#My audition was a formality since I was a freshman | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leggomylino · 5 years

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[𝙻𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛… 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝…]

[𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕 𝚞𝚙! 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, (𝚢/𝚗) 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕 𝟺. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍.]

❧

You wake up to the sound of your alarm going off. Again. You start to reach for the snooze button, but then…

Your eyes fly open. Jaemin.

Seriously, how many more times were you going to oversleep…?!

Throwing yourself out of bed, you shove your toothbrush into your mouth and begin frantically juggling outfits until you manage to put something together that you’re pretty sure looks okay, a plain button-up shirt with a matching scarf and a plaid skirt, a trendy vest thrown over it and some leggings. Basic black ballet flats. It’ll have to do, since you slacked off on laundry to get caught up in playing your copy of Ultrascape the boys had given you (they were so sweet, buying you your own copy). Tying your hair in low, neat pigtails and slapping on a bit of concealer, because the war on dark circles was a never ending uphill battle, you were out the door, clichely jogging to your car with a slice of toast hanging between your teeth like a middle school student.

So here’s the rundown: today, you were officially going to become independent. Today, you were going to tell Jaemin you were done hiding in your house like an introverted hermit. Today, you would be auditioning and scouting out Help Wanted signs, picking up flyers, and filling out job applications. And, furthermore, no longer would he be the one taking care of you; starting today, the tables would officially be turned. It was you who would be taking care of him.

Your first order of decree?: No more coffee. Drink some water, dang it!

Okay, (y/n). Just like we practiced, you thought, pulling to a steady stop at a red light. If you were going to talk down Jaemin, your speech has to be just perfect; he’d talk you out of it otherwise. “Jaemin, it’s so good to see you again. Last time you came over, I…” ...no, that’s too formal. “Jae, how are you?! Oh my gosh, I’ve been meaning to tell you…” ...Ew, what are you, a peppy fake cheerleader? Ugh.

By the time you pull into the driveway of the address Jae had given you “for emergencies only,” your speech is a jumble of words and emotions you aren’t even sure go together; but with a sharp breath of air and a wistful prayer skyward, you kill the engine and clamber out of the vehicle. Something will work itself out...it has to. It has to.

You stop halfway towards the door to get a good look at the house. It’s...kinda dingy looking. The last time you saw him was...it had to be...

Freshman year, five months ago. A few weeks before my health crashed. I came over to study algebra...but we ended up making s’mores in the microwave and watching Pixar movies instead. Heh.

You smile at the fleeting memory, still warm as those microwaved marshmallows and melted chocolate in your heart.

...But now wasn’t the time to be cheesy and get caught up in blasts from the past. Get it together, (y/n)! Time to woman up!

Taking one last good look at the house (and cringing a little...what was that smell?), you seriously hoped you had the right address as you approached the doorway...Jaemin had moved into a frat neighborhood after starting college, and that memory from five months ago had been during the holiday season, at his parent’s house. You’d never actually been to his new house before...in fact, he’d insisted you not come around at all. “Emergencies only,” he’d insisted. Something about the area being a bit shady…

Regardless, you ring the doorbell. No use worrying about it now; you’re nervous enough as it is.

You notice there’s an old banana peel and a probably missing sock laying out by the doorway. The door itself is covered in chipped paint and a thin layer of grime... Also, there’s...a smell…it’s stronger now that you’re closer to the house.

At first it’s quiet. No response. You count to ten before ringing it again; with your sleeve this time.

…

Still quiet. Maybe if you knock? ...You really don’t want to, though...

Your hand is raised midair just as the door flies open. Your brain gasps. Jae…! ...min?

...This ain’t Jaemin. And if it is, he somehow managed to shrink in bone structure and dyed his hair orange without telling you.

“......”

“...Yeah?”

You quickly lower your hand, chuckling awkwardly as you place it behind your back. “Hahaha...sorry. I’m--”

He’s looking you up and down, then blinks a few times before cutting you off. “No thanks. We don’t want any.”

Don’t want any? You stop, blinking right back. “...I’m sorry?”

“We already bought some from your friends in front of the convenience store.”

You continue to stare at him. “What now? You bought something from Han and the others?”

“Who??”

“I want Thin Mints!!” You hear someone in the background yell. The boy up front rolls his eyes, yelling over his shoulder.

“I just bought you three boxes yesterday! I gave you all of my allowance money!”

“Jaemin was stress eating last night.”

“How the hell would you know? You were zonked out wasted.”

There’s a pause before the boy in the background replies.

“...I was stress eating with him.”

“......” Carrot-top groans.

“Um...excuse me…” you mumble. The boy before you turns back around, his eyes glaring. Wow, he was a bit intimidating for...however old he was. “I’m actually here to see him. Jaemin, I mean. My brother Jaemin?”

“.........” He squints, his eyes as thin as the orange chip crumbles coating this shirt. “You’re not a cultist, are you?”

“What?! No! He’s actually my brother! I mean, not by blood, but…”

He tsks, sneering. “Yeah, that’s what they all say…” He’s starting to close the door. “Sorry, I don’t know if--”

Suddenly he’s shoved out of the way by another face you don’t recognize, Carrot-top fading into the dank ambiance with an annoyed grunt. “I found it! Three dollars stuffed between the couch cushions...hope you don’t mind change.”

The stress-eating boy in the background? He’s...leaning out toward you in his boxers and a wholly worn t-shirt, holding a dirty chip bowl full of pennies and nickels and...was that a paperclip?

He holds up the paperclip, examining it in the sunlight; then he whips out a magnifying glass from thin air like some sort of magician. “You’d say this is worth...at least a ten cents, wouldn’t you?”

You honestly don’t know what to think. Who the heck is this guy? “Uhhh…sure?”

“Great!” he cries, holding out the bowl to you. “Now where are my cookies?” He’s looking around you for a wagon of Girl Scout cookies that’s nonexistent, and when his eyes land on your car, his lips pull upward in a satisfied grin. “Driving door-to-door. Very efficient. You’ll be top cookie seller in no time!”

...Except you weren’t a Girl Scout. Seriously, who was this guy?! “Um, listen, I think there’s been a misunderstanding...I’m here to see Jaemin.”

He blinks down at you, his lips pursed. “Jaemin? You his girlfriend or something?” He’s looking you up and down like the boy before him. “...Just so you know, there have already been five other girls this week all claiming the same thing. So choose your answer wisely.”

You scowl. Of course there has. “No, I’m his sister. Our families are very close. We grew up together.”

“Ooooooooh…hahaha.” With a flick of his wrists the bowl goes flying back into the house; you’re pretty sure you hear a lamp breaking somewhere behind him. “Whoops! Sorry about that. You wanna come in and make yourself comfortable?”

You glance around him, taking in the interior that matched the foul stench that’d been assaulting your nose for the past five minutes or so. You’d come in, but you didn’t know about being comfortable… Regardless, you step inside.

The kid with the orange hair is sitting on the floor in front of the TV to your right playing Ultrascape, giving you wary glares of distrust and uncertainty over his shoulder. While you’re examining what a filthy pigsty the place is, you turn to the young man that introduced himself as “Hyuck” a moment ago to ask him where Jaemin is, only to find out him zonked back out on the couch, totally asleep and snoring (loudly)...well, now you know where Jaemin gets it from.

You awkwardly stand around a minute making yourself as small as possible before, speak of the devil, Jaemin walks through the door, pulling off a pair of shades and squinting as his eyes adjust.

“Hey, I forgot my--”

...aaaaaand he trips over a soda can. A curse escapes him through gritted teeth, and he begins scolding the carrotheaded kid before taking notice that one of these things is not like the other; i.e., the only sanitary thing standing in the house...you.

“Dammit Jisung, how many times do I have to tell you to put your cans in the recyc-- (y/n)?” He blinks at you in surprise, a bashful smile crossing his face. His whole demeanor changes to the kind, caring brother you’ve always known in exactly .825 seconds. A new record. “What are you doing all the way out here? Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you? Feeling okay? Ahh, sheesh, this place is a mess! I apologize, I didn’t want you to have to bear witness to such...offense.” He turns to carrothead, who’s name you suppose is “Jisung,” scowling. “Jisung, pause your game and start cleaning up right now! Do you not see that we have company?! Go get the Febreeze!”

Jisung takes his time pausing Ultrascape (was he on level ten already?!) and slowly removing his (quite expensive) headset, blinking lazily behind him before pointing right at you. Like you were some...thing. “So you really do know who she is?” He smirks. “I didn’t know you joined a cult.”

It takes a pair of balled fists and one sinister glare of delivered promises before the kid is yeeting himself up the stairs, not in the mood to get his lights knocked out; but Jaemin still gets the last word in, just as he always does.

“Don’t be rude! And don’t point at people!! ...Aiyaiyaiyaiyai...”

He turns to you with a sorrowful, apologetic smile, gesturing towards the couch. “I’m so sorry about him. And for the mess. Please, have a se-- …”

You both glare at the only sofa in the small living quarters, that happens to be...still breathing pretty loudly.

“SnnnRRRRRKKKK...fwuuu...sssNNNRRRRRRRKKKK…”

Jaemin facepalms, rubbing his face with both hands. “I...apologize for him, also. Oh man, I was not prepared for this today--”

“It’s alright,” you finally chime in, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s not like I told you I was coming. I’m just glad I caught you before work.”

“Oh, right, sh*t, I’m gonna be-- I mean!” He raises his brows, sealing his lips together. “...I...I’m really gonna be late if I...”

He looks between you and the door a few times before his shoulders sag, and he leaves his bag by the door.

“Here. Let’s get this thing out of the way first…” With a heave he rolls Hyuck off the sofa, the boy landing behind the couch with a solid thud and and extra snrk!, revealing...more junk and a whole lotta chip crumbs. He laughs nervously, swiping them away as best he can to clear a space for you to sit. “I’m...I’m so embarrassed, honestly. I wish you would have told me you were coming…”

You awkwardly perch on the spot he “cleaned” for you, folding your hands in your lap; so far, not so good... “I know, I’m sorry, I--”

“Are you okay?” he asks, taking you hand as he pulls up a stool from...somewhere buried in junk. Seriously, this place is no better than a landfill…! “What are you doing here?”

He starts checking your forehead and resting his icy fingertips behind your ears for a pulse, and you shiver beneath his touch, shimmying yourself back out of reach.

“I-I’m okay, really I… First, I…” you swallow. The smell in here is really overpowering. It’s a bit hard to concentrate on anything else. “...well, okay, I’m fine. But second of all--”

“Oh, thank God. I thought something happened…” He sighs, standing all too quickly and beginning to walk towards the door. “Come on, this place isn’t sanitary. I’ll drive you home.”

“No, that’s okay, I drove here...Jaemin, wait a second--”

“You drove?!” Now he’s scowling like an angry mother bear. Uh-oh. This is going South fast. “You know you’re not supposed to operate a vehicle for another two months at least.” He runs his cold fingers through his previously neatly groomed hair. “Dang it, (y/n)...”

Welp, guess you were really doing this. Argument it was. “Did you not see my car in the driveway?”

“Jeno is always bringing his work home with him...I haven’t seen your car for a while, so I thought it might be yours, but...I was really hoping otherwise...shi-- ...shoot.” he finishes awkwardly. You roll your eyes.

“You don’t have to keep censoring yourself for me. Listen, I came here because I really need to talk to you about something important.”

“We can talk on the way home. Get in the ca--”

“No!!” You put your foot down. Literally and...metaphorically. “I won’t! Not until we talk first...please.”

“......” He sighs, raising his hands in a motion that’s asking you to calm down. “Okay, alright...easy. Settle down. It’s not safe for you to get this worked up.”

You’re ready to tell him a thing or two, but at this point Jisung has returned with a can of off-brand Pringles labeled “Cinnamon Apple?? Febreeze,” but the moment he tries spraying it he comes to find that the makeshift squirt dispenser duct taped on top is jammed. He frowns and gives it a good shake or two before waddling over bapping it over Hyuck’s head, still zonked on the dirty floor, and the whole thing explodes, the boy falling back as a scent that’s definitely not Cinnamon Apple permeates the surrounding area. You all begin to cough.

“...Ow!” Hyuck cries between gasps for fresh air, delayed in his hungover state. “What the hell was-- ew, what is that?”

“It’s the stupid air freshener! Or it was,” sneers the youngest boy. Jaemin groans, swatting the air and latching onto your arm.

“C’mon, let’s talk in the car.”

“No, no! I’m-- cough! --I’m fine,” you assure him. And you were, sort of, for pretty soon the original stench overpowers the faux Cinnamon Apple Fehell...the lesser of the two evils.

With Hyuck and Jisung now quarreling over who’s fault it was the lethal concoction erupted-- “what kind of an idiot smacks a chemical around?!” “It wouldn’t have exploded if your head wasn’t so hard!” --you turn fully to Jaemin, gripping his shoulders gently to get his full attention.

“Listen. I’m fine, and I’m just going to come out and say it, because I know you need to get to work and I don’t want to keep you any longer than I have to.” You clear your throat. “I came here to check up on you today. I think someone should be taking care of yo--”

“Taking care of me?” He scoffs, shrugging you off and taking your hands in his, his thumbs stroking the tops of your hands gently. “(Y/n), seriously...you’re the one that needs taking care of, not me. I’m fine.”

He smiles, and you’re sure this has to be the worse you’ve seen him, ever. Even worse than the day he came over and you first became unblissfully aware of all of this.

“Now, let’s go before you catch a staph-infection--”

“Ugh, just listen to me!” You rip your hands away, standing your ground as best you can, though your courage is wavering. He blinks.

“(Y/n)...” He shakes his head. “I told you not to worry, I’m fine. No big deal, hahah…”

“But Jae--”

“No, really, I’m...okay. I feel so silly right now, making you worry about me. I’m sorry.”

He may be laughing, but you can see right through his bullsh*t.

“Everything is great!”

No. Everything is not great.

You certainly aren’t convinced, but you can’t get up the courage to fight him anymore; suddenly, in that moment, seeing his tired hollowed-out form and drooping eyes right in front of you, trying his hardest to laugh the pain away, you remember the whole reason you came over here. You’re reminded of all those times he’s come to visit you, taking care of you, cleaning up after you, paying for your hospital visits while balancing a student schedule and a full-time job… And here you are, stressing him out even more… You feel guilty that part of the reason he’s sick is your fault.

“Jaemin…” Your voice is fragile against the ruckus of the two boys fighting in the background, as well as the impending pressure of your objective versus the shame you feel. “I want to get a part time job. I want to get myself back out there again. I need to pay you back for all that you’ve done for me, and I don’t want you fretting over me anymore. It’s not healthy...let me be the one to take care of you instead.”

Hey, that wasn’t so bad.

[𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕 𝚞𝚙! 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, (𝚢/𝚗) 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘--]

“A part-time…” His face is one of nearly horrified disbelief. Like you’d just told him you were running away to China and marrying some guy you just met off the street. “Out of the question. A hundred percent out of the question.”

[...𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛. 𝙱𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎.]

“The doctor said--”

“I know what he said!” you yell. This is seriously starting to piss you off, screw the modest approach! “But I’m fine, honest! Unlike you...I should be the one helping you now! And I’m going to go crazy being cooped up in that house any longer, I need to get myself back out into the world again. Slowly,” you interject, holding a finger up to his open mouth of protest. You begin to deflate just a little, willing yourself to calm down as you feel your head start to spin. “I’ve got it all planned out, okay? I’ll start off nice and small, and work my way up from the bottom. I’ll...work in a library, as a shelf-stocker. Or I’ll be a bookkeeper for a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Someplace quiet that isn’t chaotic or fast-paced or demanding.”

“.........”

Is any of this getting through to him? You have no idea. You’ve come to notice that the whole room has gone quiet; even Hyuck and Jisung have stopped attempting to strangle each other long enough to stare at the two of you in curious wonder.

Jaemin, on the other hand, doesn’t look too happy...even though he’s doing his best to keep smiling for you. “(Y/n), I told you. Everything is great. Please stop worrying about me, your doctor said--”

“Everything is not great, Jae. Look at this place!” You gesture wildly around you, at the stains on the walls, the junk on the floor, the mysterious dark liquid dripping into a tin bucket from the ceiling...you were way too far on the losing end of this battle. You were grasping at straws here, you had to convince him, you had to prove yourself, you had to--! ...Honestly, you’re going to need to take a shower when you get home to get the stench of stale Fehell and-- ...

...And then you gasp, a lightbulb going off.

That was it. This was it! This place. This place was...is a pigsty. Jaemin is your brother. You want to take care of him and be able to see him more often and pay him back for his kindness and for taking care of you, and you want to prove to him that you can take care of yourself. You gotta do something.

And you knew just what that something was going to be.

“Why don’t you hire me, then?”

You don’t know why, again, but the two boys eavesdropping both gasp, Hyuck more so than the other one. Their heads both go whirling toward Jaemin.

He looks at you, perplexed and almost dumbfounded. Like you just told him you were marrying that Chinese guy whether he liked it or not, and he wasn’t invited to the wedding. “What? Hire you...?” His face turns away from you, considering hundreds of possibilities for what that could possibly translate to...only to come back up at you with “error.” “(Y/n)…what are you talking about?”

You gesture around the room again, trying not to vomit or pass out from the smell yet still. “I’ll be your housekeeper. I’ll come in once or twice a week and straighten up a little here, tidy up there, wash the dishes, vacuum the floors, do the laundry. I can cook and do the shopping and come whenever you guys are out so I’m not in anybody’s way. You don’t even have to pay me, unless...you wanna buy me dinner or a milkshake from time to time.”

You finish off with a wink, hoping to sell your out-of-the-blue proposal, and by golly...by golly, he’s…

He’s genuinely considering it. You can see that his first instinct is to flat-out tell you no and to go back home and rest like he normally does, but as his eyes scan the living room where Jisung’s back to being engrossed in his XBox with Dorito stains on his shirt and Hyuck is passed back out on the floor from...whatever the heck he was involved in the night before, and there’s just nastiness everywhere (except for you, the light in the darkness, a legit angel come to show him the way out of the fiery pits of hell tunnel)...you can see it. He’s coming more and more to agreeing to this idea.

[𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕 𝚞𝚙! 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, (𝚢/𝚗) 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕 𝟻. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍.]

Come on Jae, come on…! This could be a win-win; you get a clean house, you can stop smelling gym socks and tripping over cola cans and last week’s laundry trying to get in and out of the house, and you can even keep a better eye on me since you’re so busy and my house is way out of your way on the other side of town...I’m gonna prove you wrong, though, just you wait! Say yes...c’mon, say yes!!

“Well...I’d have to call Renjun and Jeno first to confirm it. Then everyone has to agree on it, or at least majority ruling. But…” He smiles. Completely genuinely this time. “...I’ll think about it.”

...Th-Think about it? That’s not exactly the answer you were looking for, but…

“Boo!” Hyuck whines, magically awake again. He slumps over the back of the torn, coke-and-sauce-stained sofa, tossing the empty can of Pringles-Frehell at Jaemin, who dodges it easily with an annoyed glare. Hyuck just shoots him one right back, propping his elbow up and resting his chin on his palm. “I vote that we let your pretty sister stay. We could seriously use some help around here, if you haven’t noticed…”

He waves a finger around the surrounding chaos, and Jaemin rolls his eyes. “We wouldn’t if you’d learn to pick up a broom and--”

“No way, I’m too busy with practice! And my personal life!” He turns to Jisung, who’s back is still turned, tuned out on...was that level fifteen?!? “Jisung! Hey, JISUNG!!”

Jisung raises his shoulders, visibly cringing as he looks behind him to glare. What he does best, apparently. “What?!” he yells over his headphones.

Hyuck cups his hands around his mouth. “DO YOU WANT (Y/N) TO STAY TOO?!”

“...” He looks away, zoning back out into his game. “I don’t care. Do whatever you want.”

“...He votes yes,” the older boy concluded, giving a half-hearted shrug.

Now it’s your turn to seal the deal.

❧

[𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 (𝚢/𝚗) 𝚍𝚘? ➤𝙵𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝙱𝚊𝚐 ��𝚞𝚗 ]

[ 𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝙰𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚢 ➤𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚍𝚎 ]

❧

You turn pleading eyes to Jaemin.

“Jae...Jae, please…”

He frowns, curling his upper lip. “No…(y/n), don’t do that...you know I can’t--”

“Please!!” you cry, dropping to your knees. He rushes down to make sure you’re just being overdramatic and not actually having an episode before heaving a deep, heavy sigh, pulling your head against his chest.

“...Okay...alright, alright! But!!” he insists, silencing your excited cry of joy. “There are going to be some strict rules to regulate your health and safety. We’ll discuss things further after I’ve talked to Renjun and Je--”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you, Jae!!” You squeal and kiss his cheek, hopping to your feet and doing an ecstatic little jig while giggling. Hyuck smirks while watching you, a questionable expression crossing his face that makes Jaemin go on high alert.

“Say, what’s a guy gotta do to get one of those~?” he asks, sending a wink your way.

Jaemin catches it before it has a chance to reach you, shoving it back down his throat.

“Touch her or try anything at all and I’ll be sure to hear about it. Got it? Bro code excluded.”

He could only nod feverishly, rolling his eyes the second Jaemin turned away.

“Ready to go, now? I’m...seriously late for work.”

You mimic the feverish nod in reply, following him out the door. ❧

[𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎? ➤ 𝚈𝚎𝚜 𝙽𝚘]

[𝚂𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚊… 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛…]

[(𝚢/𝚗) 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎.]

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𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙼𝚢 𝙶𝚊𝚖𝚎 → 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 | [𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛!𝙹𝚒𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚡 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛!𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚡]

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍. :(( 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝙰𝚂𝙰𝙿 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢'𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐. 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢...)

[ 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙱/𝚈 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 // ➤ 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙰/𝚇 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 ]

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rosentm · 5 years

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helllooo ! PHEW this took me a hot MINUTE to write out but i’m finally done . i’m sam , your local dark academia & stevie nicks trash , and i bring forth my favorite Musical Theater Son Ari !! i have literally been on a straight up show tunes kick ever since binge watching the politican ( which isn’t even a musical just BEN PLATT ) and thus , enough about me , i present to you the real star of the show ... !!

