrived, you were talking to Daveed. Swallowing his disappointment, Lin pretended to be looking for his phone until Daveed grinned and left to stage door. “Hey Y/N,” he said, going for a casual tone but knowing he probably sounded anything but, “you doing anything after we stage-door?”

You looked around, checking to see if anyone else had made it downstairs yet. “Lin,” you whispered, unable to contain your excitement, “Daveed just asked me out!”

His heart sank. "That's great!" He managed to say. He should be happy for you, he knew- you looked happy, grinning and all but dancing around the room- but bitterness had settled in his stomach.

He was too late. Daveed had got there first. A small part of him hoped it wouldn't last. The rest of him reminded him to be happy for you and Daveed.

--

Three weeks later, you and Daveed were still dating. Most days, you were Lin's Eliza for a tantalizing two hours. The rest of the time, you were as distant as the stars.

Daveed was affectionate- pulling you to his side, kissing your forehead, your hands, your cheeks, your lips. Even when you weren’t together, he talked about you with a fond smile, writing rap verses about you between shows. 

Lin resigned himself to a broken heart and tried not to dwell on every moment where he got to hold you, kiss you, and pretend you were his and he was yours.

--

In March, the whole cast got together to celebrate Groff’s birthday. Everyone gathered on the roof of the Richard Rogers, thankful that the weather was warm, and ate and drank.

Lin sat with Chris. “You alright, man?” Chris asked, passing him a beer.

“Hmm?” Lin asked, gaze still on where you and Daveed were dancing in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Chris followed Lin’s gaze, understanding dawning. “You’ve got to move on,” he said sympathetically, “Y/N and Diggs are happy.”

Lin avoided answering by taking a swig of beer. He knew he had to move on, he had tried- fuck, had he tried. But every time he thought he might be able to move on, he would go onstage as Alexander and fall in love with his Eliza all over again or you would tell him a silly joke or start dancing to your favourite song backstage.

As the evening went on, Lin got progressively drunker. Chris had left at some point- his wife wanted him home a bit earlier- and Lin had been reduced to leaning on Leslie.

“I don’t think you should have any more,” Leslie said firmly, pulling the shot out of Lin’s grip. “Why don’t you go and lie down in your room?”

Lin nodded distractedly but did as Leslie had suggested. He headed down the stairs, pausing in the common room when he saw you. You were sitting on the table, legs swinging, quietly singing Helpless as you typed on your phone.

“S’beautiful,” Lin said and you looked up, pausing your singing.

“Hey Lin,��� you smiled and your smile was like the song, “you alright?”

He nodded and walked over to you, leaning against the table beside you. He was drunk, he knew, but the nerves that he usually experienced when talking to you were gone, so it wasn’t so bad, really.

“You’re lovely,” he sighed, leaning his head on your shoulder, “my ‘Liza.” You laughed and Lin sat up. “Do that again?” he asked.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“Your laugh,” Lin gestured vaguely, “it’s nice.”

You hopped down off the table and extended a hand to Lin. “Come on,” you said, “lets get you home.”

Lin took your hand and let you guide him into his jacket and then out to a taxi. He leaned heavily against you. You got into the taxi and gave the driver Lin’s address, helping Lin guide the seatbelt into the buckle. 

--

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew you were helping him out of the taxi and into the apartment building. “Where’s your key?” you asked gently. Lin stuck his hand into his pockets and handed you a pencil, a crumpled up piece of paper, his subway pass, and finally his keys. 

“Here,” he said proudly as you set to unlocking the door. His apartment was dark, largely unfurnished because, even after a few months, he was mostly living in the theatre. 

You helped him to bed, finding his pyjamas as Lin kicked off his shoes and threw his coat over a hook by the door. He headed through and flopped on the bed, on top of the covers. You laughed. “Lin,” you complained, “you have to get under the covers.”

Lin’s only response was a groan, but he let you prod him until he got into bed properly. You disappeared into the kitchen before returning with a glass of water and a tylenol. “Take this in the morning,” you advised, “sleep well.”

As you turned to go, Lin reached for you hand. “Stay-” he insisted, tugging you weakly.

“I can’t,” you said, trying to make him let go.

He wasn’t sure what made him say it, but he held on and said “I love you”.

You were silent for a moment, your expression unreadable. “Don’t,” you said quietly, your eyes closed. You pulled out your phone. You typed something out and clicked send, “you don’t mean that.”