INTRODUCING ...

did you hear how ARIEL ROSEN is applying to columbia university as a MUSICAL THEATER major ?! the TWENTY-TWO year old is living in the CARLTON ARMS. i heard that they got in because they are AMBITIOUS and FERVENT, but honestly i think HE can be INSECURE and COMPLIANT. they’re a real THESPIAN. oh well, only time will tell if the SENIOR will make it til the end.

full name : ariel nathaniel rosen ( it’s pronounced AHHH REE ELLE not AIR ree elle GET IT RIGHT or don’t talk to him )

nickname : ari , like ah - ree , and exclusively goes as such

birthday : september 30, 1997

zodiac : libra sun , aquarius moon , leo rising

nationality : american

ethnicity : jewish

religion : jewish

sexual & romantic orientation : bisexual , biromantic

hometown : los angeles , california

languages spoken : english

aesthetics : bright stage lights, secret playlists, the swish of a soccer ball catching net, black american express cards, muddy soccer cleats, old money

dream roles : guy ( once ) & emcee ( cabaret )

character parallels : troy bolton ( high school musical ) , nate archibald ( gossip girl ) , austin ames ( a cinderella story ) , neil perry ( dead poets society ) , andrew ( the breakfast club ) , pink ( dazed and confused )

background info !

born and raised in sunny los angeles , beverly hills to be exact

both his parents are in the entertainment business , his father is the ceo of a production company ( think warner brothers ) and his mom is a hot shot producer at the same company

he’s the youngest of three , with two older sisters , and greatness was always expected of the rosens . his eldest sister , lila , has just passed the california bar exam on her first try and is now working in entertainment law in los angeles . the middle child , ilana , is in grad school and studying to become a pediatric surgeon . and then there’s ariel .

ari was a good kid . in high school he was captain of the soccer team and was really really talented at the sport , he tutored underprivileged kids on tuesdays , had a high school sweetheart that his parents loved . he was beloved by the student body , he’d walk into a party and every guy would give him a high five , every girl would say hello . only he was hiding this huge secret that he felt like he couldn’t tell anybody .

he was a THEATER NERD . while out loud he would blast brockhampton & kendrick , if you took a look at his playlists you’d find endless amounts of show tunes . not that he’d ever tell anyone ! his parents may be in the biz , but it was strictly corporate . neither of them spared any time for the arts , at least not where their kids were concerned

he was the golden child , the only son , the baby boy . his mom totally coddled him and his dad had huge expectations for him . they were both thrilled when he received his acceptance letter from columbia , which happened to be the school his sister ilana was attending at the time . he got into the business school , where he would major in business and minor in economics & entertainment management whilst playing as center midfielder on the men’s soccer team

his first year and a half at columbia were swamped with late night studying , internships with major companies thanks to his dad’s hook ups , soccer practice and essentially no time for social life ( although being in a frat like delta psi helped out on that front , as even when he didn’t want to go out , they brought the party home )

but in the middle of his sophomore year he did something entirely brave ! he auditioned for a musical . an amateur production , neither a part of the school nor on broadway , but he landed the role and told virtually nobody , not even his friends .

at the end of his sophomore year , after the production had run its course , he took the leap , auditioning for columbia’s theater program . it was a huge shot in the dark , seeing as he’d already finished two years of undergrad as a business major , but shockingly ... he got in .

okay , not that shockingly . even without formal training , anybody could see the potential in ari when he gets on stage . the voice he’s got in him is undeniable , and acting just comes naturally . despite his somewhat timid personality , he takes the stage by storm every time . also , his last name carries some weight at the university , but that’s besides the point .

it’s been two years now since he switched majors and he’s been so much happier , though he has yet to tell his parents . he’s not sure when he’ll get around to that but it’ll certainly be later rather than sooner

personality !

ari is the nice guy . very much the “ lovable jock ” trope , he’s pretty soft . you could step all over him and he’d probably apologize to you tbh

that being said he’s got a winner’s drive , he’s an athlete after all , and can be incredibly determined when he wants to be

v smart , probably should have been in omega chi delta , but his jock reputation preceded him and plus , he likes drinking too much

he’s really not very flirty because he can be kind of shy ?? but get a few shots in him and he’ll talk you up ok

i feel like i’m missing some stuff but anyway ?? HERE is his pinterest board !

wanted connections !

best friend — probably a frat brother , PLEASE give me a bromance

platonic soulmate — the best friend , the gal , the one that everyone asks “ are you guys a couple ? ” to which they both disgustedly respond “ NO ! ” wren

freshman fling — i say fling but that was just for alliteration , it was probably a whole ass relationship . you see , ari came to columbia still dating his high school sweetheart , they were gonna do long distance , but this was the person that made him realize that there was so much more to the world he had to see and experience before committing to a girl he met at thirteen . they could’ve ended amicably or not !

teammates — WHAT TEAM ? LIONS ! WHAT TEAM ? LIONS ! LIONS ! GETCHA HEAD IN THE GAME !!! ok basically just soccer bois like give em to me if you’ve got ‘em . ari is a starting center mid and ?? i’m thinking team captain since he’s a senior now but

billionaire boys club — ok not just boys but give me all the rich kid plots like going out shopping for the day on the upper east side , dropping a thousand on a table at an exclusive club , jetting off to europe for the weekend . we have to stan

ex girlfriend — welp i have an hc that ari dated a girl for at least half of sophomore and all of junior year because he’s definitely a fully committal , all in kind of guy ( so it would’ve been a recent break up ) , but they broke up and we can figure out the details of why let’s get this angst nellie

secret hook up — it’s 2019 ari !!!! GAY IS OK . anyways this kiddo has completely come to terms with his sexuality he just doesn’t feel like his parents ever will . they kind of have his whole life planned out and a huge chunk of that is marrying a #NiceJewishGirl soooo ! this can be secret in the sense that ari doesn’t plan on telling his parents but they aren’t secretive about it at school , or it can be entirely secret idc ! soleil

theater friends — as a drama kid ... the freaking bond between your cast mates and the crew ?!?! phew ... gimme these bonds !!! also would love a plot where they were cast as romantic interests and had to spend the semester making out during rehearsals

business & econ major pals — ari spent his first two years at columbia in the business school , so i imagine a lot of his earliest friends were met through that ! mayhaps one of them was the earliest person he confided in about not actually wanting to do business

grad school friends — idk if any muses are grad school students but ! ari’s older sister ilana ( i might end up erasing her name and major and make her a wanted connection IDK I’LL SEE HOW I FEEL ) is 2 years older and went to columbia for undergrad , so i imagine when he was a freshman she introduced him to a lot of her friends ! so if any grad school muses also went to undergrad at columbia mayhaps they knew ari’s sister and yada yada ok this one was a loose connection but an attempt was made

#columbia.intro #wipes forehead #I spent Way Too Much time on that !#gimme a like and i'll slide into your dms tho :~)

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themagicianshea · 5 years

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From now until November, we’ll be spotlighting one of our MHHE registered authors every week. Want to be featured? Just fill out this form!

MHHE Author Spotlight: textsfromumbridge

What piece of work best represents your writing style, and how would you briefly describe it?

I've never finished a thing for the Magicians before, so I'd have to say "All the men and women merely players". It's a Crazy Ex-Girlfriend high school theater AU, which allows me to get that side of nerdiness out.

But also, internal monologues are kinda my strong suit, so you'll find a lot of that. Free indirect speech, I guess? I love me some banter and UST, so there will probably be a lot of that!

Excerpt below:

"His father would not approve. Any after school activities had to involve money or networking - that’s why he’d been in Future Business Leaders of America since the fifth grade. It is why he’d started attending networking events in kindergarten. Diversifying his interests to appeal to colleges was completely unnecessary. His father would get him in anywhere close enough to keep an eye on him - Stanford was at the top of Plimpton Senior’s list.

So telling his father he’d been forcibly enlisted into Rodgers Academy’s theater program, yeah he’d prefer for this to remain a secret for the rest of his natural born life. Because if (please, not when) his father found out, that natural born life would end very shortly.

But not joining the theater program stopped being an option when he was caught deflowering the pastor’s daughter under the stands in the auditorium. Mr. Whitefeather was not above blackmail.

Auditioning for the school musical became mandatory. Casting a mere formality - he would be on that stage, humiliated in front of the entire school, no matter how badly he tanked his audition. He might as well do himself proud and be the best actor and singer their school had ever seen.

Yes, he had heard of Rebecca Nora Bunch before the cast list went up. She was a notorious theater freak with a serious lady boner for Josh Chan, the football captain who for some reason called everyone his bro. She’d also gotten the lead in every show ever since she walked into Rodgers Academy freshman year looking like she masturbated to the Glee soundtrack."

What piece of work are you most proud of and why?

I wrote a sort of Pygmalion/statue come to life AU for Les Mis. It is the crazy kind of magical realism that I adore, and I think it came off well. When I finally get that last chapter done, it'll be the most epic thing I've done and I'm incredibly proud of it. Link here.

Excerpt:

“Please be real,” another whisper before she turns away from him.

The lights in the other galleries are still on, so she makes her rounds in the rest of the museum, making sure there are no stray people or animals around – nothing that could trip the alarms she is supposed to turn on as she leaves. She finds each hall and each gallery completely empty, so she starts turning off the lights, one by one until she finds herself back in her favorite gallery.

She does not even notice that something is off, at first. There is a light flickering in the back, so she gives the old bulb a few twists until it works properly again – the damn thing always acts up at night. She picks up a few guides that fell to the floor during her struggle with the Bulb of Doom – and that is when she feels it. Something feels wrong, and she trusts her gut feelings, even though they have occasionally led to some dubious decisions. Still, she would always trust her feelings.

Her eyes scan the gallery until she sees a tiny bit of movement from the corner of her eye – and nothing is supposed to move in an empty gallery at night. So she turns around slowly, hands forming fists as she ponders where the nearest weapon would be.

But when she turns around and faces the place where her statue is supposed to be, she instead finds a half-naked man crumpled on the ground. His face is scrunched up in severe pain, and he barely seems to know that she is there – giving her enough time to run away. But the moment she thinks of running, he looks up, blue eyes boring into hers and golden curls tangled up on his head – and she is lost for breath, a silent scream trapped in her throat.

What tropes can we look forward to in your MHHE fic?

Only one bed (whatever will they do?), matchmaking, suit!porn, slow dancing, and working up a load of sexual tension.

#mhhe #mhhe author spotlight #the magicians

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theatercommandments · 5 years

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So as of last week, I now have 2 degrees (kind of).

I graduated from Copland with a Bachelors of Music in Vocal Performance last year. Last week, I graduated again, but this time with an Advanced Certificate in Music Education. By the end of this calendar year, I will be a licensed New York State K-12 music teacher.

The road to get here wasn’t easy. I started at Copland in 2013, fresh out of high school, as a BA “general music” major. I didn’t get into the performance program on the first try. I reauditioned for performance the spring semester of my freshman year and was accepted! In 2015, I took my first education class, Intro To Music Ed. At the end of that class, I had to audition again and do an interview to be formally accepted into the music education program. From 2015-2018, I was in Copland’s dual performance/education program, effectively pursuing 2 degrees simultaneously. I won’t get into the complicated explanation now but to make a very long story short, due to NYS laws on teacher preparation programs, I had to graduate with my performance degree and finish the education program (including student teaching) as a grad student, which I did this past school year.

The past 4 years in the education program haven’t been easy. Regularly juggling 20+ credits of classes, working multiple jobs, observation hours, and performance obligations was often very very difficult. But this is what I wanted to pursue since I was in high school. Hell, it’s a lot of the reason I wanted to go to Copland. Performing wasn’t the only dream, I also really wanted to become a teacher.

I’m certainly not done performing. I might never be done. But my dream is to balance teaching and performing. That’s ultimately why I pushed through both programs: I couldn’t imagine giving one of them up.

#fun fact: ive auditioned for copland 4 times

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ducklover52 · 5 years

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On the close #WorldMentalHealthDay I wanna say how proud I am of my friends going to therapy and taking care of themselves.

Also how jealous I am.

warning: this is a very long/extremely personal post. if you don’t wanna get into it, basically, I’m proud of you for going, I’m proud of you for trying, I’m jealous of your strength, of finding a good fit and sticking it out to do so. I wish us all the strength we need to ask for help (we’re not weak, but I know that it feels that way, especially when you’re deep in it), the resources to make it work, and the success of finding someone/something that works for you.

I promise, you can stop here. goodnight.

No? Then strap in because this went on tangents I wasn’t even planning on and I’ll admit I even got lost along the way. I think I picked it back up at the end but oof, it took a minute to get there and that transition isn’t good. Okay here we go:

I saw a therapist a few times during my senior year of college. My ex had started seeing one earlier. I had gone with him a couple times and he helped convince me that it was time. I had lost my mom two years earlier. I thought it would help and he said it would.

His guy wouldn't see me/didn't have time to? I don't remember what exactly the issue was. He gave me a number. I called her and we set up an initial meeting, with my ex's help. I never had the "strength" to ask for help by myself. He came with me the first couple times, just to the appointment itself-not into our meeting. I stopped asking him to go with me after a couple weeks. I was over him. I didn’t want to see him at all in my life and I hated associating him with therapy.

I didn't like my therapist. I didn't think she really understood me. I told her about feeling rejected when I didn’t get cast in the last musical of my college career. She basically said oh well. I told her about the stress I was feeling to get my requirements done. She said make a list. I had a list; I’d been checking off my degree audit since freshman year. I didn’t feel any connection. I stopped wanting to share and started feeling judged. I had always been anxious about seeing her to begin with. I stopped seeing her January before I graduated. I had to miss an appointment to go to the regional theatre festival. I never called to reschedule. It wasn’t a good fit.

I met a guy at the festival. We fell fast and hard. We both had issues. He had someone to see/talk to about it. I didn’t. I remember being jealous of having a doctor who prescribed anti-anxiety meds. I also remember him needing substances to assist the meds, or replace them when he couldn’t get his prescription refilled. I didn’t envy that. When I had had enough of being ignored, as he lived 3hrs away and I was the only one willing to make the drive, I started seeing other guys.

Or rather, I started getting really drunk at parties. The “cast party” of my only time stage managing included getting really drunk at the student conductor’s apartment and playing strip spin the bottle. Sorority parties would lead to making out with a sister’s formal date or going home with a guy I’d known since freshman year. I’d talk with them for a week or so before making up shit about not wanting to date an underclassman since I was graduating. Once I actually started dating one of them, after bonding over our parents passing away. I decided he was too good for me, especially after I had gone to visit the theatre guy one night and the next day had to drive straight from Charleston to a Chipotle date and almost ran out of gas getting there. But that was right before finals, so the timing worked for me.

Before graduating, I started rehearsing for my first post-grad show. It was community theatre near my house, my best friends were in charge, and I was just happy to get a production credit and work with my friends. A friend in the cast started making friends and I followed suit. About a month in I was dating one of the leads.We spent almost every day together. We also drank together almost every night, but we were young and didn’t think anything of it. I thought this was it. I had always wanted a showmance and I got it. We talked about our feelings, about his ADHD, how he went to therapy every week. I thought I found someone else I could really connect to. I shared how I’d struggled with my self-image all my life, how I’d tried therapy but didn’t like it, how I wanted to try again but didn’t know where to start. I thought he could help. I thought he could save me.

But three months in and a party with my high school friends tore us apart. I still don’t really know what happened that night but it threw my into a whole new depression. It didn’t help that we had just agreed on a new show to audition for together. And of course we were both cast. And he started dating another cast member. I tried not to care but I was hurt and jealous. And he kept reaching out. He said we could be friends and I was desperate for attention. When I couldn’t see him I acted out by sleeping with a friend.

He acted upset but never really cared. He told me I needed to see and talk someone to help myself move forward in life. Then he’d stop for a day or so before coming back, usually while drinking. And she found out, though it’s not like I tried to hide it (hey girl, how’s it going) cause I was selfish. When she’d had enough she called it quits. I thought maybe we could go back to before. He stopped coming around. My heart was broken all over because their relationship ending didn’t mean ours would start again.

I had gotten on tinder while I was fooling around with him. During that time. I had matched with and started talking to my now bf. I don’t think he was really looking for anything then. We’d go through slow periods where I’d doubt myself and my worth if he didn’t reply. Eventually my bf ended up ghosting me. My ex had given me the contact info for a new therapist. I’d call the number and hang up before I stopped ringing. I’d visit the website and see how much I could do without giving them my info. I was nervous to start again. I didn’t know if I could trust these people, after they guy who showed me to them had given up on me. I never did get into contact with them.

My bf came back into my life about 5 months later. But this time when we started talking we didn’t stop. We finally started dating. When I got moody, I tried to express how I felt and why. He did a good job of expressing his feelings and telling me how much he cared. I hadn’t experienced that in a while that I was feeling so good about us. During this time, my dad was dating someone. She and her two kids moved in over that summer. Shit got complicated. She and her kids destroyed my life. I leaned on my bf as much as I could, but we were long distance. My sister had just gotten engaged and she and her then fiance were doing some premarital counseling. She had had a lot of issues coming from my dad and his then fiance and it led to us all needing to go to a session.

During the one or two we attended, my sister tried to explain how we felt about our dad’s fiancee taking over. They’d ask me to chime in and I wouldn’t be able to speak for myself. I was scared. I was still living with my dad at the time and I couldn’t be honest about what I was feeling or experiencing. I was singled out during these sessions and asked about my mental health history and things I didn’t feel comfortable discussing with or in front of my family. I shut down. I was asked to find my own help or see someone else to discuss these things. And I couldn’t get the attention off me. At the time I felt picked on and judged. Like I did when I first talked to someone in college. I felt discouraged. I was scared.

Since then I’ve been kicked out of the house I grew up in, I’ve fought with my bf about the same topics I don’t even know how many times, and I’ve had a couple of the shittiest years to date, including things that I’m still not quite ready to discuss, even in anonymity on the internet. And through this all, and what I was eventually trying to make my way back to, I’ve known that I should probably be seeing someone. I have friends who are in therapy and I’m jealous. I want the relief that comes with sharing your thoughts and feelings with someone who’s job is to help you make sense of it all. But I’ve never found that. I don’t know what it’s like. I don’t know where to find it and I don’t know where to look. And now I’m off my dad’s insurance and couldn’t even afford it if I did.

I don’t know how to end this, except to again, praise those of you are seeking the help you need/want because good for you, you deserve it! We all do. If you’re not currently seeing a professional but you want to, I wish you nothing but success in finding someone you jive with because I know it’s not just a one and done situation. And to those of you like me who don’t know how to go from here, or how to reach out, or even what you want/need, I wish you clarity to figure it out and resources to try to make it work. I hope we all get what we need and deserve in the end.

#world mental health day #long post #like REALLY long #therapy #idek

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ranwing · 6 years

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Kadam Fic: Learning To Fly (6/?)

Title: Learning to Fly Series: A New Direction (was Season Four Remix) Pairing(s), Characters(s): Kadam, Kurt Hummel, Adam Crawford, Burt Hummel, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, Carmen Tibideaux, Cassandra July, Artie Abrams, Tina Cohen-Chang, Elliot “Starchild” Gilbert, Dani, Adam’s Apples, Original Characters Rating: PG13 Genre(s): canon divergence. Parts: 6/? Summary: As another school year starts at NYADA, Kurt seemed to have it all. The respect of his teachers, a group of wonderful friends and best of all, getting to live with the man that he’d come to love. So of course the universe would throw a few curve balls in his direction.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

On AO3

With the end of the semester on the horizon, the students of NYADA began to work themselves into their usual early winter tizzy. There were written tests to sit for and mid-winter critiques and evaluations to endure. Days were spent in brutal practices to make sure that their skills were up to the high standards demanded or studying the finer elements of the lessons that their professors had been trying to impart on them for the better part of a semester.

The invites for the Winter Showcase were distributed and if Kurt held any real disappointment that he did not get an invite this year, it was certainly tempered by the fact of just how busy he was. With all his classes and exams he had to prepare for, plus the rehearsal schedule for Les Miz, he was rather grateful to not have another demand placed on his already strained schedule. Even Rachel had merely shrugged at not getting an invite and put her focus on preparing for her dance critique since that was still her weakest area.

The upper classmen were fortunate in some ways, Kurt considered. Despite the heavy burden of work that they had to shoulder as the semester wound down and the elevated expectations of them, he and his classmates already knew what was expected of them and had already shown that they could rise to the occasion. For the freshmen, however, it was a harsh reminder of just what they had let themselves in for by pursuing an education at this particular conservatory. It wasn’t unusual to see one of the younger students running out of a classroom in tears because they were so completely overwhelmed by what was demanded of them.

Which was the reason that he found himself in the Starbucks near school one afternoon after his last class, plying a freshman with hot chocolate and cookies and trying to help her regain her lost composure. Meredith Calvanico was a rarity in Kurt’s estimation. A voice and theater major like himself who had not been put off by the relatively low reputation of the Apples and found in their group a respite from the intense pressure that everyone at NYADA endured. She was talented, but very level-headed and didn’t use her talents to look down on others. Kurt very much appreciated her down to earth nature.

She’d been nicknamed “Merry” by the older Apples an account of her perpetually cheerful disposition and her deep love of all things Tolkien, but she wasn’t living up to her nickname at the moment. The young woman was rather distraught at how she felt her voice critique had gone and knowing Madam Tibideaux the way he’d come to, he doubted that their professor left any doubt as to her opinion of Merry’s efforts.

“I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” she said morosely, clutching her cup in both hands as if to comfort herself. “I’m doing everything that she’s told me to do all semester but it doesn’t seem to be working.”

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad,” Kurt said smoothly, sipping at his coffee. He was quite aware of how melodramatic theater students tended to be and it was easy to blow even the most constructive criticism well out of proportion. He certainly was guilty of that on more than a few occasions. “I know that she can be really harsh, but she’s always looking to help us be better performers.”

Merry looked up at Kurt with tears in her dark eyes. “She told me that I was wasting my time and hers. I don’t think that there’s a whole lot of room for creative interpretation there.”

Kurt was well versed in handling Rachel when she got into moods like this and had a pretty good idea of how to help Merry cut through her own hurt to see what was really going on. “What exactly did she say?” he asked kindly, knowing that the young girl very much needed to recognize what she was really being told behind the harshly worded critique. “What were you singing?”

Merry sighed and took a moment to think back. “I did ‘Always a Bridesmaid’,” she said. “I’d done it before in high school and it was always received well. I tend to better with character roles since I’m not your traditional lead type.”

Kurt frowned slightly at that self-assessment. It was true that Merry wasn’t conventionally beautiful. She was tall and gangly with a long, solemn face and tended to dress in jeans and hooded sweatshirts that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Finn’s wardrobe. She would benefit from a bit of makeup and having her dark blond hair styled in a more flattering manner than the scraggly ponytail she tended to wear it in, but he hadn’t managed to figure out a way to suggest the possibility of a makeover without insulting her. With her height and severe features, she could be a striking presence and she had a gorgeous contralto voice that would lend itself easily to a wide range of roles, both lead and supporting.

“So I did my solo and I thought I did it really well,” Merry insisted. “But Madam Tibideaux ripped into everything. She didn’t like my choice of song or my demeanor or anything. And that if I want to content myself at being nothing more than a second-tier player, there’s no need for me to attend a place like NYADA.”

The young girl looked down in her cup, completely dejected. “Maybe I’m not cut out to be here,” she said despondently. “I was shocked that I even got admitted. I mean, it was crazy that I even applied since It’s not like I ever got leads in high school so maybe they made a mistake.”

Kurt didn’t think so, but he kept that thought to himself for a moment as he considered what Merry had told him. It seemed that Merry’s experiences mirrored his own in some ways; stuck in supporting roles and never given the opportunity to shine on their own before arriving at NYADA. But whereas he had started to discover his real worth as a performer with his trial by fire audition, Merry still apparently saw herself as being only worthy of supporting roles.

Come to think of it, Kurt couldn’t remember her ever trying to take the lead during an Apples number. At first he’d thought it was because she was new and because their rehearsals had been so infrequent the past few weeks. Now he was starting to think there was a more significant reason.