“Do,” he insisted stubbornly, “lots. Wish you were my ‘Liza.”

You sat down on the edge of the bed. “Go to sleep, Lin,” you said quietly, “I’ll stay.” He loosened his grip on your hand and closed his eyes. The last thing he felt before he fell asleep was the feeling of your fingers running gently through his hair.

--

When Lin woke up in the morning he had a pounding headache and you were gone. He wandered around the apartment to make sure, mentally berating himself for telling you he loved you. You were happy with Daveed- you didn’t need him getting in the way.

Lin ran a hand through his hair, remembering you doing the same the night before. He was an idiot. A glance at the clock revealed that he needed to get going if he wanted to make it to rehearsal on time.

Andy wanted to run through some changes in the choreography for Yorktown, and it was all hands on deck. You would be there, he realised, and so would Daveed.

--

“Good work,” Andy said approvingly. Everyone grinned and started to put away their bayonets. Andy spotted Lin and called to him, “Hey Lin? Can we run It’s Quiet Uptown while we’re here?”

He nodded distractedly, looking around for you. When he had arrived, anxious to apologise to you, you had been nowhere to be seen. 

“Looking for Y/N?” Renee asked, appearing at his side, one eyebrow raised. Lin nodded, wondering how she was always so good at guessing, “I heard about last night.”

“You did?” his voice seemed higher than usual and, if her smirk was anything to go by, Renee had noticed.

“So you love her,” she said, smirk settling into something more sympathetic. Lin nodded hopelessly. Renee hugged him briefly before heading to places. Lin headed to stand in the centre of the turntable, waiting for you to come and stand beside him.

Renee started to sing “There are moments that the words don’t reach-” and Lin found himself hoping for your forgiveness himself.

When he started to cry at the end and you were to reach for his hand, Lin wondered if you would. But your hand slipped into his and you rested your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Lin whispered as Renee finished the song.

You squeezed his hand. Lin hoped that meant he was forgiven. 

--

He was just grabbing a couple of things from his room when you knocked hesitantly on the door and walked in. “Hey Lin?” you asked.

Lin turned his head so quickly he cricked his neck. He winced and rubbed at it. “Yeah?”

“About last night...” your hands were in your pockets and your gaze firmly on the floor.

Lin gulped. “I’m sorry,” he blurted, wanting to hug you in apology but realising that might be a little weird. “I didn’t want to-”

“I know,” you said. You pushed your hair out of your eyes- you had been saying you needed a haircut- and met Lin’s gaze. “Look,” you said firmly, “maybe there was a time where I felt... like that.”

Disappointment settled like a stone in Lin’s stomach. So he had been too late. “You did?” he knew he sounded hopeful. How had he missed any inkling that you might have felt the same?

“I did,” You took a deep breath. “But not any more. I’m with Daveed now and, whatever this is, it needs to stop.”

Lin nodded. “Friends?” he suggested, feeling almost scared. He couldn’t lose you- not now, not ever. Not his Y/N, not his Eliza. Except that you weren’t “his” Y/N.

You nodded, looking relieved. “Yeah,” you grinned, “Friends.” You hugged Lin tightly and Lin closed his eyes and hugged you back.

It would be enough.

[thegirlfromoverthepond]

The Firebird - Chapter 19

The Firebird - Chapter 19: Purple Rain

My deepest thanks to @xerxia31 and dandelion-sunset for taking the time to beta this chapter.

To @akai-echo, whose talent shines on everything she does - you’re awesome :)

Here on AO3 // FFN

This chapter is called “Purple Rain”, because a big part of it was written the day Prince passed away.

In memory.

She could function on five hours of sleep. Four, on the other hand, wasn’t enough for her. After a two hour backbreaking masterclass with Haymitch that morning, a rehearsal for one of her solos in Firebird, and before a whole afternoon in tutu listening to Caesar Countertop or whatever his name was, Katniss just felt completely exhausted. Not the usual tiredness of too many hours of dance. No, a total exhaustion, taking over her mind and body.

She just craved solitude, worn out clothes with holes in them, a cup of hot chocolate, a bath, and nothing more.

Well, maybe two weeks of holidays would do her good too, preferably far away from everything. She was thinking New Zealand, maybe. Yeah, that would be good.

But then again, quite impossible.