“Merry, I think I get what Madam Tibideaux is driving at,” he proposed. “I know that she can sound really brutal, but you really need to pay attention to what she’s trying to tell you. I don’t think that she wasn’t saying that you don’t deserve to be at NYADA. She was saying just the opposite.”

Merry blinked back her tears. “What do you mean?” she asked. “I thought that she was pretty clear. I totally suck.”

Kurt offered her a reassuring smile. “One thing I learned here is that you need to have a really think skin, and be able to take criticism with a clear mind otherwise you’ll never survive. Are you taking dance with Ms. July?”

Merry’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “She calls me Olive Oyl.”

Kurt couldn’t help from chuckling sympathetically. “That’s not too bad. My nickname isn’t a whole lot better,” he confided. “But what does she say about your actual dancing?”

Merry shrugged offhandedly. “She’s harsh on everyone. I get complaints about my posture and balance mostly, and the fact that I’m so tall that it’s hard to find someone to partner me. Otherwise it’s a lot of nitpicking.”

Kurt nodded approvingly. “That’s good. She’ll always be extra critical about form, but if she’s not going on about you working hard and not picking up things quickly enough then you’re really doing well,” he explained. “Who she goes after the hardest are the people who don’t give her the effort regardless of their talent levels. You can be the best dancer in the world, but if you’re just coasting along she’ll happily gut you and leave you bleeding on the floor.

“Madam Tibideaux is the same in some ways, although she’s a bit more refined in how she does it,” he advised. “When I was struggling to see why I deserved to be at NYADA, she gave me a bit of tough love and explained that she picks students on the basis of the potential for growth she sees in them. Not necessarily because they were big stars in their old schools. It didn’t matter what I was before. All that mattered was that I was fulfilling her expectations and becoming what she thought I could be.”

Merry blinked in surprise at his confession. “I can’t imagine you not being a big star before NYADA,” she said softly. “When I saw you at the showcase when we were auditioning… you were amazing.”

Kurt smiled at her gently. “I was the strange gay kid with a high-pitched voice and no real formal training,” he explained. “My old show choir leader didn’t seem to know what to do with me most of the time and apparently couldn’t imagine me as a soloist. He worked out that I sounded great when I was singing with the girls, or when he wanted a brighter tone with the boys. But every time we had a show or a competition, I was in the background. That doesn’t do much for your confidence, especially when my first attempt to get into NYADA was rejected.”

Merry was silent for a few moments as she absorbed what she was being told. “I wouldn’t have thought that,” she insisted. “You’ve always struck me as being so self-assured.”

Kurt nodded. “I’m learning to be,” he corrected. Those lessons had not come easy and he wasn’t ashamed to admit, at least to himself, that he still struggled at times.

“I’m not going to lie… it’s not easy,” he admitted. “I’ve always felt like I had to fight to get any kind of positive attention and it never amounted to anything. But I had to decide that I deserved to be in the spotlight and demand it for myself. I deserve to be here and one day, I will get the kind of roles that I’ve always dreamed of.”

Merry looked uncertain, apparently understanding what he was trying to tell her but not really accepting it. Kurt knew that he would have to turn the discussion around so that she could see what he was trying to explain from her perspective.

“Tell me… if you could be cast in any role you wanted, what would it be?” he asked, giving her a reassuring smile. “Your dream role… the kind that you have to pinch yourself if you ever got it.”

Merry’s cheeks heated, as if embarrassed with herself that she had even dared to imagine this for herself. “Evita,” she murmured, looking down at her cup to avoid his stare.

He felt a smile cross his face at her confession. “Honey, that would be such a great part of you,” Kurt insisted gently. “You would be amazing in that role.”

“Are you kidding me?” Merry demanded almost angrily, as if she thought he was mocking her. “Evita is strong and glamorous and look at me! I’m ugly and….”

“You are not ugly, Merry,” Kurt said firmly. He realized that he was dealing with some pretty serious self-esteem issues and that he needed to shift tactics if he wanted Merry to change how she as seeing things. Take the focus from what she saw as her shortcomings and move them to her strengths.

“Think about who Evita was. She came from absolutely nothing. She was nobody, but became the most powerful and admired woman in Argentina strictly by strength of will,” he reminded her.

Her eyes widened in surprise as his words began to sink in. Kurt saw the shift when what he was trying to get her to see was becoming clearer and he smiled, knowing that he got her.

“Evita never let anyone or anything stand in her way,” he said, reminding her of her favorite character’s story. “All the people who looked down on her and treated her like dirt… she made herself into what she wanted to be. She made herself an actress, then the first lady, and then an icon. All the people who mocked her? They were kissing her feet by the time she was done. Not because she was the most beautiful or the most talented, but because she was smart and driven and would not let anyone or anything stop her from getting what she wanted.

“There’s a big difference between being confident and being a prima donna,” he stated. “We have to be team players and play supporting parts at times. I mean, we both know that expecting to play every lead isn’t reasonable. But there is a big difference between taking a supporting role because we know that’s the best way we can help a production and not going after a lead because we don’t think that we’re good enough. Because if we don’t believe in ourselves, no one else is going to.”

Merry looked at him carefully, mentally weighting out his words. “You really think so?” she asked.

“I know so,” he insisted. “Madam Tibideaux knows that you have it in you to be that kind of performer, which is why she’s being so hard on you. She wants you to fulfill the potential that she saw in you.”

Merry considered what he had told her, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “How do you think I can do that?”

Kurt reached out to squeeze her hand assumingly. “I think that for your next critique, you should walk in there and sing ‘Buenos Aires’ and ‘Rainbow High’. Find Evita’s strength and drive and make it your own. And start showing Madam Tibideaux that she wasn’t wrong about you.”

The young woman inhaled deeply before nodding, a slight smile starting to ease the harsh lines of her features. She really would grow into a remarkably handsome woman once she fully matured, Kurt considered. She just needed a little help to smooth the way.

“I’ll think about it,” she promised. Her brown eyes sparked with a hint of mischief as she looked at the young man who was very much her mentor in these things.

“That’s all I can ask, though I’m going to be very disappointed if you chicken out,” Kurt chuckled as he finished his coffee. His phone chimed for his attention with the tune that indicated a text message from Adam.

“Excuse me,” he requested politely as he keyed in his access code. Seeing the message brought a fond smile to his face and he quickly typed an answer before turning his attention back to Merry, who was giving him a teasing smile.

“Adam?” she guessed, giggling at the flush that colored his cheeks becomingly. At his nod, she took a last bite of cookie and got up from her seat. “I’ll take that as my cue to leave since you obviously have something else to take care of. But thanks… I really will think about what you said.”

“If you need to talk, you have my number,” he reminded Merry. “Don’t be afraid to use it.”

“I won’t,” she promised. “And I’d better head out to do some practice for my dance practical. Since apparently I’m on Ms. July’s good side and I don’t want to waste that.”

Kurt couldn’t help from laughing. “That’s a very wise thing,” he agreed, thinking back to his own critique that morning. Having Ms. July’s favor was definitely something he wanted to hang on to.

* * *

Adam looked at the laughing men around him, smiling fondly at Ifan’s ribald joke and the way Logan blushed furiously at the teasing regarding the questionable charms, not to mention virtue, of his sweetheart back home. The jokes had taken on a rather morbid tone as the wait for the final orders was coming to an end. The odds were that Logan would never see his girl again, and none of them would see their families. But they had their duty to fulfill.

They heard the whistles and orders for men to line up on the recording of the background noises playing and Adam sighed, knowing that he needed to be strong for them. Swallowing down his own fear, h got to his feet.

“All right lads, let’s get ready,” he ordered gently. The group feel silent as the moment that they’d dreaded had finally arrived. They hurried to put aside their cups and plates and gathered up their rifles, falling into formation.

“Fix bayonets,” he commanded, his voice becoming firmer as he took on his responsibility as their officer.

Adam walked by, making a quick inspection to make sure that they were ready for what faced them. He checked Conrad’s rifle, giving him and exasperated glare at seeing that his bayonet was fastened upside down.

“Billington, at the rate you’re going, I’m afraid that the only German you’re likely to kill is one that died of typus three weeks ago,” he said archly, fixing the weapon and handing it back to the young man. Given that he had been giving the young man sardonic comments like this throughout the play, it was likely to get a laugh from the audience.

But Adam tempered the moment by giving the youngest of them a reassuring clap on the shoulder to remind him that he was among friends. It was a reminder of what they all would be facing very shortly. Ifan gave him a terse smile and Logan just nodded as Adam took his place at the head of the line. As their leader, he would be the first to face the line of fire.

“It’s been good to serve with you, sir,” Logan said softly, not bothering to look at his friend least he lose what composure he was managing to hang on to. The men needed them to be strong. “Good luck up there.”

Adam reached over to grasp his arm, taking comfort that the man he’d come to trust beyond all others would be at his side. “I’ll see you up top, lad,” he promised solemnly as they waited for the final order.

Drawing his sidearm, he tucked his baton under his arm and placed the whistle placed it to his lips and he waited for the final signal. At hearing the shouts and whistles being blown, he blew it loud and piercingly. The men behind him roared as they surged forward, weapons at the ready. They froze in place at the cue where the stage lights would go dark, holding their pose until their director clapped his hands and called a halt.

Mr. Keen looked them over before giving a nod of satisfaction. “All right, everyone. I think that’s enough for today,” he granted. He looked over the group and nodded approvingly. “That was excellent and I think that it’s really coming together now. Really… good work everyone!

“Now tomorrow I want everyone to put their books away. No more falling back on them for reference.”

Adam nodded in agreement, not worried about the increase in pressure that going off book would mean for the cast. They’d been working very cleanly the past few days and very rarely needed to refer to their scripts, but it was a signal that they were edging closer to their premiere date and the demands on the cast would only increase exponentially as they moved forward. By this stage of the process he was very comfortable with his part and the cast was really starting to come together as a cohesive unit. It was time to start fine tuning the staging and character interpretations. Mr. Keen was giving them a good amount of room for them to develop their characters and Adam had some very clear ideas that he wanted to try out for Lieutenant William Strictland.

“Hey Adam… some of the guys were talking about grabbing a pint or two once we get out of here,” Logan confided as they prepared to close rehearsal for the day.

Adam couldn’t help from smiling at his fellow Brit, enjoying the sound of the familiar accent though the actor playing his Sergent was a Liverpool native in contrast to his more London-tinged cadence. “That sounds like a great idea,” he said agreeably. “Let me just check Kurt’s schedule to see what time he’s getting out.”

He checked his calendar where he’d carefully charted out Kurt’s classes and rehearsals to maximize the amount of time that they were able to spend together. The younger man was busy right now with winter critiques on top of his rehearsals and Adam didn’t want to miss out on a moment that he was able to spend with his boyfriend. He was rather pleased when he noted that this would not be one of Kurt’s late nights, but Kurt had his winter dance critique that morning so he might need a bit of comforting.

“Sorry, but Kurt’s free this evening,” he advised with sincere regret. While he enjoyed spending time with his castmates, there was nothing to keep him from Kurt.

“Oh, come on Adam,” Ifan, the sole Welshman in the cast complained. “You skipped out on the last two times.”

“I’m sorry, but I really should head home,” Adam insisted, wanting to hold firm. He enjoyed socializing with the other men in the cast, but his time with Kurt was so limited before they left to start the tour. He didn’t want to miss a single hour of time he could spend with him.

Several of the others made groaning noises and Adam knew that it was noticed that he wasn’t spending enough time outside of work with his castmates. He knew very well that the bonding time they spend outside of the rehearsal room was important given that they would be living in one another’s back pockets for the next few months, but he couldn’t just ditch Kurt on one of the evenings that they had together.

“Why don’t you have Kurt meet us there?” Logan suggested. “We’re not going to make it a late night.”

“That’s a good idea,” Ifan agreed. “Go on… let him know to meet us at St. Andrews.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Nialls, the other English ex-pat in the cast insisted. “My wife’s going to meet us there too. It’s about time you stopped hiding him from us.”

Morgan Fanelli, the oldest member of the cast chimed in, “We promise that we’ll be on our best behavior and won’t scare him off.”

Laughing and knowing that he was beaten, Adam got out his phone and texted Kurt.

Am being kidnapped. Want to meet at St Andrews for a pint and ransom me?

As they were getting their coats on, his phone pinged and he checked for Kurt’s answer.

Sounds like fun. You’re buying.

Relieved that his lover wasn’t put out that their plans for a quiet evening was now going to be drinks and possibly dinner at the pub, treating Kurt was the very least that he could do. His boyfriend had been working so hard lately that Adam felt a bit badly at having so much more free time. While it was nice to be flexible enough to take advantage of Kurt’s rare free time, it was showing rather starkly the shift in going from being a student to a working actor in a show.

“He’ll meet us there,” Adam informed the others, who gave a bit of a cheer that their castmate would not be ditching them yet again. “And I’m sorry… I didn’t realize that I missed so many times.”

“It’s okay,” Nialls insisted, patting Adam on the shoulder. “Cynthia’s been a marvelously good sport, but if I leave her home too often, I might not have a wife to come back to when we’re done.”

“That’s why I’m staying single,” Conrad, the youngest in the cast claimed. “No worries about leaving someone at home and I can take advantage of all the hot girls on the road.”

Logan burst out laughing at the kid’s assumption about what life in the tour might entail. “Oh, like you’re going to have a lot of time or energy to get laid that often,” he claimed. “You can tell this is going to be your first time in a touring show.”

Adam couldn’t help laughing, because it was true. Most of the time, actors in touring productions had to amuse themselves and dating between cast members wasn’t at all unusual simply because they didn’t have the time to explore other options. So long as they remained friendly even when the relationship ended, it was a lot more convenient than trying to hook up in whatever town or city they were visiting. But a straight boy like Conrad in a cast of only male players would find his options very limited.

Conrad was Kurt’s age, but he couldn’t help from feeling that Kurt was miles ahead of him as far as maturity went. He was nice enough, Adam supposed though there was no telling how Conrad would handle the realities of life on the road. Having someone to miss and come home to made the hardships worthwhile, in his estimation. He wanted to have someone to look forward to when this job was done.

They arrived at the pub, which had become their regular hang out joint since rehearsals started. Adam ordered a pint for himself and kept an eye on the door for Kurt. The conversation was easy going as they chatted about how rehearsals were progressing and their preparations for the tour. Adam was already acquainted with Niall’s wife as she had joined them on several occasions before.

He was looking forward to Kurt meeting the rest of the cast and having a chance to showing off his boyfriend a bit. The others would probably give Kurt a bit of light teasing, but he wasn’t at all worried about Kurt not being able to hold his own with the group. Kurt had always been able to give as good as he got and the men that he worked with were a good-natured lot. They wouldn’t take things too far.

Kurt arrived about a half hour after they did, looking tired but still beautiful to Adam. He swept Kurt up into his arms and gave him a warm hug. “How did it go, love?” he asked.

“Brutal,” Kurt admitted. “I need a drink desperately. What are you having?”

“Cider. It’s quite good.”

“That sounds perfect. Can you get me a glass?”

“Right away, love.”

Once Kurt had a pint in his hand and had a chance to refresh himself a bit, Adam introduced him to the other members of his cast and felt a touch of pride at the admiring glances Kurt was getting from a few of the others. Adam knew that he wasn’t the only gay or bi man in their group and he couldn’t help from preening inwardly when he saw the nods of approval and admiration that he had managed to catch someone so spectacular.

Niall’s wife quickly took possession of Kurt’s arm and drew him aside. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said sincerely. “I’m glad that I’m not the only plus one anymore.”

“It’s nice to meet you too. Adam’s told me a lot about the cast and I was surprised that one of them was actually married,” he chuckled, taking the barstool next to her. She was a pretty woman a few years his senior, and her auburn hair cut in a very smart pixie style that made her blue eyes look absolutely huge in her delicate heart-shaped face.

“And technically I suppose you can consider us newlyweds,” she chuckled, sipping at her ale. “We’ll actually be celebrating our first anniversary while they’re in Chicago.”

Kurt couldn’t help from wincing a bit. “Ouch,” he said sympathetically.

Cynthia just shrugged. “I knew what I was letting myself in for when we got together,” she admitted. “You don’t get involved with an actor if you prize stability.”

Kurt couldn’t argue with that assessment. He was very well aware of what his profession entailed.

Cynthia looked over to where her husband was laughing with his castmates and smiled fondly. “Neither of us expected him to have to travel so soon after our wedding, but that’s how things played out,” she said with soft resignation.

Kurt’s eyes softened in understanding. “We’re in the same boat,” he confided. “We just moved in together a few months ago.”

“Then I’m very glad to meet you,” Cynthia said sincerely. “I’m going to need someone to help keep my sanity while they’re away. And someone who understands what I’m going through.”

“Me too,” Kurt admitted. He put on a cheerful face in front of his friends but having someone who really would understand being separated from the one he loved. As much as he knew that he could depend on them, this wasn’t something that they really could understand. Finn freed Rachel before she came to New York, so they technically weren’t a couple when they broke up for good, and Santana had already broken up with Brittany when she left for college. Neither of them knew what it was like to try to maintain a relationship over distance the way he’d had.

He was fortunate, he realized. He had so many friends now, more than he could ever remember having. Old friends and new would give him the support that he needed. But catching a loving glance from bright blue eyes as Adam turned his gaze to him while laughing at a joke made by one of his castmates just reminded Kurt that the one that he wanted most would be leaving him before too long.

But not permanently, he told himself with a smile as he sipped his cider. Not forever.

He could have forever to look forward to when Adam got home.

* * *

Adam sighed as he looked about the flat. The usual clutter that was the natural result two grown men trying to live in a space that was genuinely too small for them and all of their possessions was markedly reduced over the past few weeks as he and Kurt began the process of packing up the studio. A process that had started slowly was now picking up speed with only a few short weeks before Adam was to leave for the start of his show and Kurt moving into the NYADA dorms.

Even with Christmas fast approaching, they’d done almost no decorating. Last year Adam had squeeze in a tree that was far too large for his tiny flat, and had strung up lights and decorations on every surface that he could manage. This year, the decorations were minimal, and nearly an afterthought. The tree they’d purchased was barely a meter tall, bedecked simply with a few cherished ornaments and strings of popcorn and cranberries. It was a trifle depressing.

Adam had packed away much of his clothing into their storage unit since he wouldn’t need most of it until he returned to New York. If he needed anything, he could always buy it on the road. The bookcase was empty now save for Kurt’s text books and the bust of Shakespeare that Kurt had claimed for himself.

I’ll need something to decorate my room with.

Over the past few days, Kurt had been laying claim to several select things for his dorm room to make it a bit homier. To fill it with reminders of the time they’d shared in this little flat and the time they would be enjoying in the future. He wanted the oversized fleece blanket that they liked to snuggle in while watching television together. The battered throw pillows that had been the victims of several playful pillow fights between them. The poster from the Globe Theater that had decorated Adam’s childhood bedroom.

Kurt was sporting on of his beanies at the moment, a red cap with a white band around its hem. He looked absolutely adorable as he sorted through the box of Adam’s hats, picking out a few that he wanted to keep with him.

“I want this one too,” he claimed, pulling out a cap in navy blue wool. He fingered the fabric gently, a soft smile on his face.

“You were wearing this one the day I met you,” he said with fond remembrance. “I thought that you were so handsome and I couldn’t quite figure how why this gorgeous man was trying chat me up.”

Adam smiled and sat down on the couch next to him, gently grasping the hand that clutched that silly cap. “I actually wasn’t wearing this the first time I saw you,” he corrected with a teasing glint in his eyes. “I wasn’t wearing a hat because I was dressed in my best suit and sitting in the audience at Winter Showcase, watching the most beautiful man I’d ever seen a singing his heart out. And I spent weeks afterward trying to figure out how to meet you.”

Kurt smiled, nestling so closely that they could have been wearing the same shirt. “It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?” he asked. “I got NYADA and I got you.”

“I’m the fortunate one,” Adam insisted, his hand reaching up to cup the back of Kurt’s head and draw their mouths together for a lingering kiss. “I’m so glad that I worked up the courage to talk to you.”

Kurt grinned, settling happily in Adam’s arms. “I like to think we would have found each other somehow. I would have been rushing to class one day and not looking where I was going…”

“And I would have my nose in a book, oblivious to the world,” Adam added, rubbing his cheek against Kurt’s hair.

“We would have bumped into each other and I would have been stammering and embarrassed as hell,” Kurt insisted, savoring the feel of the muscular arms holding him close.

“I would have been absolutely entranced, wondering how I could not have known such a gorgeous man was attending the same school I was,” Adam swore. “And I would have asked you out right then and there and not taken no for an answer.”

Kurt craned his head about to look at Adam. “Why didn’t you just ask me out?” he asked curiously. “Why go through the whole song and dance with the Apples?”

Adam’s cheeks began to flush with color, his mouth drawing up into a rueful smile. “Well, the group did need someone with your talents, but would you believe that I was nervous about approaching you?” he admitted. “You were the toast of the Showcase and probably had people throwing themselves at you all the time.”

“Not so much,” Kurt corrected gently.

“Well, you should have,” Adam claimed. “You were beautiful and talented and I was…”

“Totally amazing and you got me to follow you,” Kurt insisted. “You made me listen to that insane performance that made me laugh more than I’d laughed in months. You have no idea how much I needed that.”

“I’m glad we were able to make you smile,” Adam said happily. “You deserve to smile all the time.”

Kurt shifted so that he was straddling Adam, able to face him directly and wrapped his arms about the older man. “You have no idea how much the past year has meant for me,” he insisted, looking into Adam’s eyes. “Being with you taught me so much. I’m always so careful and deliberate and you taught me the reward in taking chances. I’m so glad that I took a chance on you… on us.”

Adam felt the lump in his throat swell a bit at the emotion and love in Kurt’s eyes. He gently pulled the cap off Kurt’s head so he could run his fingers through the younger man’s hair. “You’ve surprised me in so many ways… and made my life so full,” he claimed without reservation. “I never knew what I was missing before I saw you that night, and I don’t know how I’ll manage without you.”

Kurt leaned in to kiss him gently, taking his time to savor the taste and feel of the man beneath him. “We’ll figure it out because the reward will be getting to be together when you get back,” he said softly. “There’s no plan B for me.”

Adam smiled, his hand gently squeezing the back of Kurts neck. “For me either, love,” he promised.

Kurt spent several long seconds staring at Adam, as if committing his features to memory so that he could hold onto them and find comfort in the months that they would be apart. The soft, sad smile on his face caused Adam’s heart to tighten in his chest, but Kurt soothed his concerns with another languid kiss.

Adam would have been content to sit there forever, holding Kurt in his arms when he heard the quiet murmur of Kurt singing very softly. Nearly humming the tune to himself, Kurt had a nearly dreamy expression on his face as he gazed at Adam.

“What are you singing there, love?” Adam asked, running his hand through Kurt’s hair.

Kurt smile, leaning in to nuzzle Adam’s throat. “Just something that came into my head,” he explained. “It just… it fit.”

Adam looked at him lovingly, not at all surprised that Kurt found a song to suit what he could not voice himself. “Sing it to me,” he requested gently. He never tired of hearing Kurt’s glorious voice.

Kurt nodded, leaning in close so that Adam could hear him, looking as vulnerable and emotionally bare as he’s ever been in his life. Adam knew that Kurt sometimes needed the cushion of a song that would allow him to express what he could never find the words to say himself.

“Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands?” Kurt breathed, singing so softly that Adam had to be as close as he could manage to hear him. “Closed your eyes and trusted, just trusted? Have you ever thrown a fistful of glitter in the air?”

He looked directly at Adam, his eyes wide and soulful and striking Adam to his core. “Have you ever looked fear in the face and said, ‘I just don’t care’?”

Adam smiled softly and rubbed his cheek against Kurt’s, savoring how the younger man’s body fit so neatly against his own. They were so well matched to one another, like two pieces of a puzzle that just clicked. Sliding neatly like a perfectly tuned lock when the right key was inserted.

“It’s only half past the point of no return,” Kurt sang gently, taking Adam’s hand and pulling it up to his mouth so that he could press a kiss to his knuckles. “The tip of the iceberg, the sun before the burn. The thunder before the lightning and the breath before the phrase… have you ever felt this way?”

Adam knew that Kurt had every reason to be fearful over what the future held for them. He’d been hurt so many times by those who’d professed to love him that it would be entirely understandable for Kurt to be mistrusting. How many times had he allowed himself to be vulnerable only to have that trust misplaced?

“Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone?” Kurt asked, gazing up at Adam with all of his hopes and fears in his eyes. “Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you’re not alone.”

Once again, Adam found himself tempted to hop onto a plane and find wherever Blaine had settled and pummel him for having caused Kurt so much pain. To be so selfish and self-absorbed that he would deliberately seek to hurt the man he promised to care for and let him think that he wasn’t deserving of being loved. That if he wanted anything for himself that he shouldn’t expect to be cared for and supported.

Kurt stroked Adam’s cheek, turning his face so that he could feel Kurt’s breath on him. “Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry?” he all but whispered. “Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?

“It’s only half past the point of oblivion. The hourglass on the table, the walk before the run,” Kurt sang, and Adam understood of just how hard it had been for Kurt to take those first steps when they got together. To accept that another man was genuinely interested in him and was attracted to him. To truly accept that Adam was in love with him. To finally feel secure enough to admit that he could love and have that love returned. His beautiful, brave darling…

Kurt’s lips brushed against Adam’s. “The breath before the kiss, and the fear before the flames. Have you ever felt this way?”

Adam had never felt this way before. He’d felt love, been in love but never this consuming need that caused his breath to catch in his throat. He’d never known that he could feel this way about someone, but with Kurt it was so easy.

Kurt’s eyes were shimmering with unshed tears as he gazed at Adam, a soft, sad smile on his face. “Have you ever wished for an endless night?” he questioned, subtly tightening his grip on Adam, least the older man slip away from him. Neither of them wanted this moment to end. “Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight?”

Adam’s hands reached up to cradle Kurt’s face, drawing him close so that their foreheads touched. His fingers caressed Kurt’s cheek, trailing down the smooth line of his throat.

“Have you ever held your breath? And asked yourself if it ever gets better than tonight?”

Adam looked at Kurt, holding the younger man as if he were something precious and sacred. “It will be better, sweetheart,” he promised. “I…”

His voice trailed off, not able to find the words to express what Kurt deserved to hear. But Kurt just smiled.

“I know,” he insisted softly, kissing Adam deeply. “I know.”

So much of the future was uncertain, Adam knew. But the one thing that he was sure of was that whatever was waiting for him to face, he wanted it to be with Kurt at his side. Call him a foolish romantic, but he would do everything in his power to ensure that would happen.

“Let me take you to bed,” Adam requested softly. “Let me make love to you.” He needed to show Kurt just how important he was now that they had so little time.

Kurt smiled and carefully slid from Adam’s lap, holding out his hand so the older man could guide him to their bed. With reverent hands, Adam slowly undressed Kurt, each layer of clothing slipping to the floor until Kurt stood entirely bare before him. Slipping off his own clothing, Adam eased Kurt back onto their bed, kissing him deeply. With gentle fingers he carefully eased into Kurt’s body, savoring the gasps and shudders of the man beneath him.

When he finally slipped into Kurt’s body, Kurt’s arms and legs tightened about him to hold him close. They made love slowly, with slow rolls of his hips and gentle touches. Kurt breathed into Adam’s mouth, his breath hitching when Adam pressed deep within him. When they came, it was with a groan and a sigh of contentment.

Neither of them looked at the clock by the bedside, not wanting to see the precious seconds slipping by. They just held one another, trying to make this moment last as long as possible. Maybe if they ignored the clock long enough, time might simply stop.

* * *

“Come on!” Mei called out, leading the way. Dressed in a bright red wool coat and a Santa hat on her head, she was easy to see and made the logical choice as the Apple’s point person, least they get separated by the throngs of tourists crowding Rockefeller Center.

The annual trip to see the Christmas Tree on the last night of finals was an Apple tradition dating back to when Adam had first founded the group and no Apple, old or new, would think about missing it. It was one of the rare opportunities that poor theater students had to enjoy something in the city that didn’t cost anything. They might not have the luxury of being able to enjoy many of the theater and holiday festivals that the city had to offer, but this was something that they could take advantage of.

Now that they were done with finals and their winter critiques, it was the last gathering of the Apples before the dispersed for the long winter break. And for everyone but Kurt, it was their last opportunity for them to see Adam before he left for his tour, giving the gettogether a somewhat bittersweet feel. They wanted to celebrate their friendships that they had built and being able to celebrate the successes of those who were moving on in their adult lives.

The evening started with dinner at an inexpensive Vietnamese restaurant near the school, where bowls of steaming pho prepared them to face the chilly night. Then they started their procession to appraise the holiday department store windows and holiday lights, passionately debating the merit of their favorites as if life depended upon it in between singing rounds of Christmas songs to an appreciative albeit fleeting audience. By the time they finally arrived at Rockefeller Center, their feet were sore and they were feeling the effects of the cold but none of them were in a rush for the evening to end.

Kurt grinned and tugged on Adam’s hand, dragging him along in his wake as he nimbly dodged a family of tourists who were too busy looking up to get out of their way. “Having fun?” he asked, his eyes sparkling impishly as he pulled Adam along. He was impeccably turned out in his stylish pea coat, but added a touch of whimsy by wearing a pair of reindeer antlers on his head.

“Of course, darling,” Adam laughed, letting Kurt drag him about and making sure that his Santa hat didn’t fall off. He was more than happy to tag along while the youngsters enjoyed the holiday festivities. They’d all been working so hard at school and now could finally let loose just a bit.

They found a precious open space where they had a clear view of the immense Norwegian Fir bedecked with thousands of colored lights and crowned with a crystal star. Kurt felt himself grinning and letting Adam pull him into a tight hug from behind, sharing body warmth. About them, delicate snowflakes began to fall, dusting their hair. It was an almost picture-perfect evening.

Jill looked over to the two of them and couldn’t help from grinning. “Do you think you guys can keep your hands off one another? Just for a little bit?” she asked teasingly.

Kurt laughed, kissing Adam quickly. “We have a little surprise for you,” he advised his boyfriend with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Oh dear… am I in trouble?” Adam asked as Kurt nudged him towards a bench where he dusted off the snow so Adam could sit.

“Not at all,” Corrine assured him, looking absolutely winsome in her patchwork coat and her red curls peeking out from beneath her knit cap. She took Kurt’s arm and pulled him over to where the others were standing so that Adam could see the tree behind them.

Jules cleared his throat to and gave their founder a fond smile. “Adam, the Apples wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for you. You gave us a space where we could experiment and grow both as singers and in our chosen fields. We became stronger and more confident because of the friendships that we made here.”

Mei nodded in agreement. “You’re about to set out on the most amazing adventure,” she stated. “But we wanted to make sure that we sent you off properly. And that you know that you will always a part of the Apples, no matter where your career takes you.”

Mitchel grinned widely. “We love you, man,” he insisted, following by a chorus of affirmations from the rest of the group.

The men fell into formation behind the woman of the group, humming to provide the opening for the girls to begin to sing.

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas,” they crooned gently, their voices smooth and flowing. “There is just one thing I need. I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree. I just want you for my own. More than you will ever know. Make my wish come true. All I want for Christmas is you!”

Kurt took a place at the front, alongside Mei ane Corrine, taking over the lead. “I don’t want a lot for Christmas,” he sang brightly, using his higher register to provide a bright counterpoint to the other men. “There is just one thing I need. And I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree.”

Mei and Corrine danced about him, their voices rising to harmonize with him. “I don’t need to hang my stocking, there upon the fireplace,” the trio sang. “Santa Claus won’t make me happy with a toy on Christmas day.”

The group then joined in, following the simple choreography that had obviously been worked out in advance and left Adam to watch, smiling like a fool. “I just want you for my own. More than you could ever know,” they caroled, the singers with lower ranges supporting the ones with higher voices. “Make my wish come true! All I want for Christmas is you!”

Adam couldn’t help from noticing that the group was gaining an audience, with tourists and sightseers gathering around to watch the free show. He clapped his hands happily, watching as his Apples spun about in the lightly falling snow.

He couldn’t help from wondering how long they’d been working on this because it clearly was too well organized and thought out, what with the deliberate choreography and the way their voices harmonized. It was entertaining and glorious and Adam laughed with delight at watching his friends perform for him.

Kurt pivoted to take the lead again, his eyes shining with love as all of the girls joined in to support him while the boys provided the lower counterpoints. “Oh, all the lights are shining, so brightly everywhere,” Kurt sang, leading off the girls who provided the bright harmonies. “And the sound of children’s laughter fills the air. And everyone is singing, I hear those sleigh bells ringing.

“Santa, won’t you bring me the one I really need?” Kurt asked, giving Mei and then Corrine a spin. “Won’t you bring my baby to me?”

The entire group then fell into full voice, focusing on Adam. “Oh, I don’t want a lot for Christmas, that’s all I’m asking for,” they sang, coming to dance around the bench where Adam was sitting. Mitchel’s curls were flying wildly and Jules looked absolute absurd raising both hands in metal devil’s horns while wearing what had to be one of the ugliest Christmas jumpers Adam had ever seen. Mei was swinging her skirts around her legs while Jill, Corrine and Tommy spun about like children in the show. The younger singers seemed to be doing something that looked like a cross between a Bunny Hop and the Macarana and it was insane and wonderful. At the center was Kurt, leading the group and providing an eye of calm for their chaotic storm.

“Oh, I don’t want a lot of Christmas. This is all I’m asking for,” Kurt sang, allowing the rest of the group to provide the harmonies and counterpoints. “I just want to see my baby standing right outside my door.”

The Apples gathered about Kurt, their voices falling into line. They reined in the joyous chaos and brought the focus to the man that they were singing to. “Oh, I just want you for my own, more than you will ever know! Make my wish come true…. Baby, all I want for Christmas is….

“You!” they proclaimed loudly, dancing about Adam’s bench. Kurt jumped into Adam’s lap and kissed him soundly while the group finished with a flourish of jazz hands.

The crowd that had gathered to watch the performance cheered loudly and applauded and the Apples accepted their regards with bashful aplomb. When Kurt rose from Adam’s lap and pulled him to his feet, the crowd cheered louder, clapping and whistling. A few of the Apples bowed while the others ducked away, giggling.

“Come on, you lot,” Adam commanded happily, taking on the role of the Apple’s leader for one last time. “Let’s give them something to remember us by. Something suitably Appleish.”

The group cheers and quickly huddled to pick their song, the choice bringing laughs as they fell into position and stuck exaggerated poses that earned amused chuckles from their audience who waited to see what they would do next. Adam stepped to the front with a rakish grin and placed his hands on his hips.

“Are you hanging up a stocking on your wall?” he asked the appreciative crowd. “It’s that time that every Santa has a ball!”

“Does he ride a red nosed reindeer?” Jules joined in, giving Kurt a playful and rather meaningful nudge. “Does he turn up on his sleigh? Do all the fairies keep him sober for a day?”

“So here it is, Merry Christmas!” the whole group sang. “Everybody’s having fun! Look to the future now. It’s only just begun!”

Corrine gave a twirl to the front and sang out, “Are you waiting for the family to arrive? Are you sure you got the room to spare inside?”

Kurt stepped forward, smiling impishly and looking like the elf who’d get sent to detention. “Does your granny always tell ya that the old songs are the best? Then she’s up and rock n’ rollin’ with the rest?”

Mei all but jumped into Kurt’s arms as the entire group began to dance about, leaping on and off benches to the delight of the crowd watching them. “So here it is, Merry Christmas! Everybody’s having fun! Look to the future now. It’s only just begun!”

Adam pulled Kurt away from the girls and wrapped his arm about the younger man’s shoulder to hold him close. “Are you hanging up a stocking on your wall?” they sang together, trying hard not to laugh in delight. “Are you hoping that the snow will start to fall?”

Mitchel, Jules and Tommy leaned in to join them. “Do you ride on down the hillside in a buggy you have made?” they caroled together. “When you land upon your head then you’ve been Slade.”

The entire group fell in around them, their faces bright with cheer as the audience clapped with them. “So here it is, Merry Christmas!” they all but yelled, delighted when some of the audience began to join in. “Everybody’s having fun! Look to the future now. It’s only just begun!”

Kurt turned in Adam’s arms, looking into his eyes as the rest of their group caroused about them. “Look to the future now… it’s only just begun,” he sang softly, the meaning clear in his eyes. His cheeks were rosy from the cold and if Adam weren’t already stupid in love with him already, he would have fallen for him right there.

He nodded, blinking away the tears that suddenly tried to make an appearance. “It’s only just begun,” he promised, touching his forehead to Kurt’s and barely hearing the cheers and applause around them.

They were so lost in one another that they didn’t notice that their audience was drifting away to enjoy the other sights of Rockefeller Center. Mei finally gave them both a pat on the shoulder to get their attention.

“Come on,” she urged, giving them a playful smile. “I’m freezing and would love some hot chocolate.”

Adam took Kurt’s hand in his and felt the younger man’s chilled fingers. “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea, sweetheart, he said to Mei. “Why don’t you round up the others? Kurt and I are…”

“We’re just going to enjoy the tree for a bit more,” Kurt inserted, giving Adam a meaningful smile.

“Take all the time you need,” Tommy urged them, putting his arms about Corrine and Jill and drawing them away to give them a bit of space. The various Apples stepped back to watch the skaters on the ice rink and let their former leader and friend have their privacy.

Adam smiled and pulled Kurt under his arms and savored his presence. Together they walked the perimeter of the plaza, talking quietly and laughing at the small jokes that they made to each other. They arrived at the base of the Christmas tree, looking up at the bright lights and savoring another special moment that they would be mentally cataloging away to get them through the coming weeks.

Kurt looked up at Adam, enjoying the way the colored lights seemed to set Adam’s blond curls aglow. “We shouldn’t abandon the others for too long,” he said with playful reluctance. “And I could use something warm to drink.”

Adam bent to give him a quick kiss. “Let’s get back,” he suggested. In truth, all he wanted to do was run of with Kurt and find some private place to be together. But their friends didn’t deserve to have him sneaking off on them. And they deserved to have a little bit of time with him before he left. “We can go to that market that we saw earlier.”

“That sounds like a great idea, Kurt said agreeably. He let Adam lead him to where the other Apples were holding court and gathered up the group.

“Come on, you reprobates,” Adam commanded cheerfully, keeping Kurt under his arm comfortably. “Let’s go get something to warm us up.”

The group cheered happily and fell into step behind them, chattering cheerfully as they followed Kurt and Adam down the street. Their evening might be drawing to a close but no one was in any great rush to head home. In the coming days, most of them would be leaving for home to spend time with their families before having to face the spring semester. For now, they could laugh and play and cherish the time spent with friends. Tomorrow would take care of itself.

* * *

“I don’t know, Rachel. Let me talk to Adam about it,” Kurt all but pleaded, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Even over the phone, Rachel’s persistence was getting on his nerves. “We were planning on a quiet night together.”

“I know you were, but we really want to see him before he leaves,” Rachel insisted. “It doesn’t have to be for the whole night… we’ve already got a table reserved at Callbacks and everyone is bailing on us.”

Kurt sighed, wishing that he had the resolve to stand his ground, but he was tired from packing and feeling emotionally drained as the final countdown to Adam’s departure had official begun. Most of Kurt’s possession had already been moved into his dorm room and their apartment was looking very bare and sterile. He was doing his best to keep a cheerful demeanor around Adam and he just wasn’t up to handling Rachel’s demands at the moment.

He knew that she wasn’t going out of her way to be difficult. Most of their classmates, including Artie and Tina, had already left New York to take advantage of the school winter breaks to visit with their families. Kurt had been looking forward to having some peace before Adam left. He felt badly for being annoyed that Rachel and Santana had elected to stay in the city and had been keeping his distance the past few days so he could devote his focus on Adam and what time they had left to spend together.

“Elliot has a gig with his cabaret so he won’t be joining s, and Dani wants to go see him perform. She won’t be coming by until later,” Rachel explained patiently. “We already paid for the tickets so there’s no problem there. Come on… it’ll be a nice night out.”

“It’s an open bar,” Santana added, chiming into the call. “And dinner.”

“Please, Kurt,” Rachel beseeched.

Kurt looked over to Adam, who was folding laundry on the couch and gave his boyfriend a curious glance.

“Rachel reserved a table at Callbacks for tomorrow night,” he explained softly. “They’d like us to join the for a little while.”

Adam frowned a bit in obvious disappointment, having looked forward to a quiet night with just the two of them seeing the new year in. “I suppose it can’t hurt,” he said with a trace of reluctance. “A few hours won’t be so bad, I guess.”

Kurt smiled thankfully, grateful that his boyfriend was so willing to be flexible and allowing him to avoid offending his friends. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, picking up his phone again.

“All right… we’ll come for a little bit,” he said, not hiding that this was an imposition on them. “But just for a little while. We’ll have a drink or two, but then we’re leaving.”

“That’s wonderful!” Rachel cheered, forcing Kurt to pull the phone from his ear least he be deafened. “We’re going to get there around eight. See you tomorrow!”

Kurt hung up with a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely to Adam. He hadn’t missed the disappointment in his boyfriend’s expression with the sudden change in their plans. “We don’t need to go for too long. Just an hour or two and then we can come home and spend our night the way we want to.”

Adam forced a smile onto his face, not wanting Kurt to feel badly just because he was in a bit of a snit. “It’s fine, sweetheart,” he assured his lover. “In fact, it’ll probably do us a bit of good to get out and not be rattling about an empty flat.”

Kurt nodded, looking about the room that was nearly bare, stripped of all the elements that had made it first Adam’s home and then his as well. Now it was just a set of rooms that they were sleeping in. A basic hotel would offer more warmth than their apartment did at the moment.

There was no question that the two of them had been isolating themselves somewhat. Partly because so many of their friends had left for the holidays, but it was also by their own preference. With just a few days left to spend together, they were determined to squeeze out every second that they could. Shutting out their friends was an understandable but unintended result.

Kurt nodded, letting Adam pull him into a warm hug. He wanted to focus on the feeling of the strong arms wrapped around him and not how little time they really had left.

“It’ll be fun, darling,” Adam insisted, a bit more joy in his voice now that their plans were confirmed. “I’m rather looking forward ot it now.”

Kurt smiled, turning his head so that he could kiss the nearest body part of Adam’s, which turned out to be his forearm. “Me too.”

Admittedly, as reluctant as he’d been Kurt felt much better about things as he dressed for their night out. It was probably a good thing to be socializing and getting out, Kurt considered, and not just sitting at home feeling maudlin. He’d found something stylish enough for the evening that he hadn’t packed away yet and got himself showered and shaved so that he was fit to be seen in public.

Adam’s wardrobe was very limited since nearly everything he had was either in storage or packed in suitcases for his travels, but he had a suit that he had packed for press appearances and any formal events that might come up while he was on his tour. Kurt had always liked how Ada looked in the charcoal grey pinstripe that was saved from being too severe for the occasion by the absence of a tie and the red shirt he wore with it.

“You look so handsome,” Kurt mused, reaching out to fix Adam’s pocket square.

“And you are gorgeous,” Adam assured Kurt with a smile. He took the younger man’s hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s funny, but would you believe that I’m actually glad that we’re doing this?”

Kurt cocked an eyebrow curiously. “You are?”

Adam smiled ruefully and nodded. “I know we just wanted to spent tonight together, but I think that going out is going to be good for us.”

“I’m starting to think so too,” Kurt agreed. He realized that he very much needed the distraction that going out might provide, otherwise he would probably be in tears long before midnight. He needed a little bit of time to think about something else and to actually enjoy the time they had left. Adam didn’t deserve to have him being a weepy mess all the time.

Callbacks was already very crowded by the time they arrived, filled to capacity with happy couples and groups looking forward to a wonderful evening. Adam brought their coats to the check room while Kurt scanned the packed club for Rachel and Santana. With so many people laughing and drinking, spotting the two girls was going to be a challenge. Getting out his phone, he sent Rachel a quick text to let her know they’d arrived and to find out where their table was. She quickly responded that she would come get them.

Adam returned and placed his hand gently on Kurt’s arm. “Any sign of them?” he asked.

Kurt shook his head. “No, but Rachel should be here in a second.” He held up his phone meaningfully.

Adam grinned broadly. “You are so clever,” he praised, giving his lover a gentle peck on the cheek. “If it had been up to me, we’d have been wandering about like two idiots until we’d wasted the whole night.”

“Which is why we leave finding my crazy friends to me,” Kurt teased.

Rachel made her way to them, carefully pushing her way through the crowd before rushing up to throw her arms about Kurt. Despite his previous irritation with her demands, Kurt pulled her into a hug and was admittedly glad to see her.

“I’m so glad we convinced you two to come out of hiding!” she exclaimed as she took both of them in tow. The young woman looked absolutely stunning in her ruby red dress, her hair pinned up into a neat chignon.

Kurt felt himself smiling and for the first time in a few days, it didn’t feel at all forced. “I’ll admit it,” he acquiesced graciously. “We both needed to get out for a little bit.”

Adam nodded in agreement, waving to Santana when the other girl came into view. “Yes, we did,” he agreed, looking more relaxed than Kurt had seen him in the past few days. It was clear that Adam needed this outing as much as Kurt did.

The girls had managed to get a table where they would have a good view of the stage and just far enough from where the buffet was set up so that they wouldn’t be disturbed by other celebrating attendees. Kurt was pleased to see that rather than the usual single piano, there was a jazz quartette playing that night.

Rachel saw that the musicians had sparked Kurt’s interest and nodded enthusiastically. “I know… it’s going to be nice to have some proper accompaniment,” she claimed. She gave him an arch stare. “You are planning to sing, aren’t you?”

Before Kurt could answer, Santana gave them a knowing smirk. “Well… look who finally came up for air,” she teased.

Adam smiled at her fondly. “Hello, gorgeous,” he greeted, admiring the way the silver beaded dress showcased her figure and complexion. “And I do apologize for keeping Kurt from you.”