She honestly didn’t know how she would bear the long rehearsal in the afternoon without sleep. She had two hours before she had to show up on stage, and would be damned if she wasn’t going to spend at least half of it in Morpheus’s arms.

She snuck into the cafeteria, grabbed some lunch to take away, and was planning her next move (meaning the place where she would be able to nap) when she felt a hand on her shoulder, startling her.

“Kitty Kat! Just the person I wanted to talk to!”

“Thresh, Hi… Just grabbing some lunch, I’m in a hurry….”

“Yeah, I’ll be quick. There’s this show in town, La Vida Loca, and well, some of us are planning to go to. I thought maybe you could to join us? If you want?”

She looked at her former partner in awe. What was it this week, with everybody wanting her to be part of something? First Delly with her shopping spree (that she was going to cancel, no way she would be alive enough on Saturday to go through a whole shopping mall), then Johanna, and now Thresh, all in the span of twelve hours? What was happening?

“Me? You want me to come with you?”

“Well, yes, you. You’re the only one named Katniss around here, right?”

“Yeah, it’s such a popular name.”

“So, will you come?”

“Maybe, depends when it is? And I kind of already saw it… twice.”

“I didn’t know you liked that kind of music and dance!”

“It sort of just… happened?”

“Yeah, well, we will probably go after Firebird is done with, but the show is already completely booked for the next weeks, so we have to plan ahead?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as you come up with a date, okay?”

“Right-o! Well, I will leave you with your sandwich!”

“Yeah…” Thresh turned away, after a pat on Katniss’s arm, when an idea crossed her mind.

“Thresh!”

“Yeah?”

She came closer to him, not wanting to be overheard by the other dancers around.

“You don’t happen to know a quiet place? To, you know?”

The tall man’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Katniss Everdeen! I’d never thought one day you would ask me for a place to have a quickie! Who’s the lucky guy?”

“NO!” she shouted, her cheeks blazing, desperate. “I need to sleep a bit, or else I will crumble this afternoon.”

“Oh, so that’s what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Thresh, please, it’s not for that!” Anger was starting to flow through her system, climbing slowly but steadily along her spine.

“I know, Kat, I know. There’s the Boudoir - nobody ever goes there. Fourth floor, fifth door on the right.”

“Thank you!” As Thresh turned to leave for good this time, Katniss almost stopped him again to ask how he knew about the room.

Then again, maybe asking wasn’t such a good idea.

--

She found the room easily, lost between costumes storage and the janitor’s closet. No wonder nobody - or very few people - knew about it. It was quiet, away from the usual ruckus of the ballet. It was just missing a chair or a couch or something to lay on for a good nap.

That wasn’t about to discourage Katniss. She had slept on the floor too many nights to count now, was used to the stiffness of the hardwood on her back, the soreness of her muscles after a few hours of bad rest.

Taking her sweatshirt and coat out of her sport bags, she made a makeshift pillow in the darkest corner of the room, as far away from the windows as possible, putting her phone near her head, alarm set for an hour and a half later.

Turning on her right side, she closed her eyes, hoping for sleep to come quickly.

Unfortunately, her mind decided otherwise. She couldn’t stop thinking about the night before, at Peeta’s. She would never have guessed he was plagued by nightmares too.  He was so full of light, she wouldn’t have guessed he had a darker side. Yet he didn’t walk away from them, sharing his fear with her, while it was the first time she actually let herself talk about it with someone other than Prim. She couldn’t explain why it was so easy, so natural to confide in him.

Sure, in the weeks, months they had danced together, they had also built a friendship, she realized, built on trust, on dance, and on moments spent talking quietly. Built also on the smell of hot chocolate in a bakery, a concussion, a night dancing in a club to latin music. Memories of that night passed through her mind, hands sliding, bright eyes, sweat, spinning, dipping, music, heels, hot breath, not enough air, dance, dance, dance…

Yeah, she had built a bond with Peeta. He had insinuated himself in her life, snuck through her walls. No, sneaking wasn’t the right word. She let him in, Katniss realized, she let down her barriers, one after another. She tried to shut him out, at first, but he was a wave, tirelessly coming back, lingering, testing her boundaries before retreating, and trying again. Slowly, day after day, dance after dance, he tore her walls down.