Santana snorted indignantly. “Oh sure,” she mocked playfully. “I mean, what would Hummel rather be doing? Hanging out and listening to our latest dramas, or getting banged like a screen door in a hurricane?”

Kurt felt his cheeks burning since he couldn’t actually deny that he and Adam had been having a lot more sex lately. “We’re not just having sex,” he grumbled, tempted to shove a napkin into Santana’s mouth.

The young woman barked out a laugh. “Oh please… like you’re not riding Adam like a Kentucky Derby longshot every chance you get.”

Adam couldn’t help from laughing, his cheeks bright red because just a few hours ago, Kurt had been doing just that. “How about I get us something to drink? Red wine for you, sweetheart?”

“Yes, and cyanide for La Chupacabra here,” Kurt answered, giving Santana a sour look. He did not drag himself out of their bed for this kind of abuse. Adam just chucked and gave Kurt a quick kiss before heading for the bar.

“Santana, be nice,” Rachel admonished with a sly twinkle in her dark eyes.

Kurt looked at her in surprise, pleased that she recognized just how difficult this whole thing was for him to deal with. “Thank you, Rachel,” he said sincerely.

“After all, we know that Kurt doesn’t bottom all the time,” Rachel added with a giggle.

Kurt turned a surprised and irritated glare to her, ready to give her a sharp retort when Adam returned. The older man handed him his glass of wine and took the chair next to him.

“Everything all right, sweetheart?” he asked, seeing that Kurt’s hackles were up.

“Just Rachel and Santana being Rachel and Santana,” Kurt answered, giving the girls an annoyed stare. The two of them just laughed, enjoying their moment of teasing their old friend.

“Berry, did you ever think that we’d get to tease Hummel here about his exceedingly active sex life?” Santana asked, sipping at her cocktail. “Whatever happened to our sweet little baby gay?”

“Do I really need to go into the details?” Kurt asked ironically, arching a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “We’re not kids anymore.”

“We know,” Rachel said soothingly, patting her friend’s hand. “We just wanted to keep things as normal as possible. I mean, it’s not like we don’t joke about on another’s personal lives all the time.”

Kurt’s gaze softened and he took a sip of his wine. He couldn’t deny that he had certainly given both of them just as much ribbing about their love lives as they’d given him. He knew that he was being a bit oversensitive and forced himself to relax, recognizing that they weren’t being malicious.

And to be honest, he really needed that bit of normalcy right now. It was a good thing that they weren’t treating him with kid gloves or expecting him to start crying at the drop of a hat. Getting out tonight probably was going to do both Adam and he a great deal of good. More good than sitting home in a nearly empty apartment and dwelling what the next few days would hold.

“It’s okay,” he granted, giving both of them a reassuring smile. “And I do appreciate you two dragging us out tonight.”

Rachel smiled and reached out to take her friend’s hand. “I’m glad. We really do want to spend some time with both of you.”

“Yeah, Hummel,” Santana added. “No fair of you keeping Rob Roy here from us.”

“Rob Roy was Scottish,” Kurt corrected.

“I do have some Scot in me, love,” Adam inserted. “On my dad’s side.”

Kurt’s eyes brightened. “Does that mean I’ll get to see you in a kilt again someday? Because your legs…”

Santana rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh God… they’re getting all moony on us again. Let’s get something to eat before I totally lose my appetite.”

The buffet was better than expected, with a nice assortment of hot and cold offerings and the four of them relaxed into the evening, laughing and talking about anything other than Adam’s imminent departure. Kurt felt it easier to focus on the festive atmosphere and the pleasure of having several of those that he was closest to close at hand. He let himself relax and enjoy the wine, music and company, the moment that he was dreading not seeming so ominous at the moment. And he no longer felt the urge to rush out quite so fast.

It was always a pleasure to listen to the various people who braved facing the audience to perform. It was always easy to pick out the trained performers, but Kurt enjoyed seeing average people giving it their best as well. It was worth the pitchy parts and cracked notes to see the absolute joy on someone’s face as they sang a favorite to the cheers of their friends and loved ones.

When a young man who gave an imperfect but passionate performance to his girlfriend finished his song, Rachel grabbed Kurt’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “Come on!” she urged playfully. “We haven’t sung together in ages.”

Kurt just smiled tolerantly and followed her up to the musicians.

Adam watched the pair with amusement as the musicians began to play the opening notes of one of Rachel’s favorite duets. Listening to the two of them sing together was always a pleasure and he never thought that they sounded so well together as they did now. They had chosen to sing “Let’s Call The Whole Thing Off” in a way that was playful and joyous and very fitting with the celebration and he was content to sit back and watch them having their fun with the light hearted performance. It was nice to see them just singing for the sheer enjoyment of it and Kurt looked relaxed and happy.

Santana leaned over to him, her slender hand touching his. “How is he holding up?” she asked quietly so that she wouldn’t disturb the other party goers.

Adam considered the question carefully before answering. “There are good days and not so good days,” he said, not wanting to give her a blithe answer. She would see right through that. “We’re managing as best we can.”

She nodded, turning he gaze to her friend who looked pretty happy at the moment. But then, Kurt was always happiest when singing. Or with Adam, she realized.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be there for him,” she promised. “I’ll make sure he takes care of himself and doesn’t just do school and get all boring.”

Adam smiled appreciatively, squeezing her hand. For someone with such an acid tongue, Santana really did care about the few that she allowed behind her walls. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I know that you and Rachel will watch out for him. That does put my mind at ease a great deal.”

“Well, just make sure that you don’t do something stupid the way the Grease Stain did,” she warned only partly playfully. “Because if Hummel doesn’t gut you, I will.”

He looked at her, seeing the spark in her eye that warned that she was serious. It wasn’t a threat; it was a promise of what she would do if he even thought of betraying Kurt. And it gratified Adam that Kurt had people around him that were so protective of him.

“That won’t ever happen,” he promised sincerely. “I haven’t even looked at another man since I met Kurt. He’s it for me.”

“Just so long as we understand one another,” she granted with a smile that was all sharp teeth.

Adam chuckled at how Santana had to cloak her love for her friends with a predator’s threats. She was definitely someone that he didn’t want to cross, because she would destroy him and not lose a second’s sleep.

Kurt and Rachel finished to appreciative applause and returned to their table all smiles and laughs. Adam got up to hold out Rachel’s chair like a gentleman so she could sit.

“That was wonderful, you two,” he complimented, kissing Kurt on the cheek. “Did you have fun, darling?”

Kurt nodded, his eyes shining with the pleasure that he always found with performing. “I did,” he admitted.

Adam motioned to Kurt to sit down. “I’ll be back in just a minute,” he assured the younger man. “Wait here for me.” Kissing Kurt again, he hurried over to the band before someone else could jump in ahead of him and spoil what he had in mind.

Once he conferred with the band and they’d agreed on the arrangement, Adam took his place at the microphone. “Good evening all,” he said carefully. “I thank you in advance for your indulgence, because this is a very important night for me and someone very special. Sometimes you can never find the right words to say what you really feel, so I hope that he understands just what he means to me.”

Nodding to the musicians, the pianist began to play softly. Adam inhaled deeply, steadying his nerves and closing his eyes to center himself. He hoped that Kurt would grasp what he was trying to express. He wasn’t as gifted a singer as Kurt was, but Kurt deserved his best effort.

“I sit and wait,” he sang softly. “Does an angel contemplate my fate? And do they know? The places we go when we’re grey and old? ‘Cos I have been told that salvation lets their wings unfold.

“So when I’m lying in my bed, thoughts running through my head…. And I feel that love is dead…. I’m loving angels instead.”

Adam knew that he couldn’t avoid hurting Kurt. This separation was going to be difficult and painful for the both of them, and he knew that there would be moments when both of them might ask if it was worth it. He wanted Kurt to see that he was determined to see this through.

“And through it all, he offers me protection,” Adam proclaimed, wanting the world to see how much Kurt had brought into his life. “A lot of love and affection, whether I’m right or wrong.”

Kurt had stood at his side when Adam had been questioning his future, giving him love and support and keeping him focused on building their future. He knew that he wasn’t the strongest person in the world and the unwavering support from Kurt over the past months had done more than anything else to keep his spirit from failing.

He looked to Kurt, hoping that the younger man understood how much he meant to Adam. “And down the waterfall… wherever it may take me, I know that life won’t break me,” Adam affirmed confidently. He knew that he could shoulder any hardship so long as Kurt was at his side. “When I come to call, he won’t forsake me. I’m loving angels instead.”

There were times when Kurt did sometimes seem too good to be true, with his generous heart and brilliant spirit. And Adam wondered what he’d done in this or any past life to deserve having such a remarkable creature gracing his life.

“When I’m feeling weak, and my pain walks down a one way street,” Adam sang, thinking back to the past months. The worries that he had about his future had been so difficult to move past and he couldn’t help from wondering if he would have just given up if Kurt had not been there to encourage him. “I look above, and I know I’ll always be blessed with love.

“And as the feeling grows… he breathes flesh to my bones. And when love is dead, I’m loving angels instead.”

Kurt made him want to be a better man. A stronger person, and to build the kind of life that Kurt deserved. He would work hard to be successful and be the kind of partner that Kurt needed him to be. He wanted to build a life with Kurt, to have the privilege of watching him mature and grow. To see him complain about the fine lines that would appear about his eyes and the grey that would touch his temples. He wanted it all.

Adam smiled at his lover and saw the tears that Kurt was fighting back. Kurt felt so much and so deeply and expressed it with every fiber of his being. His beautiful boy would learn that he had nothing to fear when it came to Adam, because Adam had everything to fight for. A life with the man he loved. There was nothing that he’d allow to stand in the way of that.

“And through it all, he offers me protection,” Adam proclaimed, wanting the entire world to know what Kurt meant to him. “A lot of love and affection, whether I’m right or wrong.

“And down the waterfall, wherever it may take me,” Adam insisted. “I know that life won’t break me. When I come to call, he won’t forsake me. I’m loving angels instead.”

The audience applauded and there were whistles and cheers of appreciation but the only regard that Adam wanted was from Kurt. His lover had risen from his seat and wasn’t trying to hide his emotions. Tears were shining in Kurt’s eyes and his mouth was drawn into a wide grin.

“You are insane,” Kurt complained, pulling Adam into his arms. “Absolutely mad.”

“Mad about you, sweetheart,” Adam insisted, looking down into that beautiful face. “And I meant every word I just sang there.”

“If you two get any sweeter, I am going to vomit. Right here,” Santana warned, resting her chin in her hand. “And I certainly haven’t had enough to drink for that yet.”

Kurt looked to his friends, seeing the amused look on Rachel’s face and Santana’s tarter expression. He looked back to Adam. “Want to get out of here?” he asked.

Adam nodded. “Let’s celebrate tonight the way we wanted to.”

Kurt turned to Rachel and Santana and made their apologies. “I think that we’re going to head out now,” he explained. “We need to have some time to ourselves tonight.”

Rachel gave a dramatic sigh, shrugging her shoulders. “I suppose that’s okay,” she granted with feigned reluctance. “It’s not like the two of you are going to do anything but stare into each other’s eyes all night.”

Kurt smiled thankfully and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll give you a call next year,” he teased.

“Oh, go on, you two,” Santana sniped as she studied her manicure, looking totally bored but Kurt knew it was an act.

Adam bent to give Santana a quick kiss and didn’t miss the way her eyes softened. “Goodnight, gorgeous,” he said gently.

She nodded, and Adam thought that he detected a flash of sadness in her gaze. “Good luck on your tour,” she wished and Adam kissed her cheek again.

“I’ll call you from the road,” he promised, gathering Kurt under his arm. He wanted to get home as quickly as possible.

They hurried out to get their coats and find a cab. There was a bottle of champagne waiting in the refrigerator to toast in the new year and some precious hours to spend together. Neither of them wanted to waste a single one of them.

* * *

Kurt and Adam arrived at the rehearsal building early in the morning to meet the bus that would be carrying the company to Boston for the first stage of their tour. Kurt huddled in his coat as he watched Adam stow his suitcases in the luggage hold, holding on to Adam’s backpack for him.

Around him, other members of the cast were making their own goodbyes to friends and family who’d come to see them off. He saw Nialls and Cynthia making their own farewells, both of them shedding tears and holding one another closely. Kurt blinked back his own tears, finding no comfort in that they weren’t the only couple facing separation.

Once Adam’s bags were taken care of, he returned to Kurt and accepted his backpack back. “Thanks, love,” he said gently, slinging the pack over his shoulder.

“I packed some snacks for you,” Kurt said. “And a few bottles of water.”

“Thank you, darling. I’m sure we’re going to stop for food at some point on the road,” Adam reminded him.

“I know… but I don’t you to be hungry,” Kurt insisted. He just needed to do something.

“What time does your flight get in?” Adam asked.

“If there are no delays, I should be landing at around two,” Kurt confirmed. “I’m renting a car and will meet Dad and Carole in Lima.”

Adam nodded, glad that Kurt was taking some time to go home before the semester began. Having some time to spend with his family would provide a good distraction and keep him from dwelling too much on them being apart.

“You’ll call me when you land?” Adam requested, taking Kurt’s gloved hands in his.

Kurt nodded. “And you’ll call me when you get to Boston?”

“I will,” Adam assured him.

The other actors began to board the bus and Adam inhaled deeply, knowing that the moment they’d been looking forward to and dreading had arrived.

“You’d better get going, or they might leave without you,” Kurt said, his voice growing hoarse.

Adam nodded, pulling Kurt into his arms. Their kiss tasted of salt.

“I’m not saying goodbye,” Adam insisted ardently. “Because this isn’t goodbye. I’m going to see you soon.”

Kurt nodded, blinking back tears. “You are going to be so amazing,” he affirmed confidently. “And I am so proud of you.”

Adam smiled sadly, pulling Kurt in for one last lingering embrace. “You take care of yourself,” he urged.

“I will,” Kurt promised. Biting his lip to keep from openly crying, he nudged Adam toward the bus door.

Kurt watched as Adam climbed into the bus and through the windows, saw him take his seat. Adam turned to look at him again, holding up his hand against the window and mouthed something to Kurt.

I love you.

Kurt sniffled and nodded, letting Adam know that he understood. He stayed until the bus pulled away and headed down the street, carrying Adam towards his future. Feeling like he was missing a limb or some vital organ, Kurt forced himself to turn and face his own.

* * *

Songs used::

Kurt's song: "Glitter In The Air" - P!nk

Songs with the Apples: "All I Want For Christmas Is You" - Mariah Carey "Merry Xmas Everybody" - Slade

Adam's song "Angels" - Robbie Williams

**A/N**

I've tried very hard not to re-use songs that had been performed on Glee, but there are a number of songs that I felt were poorly used and had little connection with the story lines or were performed by the wrong singers (*coughRachelBlainecough*). "Glitter In The Air" is one such song. I've always found it to be one of the most beautiful songs about throwing caution to the wind for love and it became a throwaway solo for Rachel. I feel absolutely no guilt about re purposing it in a more appropriate manner and with a singer who would do it justice.

#kadam fic #kurt hummel #adam crawford #rachel berry #santana lopez #adam's apples #nyada students #not blaine or klaine friendly #learning to fly

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genderassignment · 6 years

Text

Purple Passions & Proclivities

Gender Assignment Guest Blogger, Felicia Holman

Dedicated to the memories of Betty Holman & Prince Rogers Nelson (and to the future of Kendyl Holman)

“Sex isn’t all I think about, it’s all I think about U.”--’Shhh (Break It Down)’, Prince Rogers Nelson

An Origin Story

First, big thanks to Melissa Potter for inviting me to be a guest blogger for Gender Assignment. I am writing this essay (my first of four) on April 21, 2018---the second anniversary of the sudden death of my artistic and sexual muse, Prince Rogers Nelson. Today, I’m simultaneously elated and bereft; elated to be writing, bereft of both my Purple dearly beloved and the person who got me into him in the first place: My mother, Betty.

My mother, Betty / She was seeing me off on my first international flight...to Jamaica. This was '96 so she was actually with me at the boarding gate, even though I was traveling solo!

This month also marks the 10th anniversary of my mother's memorial service. As a single Black mother raising and homeschooling 2 kids on Chicago's Southside in the 1980’s, Mom was pretty unconventional. She was a working-class artist/ public intellectual/ entrepreneur/ urban gardener/ Columbia College film student/ championship-winning boys’ Little League coach/ etc... I’ll never forget how she championed my auditioning for the male lead in my 8th grade play because the female lead was too wispy (though I was ultimately cast as the female lead). Though strictly heteronormative in her own gender and sexual expression, Mom was sex-positive. She was my primary sex ed teacher and feminine wiles coach. *For Christmas during my freshman year in high school, Mom bought me my first lacy lingerie set; explaining “this is the type of underwear a young lady buys.”* Mom was a survivor of childhood sexual abuse and as a result, devoutly nurtured her only daughter's sexual agency and empowerment. One of her no-nonsense metaphor resonates to this day: “You don't need anyone else to scratch your own itch!” *Which I knew to be true, ever since I’d learned how to covertly rub one out on the edge of my chair in Kindergarten.*

Erotic City, Come Alive

In a two-fold effort to break me out of my bubble gum “Michael Jackson phase” & put me on to something more subversive and avant-garde, Mom formally introduced me to Prince when she brought home the 12” 1999 double album and explained to me that Prince played all the instruments. However, it was actually the combination of seeing the Little Red Corvette video and then learning that he and I share the same birthday that cemented him as #foreverinmylife...Whereas Prince was contraband in the homes of most of my Gen X peers, those of us with “cool" parents /guardians were exposed to the crucially impactful carnal knowledge of His Purple Majesty during our tweens. *I’ve often described Prince’s cultural impact & influence as a result of his artistry grabbing us by the root and crown chakras (as his lyrics on ‘Sexuality’ clearly illustrate)!* “Little Girl Heat" (LGH) is a term I coined a few years ago during a generative rehearsal with Honey Pot Performance. I find LGH succinctly / viscerally encapsulates the phenomenon of tingling sensations and rise in core temperature I’d feel while listening to Automatic, Let’s Pretend We’re Married, Lady Cab Driver, etc. To this day, I still experience LGH when I’m overcome with desire...trust & BELIEVE!

Here & Now

As a grown-ass-woman-for-real, I am both looking back and ahead at my sexcapades. Sex has always been a ‘Quality (v. Quantity) of Life’ issue for me, but even more so for me in recent years...more on that in future posts. The candid memoirs of living legends Diahann Carroll, Grace Jones and Jenifer Lewis line my shelves as both salve and motivation. *Can’t WAIT for fellow Gen X-er Tracee Ellis Ross to grace us with hers!* Though I’m not a mom, I am a doting auntie who is determined to give my 8 y.o. niece (Kendyl) the gifts of real talk and agency that her paternal grandmother gave to me. Conversations with my niece have recently begun to include her questions about puberty as well as my ‘leading’ questions to find out what she does/doesn't already know. I find that sex ed resources tailor-made for little Black girls are still few and far between in this post-Obama 21st century, so my anecdotes and advice will be some of her primary resources. She knows that Prince is my favorite musician/entertainer/artist and that I wear a tribute button everyday since he passed. But I haven't formally introduced her to Prince music yet. I think his 2006 Golden Globe award-winning Song of the Heart (from the animated film ‘Happy Feet’) will be our entry point...it’s still years before her time.

*Bonus: If you haven't already, check out the just-released tribute video for Prince's original recording of ‘Nothing Compares 2 U’...#lghonfleek

Bio: Lifelong Chicagoan, artist and Prince fan Felicia Holman is a co-founder of both the Art Leaders of Color Network ('ALCN') and Honey Pot Performance (‘HPP’). She is also Communication Director at Chicago's venerable Links Hall. Felicia creates, presents and supports original interdisciplinary performance which engages audience and inspires community. In May 2017, Felicia traveled to Manchester England and proudly presented on Prince and Blackness at the first Purple Reign Interdisciplinary Conference "on the life and legacy of Prince Rogers Nelson" (co-produced by the University of Salford and Middle Tennessee State University). In June, Felicia co-produced the ALCN's monthlong P.O.W.E.R Project at Logan Square's Comfort Station. November 2017 saw Felicia's groups thrive: HPP's debut artist book 'Ma(s)king Her' was published by Candor Arts, Links Hall went to Japan for the Kyoto Experiment Performance Festival and the ALCN received a 2018 Joyce Foundation grant to "develop membership and programming capacity". In December 2017, Felicia presented her first commissioned solo performance ("Wassup w/That YAC?!" @ MCA Chicago) and starred in 'Hair Story' -- OpenTV's latest pilot, which Felicia also co-wrote (premiering Spring 2018). Felicia relishes her dynamic artrepreneurial life and sums it up in 3 words—'Creator, Connector, Conduit'.

#purplepassions #proclivities #feliciaholman #genderassignment #prince #prince and the revolution

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dancerdiaries · 6 years

Text

Review of my dance major experience

I graduated from college a couple weeks ago, so here I am, offering my opinions on the dance program at the school I chose. I’m choosing to keep the school anonymous. If you are a high school student looking for a school with a good dance program and you choose to take my review into account, feel free to message me and I’ll give you the name of the school so you can apply or avoid it as you choose. Also, I hope you find my comments useful.

Overall, I give my university’s BALLET area a 3/10. My explanation of that score is pretty lengthy, so I put it under a “read more” for tidiness’ sake.

This is a review of the ballet area only, since that was my emphasis. I didn’t interact much with the contemporary, folk, or ballroom areas, so I don’t have anything to say about them. Also, this is just from my personal experience and is in no way a completely accurate assessment. But I’m also not the only one from this school who has these opinions. Anyway, here goes.

GOOD POINTS:

It’s generally a positive atmosphere. The students and faculty are overall friendly and supportive (there were exceptions, of course). There isn’t an insanely competitive atmosphere, either--at least, not to the degree of other places I’ve heard stories about (razor blades in a rival’s pointe shoes...what kind of jerk does that?!?). No body shaming from the other students or from the teachers. That was pretty nice. No bullying, ever.

The education was pretty good. A lot of the students are brought up to a pre-professional, or even professional, technique level by the time they graduate. I’ve improved way more these past three years than I have in my whole life, probably.

The ballet area recently started giving students the chance to choreograph on one of their companies, complete with faculty feedback. The contemporary area did that ages ago, and I’m really glad the ballet area followed because the school really needed opportunities for ballet choreography. I’ve heard that a lot of dance programs don’t offer students opportunities to present their own work at all. I was pretty lucky.

BAD POINTS:

Oh, boy. I have a lot to say.

This university markets itself as an all-inclusive, positive, “we don’t give up on anyone,” “everyone belongs” kind of place. So I was a little disappointed when that wasn’t the case in the ballet area.

My biggest problem with the ballet area is that the favoritism is insane. The faculty pretends it doesn’t exist, but I always got the vibe from them that a student is only worth teaching if the student is already an amazing dancer. If you aren’t perfect, you aren’t worth their time. The top ballet level/company (same thing--the top level is their top company) gets all sorts of special privileges. First, the teachers help them reach a professional level and help them find jobs and stuff like that. They don’t do that for anyone else. Those that start the dance major in the lower levels don’t get the help they need to succeed. Which is stupid, because isn’t that the professor’s job? To help ALL of their students prepare for the professional world?