Until last night, when she was the one to come to him when he needed comfort. She didn’t understand why neither Johanna nor Delly had come out of the room they were sharing to help him until the moment she came back into his room, and saw the blond woman nodding to her, a sly smile on her face, mouthing “thank you”. That’s when Katniss had realized she never heard Delly coming into the living room, lost as she was in her words, her memories, and a damn moonbeam.

Damn moonbeam. When Peeta came to close the windows, she almost thought he would take her hand, make her spin, that they would dance to the sound of the moon, to the music of the night. Obviously, he just wanted to open the windows, so what was her mind thinking? There wasn’t any music but their breathing, no place to dance but close together, and maybe he didn’t want to dance with her?

Or maybe she wanted more than to dance with him?

Both her hands went to her mouth, as if she had said something she hadn’t wanted to, even though she hadn’t uttered a word.

What had gone through her mind just now?

What was happening? Where were these thoughts coming from?

She wasn’t falling for Peeta, was she? Sure he was hot and handsome, but she had seen men more perfectly built than he was. Sure he was kind and gentle, fun and polite, but they were only friends, right?

She wasn’t falling for  Peeta Mellark.

Was she?

--

Sleep never came for Katniss that day. Her body was able to rest, to relax, lying on the hardwood floor of the Boudoir. Her mind, not so much. Thoughts of dancing, of Peeta, of more dancing, came relentlessly, wave after wave, doing nothing to calm her galloping brain. More and more of the thoughts involved the two of them dancing, one even with him shirtless and her in only a very, very light camisole and matching shorts.

She had no clue what was going on in her mind.

Well, maybe she had clues, or hints, but acknowledging them was something else.

Taking them at face value, accepting what her mind was telling her was both frightening and a little exhilarating, if she wanted to be perfectly honest with herself.

When she finally rose a few minutes before her phone beeped to wake her up, it was with the resolve to think about all of this later, at home, with a glass of Pinot Grigio in one hand and chocolate chip cookies in the other. On her couch, with Buttercup locked outside on the fire escape for a few hours. Then she would have time on her own, maybe to Skype Prim and ask for her advice.

Katniss stopped in the hallway. Why Skype Prim? Prim didn’t even know Peeta? How could she give advice? Why did Katniss rely on her sister for everything? When did she turn from the teenager who took care of everything to someone who depended on others?

The answer was easy: the day Prim left for the other side of the Atlantic. The day Katniss found herself alone, with nobody to take care of - Buttercup didn’t count.

It was time to change all of that. To be who she wanted to be, who she craved to be. To kiss the man she wanted to kiss, to feel his hands on her, to allow herself the possibility of loving, and being loved.

To admit she was attracted to a certain blond man.

Her phone beeped, taking Katniss out of her thoughts, ushering her back to the reality of her day. Rehearsals.

--

The afternoon had been long, exhausting. The same moves, made again and again, pirouettes, piqués, all afternoon long. In tutus or long, light skirts according to the director’s mood of the hour.  Or the minute. All the dancers hated his lavender hair - yeah, lavender- and his honeyed voice, so full of loathing behind the accolades.

It was only when Plutarch came onstage to ask Caesar to make a decision once and for all about the costumes that the director settled on the old-fashion way. It would be tutus for the women, and tights for the men, a move Katniss suspected had a lot to do with the shape of the men’s legs in their attire.

But damn, Cinna’s costumes were ten times better than these vintage tutus.

She got out of the National later than usual, taking the subway home, her earbuds in for the journey.

She lost herself in the music. The sad, sad tempo, dripping with pain, guitar riffs floating into her ears, the beat of the drums making her foot move in sync.

Katniss could feel the pain of the loss filling her ears, despite the noise from the tube around her.

She closed her eyes, listening to the introduction again. The piece was on loop, she couldn’t, didn’t want it to leave her mind. Not today. She knew the lyrics.

I never meant to cause you any sorrow

I never meant to cause you any pain

I only wanted one time to see you laughing

I only want to see you laughing in the purple rain

Memories of sorrow and pain, of her losses, came back with a vengeance. Who would want to see her dancing in any kind of rain? She let her thoughts wander away from the pain of the loss of a legend, let them drift, maybe to a better place.