These top dancers also get probably 90% of all the performing opportunities the ballet area offers. They go on tour, they get their own on-campus show in the big, super-nice theater, they get to perform in the lower-level company’s show (like excuse you. This is our time to shine. You get plenty of times to shine of your own. Go away), they get to be in faculty works, dance films, photoshoots, promotional videos, etc. etc.

Guess what the other dancers get? Nothing. Nada. Unless you end up in a friend’s senior project. Or if you manage to get on the lower-level company, which is hard, as I’ll explain later.

These top dancers get to break the dress code!!! They’re that special!! (Well, ok, they don’t get to break it much. You can wear lower-than-usually-allowed backs, but heaven forbid your leotard straps are thinner than an inch.)

No wonder these dancers are snobs. The teachers spoil them rotten.

My second-biggest peeve is that it’s nearly impossible to get onto said top company. The top company tends to have the same members year after year. Seriously, the cast didn’t change much at all until this past year, and that was because a lot of people graduated. Basically, auditions for this company are just a formality. The directors already have their dancers picked. Why these dancers even show up to the audition is a mystery, because they’re already guaranteed a spot (I think. That’s what it seems like). Heck, this past year, they picked someone for the company who wasn’t even going to the school yet.

This means that each year, there are only four or five open slots. And generally, unless someone really good comes along, they tend to pick their new members exclusively from the lower company. Although I think they’re trying to get more freshmen into their ranks recently, which is nice. Unless you’re not a freshman or not on the lower-level company. Because then you have no chance at all.

The lower-level company is a bit better. Only about a third of the company is repeat members. But still, the directors really like to pick people they’ve worked with before.

So basically, fifty dancers show up to audition for maybe--maybe--fifteen available company spots, despite there being about 30-40-ish (depending on the repertoire) company spots that exist. This means many dancers get turned away every year they try out.

Which sucks if you consider the fact that you need to be on a performing company to graduate in the dance program. That’s what happened to me. I couldn’t get my performing credits until my last semester, when I finally got onto the lower-level company--which, BTW, only happened because only 13 people showed up to the audition (because this was the first time this company was available in the spring semester and no one knew about it), and so by default everyone got in.

(Well, senior projects and faculty works give you performing credits, too, but as I said, only the best dancers are picked for faculty works. So basically, you better hope you have friends who are seniors.)

I have a suspicion that the directors choose company members based on body type in addition to technique, despite claiming not to. All the top company members look the same: long limbs, skinny bodies, few or no curves. Again, the lower company is better--there’s a little more diversity in body types--but all of their repeat members I’ve known have ballet bodies. I don’t know if this is, in fact, from directors’ biases, or if that body type is a mechanical advantage that gives those dancers better technique.

Also, all the top-company dancers have prettier faces. Kind of a small detail, and could be a coincidence, but it’s a suspicious detail nonetheless.

That’s dangerous. That can be really dangerous, and I came to understand that firsthand. The last two times I auditioned before I finally was accepted onto a company, I was at the right technical level and was still rejected. I’d also failed big-time at a summer workshop and competition the summer before the second audition while all the thin, pretty girls in my study abroad group won scholarships. So after that second audition, I began to worry that I wasn’t being picked because I was fat, or ugly, or both. For the first time in my life, I started skipping meals and counting calories and wearing makeup. I’m not usually worried about my looks. And if I got super insecure about my body, then other girls who do care about how they look are at a much higher risk of eating disorders because of the ballet area’s biases. And that’s not the kind of problem I was expecting to see at an “all-inclusive, everyone belongs” type of school. I was disappointed, and angry. The school told me they were better than that.

So yeah, 3/10. The education is decent, but it’s even better if you’re a good dancer to begin with. It’s a better atmosphere than most schools, but it’s still pretty political. And I’m pretty ticked that the university lied to me about their values.

#dance #ballet #college #dance major #long post

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textsfromumbridge · 7 years

Text

All the men and women merely players (1/??)

aka that trashy rethaniel high school AU I promised to write.

All the love to @catty-words and @rebeccaplimpton for being excited for everything about this fic. The ship trash group chat has greatly improved my life and I’ll happily flail with you all the damn time.

To all the readers: if you’re even half as far into this trash can as I am, please come talk to me!

CHAPTER ONE: Don’t let me be your star (AO3)

His father would not approve. Any after school activities had to involve money or networking - that’s why he’d been in Future Business Leaders of America since the fifth grade. It is why he’d started attending networking events in kindergarten. Diversifying his interests to appeal to colleges was completely unnecessary. His father would get him in anywhere close enough to keep an eye on him - Stanford was at the top of Plimpton Senior’s list.

But not joining the theater program stopped being an option when he was caught deflowering the pastor’s daughter under the stands in the auditorium. Mr. Whitefeather was not above blackmail.

Honestly, she was more driven than actually talented. He’d been to enough Broadway shows to tell the difference - really, the theater was a great place to network.

So he wasn’t all that impressed when the cast list for Cinderella went up and her name was right next to the famous princess. It didn’t have anything to do with his name being next to Prince Topher - he could have chemistry with a rock if necessary.

He just figured that if Mr. Whitefeather was truly that desperate for a win, he might actually shake things up for once. Or maybe he just didn’t have enough dirt on the rest of the school. Or maybe Rebecca Bunch had too much dirt on him - Nathaniel would not put it past her to blackmail her teacher into giving her the lead. She’d obviously identified with Sharpay when watching High School Musical.

Not that he’d ever seen the movies. Or heard any of the surprisingly catchy songs.

“Nathaniel,” he suddenly heard her right next to him.

She even pronounced his name in that old-timey voice she used to sound more dignified. It made his dick actually shrivel up inside his body.

“Bunch,”’ he nodded.

No way she needed to know that he knew her full name. Using her first name would imply that they were equals, and they were anything but. Plimptons were always superior - they were the Malfoys of this city.

“I see you’ve developed a sudden interest in the theatre,” she continued to talk to him in that ridiculous voice.

“Someone had to show you how it’s done.”

Plimptons always had to have the last line.

Exit, pursued by an angry theater freak.

It was going to be hard enough to fake any sort of chemistry with that… embodiment of everything that was wrong with the world. Sure, she was an Actress, but surely even Meryl herself had her limits! Surely not even Barbra and Bernadette, not even Idina could work opposite someone as Wrong as Nathaniel Plimpton the Third.

The name alone made her want to gag. Such pretension!

Really, what was Mr. Whitefeather thinking? Surely the divorce was getting to him. This was just a midlife crisis expressing itself in the worst way.

Why didn’t the man just buy an expensive penis metaphor like all the other idiots instead of ruining her life?

And why did Greg have to graduate and leave for Emory? He was no Josh Chan, but he was certainly an accomplished singer who could almost hold his own against her many talents.

All the men in her life just abandoned her. Even Robert left her - okay, so she was the one who told the principal, but he was not going to leave his wife for her (she was eighteen, it was legal!), so what else was a girl to do except get him fired?

The only person who was even remotely supportive of her was Paula - Mrs. Proctor. She had to remember to call her that at school.

“I need your help,” she dropped into her chair.

Yes, she had a thrice-weekly standing appointment with the guidance counselor. It started as a condition for her staying at the school after the fire and the Robert situation, but by now she and Paula were basically best friends. Just because they couldn’t actually wear the bracelets Paula had made at school, didn’t make it any less true.

“Did you get the part?” Paula immediately dropped everything. “Of course you did, Cookie, you’re the most talented person in this school. Just don’t tell any of the other students that I said that.”

This was what friendship was like: unconditional support. So what if it came from the almost middle aged guidance counselor at her high school?

“I got the part,” she huffed. “But clearly Mr. Whitefeather is in some sort of crisis, because he cast that, that… that pompous butthead as Prince Topher. How can a one-dimensional douche like Nathaniel Plimpton do justice to a romantic hero?”

Prince Topher was supposed to be likeable, and while Nathaniel Plimpton was a lot of things, likeable certainly was not one of them. Arrogant? Definitely. Pompous? Certainly. Vain? Indubitably. Despicable? Absolutely. Attractive? Maybe in the right light, if he kept his mouth shut (or otherwise occupied) for longer than five seconds. But likeable? Hell no.

“I didn’t know he was interested in pursuing theater,” Paula clearly smelled a nefarious plot, and Rebecca couldn’t blame her for that.

“Me neither,” she huffed. “I’m not even sure that he’s interested in anything other than ruining my life.”

Obviously that was his reason for pursuing this - had he ever shown interest in anything that did not involve money or sex before?

Was this She’s All That? Did he make a bet with one of his cronies that he could sleep with her? Clearly he was underestimating her considerable brains, because she’d been saving herself for the moment Josh Chan finally realized she was his soulmate. It was bound to happen soon.

“Ugh, why are we still talking about him?” Rebecca was over it, for now. “We should be talking about the love of my life and how he’s totally going to dump Valencia any day now. Not that I’m rooting for another woman’s pain, because that’s totally unfeminist of me, but clearly they just don’t make each other happy.”

Paula nodded sagely - she’d been witness to many a Jolencia (patent pending) fight, often managing to have Rebecca near Josh when he needed someone to console him. Really, the woman was a gift and Rebecca did not know what she’d done in this life or a previous one to deserve a gem like Paula Proctor.

“I hear he has been visiting with Father Joseph more often,” Paula let the gossip slip with a gleeful smile.

Technically the visits with the school chaplain were completely confidential, but Paula could find out if she claimed to be concerned about a student. Paula had access to every single one of Josh’s records and files. Paula had all the intel and the know-how to use said intel to greatly improve Rebecca’s life.

“Seeking divine counsel,” Rebecca tried really hard to ignore that the love of her life was a gentile. “It means he really is in the middle of a personal crisis.”

It had to have something to do with the way he looked at her last time she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and told him that he deserved happiness. He’d leaned in a bit more than usual, and she’d smelled his body wash and his hair product (she’d already made a note of his preferred brands ages ago) before he pulled away because they were still in a public hallway. He just couldn’t hurt Valencia’s feelings like that - how noble of him.

Josh Chan was a good man. A kind man.

“Just like we planned,” Paula’s grin had a touch of villainy about it.

They laughed madly, their cackles echoing against the office’s windows, freaking out Geoff the office aid. Yeah, Geoff, that was his name.

Ugh, forget him. He wasn’t important, barely rated a speaking role in the world of Rebecca Nora Bunch.

No, Josh Chan was clearly the male lead in the story of her life.

The first official rehearsal for Cinderella was an absolute disaster.

How these people had ever managed to put on any show, he really wasn’t sure. With the new additions who’d clearly been blackmailed into this as well, head bitch Valencia Perez and that Heather girl who always seemed stoned, Mr. Whitefeather’s associates might stand a chance of doing something decent. It was an extremely small chance, though.

After Weirdo Karen’s seemingly serious question about a part for her pet snake, he’d pretty much given up on spending his precious time in any kind of useful manner.

He’d already forgotten all of their names not five minutes after the ridiculous ice breaker games they’d been forced to play. That still did not stop any of the unproductive dweebs from wanting to be his friend.

Sure, he got it. He was talented, wealthy, and a good connection to have. They just did not have anything to offer him in return - he wasn’t interested in friendship. What would he get out of it? It wouldn’t help him get to Stanford, wouldn’t help him into law school and then into a prime position at his father’s firm.

Really, he was here to do his time and then bail without his father ever knowing.

“Nathaniel,” damn Bunch actually cornered him after rehearsal.

Again with the voice.

“Cut that out,” he rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t hide from your lack of talent. I suggest wearing more low-cut tops, to show off your other… gifts.”

He made it a point to look down at her, trying to get a peek down her shirt - but of course she was once again dressed like a real life librarian, when she should have been dressing like the porn version.

Maybe then Josh Chan would pull his head out of his ass. Clearly he didn’t want to be with his bitchy girlfriend.

Ugh, monogamy. Just the thought of it made him reach for the disinfectant gel in his bookbag. He’d had to touch too many of these losers already - maybe feelings would catch.

The chase, that was his true and only love. After all, men were hunters by nature. One and done, and then he completely lost interest.

Speaking of losing interest...

“I wasn’t done with you,” Bunch was apparently still talking.

“I’m sure you have plenty of fascinating things to tell me,” he made a point to check the time on his Rolex. “Some of us actually have places to be.”

Like the gym - he was feeling rather bloated today. Clearly the new chef had not been notified about the strict dietary restrictions in his diet. He was sure he could taste actual butter, and that just wouldn’t do.

Perhaps he’d have to prepare some kale shakes, just in case the chef didn’t get the memo.

“You’re talented,” she stalled him.

“I know,” he didn’t even grin.

“Ugh,” she crossed her arms over her ample, ample chest. “You’re the embodiment of every private school dick movie cliche. I know you don’t care about me either, but we have to put on a good show - my life depends on it!”

He heard maybe thirty percent of what she said, too busy staring at the way her crossed arms pushed up her chest. He’d certainly made an excellent point about the low-cut tops. Maybe then she’d get some people to like her, and not just the teachers.

“Still talking,” she snapped her fingers at him.

“Still not interested,” he shot back, briefly making the effort to look at her face.

She was a little hotter when she was angry - a little less tragic and pathetic. Shame she was too chubby to even consider banging her. She seemed like she needed someone to fuck that stick out of her ass, stat.

“I know Mr. Whitefeather has something on you,” she stopped him from leaving.

“And?”

That didn’t rattle him in the slightest.

“You’re already risking your reputation,” she had nothing to say that he didn’t already know. “So why not have some self-respect and put on the best show you possibly can?”

Clearly he was not the one who had issues with self-respect. No person with any kind of self-esteem pined for Mr. If I Only Had A Brain for four years.

“And you think I’d need you for that?” he scoffed.

Maybe she was moderately more talented than the rest of the cast, and maybe she was the only one actually willing to put in the work.

But was he actually that desperate?

“We’re the leads,” Bunch made her final arguments. “If we work well together, it’ll lift the whole production to a new level.”

“Not interested,” he finally made his escape.

As if he’d voluntarily spend more time with any of those people. He had more than enough talent all by himself.

It really was a beautiful day.

Finally, it had happened. One minute she was just sitting alone at lunch, memorizing her lines in her first big song, and just a few minutes later she was in the janitor’s closet with Joshua Felix Chan. And they were KISSING!

Okay, so he hadn’t broken up with Valencia (yet!), but she just knew that locking lips with her had totally changed his world. He’d looked dazed afterwards, when they finally stepped out of the closet.

Of course he went first and she had to wait a few minutes, but still! The lips of Rebecca Nora Bunch had actually touched those of Joshua Felix Chan.

She just loved saying his full name, almost as much as she liked the name Rebecca Chan. Chan-Bunch? Yeah, maybe hyphenating wasn’t such a bad idea. Because fuck the patriarchy.

“You’re late,” Nathaniel was actually in time for rehearsal.

“And you’re not,” she made sure the surprise was audible.

Hell, she was mostly surprised that he was here at all. He made it very clear that he did not consider himself to be a part of the group, and that he did not want to be here. (Note to self: find out what kind of dirt Mr. Whitefeather had on him)

“A Plimpton is never late,” he recited the words without inflection.

“Who coined those pearls of wisdom?” she scoffed.

There was no response, just a tightening of his jaw that told her that it was probably his terrible father. Clearly, someone who acted like Nathaniel Plimpton did with women had some serious father issues.

And well, like did call to like.

At least his father told him some things.

“Good to see you’ve learned something about responsibility,” she didn’t like the broken look in his eyes.

“I won’t be the only one learning something,” he made it sound like a warning.

Really? Was he going to teach her a lesson? Unless it was about being an unprincipled jackass, she wasn’t going to learn a thing. He wasn’t all that.

“I’m terrified,” she rolled her eyes at him.

“Alright idiots, listen up,” Nathaniel demanded the attention of the entire group. “Mr. Whitefeather will probably be late again - Mr. Wilson was wearing a tank again and the man is too weak to keep from staring.”

Wow, Nathaniel actually had a point there - Josh Wilson was a really nice specimen, and ever since Mr. Whitefeather had come out as bi at the end of last year, he’d been all too interested in their new gym teacher. Personally, Rebecca didn’t see it, even when people had pointed out how much he looked like Josh Chan.

Clearly Josh Chan was superior to the judgmental chipmunk. Mr. Wilson did not like her at all, and she took offense. So what if she conveniently got a mental health crisis every time jumping or running was involved? She had to protect her classmates - her boobs were actually going to kill someone someday.

Denise Martinez’s eye injury had been proof enough of that.

“We’re starting practice without him,” Nathaniel was really trying to make the drill sergeant look work for him. “Warm ups, now! None of you are fit enough to dance and sing at the same time. Start running!”

Well, not everyone could be as fit as Nathaniel Plimpton himself - seriously, it was kind of worrying how much time he allegedly spent in the gym. Not counting the times he spent exercising with impressionable young girls, of course.

Ugh, gross. Sweaty, semi-naked Nathaniel. Why did her brain even do that to her?

“That includes you, Bunch,” Nathaniel’s gaze fell on her. “Start moving!”

What? She wasn’t one of those unprofessional idiots - she was in shape. Round was a shape, and she wasn’t going to develop any more body image issues just because Nathaniel Plimpton took offense to a woman with actual meat on her bones.

“I have better breath control than you do, asswipe,” she hollered at him, pretending she wasn’t a little bit out of breath from her fast-walk in his direction.

Crap, okay, maybe the asswipe had a point about the running.

He was not still thinking about what the running had done to Rebecca Bunch’s chest. He’d not been completely distracted by it, and he hadn’t stared at all.

Okay, he had, but he was only human.

At least he hadn’t made inappropriate comments, like Freaking Karen. Was there any way he could just kick her out of the show, or out of the school entirely? He knew she’d been held back twice already, but it was high time she left.

Just, the woman had no boundaries, and she’d clearly made Rebecca more than a bit uncomfortable. Bunch. She made Bunch uncomfortable.

She hated him by practice’s end, because he was more effective at making her move than Mr. Wilson had been in weeks. He just wasn’t going to hear any of her outlandish excuses - he just challenged her, basically daring her into doing the work. She hated being made to feel like she was worse than her classmates at something.

Not that he could relate to that or anything.

Because he was actually better than all of his classmates - it was just one of the many facts of life that came with being a Plimpton.

Like his fantastic memory, which was currently helping him in his prep for the next Cinderella rehearsal. Words came easily to him, remembering exact phrases had always helped him with his father.

Strict was not a strong enough word for his old man.

“Nathaniel?”

Speak of the devil and he shall use the intercom to be terrifyingly present. He hated it when Father managed to interrupt one of the few moments of peace and quiet he had in a day - and they’d gotten even more rare since the whole blackmail-induced theater escapades had started.

“Yes father?” he spoke into the receiver.

This was never a good sign. His father made it a habit never to interfere in his life unless he felt like there was something that needed improving.

Clearly, he’d failed again.

“You were home late today,” the accusation was obvious.

Really, Father never even needed to ask the question. As a good son, he was obliged to explain his actions in a satisfactory manner.

Well, time to see if he was good at lying to his father. He knew he was failing him just by having to lie, but he didn’t see another way. There was no way out of this that left him in a single piece, other than to lie.

And the best lies stuck close to the truth.

“I was tutoring some fellow students,” he squeezed his hand into a fist and focused on keeping his breathing steady.

Never volunteer any extra information, real events weren’t actually like a perfect story from a film - he’d researched lying quite extensively so he would know. And keeping it simple made it less likely that he’d get caught up in his own lies.

“What subject?” his father just had to pry.

“Biology,” he’d already thought of the proper subject.

It was part of the sciences, so not considered too frivolous and a waste of his time, yet also not something his father was an expert at - Plimpton senior knew economics and law and cared for little else.

Not even his son.

“Are you still on top of your own school work?” of course that was the real issue.

“Of course father,”

“Your work comes first,” Father issued the final warning. “I’m sure none of the other students are in line to study at an Ivy League university.”

And none of these other students were Plimptons with reputations to maintain - if he didn’t get into a college that was acceptable to his family, that would be the end of him. His father had never specifically stated what would happen to him, but that just made it all the more terrifying. He had to get in - there was no other option.

“Bunch is,” he muttered.

“What was that, Nathaniel?”

His father hated it when people didn’t enunciate properly.

“Rebecca Bunch,” he hated himself for even mentioning her. “One of the students. She is applying to the Ivies and several competitive cultural programs. Sir.”

His father shouldn’t be aware of Bunch’s existence, but he’d done it now. And he didn’t even know why - why did he even mention Bunch in the first place? Sure, he’d just spent time with her, but that shouldn’t matter. He’d been on the phone with his father during quite a couple trysts, and he’d never felt the slightest urge to ever mention the girl in question.

So why Bunch?

“At least you have some people in your life with a good head on their shoulders,” his father ended the conversation.

Of course Father had to have the last word, leaving him to laugh silently in his room.

Bunch never thought with the head on her shoulders. She thought with her libido and her heart and her fantasies.

And it was not an endearing feature, damn it.

Josh and Valencia had broken up, and it was all because of her.

She probably should be feeling some sort of guilt, but instead all she could think about was what this meant for her own future with Josh.

It meant that she actually had a real future with Josh - it was not just contingent upon him realizing that he wasn’t meant to be with Valencia, now it was real. He’d kissed her, he’d seen her, and then his relationship ended.

Sure, he hadn’t talked to her and she’d had to hear it through the grapevine, but she could afford to give him a day or two to settle his affairs before he finally asked her to be his new girlfriend. It gave her time to primp and look her best when he did ask.

And he would ask any day now, any hour, any minute.

This was how it was supposed to go when she finally got her happily ever after, just like in that movie Slumbered. The whole world was going to fall away until there was nothing except for her and Josh. And then he would tell her he loved her, more than he’d ever loved anyone and they’d date and live happily ever after and she’d thank him when she won her first Tony before the age of thirty.

“Bunch, are you even still paying attention?”

Ugh, there went that dream.

Instead of spending time with the man of her dreams, she was forced to spend the next hour and a half working solely with Nathaniel Plimpton. Talk about a buzzkill.

“I have danced before,” she carefully avoided actually answering the question.

Because the answer was actually no - of course she was not paying attention to the asswipe currently looming over her. He was all up in her personal space for this stupid dance routine that Mr. Wilson was making them learn.

Apparently it was vitally important that Mr. Wilson help out with this - or more likely, it was vitally important to Mr. Whitefeather that he dance with the gym teacher to provide some kind of good example that they didn’t really need. She was an extremely qualified dancer and not even Nathaniel Plimpton could make her look like an idiot.

“So, no,” he smirked down at her.

How dare he use his superior height to look down on her?

“Lucky for you, I’ve been doing ballroom for years,” Nathaniel clasped her hand gently in his and laid his other hand on the small of her back.

Following is almost automatic, placing her arm over his so that she is gently grasping his shoulder. She learned proper posture at a very young age, and she’s been watching princesses dance since she could remember.

Wait, what? Nathaniel Plimpton, douche of the highest degree has been doing ballroom for years?

“What?” she finally responded.

“You guys are doing really well so far,” Mr. Wilson seemed more than a little surprised.

Mr. Wilson and Mr. Whitefeather were in the exact same position, and they were both clearly a lot more affected by it than she was - or Nathaniel, because his posture was still ramrod straight. He almost looked like the perfectly polished prince he was supposed to be, only he was a little too… stiff.

“Let’s try a few steps,” Mr. Wilson continued.

Could Josh dance like this, she wondered. Perhaps it was possible to suggest him as a practice partner - or at least she could use that excuse with Josh. She’d love to dance with him like this, or even closer than this.

“Don’t forget the proper distance,” Mr. Whitefeather reminded them. “I know you youngsters like to get close, but there has to be room for the dress.”

Yes, she would actually get to wear a ballgown - just like she’d always dreamed of wearing ever since she was a little girl. Her mother would never let her wear the traditional princess costumes, instead forcing her to play act as businesswomen. Sure, she understood the feminist leanings, but princesses were not inherently less feminist.

If only her mother understood that.

“It’s huge,” Mr. Wilson was almost dismissive. “Ridiculously huge.”

All this time, she was still touching Nathaniel, but the second anyone remarked on the distance, Nathaniel moved back another inch. Clearly, he couldn’t wait to get away from her even now.

Screw him - she didn’t like him either, but at least she could be professional about the whole situation. She’d much rather be with Josh.

“Bunch,” Nathaniel rudely drew her from her daydreams.

“What?”

“Would you mind actually looking at the steps Mr. Whitefeather is showing you?” Plimpton sounded physically pained. “Not just for my feet’s sake.”

Oh right, now that she wasn’t thinking about Josh, she realized that because she kept moving in the wrong direction, she and Nathaniel kept bumping into each other. Her breasts smushed into his chest, him looking down at her with blazing eyes…

Wow, she really needed to dance with Josh some time. Nathaniel was great practice.

Copying Mr. Whitefeather’s steps was kind of easy. She had a natural gift for moving in time with the count of the waltz, plus she wasn’t nearly as into her partner as her teacher was. How obvious could a man get?

“Remember, this is their first meeting,” Mr. Whitefeather was more than a little flustered. “This is all about that first spark, the chemistry between these two characters.”

And that’s where the acting came in - she had no interest in Nathaniel, and he seemed just about ready to bust out the disinfectant. He tensed every single time she broke form and his eyes were on the horizon somewhere.

They were supposed to be selling romance. Not that Nathaniel Plimpton would know the meaning of that word.

“Alright, on to the next part,” Mr. Whitefeather was the only happy person present. “Miss Bunch, I’m sure you’ve seen every version of Pride and Prejudice? This is a lot like those dances.”

Finally, Nathaniel gets his much needed distance. He actually started breathing easier the second it became clear the next part involved touching with one arm only. They were to press their hands together, with a slightly increasing distance to the elbow down. And then it was just turns back and forth to switch arms.

Very minimal contact, just Nathaniel’s style when it came to her. Not when it came to every “hot” girl at the school, because he would be all over them.

Wow, that almost made it sound like she wanted Nathaniel to touch her. To speak in the words of the immortal icon Cher Horowitz: as if!

Nathaniel Plimpton was no Josh Chan, even though he was definitely being the Mr. Darcy to her Elizabeth Bennet at this point.

What? Every girl had a Pride and Prejudice fantasy at some point - and she’d have it again in her bed tonight while she thought of a more suitable mister Darcy. Josh wasn’t really the brooding type, but that’s why they were called fantasies.

“We’ll work on the transitions later,” Mr. Whitefeather was barely looking at them now, too busy focusing on Mr. Wilson’s arms. “This is just to see which patterns work for me… work for you.”

So obvious, Mr. Whitefeather. So very obvious.

“Right,” Mr. Wilson coughed and took a step back. “There’s a few more moves to try out.”

Like the ones he clearly wanted to try out with Mr. Whitefeather. Honestly, she was pretty sure that the interest was mutual, but they just weren’t acting on it.

Oh - side project! Now that she and Josh were going to live happily ever after, she might as well enlist Paula’s help with matchmaking for another couple. Paula was scary good at getting people together - or keeping them apart if she deemed it necessary.

“This one is a little bit closer,” Mr. Wilson continued, “but it’s right from the Broadway show, so it’s probably pretty appropriate for a formal ball.”

Instead of leading by example- Mr. Whitefeather looked really disappointed - Mr. Wilson guided their hands into the correct positions. Both Nathaniel and herself had an arm wrapped around the other’s waist, pressing their bodies rather closely together. Or at least, really pressing her boobs into his arm while they took a turn around the floor.

Nathaniel had tensed up again, just from her hand on his waist and them almost being in each other’s personal space. How could she work with this?

“Just a little while longer before you can get the disinfectant,” she hissed at him, trying to keep the teachers from overhearing.

“You’re missing the point, Bunch,” Nathaniel still wasn’t looking at her, jaw clenched.

This part was supposed to look like they were flying, like they moved together effortlessly. And sure, this was only the first dance rehearsal, but this was like pulling her body through quicksand, heavy and slow and syrupy.

But somehow it wasn’t entirely bad. Weird.

“Next position, Mr. Wilson,” Nathaniel’s voice seemed more gravelly now.

They’d stopped spinning - although it didn’t really feel like that - and Nathaniel had stepped back. What was up with him?

“So, this will be like a dip,” Mr. Wilson instructed, equally eager to get this over with. “Basic ballroom pose, then move both your arms around her waist, Mr. Plimpton. Miss Bunch, you will be leaning back in his hold.”

Even now, when they were supposed to be standing closer than ever, he was holding back, every muscle in his body resisting her presence in his personal space. For someone who got laid basically all the time, the guy was just really freaking tense.

And when he was supposed to be holding her considerable weight, as he’d remarked on several times now, she did not need him to be stiffer than the Tin Man. Sure, he needed to stand strong, but in a way that spoke of fluidity, of grace, of romance.

This was a pure fight or flight response, and flight was definitely winning.

“You can pull her a bit closer, Mr. Plimpton,” Mr. Wilson eyed them carefully.

Suddenly every bit of distance between the two of them was gone. The tension in his muscles was still there, and she figured that the only way to go here was to trust him with this tiny bit.

Trusting a man - yeah, this was going to be impossible.

And then he looked her in the eyes, finally, those blue eyes screaming fear. When he saw the fear returned in hers - he must have seen it - he softened.

“I’ve got you,” he mouthed.

His hands were warm, burning through her shirt, but she just kept looking into his eyes as she slowly gave herself over to him, putting herself in his hands until she no longer had to hold up her own weight.

It was terrifying and exhilarating, and somehow safe.

Nathaniel Plimpton was an elitist asshole, but he was not going to drop her. So she relaxed in his grip, and tried not to think about how she was basically pushing her boobs up in the direction of his face.

He was trying not to look, occasionally sneaking guilty glances at her chest but then quickly returning to look in her eyes.

She was warm all over, heating up even quicker when she started to feel something insistently pressing against her thigh. It became almost impossible not to blush, and her wide eyes found his immediately.

“Excellent job, you two,” Mr. Whitefeather broke the silence.

That made Nathaniel break eye contact, slowly but surely pulling her into a regular standing position - except this meant that they were standing so closely pressed against each other that she could feel exactly how big his… interest was.

Big was an understatement - she’d suspect him of padding but there was no way to get away with that when she was pressed up against every inch of him.

“Is that the time?” Nathaniel almost ran out of the room.

She was left with a pounding heart and a heaving chest, and a hankering to go see Josh. If this was what it was like with someone she hated, it had to be even better with the love of her life.

Right?

AN: This ship has watered my crops and cleared my skin. Let me know what you think!!

#rebecca x nathaniel #rethaniel #otp: can't be with cedric if you're already with ron #my stories #crazy ex girlfriend fanfiction

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angstymarshmallow · 7 years

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Three Days For Us - Zig x MC

#ChoicesCreates Round 21

Book: The Freshman/The Sophomore Pairing: Zig x MC Prompt: “What if…?” Rating: T Hosted by @catsrtheboss this week!

[A little note: The first ship I thought of was initially something else but I decided to take a small break to work on some other stuff. This is supposed to take place after Hartfeld University; except Zig and MC has never met formally until now].

[Summary: Another end of the year, means another round of Christmas parties and exchanging of holiday gifts. In a world filled with family and couples, MC despises this season until a twist of fate means she might not have to spend it alone this year.]

The mall was overflowing, cluttered with people three nights before Christmas Eve. Little children scurried with their parents trailing not far behind and couples walked hand in hand, laughing and joking with one another as if they were sharing some sort of private joke. They might as well had been.

Dia was distracted by her own sullen thoughts, when her eyes had swiftly snapped at attention. Three children were incoming fast and she narrowly avoided slamming into them in her distraught fumble of angling out of their way. She clutched her own shopping bags tightly, startled as they raced by her.

Seconds later, their parents had followed. They spared a glance in her direction, uttering a hasty admission of guilt as they swept by her.

She bristled at the sight of pity in their eyes and found herself wanting to say something. The urge to convince them as she had often tried to convince herself nearly overwhelmed her. She didn’t mind being alone.

Everyone had someone during the holiday season, everyone except her. Her messy entanglements never lasted till Christmas, and she had never wanted them to. But as she mumbled miserably at the misgivings of seeing everyone else quite happy, watching and wedging herself between crowds of people on a night such as this; she had never been so painfully aware of just how alone she was.

People continued scrambling by her. They cast apprehensive stares as they flitted by, wandering in every store. These were the types of people she longed to avoid - as if they were the black plague themselves during the holiday season. Usually, she was simply better than this; better than being caught by the last rush of Christmas gift buyers before the weekend.

She wasn’t big on the holidays. She preferred the quiet company of herself and her dingy apartment, over spending it with her friends, and family - nor was she the type of person to cross people off her list so close to the deadline. Her finitely short list never even took her long to shop for.

Unfortunately this month had been stressful, hard. She spent more nights working than she did sleeping. She had an influx of clients since the start of the month and was surprised by the amount of people wanting contemporary tattoos going into the new year.

It was only three days before that business had finally slowed long enough for her to make the trip into one of Northbridge’s biggest mall. Yet with the extra hours she had under her belt, she was beginning to regret leaving the safety of her home at nearly every turn, as people inevitably ran into her.

Another shoulder shoved pass her and her own had stiffened in response by the sheer force of the blow. The person hadn’t impede their movement long enough to apologize and she had been left muttering under her breath about how much she hated the holidays.

She hadn’t been paying much attention, before slipping into the safety of the next store she spotted. She rarely made trips here and yet she could not deny the familiarity she that clung to the store once she found her bearings again.

The store was filled with little trinkets and nifty gadgets; things she saw potential in crossing off the last two people on her list.

Abbie and Kaitlyn had both required something with equal parts artistic and equal parts of careful deliberation. She hadn’t been able to find anything that spoke out to her when it came to them, and had been here all morning searching aimlessly for something to engross her.

Zack had been the first friend she crossed off her list. A gorillapod - a portable tripod for the next time his agent called for a sporadic audition tape. Chris had mentioned his desire for a new set of tools to fuel his sudden hobby at fixing cars at their last brunch together and Tyler would be over the moon when he spotted her gift; a freshly new copy of the latest installment in the crown and the flame video game series.

Her eyes widened in bewilderment when she took note of the sheer amount of people flooding inside the store the longer she waited. It was nearly packed to the brim with customers invading one another’s personal space. They barely strung together gruff apologizes to each other and her stomach churned at the thought of delving inside.

However, something stopped her from leaving its entrance. An indescribable feeling, telling her she was meant to be here, at this exact moment in time.

Dia believed in very little, least of all fate. She knew better from years of experience that following her gut never led to good decisions. Yet, her feet refused to move and her eyes darted across the store.

She had to make a decision.

She ignored the funny feeling inside her stomach, bubbling with nerves the longer she shifted on her feet. Swallowing her nerves, she marched inside and her eyes skimmed the store quickly. She maneuvered between people, bristling with every abrupt brush of contact until her eyes spotted it.

A pair of gloves, carefully handcrafted from the looks of it with an embellished design. It was pretty, and stood out from the rest left on the highest shelf. It didn’t hurt that it happened to be in Abbie’s favorite colour, another sign that she probably shouldn’t ignore.

Abbie had a deep appreciation for handcrafted goods.

She was still deliberating when her feet begun moving of their own accord. Twisting and rushing to close the distance. When her hands finally touched the first glove, she uttered a cry of alarm at seeing another pair of hands reaching at the same moment to grab the other.

A hand darker than her own, and much fairer in complexion tried to yank it from in between her fingers.

A feral noise of possessiveness escaped her throat before she held onto the glove tighter. She hadn’t suffered all of this holiday misgivings for someone else to steal away this prized and rare jewel.

Her eyes swung to meet the intruder’s gaze hauntingly, and a declaration of expletives waited for quiet liberation until she saw him.

His eyes were dark, and somber. They stared unflinchingly at her in aggravation, until their eyes met for the first time.

They blinked in surprise at her.

Her complaints died rather quickly on her lips.

Her eyes moved in quick flurry to finish her inspection of him. They gave an appreciative once over until they traveled back to his almost symmetrical features. He was good looking, extremely good looking.

When she glanced up again, he was smirking at her. As if the gloves had been momentarily forgotten, he met her stare head on. Then, slowly they drifted lower, taking their time to inspect her. His eyes roamed across every part of her.

Her skin tingled as if he had reached out and touched her. She swallowed back the sudden dryness inside her throat.

The air seemed to fizzle, hissing as if whispering their sudden silent attraction; a mixture of desire and frustration all tangled into one with neither one of them flinching away.

Eventually, Dia does first. She ignored the sight of his triumphant smile from the corner of her eyes and listened to her own heartbeat, deciding it was probably better for her health and her heart to relent.

When she could finally breathe again, her eyes swept back to his. She shot him the most frigid stare she could muster and tugged on the glove inside her own hand. “I was here first.”

He didn’t drop his hand nor did he seem fazed by her chilling expression. Instead, he scowled at her. “We got here at the exact same time, you know that.” When she didn’t argue, he jerked his chin at her. “I deserve this as much as you do, probably even more after the week I’ve had.”

She scowled back. “Listen,” she tried to draw on her full height; a measly five feet and six inches compared to his towering six feet. “I didn’t spend all morning burying myself in stores and insufferable people just for some jock to come and take away my last chance at finding the perfect gift.” She said adamantly, watching as his brows shot up in surprise.

“Jock?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “My students would probably disagree.” He corrected, drawing a puzzled frown from her.

She was skeptical. He looked like the type; broad shoulders and tight muscles - dressed in a leather jacket and jeans; as if he had stepped fresh out of a scene from Grease. Things she would have probably appreciated under different circumstances.

The man’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened in irritation. “And I’m sure if I hadn’t spent the whole day looking for the perfect gift for one of my sister’s I would actually care enough to surrender the last pair.” He replied shortly, tugging harder.

She felt her own hackles rise as she pulled back in her direction. “Yeah well, tough luck seems to be my motto today and I’ll tell you what I told that kid when I swiped the last copy of the crown and the flame. I. Don’t. Care.”

Another yank.

“I don’t care either!” His teeth visibly clenched.

Another yank.

Their tug of war continued with neither of them breaking eye contact. She gritted her teeth at him, fuming inwardly at the interruption.

His nostrils flared and his expression didn’t waver.

In seconds, their attention had shifted from the gloves to each other. They became preoccupied with eyeing at one another again, except the stinging attraction between them had been replaced with the intensity of their harsh stares.

They were trying to make the other flinch, and Dia had no intention of losing.

Neither one of them realized the gloves stuck in between their vice-like grips were beginning to thin, and stretch.

Dia heard the sound of the material tearing far sooner than she had dragged her eyes away. The look of horror in her eyes palpable as was the man in front of her as his lips twisted into a snarl, seconds before the gloves had flown out of their hands and fell by their feet.

Her eyes grew wide. She glanced from him to the floor and then finally back at him. “Well, shit.”

Her eyes dropped to his lips and she watched them twitch before turning into another smirk. It was infectious, causing her own lips to quiver until they curved into a smile.

Seconds passed like this, before they both started laughing. She shifted a little closer and clutched her sides, laughing harder with every breath until tears threatened to swarm her eyes. “Did we really just -”

His features turned practically comical. “-Ruin a good pair of gloves?” He finished for her, shaking his head ruefully.

“I think we really did.” She mused. “Damn, that sucks.”

He snorted in agreement. “Must be inevitable when two stubborn people meet.”

A corner of her mouth lifted. “Oh? You can tell that already?”

“I’m pretty good at reading people.” He replied winking. He smiled then, a full out grin that nearly stole her breath.

She thought he was good looking before but now when he was grinning at her; from ear-to-ear, she was taken aback.

He was damn near irresistible. The way he was smiling at her should be criminal.

Without thinking, she found herself opening up a little, tucking a stray hair behind her ear as she introduced herself. “I’m Dia by the way.”

“Zigmund,” At the sight of her eyebrows quirking in response, he chuckled and added. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Just call me Zig.”

“Alright, Zig it is.” Although she couldn’t place his name - his face seemed vaguely familiar. The more she stared up at him, the more certain she was that she had seen him before.

His eyebrows quirked in question. “What?”

She couldn’t place it, but whatever caused her mind to linger refused to be ignored. “Did you uh - go to Hartfeld by any chance?” She blurted out, frowning absently.

“No.” He replied, shaking his head. “But I did work close by. A lot of students came by the cafe I used to work at.”

“The one near the end of the street?” At his nod, she smiled thinly. “Maybe that’s where I recognized you from.”

His eyebrows were low, nearly forming a v from the center of his face before she rambled on quickly. “My um, friends and I used to spend a lot of time in there. I’m surprised we’ve never met before.” She finished lamely.

“A lot of students tend to spend time in cafes,” though his lips quirked to soften his sarcasm. “But I think I would’ve remembered meeting someone like you.”

Despite the simple compliment, she felt her cheeks grow hot. She heard better lines, compliments that could make a woman swoon - but it wasn’t the compliment that warmed her, not truly.

It was the way in which he said it; earnestly as if it weren’t a line he rehearsed. It felt different. It felt like it mattered.

She had forgotten where they were as they spoke, with heads slightly bent towards each other, and eyes rooted to every small gesture the other made. The spell had been broken as briskly as it begun though, when someone had passed close enough to knock her into him.

She uttered a grunt of irritation as she rocked forward, barely catching herself in time before the man in front of had instinctively steadied her.

His touch was nothing like his eyes had been. They were worse. They shot up her spine and frayed her nerves. Her next intake of breath happened quickly, too quickly, visibly making him grin as his touch seemed to burn brightly inside her veins.

He didn’t move his hand right away and when he released her, they lingered long after.

“Sorry,” she mumbled under her breath.

“No worries, it’s just really overcrowded in here.” He sighed dejectedly before reaching to grab the pair of gloves.

She moved too, leaning forward to grab the other and their hands innocently brushed again. The reaction was nearly instantaneous and she quickly retrieved her hand when they stood.

“My sister would’ve really liked these.” He mused, glancing at the half-torn gloves inside their hands.

She sighed too, “my friend would’ve loved them.”

She spent a minute longer mulling over them, wondering if there was anyway to fix them fast enough before the Christmas party tomorrow.

Then she felt it. Rather him, watching from the corner of her eyes. She instructed herself strictly to avoid him, to mutter some half-apology before darting away. But the idea of leaving didn’t appeal to her as much anymore, when all she had to come home to was an empty house.

Her eyes inadvertently lifted to meet his.

She could get lost in eyes like these. It was dangerous to but they had a magnetic pull - bottomless, as if she were falling inside a well with no hope of ever reaching the end. “Are you free later?” She blurted out suddenly, and watched the surprise flicker inside them.

His lips distracted her. They lifted into that smirk again. “You mean if I ever get out of this crazy mall?”

“If we ever get out of this crazy mall,” she corrected him, dragging a hand through her pale hair. “I figure the least you could do is take me out after ruining those pair of gloves.”

“Bold.” He commented, grinning. “I like bold.”

“Then you’ll like me.” She dropped her gaze to the gloves still in between them then glanced at the line awaiting at the check out station in dismay. She counted over fifteen people. “But I suppose we’ll have to wait till we’re finished with these, huh?”

“I have a better idea.” He took the single glove from her before she could protest. “Trust me,” he muttered, stuffing hers’ inside her jacket pocket while stuffing the other in his.

“I just met you, I don’t even know the important stuff. Like if you’re some sort of closeted serial killer.”

His lips tugged a smile. “Do I seem like I’m capable of such things? I mean just look at me?” He gestured at himself for emphasis.

“Believe me, I am looking.”

He smirked, “If your instincts haven’t scared you off from me yet - I guess you’re just gonna have to trust them.”

Her instincts had gotten her into this mess in the first place. “What’re you doing -”

“How fast can you run?” A mischievous glint had appeared, alighting his expression with almost boyish charm. It made them shine when he turned those pair of smoldering eyes to her.

Adrenaline and excitement intertwined, igniting her veins once she understood his meaning and acknowledged his plan. Luckily she had the good sense to wear her combat boots today. “Just try and keep up.” She replied, grinning before taking his hand.

Together they raced towards the door, shoving people out of their way in order to hastily retreat before any of the staff could spot them. The alarms rung inside their ears as they sprinted down the giant mall’s hall. Their joined hands made it easy to stay together and dart around larger groups. They could hear the curse of people behind them, followed by the rush of hurried footsteps except they had a clean head-start.

Zig chuckled beside her, tightening his hold on her hand.

Their hair and gift bags flew wildly between them. Their legs kept the same hurried pace.

Dia’s own chest had seized with a mixture of panic and eagerness, almost palpable as they skirted into another corner, neatly by one of the exits in the mall.

Security guards had jumped in their way, yelling at them to stop. They ducked and maneuvered barely within arms reach, at nearly every turn. They picked up momentum once they realized they had more than two following them.

Their eyes scanned together for any safe haven, anything that could hide them long enough for the danger to pass.

Eventually, they had.

A quiet yelp left Dia’s throat as Zig yanked her into him, shoving them flat against a small path in between two nearly adjoining walls. Their breaths hand mingled together and her chin had rested on his chest as they waited for the sound of footsteps to fade and ultimately, disappear.

Once they could no longer hear them; she became aware of their heartbeats syncing together once she placed a hand on his chest.

His eyes flashed with excitement, excitement she felt pouring and flooding nearly every part of her. The adrenaline rush had made her dizzy, and the way his eyes darkened with desire made her knees grow weak. When she tried to step back, his hand had held her wrist.

For a moment neither of them spoke.

She held his gaze as she flexed her toes, tipping them forward just enough for their lips to almost touch.

He didn’t wait for her to close the distance, simply captured hers after swearing under his breath. His kiss wasn’t gentle, it was rough and thrilling as his hands dived into her hair. She strained against him while her eyes had fluttered close. Her arms slipped around his neck, yanking him closer until she sunk her teeth into his bottom lip, nipping gently when she heard him groan.