Images started to form in her mind. She could see herself in her pointes, a long white skirt reaching her ankles, and a simple white top, her shoulders caressed by her long locks falling in waves, free. In her mind, she was walking the way she was taught to when wearing her pointes, legs stretched, gracefully making her way to the spotlight. She couldn’t tell where she was, yet it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the music, the itch to dance in her toes, her whole body trying to express the lament of the singer. Before she realized it, she saw herself starting to move, her ballerina moves echoing the words, mimicking the lyrics, reaching out to invisible people, as if asking for forgiveness. But her gestures lacked their usual grace, as if she was being held from behind, something restraining her, not letting her fly away.

The chorus came too quickly; the echoing, repetitive words adding layers of sadness to the pain, and it was as if the invisible ties were knotted even more tightly, if possible.

He came into the light, holding his hand out for her, but she couldn’t, couldn’t reach his fingers, tied as she was at the shoulders, at the waist.

So he took a step closer, his hand ghosting over her head, a whisper away from her hair, sliding slowly, a bare caress. She wanted nothing more than to feel his palm against her but something held her back, tied her neck, making it impossible for her to lean into him.

His hand continued, skimming along her body like a ray of sunshine, warming her skin, from her shoulders to her elbows, taking the cold away.

In the background, the music echoed the same notes on the guitar, pleading for purple rain on a loop.

He finally touched her, his fingers intertwining with hers, breaking the invisible chains that bound her hands. Her arm chased his, finally free, finally graceful. His hands went to her waist then, pulling her body closer to his, and warmth started to spread everywhere he touched. Waist, hips, legs, trying to make her spin, trying to make her dance, but she was still held back by the shoulders, by the neck.

He stepped behind her, his blue eyes leaving hers, and she felt the loss immediately, though the warmth still flowed in waves across her body.

His hands were still on her, silky as a petal of a flower, he was still touching her, even as he stepped behind her. But she couldn’t turn her head, couldn’t move, it was too hard, it would choke her, prevent her from breathing.

His hand moved up her right arm, setting it free too, sliding into her mane of hair, slowly lifting it.

She felt the cold air on the nape of her neck, the contrast with the warmth inside her making her shiver.

His hand still moved, though, slipping down her back, tracing patterns on her spine, lightly, and she felt, felt his warmth coming closer and closer.

Then she felt his lips on her neck, setting her completely free.

The music in the background took over again, the lyrics finally continuing, the loop broken.

Honey I know, I know, I know times are changing

It's time we all reach out for something new

She turned to face him, finally, finally, taking in his blue eyes full of hope, his gentle smile, his unruly blond hair shining in the spotlight. He took a step back, extending his hand again. Only this time, she could grab it, she could dance with him, they could be one in this spotlight, in this place.

They danced until there wasn’t any music left, until there was only a peaceful silence, and he stepped away, kissing her hand, his smile so bright it would light the room.

She realized she was flying away, towards the light above, towards the sun, towards life, her life.

She had wings. She could fly.

The thought startled her out of her reverie, out of this dream of a dance. She opened her eyelids, to the sensation of multiple pairs of eyes looking at her. Turning her head, she could see tears falling down some cheeks, could see sparkling eyes and sad smiles, all focused on her. An old man in front of her patted her arm, and it was okay. He smiled sadly.

“You have an amazing voice, miss. He died today, did you know? That was a beautiful tribute.”

Then he patted her arm once more before heading to the doors, getting lost in the crowd of the Panem rush hour.

She had wings. She could fly.

--

Katniss fidgeted with her phone for a few seconds, feeling like the sixteen-year-old she never was. It must have felt like that to wait for an invitation to prom, or for an impromptu meeting with a boy she could have had a crush on. It wasn’t difficult, what she had to do. Just call Peeta, like she had already called him dozens of times before to arrange their meetings at the Arena. Just call and ask him if he wanted to have a drink one evening with her.

No big deal, right?

Well, it was.

Because she wasn’t sure he felt the same attraction she felt for him. They had a friendship now, something built on sweat and hard work, on lots of time spent together - on trust. That was not something she could trade lightly, or would give up.

She chased the thoughts out of her mind. She was done overthinking.

She pressed the screen on Peeta’s name.

“Hey Katniss, how are you?”

“Hi Peeta... I was wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’s… I was… well…” It was harder than she thought, maybe she wouldn’t succeed in asking him. “I was wondering if….” She took a deep breath. Time to woman up. It couldn’t be more difficult than staying for long minutes as human decor in an uncomfortable position for Swan Lake. “I was wondering if you’d have some time for me one evening?”

“Oh, you want to come and dance? Sure, I can look? Gimme a sec.” Of course. Why would he think she wanted anything other than to dance? She never let on there could be more on her part.

“No, I mean, yes, I’d love to dance again, but what I meant was… maybe a drink, you know?”

The only answer she got was a long, profound silence. She looked at her phone, checking if the conversation was still on - it was - before biting her lip, wondering if she had made the right move.

“Sorry, I was surprised, I didn’t expect that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Crap. Bad move. “I thought that maybe, but it’s okay if you don’t--”

“Katniss, stop. I’d be happy to have a drink with you. I just thought I would be the one asking you out, you know?”

“Oh.” She gathered her wits, finally understanding his words. “Oh, wow... So you want to then?”

“Yeah… I have Thursday night off? Would that work for you?”

Hell no, it wouldn’t. She had a full day with Caesar on Friday.

“Thursday’s perfect. Around 6:30? Would that work?”

“That’s great, actually. I look forward to Thursday!”

“Me too. Bye Peeta.”

“Bye Katniss. See you on Thursday.”

She hung up the phone, a huge smile on her face.

--

Tuesday passed in a whirlwind of dance, tutus, sore feet, and a lot of thinking, leaving Katniss completely exhausted, unable to think about her date two nights away.

If she thought Tuesday was bad, Wednesday was actually worse. Caesar didn’t let them go until 8:45 pm, angry at the whole ballet who “murdered his artistic ideas”, as they dared question some of his choices.

The director seemed to want to take the word “fire” in The Firebird in the literal sense, setting Katniss on fire. An artificial fire, but still a fire.

As if dancing wasn’t hard enough, Caesar wanted them to dance in fire. What else, really?

Plutarch and Haymitch finally came down to try and calm the director, taking him into another room for an hour while all of the ballet waited, resting their sore joints, rambling about his craziness.

Caesar only came back to send all of them home for the night.

Something was nagging at Katniss’s mind though. But she couldn’t figure out what it was, too exhausted to  think.

It hit her hard on Thursday morning, though, as she was drinking her coffee, checking the new schedule Effie had sent them. To her great pleasure, she had the afternoon free, but couldn’t, for the life of her, understand why she had to attend a Q&A that morning instead of meeting Caesar for another lovely round of rehearsals.

She wasn’t going to complain, though. It left her the afternoon to rest before her date that night.

That’s exactly when she realized what would be happening later in the day.

She was going out with Peeta.

Peeta Mellark.

And she had absolutely nothing to wear.

[i-am-me-deal-with-it]

I am a stagehand

ever since i was a little girl i’ve been embraced by the world of theatre.

allow me to explain.

in elementary i was fortunate enough to go to a school with a program known as “GTChallenge” short for, Gifted and Talented Challenge. students starting in the third grade could apply for the program and if they had high grades, and two previous teacher recommendations, plus took this strange “creativity/Iq” test they could be chosen to join a small group of students in their grade for extracurricular activities during school hours. every friday for two hours they would meet and do various activities that had to deal with advanced materials. they made sure that each student was able to handle the pressure of missing two hours of class time a week, as well as harder assignments, and it was a very selective group, out of the nearly 120 students per grade, only 15 were selected to join each year, and you had to renew the application each year.

i was able to join this group from 4th grade-6th grade. i had moved to the school in second grade so i needed to wait to get the second teacher's recommendation. that first year in GTChallenge, we spent learning about the founding of the United States, and the US’s early history. it was severely watered down to try and match our age group, but it was still much more advanced than the history we were learning outside of the program anyway.

every year the program does an “exhibition night” so show our parents what we’ve been working on, and to show the school/community why the program should stay. my first year participating in it, my whole class split the emancipation proclamation up into 15 parts, memorized it, then recited it.

i was ecstatic when i found out i was accepted into the 5th/6th year program. they had merged the two groups together for several years and they would learn about shakespeare and would perform a version of his “lighter” plays.

there is no real theatre for nearly an hour around my home, other than the high school productions from the three local high schools. and even then, theatre wasn't really big out there, so this was my first introduction into theatre.

we spent the first part of that year studying Iambic Pentameter, and how the theatre works. then we merged with the older class and began rehearsals for the show. that first year we performed “A Midsummers Nights Tale.” the speaking roles were played by the older class, while we played the ensemble and minor roles.

the next year we performed “Much Ado About Nothing” only this time i got a larger speaking role, and actually ended up playing several characters.

because of our groups size, and the teeny amount of space we had backstage, we didn't have any “tech” people. we were they tech. in my first show i was given responsibilities over props. and spent most of my time next to the light panel and the sound box, following along in the script and making sure everything was running smoothly. my next show i was given that same power.

in my 6th grade year, and last year in elementary school, they decided to have a school-wide show. my little sister actually auditioned and got a part in it, and one day when i came by to fetch her after rehearsal, the director(a teacher i’d had previously) asked me if i could help her figure out how to use the sound box to play the music for the musical. i told her i knew how to do it, and she asked if i wanted to join the production as a technician. i joined right then and there and became the lead tech for the show. i worked with the light tech and a few other stagehands to run the lights, sound, and props. i became addicted to the tech aspect of theatre.

when i moved to jr high, which is only for 7th and 8th grade years in my school district, i signed up for a drama class right away. there i learned more about improv, writing monologues/scenes, and performing contemporary pieces (pieces written after the year 1900, and are more modern in speech and acting styles). however i yearned for the backstage experience, and when the spring show was announced to e Annie Jr, i signed up to be a stagehand. that show i worked to help in any way i could. i arrived early, i stayed late, i put my heart and soul into my work. and it paid off. the next year i auditioned and got a minor role in the fall show “The Stuck Pot” i was dancing and acting onstage, i even had a line, but i was still able to help my stagehand friends.

that spring i was able to participate in the show “Once Upon a Mattress” a princess-and-the-pea based show. when time came for the director to pick technicians for jobs, she offered me the role of assistant stage manager, the number 2 role in the production, and the highest level of power that a student could have. however, she also had a brand new spotlight that she only trusted to three students to touch. i turned down the higher position in favor of working with the spotlight. that show i got to watch the cast perform every night from out makeshift tech booth. (a couple of tables in the back of the room), i knew uring the show that many of my friends were in it, and i enjoyed spending time with them. it wasn't until years later, that i would realize that all of my friends my senior year of high school, and everyone in my theatre class had been in that show. but that's a story for another time.

moving into high school a lot of problems hit, and i wasn't able to do the school shows. then i got my chance my junior year, that fall we did “The Addams Family” musical. and i was able to become a backup tech. my jobs were skewed. i assisted in building/painting/decorating the set, but spent rehearsals and show days in the tech booth, waiting in case someone got hurt or missed a show for some reason, and running things from the 2nd floor booth, all the way around to backstage and back. but  was a tech, and i was still able to be a part of something bigger than myself.

i remained active in theatre that year, but the next time i was able to be a tech was nearly a year later, my senior year we did “Xanadu” and i was a backstage tech, and i was given many large responsibilities, and i enjoyed every second of it. i can remember the dance moves, assisting people in and out or roller skates, and helping them navigate the cluttered backstage safely. i got to lower disco balls from the ceiling and pushed Zeus onstage on a glittering magical throne. i put feathers on large foam wings for a pegasus, and i picked up so much glitter every night that i would sneeze glitter out of my nose, and find glitter in my food at home.

xanadu was the last show that i was solely a tech for. my last show was Beauty and the Beast, performed the spring of my senior year. but that is a story for another day.

theatre is a part of me. the idea that everything you do contributes to a larger picture, and that even though your actions may never be noticed it still has a purpose. that little thing you do with a friend when you are walking across the stage where you rush to each other and give each other a hug  before moving along adds a character to the movement, and even if its never noticed you simply doing that movement makes it seem real.

during Xanadu, during the first scene, the muse Kira decides to go to the mortal world in disguise, while showing her brothers and sisters her discuss at one point everyone does a “oh no where does she go” bit. from my position backstage i saw a friend of mine mess around my looking down her top and then into pockets on her dress. no one else ever noticed that action except me. and when i told her that i loved it, she was astonished and happy that she had made me laugh.

that's what theatre is about. theatre is live, there are no editing crews, no do overs, no “take fives”. everything you see and hear is real. there is no lip syncs (except for EXTREME circumstances, there isn't ever a recording of the singing to begin with) every dance move, and stunt is done with the actor, right there in front of you in character. and if something goes wrong, that just means that you had the privilege of seeing a unique one of a kind show that no one will ever be able to see again. because , once that show is over, it's over.

that is why theatre is part of who i am