There were only three days until Christmas Eve.

Three days she had spent consumed by him.

Three days she had spent learning why people fell and fell hard.

Three days she had spent allowing her imagination to wonder what if - what would three hundred and sixty-five days of him feel like? Look like?

Three days where she hadn’t spent a single moment alone.

#zig x mc #welp #i give up #here's my entry #playchoices #choicescreates 21 #this took me so longggg #zig x mc fanfic #choices stories you play #the freshman #the sophomore #zigzaggers fan club #it's not even the holiday season #edit later #long post

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seriestrash · 7 years

Text

You Me Her

1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 ||

Chapter Nine: Library Duty

Word Count: 2403

↠ ♥ ↞

It’s Riley’s senior year and the weather is frosty out. It’s the last day of school before winter break commences, the winter formal is being held that evening in the schools gym.

Much has changed since Riley’s Junior year. Another wave of rumours hit the school after Riley’s relationship with Adam ended and wether she took the time to clear them up or not people still believed whatever they wanted so Riley chose to mostly ignore the chatter.

Another difference is that Smackle pulled out of the school newspaper, the genius claimed it was because of her studies but Riley knew first hand how hard it could be to juggle two friend groups that don't interact. Riley did miss the friendship but the paper had grown large enough to suffice without Isadora. Five more students had joined in on writing articles, each one with their own specialty and two more photographers shared the workload with Caitlin, one of which is an aspiring graphic designer so she took over most of Smackle’s responsibilities.

Riley’s friend circle dynamic changed too, not drastically but another fluttery addition to the group came in the form of a girl named Harper, a girl Caitlin began dating the Summer between Junior and Senior year. Harper is another loner type and much like Caitlin she comes in and out of Riley’s life but in a way that doesn’t leave Riley trying to cling to the friendship out of fear the other person is unhappy or dislikes her.

In May of the previous year, when Auggie turned nine he finally got the pet he’d spent a lifetime begging his parents for. The landlord wouldn’t allow dogs in the apartment but granted permission to have a cat, a compromise Auggie was happy to accept. Although Auggie was excited about the tiny black kitten it took the boy all of ten seconds to work out that he was mildly allergic to the fluff ball. Not dreadfully allergic, just itchy eyes and sneezy if he spent too long with her. Riley ‘begrudgingly’ accepted most of the cats responsibilities under a single condition; that she got to name her.

Luckily, along with all the change in Riley’s life some things did stay the same like Kai and Noah, the two still happily together. Kai remains the perfect best friend to Riley, completely supportive and encouraging whilst Noah is still a genuine sweetheart to Riley and very protective over her emotional wellbeing. This, the three of them, that’s the one thing Riley prayed would never change.

As stable has her friendships were there was one change that near knocked Riley off her feet, even though she pretended it didn’t phase her in the slightest. Lucas and Maya broke up. Riley had no idea why, or when exactly it even happened. Riley heard news of the split on the last day of Junior year and then she spent a summer completely avoiding the topic until no one in her life brought it up anymore, at least not in front of her.

Now, after final bell on the afternoon of the winter formal, Riley and Kai meet by the notice board with pens in hand.

“I find it so funny how we’ve been active members since Freshman year but we still have to sign up for the play.” Kai half laughs has he signs his name on the audition list.

“I still don’t know...” Riley hovers her pen just before the page.

“Oh come on, Ri,” Kai tugs at her elbow, “I thought you were excited.”

“Maybe I should focus on my studies,” Riley lightly frowns, “It’s senior year..”

“That’s exactly why you should sign up.” Kai grabs Riley by the shoulders and shakes her. “For one, it’s one of the last plays you’ll be able to sign up for and two, senior year is supposed to be fun.”

“The Wizard of Oz?” Riley gives Kai a quizzical look.

“Fun.” Kai repeats firmly, “You’d make a picture perfect Dorothy.”

“Dorothy?” Riley scoffs. “How about munchkin number three.”

“It’s senior year Riley. I refuse to let you settle for a background role, it’s your time to shine.” Kai says with a huge grin.

“Okay,” Riley’s own smile creeps wider. She loves The Wizard of Oz but part of her wished they’d be doing a play with a little more depth to it, something really touching but still, Riley signs her name to the list knowing she’d regret it in a years time when her and Kai are no longer students here.

“Where’s Noah?” Riley asks.

“Guidance counsellor, he has another college opportunities meeting.” Kai answers.

“I find it so cute how serious he takes these things.” Riley beams.

“I don’t know why he bothers with the meetings, he already at least six schools after him for football scholarships.” Kai says.

“Well excuse me for looking at all my options.” Noah sneaks up on Kai causing him to jump. “Besides,” Noah pauses to laugh, “I wanted to get a few brochures for Riley.”

“For me?” Riley coaxes her head to the side.

Noah nods excitedly. “I know you’ve only ever really considered NYU but I thought there may be some other schools that could be a nice fit too.”

Riley takes the handful of pamphlets and flicks through them, reading each of the titles as she does so, “Princeton, Yale, Harvard... Is this a joke?” Riley laughs nervously.

“Far from it,” Noah shakes his head. “There’s even one in there for Columbia, if leaving the city was a deal breaker...” Noah says softly.

“Don’t you think they’re a little prestige?” Riley asks dubiously.

“That’s the idea,” Noah says, “Sunshine, you’re an ivy league dream.”

“That’s a little bold,” Riley shakes her head.

“Ri, he’s right.” Kai chimes in. “You have straight A’s, a part time job, you’re an active member of the drama club, you’ve been in six plays, you’re editor and chief of the schools newspaper, your practice SAT test was the highest score in our whole year level... Do I need to go on?”

“Not everyone takes the practice SAT’s.” Riley rejects the praise.

“You need to stop selling yourself short,” Kai lets out a huffy breath. “You are amazing!”

“Okay, so I tick some boxes,” Riley sighs, “But plenty of students get good grades and have extra curricular activities, what makes me anymore fit for ivy league schools than them?”

“Because you’re Riley.” Noah says sweetly and Kai gives him a doting look before flicking it back to his best friend.

“You’re hard not to love.” Kai grins.

Caitlin approaches the three. “Why is everyone looking at each other all goofy like?”

“Oh you know, just our daily ‘I love you’ session.” Kai jokes.

“Gross.” Caitlin crinkles her nose.

“I thought you had a flight to catch.” Noah says to the new arrival.

“I do, but I thought I’d at least say ‘see ya’ before I go.” Caitlin nods.

“I can’t believe you’re missing the dance too.” Kai sighs, “First Riley refuses to attend and now you?”

“Calm down drama geek,” Caitlin says with no malice in her voice, “I’m going skiing with my family this winter break so I didn’t really get a choice in when we leave, Riley on the other hand...”

“Not you too,” Riley frowns.

“I don’t actually care if you go or not but you look so cute when you’re frustrated.” Caitlin pokes at the creases on the brunettes forehead. She takes a few steps back and waves at her three friends, “Au revoir mes chéris! I’ll see you in the new year.”

"I want to go skiing in the French Alps,” Noah pouts once it’s just the three of them again.

“Too bad. You get to be my date to the winter formal instead.” Kai gives him a look.

“The Alps can wait,” Noah swats the air playfully.

“Ri,” Kai turns back to her with a quizzical look.

“I have library duty.” Riley says half walking away, not really wanting to stick around for Kai’s pestering about her attending the dance.

“This is not the end of our conversation!” Kai calls after her.

“Yeah, I know.” Riley mumbles en route to the library.

One Friday a month since late into Riley’s sophomore year she's been helping the librarian, Ms. Carlson, do odd jobs. The position came about because she lives in Riley’s building, an elderly woman that Riley’s polite with. In exchange for Riley’s help Ms. Carlson bakes her chocolate chip cookies.

Riley arrives to an empty library other than the elderly woman at her desk.

“Oh Riley, I wasn’t sure if you were coming today” She greets her.

“I don’t have the wrong week do I?” Riley crinkles her brows.

“No, not at all.” Ms. Carlson places a tupperware container in front of Riley.

“Yum.” Riley giggles as she places them in her backpack. “What is it I can help you with today?”

“Well I’m not sure I need your help,” Ms. Carlson says. “The principal notified me that the kids in detention will be coming over to help sort out books.”

“Oh,” Riley says as she sways on her feet. “I can still assist, can’t I?”

“Of course,” Ms. Carlson nods. “You can explain the system to them if you like- Oh that’s them now.”

Riley spins around to the doors, five students walk in, the last is Lucas and he looks just as surprised as Riley.

The principal and Ms. Carlson exchange a few words and Riley awkwardly begins to explain the system to everyone. “There’s three carts here, the books are already sorted into genre so pair up and take a section, all you have to do is place them alphabetically on the shelf according to title, not author.”

There were a few sighs but the detention goers began to pair off. Lucas is left awkwardly standing with the last cart and Riley.

“I guess I’ll take this one alone..” Lucas’ nerves transferred into his chuckle.

Without a word Riley pushes the cart ahead of her and Lucas, over to the section where she begins sorting booking into their appropriate slots. Lucas catches up and looks as if he’s about to say something but stops, instead he picks up a few books too and begins sorting.

“Who knew kids still used books...” Lucas says after a moment of silence.

“You’d be surprised.” Riley feels like she has no choice but to answer him. “Tutoring sessions are held here, the books are less distracting than computers..”

“Do you tutor?” Lucas asks.

“No.” Riley has her back to him as she strictly focuses on the shelf.

“I have to admit I’m a little surprised to see you here, I didn’t think you were the detention type..” Lucas says.

“I’m not here for detention.” Riley states. “I help Ms. Carlson out from time to time.”

“That’s right, she lives in your building.” Lucas nods to himself. Riley is quiet. “But today?” Lucas continues, “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the dance?”

“I’m not going.”

“But you love dances?” Lucas is surprised.

Riley tenses up, his flippant comment angered her. How could he talk like they’ve been best friends for years? Riley takes a breath and answers nonchalantly, “In middle school maybe. Things change.”

“Isn’t that the sad truth.” Lucas sighs.

Riley slowly turns to look at him, he’s resting against the shelf opposite her. Suddenly she has the urge to roll her eyes and walk away but Lucas looks up from his absent staring and flashes Riley a sad look and suddenly she realises that he’s done nothing wrong. Riley couldn’t fault him for having feelings for Maya, the reason they stopped talking was because her heart broke but Lucas didn’t do that on purpose. Riley was the one that cut him out of her life not the other way around. Things might never be the same between them but she didn’t have to treat him like the enemy.

“You want a cookie?” Riley whispers. “I probably shouldn’t be rewarding the delinquents but Ms. Carlson always makes me extra.”

Lucas lets out a soft chuckle and accepts the chocolate chip goodie Riley retrieved from her bag as Riley is putting them away again, her college brochures slip out onto the floor. Lucas helps collect them.

“These are some big schools.” Lucas looks at them a slight wave of surprise crosses his face.

“Oh they’re for Kai.” Riley lies.

“Cool.” Lucas nods as he hands them back to her. “So are you still thinking about NYU as your college of choice?”

“I think so.” Riley says as she shoves the pamphlets back into her backpack. “What about you, are you still hoping to become a vet via UT Austin?”

“I told you about that?” Lucas coaxes his head.

“About wanting to become a veterinarian?” Riley frowns. How could they stand where they stood right now and he not remember?

“No I know I told you that.” Lucas unknowingly motions around them. “I didn’t know I told you about going home to Texas for college.”

“The whole first week of freshman year you and Zay kept repeating your future goals.” Riley laughs softly. “Baseball, graduate and then UT ba-by.” Riley imitates goofily.

“I did not sound like that did I?” Lucas chuckles.

“No, but Zay kinda did.” Riley jokes.

Lucas laughs harder and eventually things taper off. He exhales loudly and looks up as he speaks. “Can you believe five years ago we sat in a library like this talking about our dreams for the future?”

Riley smiles softly and picks up two books off the cart, she didn’t really want to talk about the past anymore. She goes back to sorting and offers up a simple, “We’re certainly not those kids anymore.”

Quiet falls upon them once once before Lucas mumbles, “I made a mistake.”

“Did you mix up fiction and nonfiction?” Riley jokes.

“I chose Maya.” His voice was quiet but Riley definitely heard him. She tenses up and is too scared to turn around but she does, slowly.

“What?” Riley is at a whisper.

“I knew how I really felt about you back then.. Some things change and some things don't, like feelings-”

“Stop.” Riley throws her hands up. “I don’t care.”

“Riley-”

“No.” Riley is firm. “Whatever you have to say, just don’t.”

“I’m sorry..”

“I have to go.” Riley abandons the books and leaves the library.

End Notes: sorry if this chapter feels a bit rushed, especially the ending I have been spammed with questions about updating this story so I tried to finish it quickly... Next chapter is the winter formal! The one shot this was based off! Some things will be the same but a lot will be altered / added so make sure you do read it!! Until then xxxxxx

#rucas #rucas au #rucas fic #you me her fic

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benschnetzerfan · 7 years

Text

Take Young Actor Ben Schnetzer Very Seriously

Be en Schnetzer was once an accomplished Elvis impersonator: Clad in glitter and sequins, and armed with an aluminum-foil microphone, he performed a full set of the King’s hits—never mind that the audience was Schnetzer's family and he was all of four years old. (His older brother was Schnetzer’s stage manager and costume designer.) It was an auspicious debut for the actor, now 27, who would eventually go on to star on the big screen alongside Nick Jonas as a fraternity pledge tormented during a series of hazing rituals in last year's Goat, as well as opposite Joseph Gordon-Levitt as an NSA analyst in Snowden.

Born to actor parents who met on the set of the soap opera One Life to Live, Schnetzer grew up both on and around the stage and screen. He appeared in school plays and musicals throughout childhood; in sixth grade, he landed his first major role as the Artful Dodger in a production of Oliver. Still, it wasn’t until he landed a recurring part on the short-lived ABC series Happy Town at 19 that he thought of his talent as a calling. “It always seemed like acting was something I might want to do,” he said. “When I got my first job, I realized, Oh, being an actor is more than just going on auditions—I can actually make a living out of this.”

He decided to hone his craft. Armed with an audition monologue from Romeo and Juliet, Schnetzer went to study at the Guildhall School of Music & Drama in London, whose alumni also include Daniel Craig, Ewan McGregor, and Orlando Bloom. In drama school, he plunged into classical repertoire, studying Shakespeare and seeing local productions around London in his free time. “I could have lightened up a bit,” he said, in hindsight. “It was just London—it was just go see plays or do homework.”

His roles since graduation haven’t let him lighten up much. During his final year at Guildhall, Schnetzer landed a role in the 2013 adaptation of Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief, the young-adult drama in which Schnetzer played Max Vandenburg, a young Jewish man in hiding in World War II Germany. From there followed Pride, a dramedy about a group of gay activists involved with a mining strike in early-’80s Britain; and The Riot Club, about an elite eating club at Oxford University.

Though he's been working professionally for eight years, it wasn't until last year that Schnetzer debuted his breakout role alongside Nick Jonas in the drama Goat. Schnetzer plays Brad, the younger brother of Jonas’s Brett, who, after a brutal mugging earlier in the summer, arrives at college as a freshman ready to pledge his big brother’s fraternity. Yet the psychological aftershocks of that earlier trauma turn out to be poor preparation for the intense hazing he’s about to endure. As Brad, Schnetzer is haunted and captivating. He takes beatings both physical and emotional, facing off against Jonas, as well as James Franco, who plays an alumnus of the fraternity. The film was a hit when it premiered at the 2016 Sundance Film Festival, making a festival darling of its star.

Coming up later this year is The Grizzlies, an indie drama in which he plays a high-school teacher who starts a lacrosse league in a remote Arctic town plagued with alcoholism and a high suicide rate, and Entebbe, based on the 1976 hijacking of an Air France flight. Next year, Schnetzer will appear in The Death and Life of John F. Donovan, the latest film from wunderkind director Xavier Dolan. (Kit Harington of Game of Thrones plays the titular Donovan; Jessica Chastain, Thandie Newton, and Natalie Portman also co-star.) And for all his formal training, for all the Shakespearean monologues memorized and scripts mastered, Schnetzer hasn’t cast out the spirit of his early Elvis days.

“When you’re acting, f---ing around is really important,” he said.

(source)

#ben schnetzer #interview #2017

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nouveaukurt-blog · 7 years

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the prologue; klaine’s story

-KURT’S PERSPECTIVE

The effects of time can do great things; it's one of the most powerful forces in the world. Mountains fall and seas drain, relationships grow and friendships crumble. People grow, and the trials and tribulations of childhood mold people into the adults that time brings them into being. My story is no different. Time took me from one place to the next, and turned me into the man that I am today. It’s complicated, like any life is, but the biggest factor in my journey to adulthood is actually really easy to explain.

Once upon a time I was a happy, naive teenager in high school. I had a love that was better than any other—a gay love, which had seemed so impossible right up until the point that I met you. A love that could lift me up from the deepest pits of despair and help me fly high into the clouds of happiness. I had the perfect boy, and the closest-to-perfect relationship I had ever encountered. We were better than all those cheesy romance movies, we were that good. All good things must come to an end though, as they say. I moved off to New York after my senior year of high school to follow my life-long dream and in order to do so, I had to leave my perfect boy behind. I was devastated and completely broken by it for the longest time. I thought I would never move on, though I never admitted it to anyone else. Not even my best gal pal, and I spent more times wrapped around her like an emotionally scarred little koala, crying my eyes out until they were puffy beyond repair than I could count. I really loved you, Blaine Anderson, and though the idea of moving off to New York without you had once seemed so frightening that I almost lost my strength and stayed in Lima forever.. I knew that I had to go. And so did you. This was my dream, something that I had wanted before we had even met each other. If I didn't go, then I would end up resenting you for stealing away my chance; I could be one of those desperate "housewife" types that would blame his husband for a future that never was. Neither of us wanted that, so we split ways. At least it was amicable. There was no hate or malice in our breakup or my departure afterwards.

Even still, I wished you would have begged me to stay, but for you, that was irrational. You cared about me too much to tie me down to a dusty old town like Lima. I loved you even more for that. It only proved how much you cared, and it made it harder to get on that plane and leave. Our contact after that was fierce, like we were trying to make up for distance by spending every moment we could on the phone. During my entire freshman year at NYU I told you about everything. Every time I ate, slept, drank, studied, danced, cried; all of it. You knew about everything. I doubt I would have made it through that first year without you, honestly. I needed you, and like an addiction I kept coming back for more. Like I said, I loved you. My second year came along and I became buried in school work, so I couldn't talk to you as often. My third year there was even less time, and when I was talking to you it was usually on speaker phone while I was doing my homework, and I tried to pretend you were in the room with me; sitting by my side, just too far to touch if I leaned over. Yeah, it was silly of me, but I really did pretend you were there. Even after three years apart, my love for you burned brighter than the Olympic torch.

The years passed by and soon we started talking even less than before. I had to get jobs, support myself. I was no longer living under the money that had been put aside for me to use during college. I was a functioning adult, and I went through internships that took up most of my time. I got a Bluetooth so I could talk to you while I worked without getting in trouble, and I'd hear you laugh at conversations I had at work. Again, I pretended like you were there. But soon enough, even that ended. Before I knew it, the weeks we would go without talking turned into months. Then one day I realized that I couldn't remember when the last time we had spoken was. That day I cried for the first time in years, curled up on my bed with a stuffed animal you had bought me that last Valentine's Day we had spent together. I felt like a silly child. It had been over seven years since we had broken up, and I still held onto my love for you. You were my first real love, the one person who knew me better than I knew myself. At one time I had shared everything with you, and now you didn't even know who I was. I wondered if you were okay, if you were alive, what you were doing; all kinds of things. I hadn't dated since we split, and I had made sure not to ask if you had. I didn't want to know, it would have made pretending while we spoke on the phone impossible. All I wanted was for fate to bring us back together, and I had been so hoping that it would.

Finally, I had to pick myself up and try to move on. Not from you, no, but I needed to grab my life by the horns and take what I had been working so hard for. I had so many dreams, I wanted so much. Over the years I had auditioned for a few musicals and shows on Broadway. I was able to act in the background in a few things, and I even got some secondary character roles in smaller theaters, but not the big break I had hoped for. Still, I never gave up. I still had that picture, the one that was so old it should be dust.. The one I had held onto during high school, your class photo, the one I had framed and then hot glued magazine clippings around it to personalize it. The words and images on those scraps of paper were now nearly black and white, slightly sepia from age. Every time I looked at it I saw the bright colors it had once been, and I drew courage from it just like I had before. Again, I will admit, you were like an addiction now that you were gone. Without your calls, I talked to your picture sometimes. Not like I was obsessed and talked to you all of the time; I just shared small little things, like when I was getting dressed and couldn't pick an outfit. I'd ask you, look in the mirror, and try to see if I could come to a conclusion. I was silly, but I was still hopelessly in love.

I met a man name Pierre, somewhere in that seventh year of our separation. Well, I already knew him really. I had met him in college and he had asked me out a few times after we had met but I always dodged his advances. We hung out, but nothing formal or date-like, and one day I ended up spilling my guts right out on the table in front of him. It was just like when I had finally burst and told you about how trapped and depressed I was in high school. I don't even remember what set me off, but I just poured everything out right there. I told him why I was in New York, what my dreams were and how hard it was to keep chasing them when I wasn't getting anywhere. I told him about how easy I had thought it would be to succeed, and how I was losing my confidence. I explained that I had put so much effort into college, into my dream, and that I felt like I was drowning without a life vest to save me. Then I told him all about you, and how much I missed you. How we never talked, and how I was sure you were probably holding someone else in those gorgeous arms of yours, holding them close and telling them all the things you had said to me. I was in a coffee shop in New York City with a man who I had put my walls up with so that he could never get close.. And here I was pouring out my heart and soul. For a few minutes there, I broke. I didn't care that other people could see me crying, I had never really cared about that; even if it did make me look horrible when I got that emotional. My face scrunched up and my eyes went all squinty, and the puffiness that came next never helped my appearance. Not to mention the way my skin blotched up and reddened.

He got up and held me somewhere in the middle of my babbling. I didn't even notice, I was so caught up in myself, and he just held me and listened. So when, about a week later, he asked me to go on another coffee meeting with him -this time under the title of "date"- I finally gave in. I caved, and had the first real date since splitting up with you. Is it pathetic that it took me that long? Probably, but one never forgets their first love, and I have always been a romantic fool. Even then, in the first weeks of a relationship with another man, I expected you to ride in on a white horse and carry me away. Perhaps with some cheesy little romantic line about how I'd never left your heart, or how another man could never love me the way that you had. How your life had always had a slight hint of misery without me in it. Why had we not gotten back into physical contact after I had graduated from NYU? I didn't even know, it just never came up. Did that mean that neither of us wanted to be together as much as I had thought?

Time, that ever-changing force that had taken me from a naive teenage mind with great opinions and goals into a responsible adult taking charge of his dreams, drifted by further. With support from Pierre, who had eventually gotten me to allow him to kiss me and became my boyfriend, I set out to grab my dreams for all they were worth. A starring role on Broadway never happened, but I kept feeling like I was close. I wanted to give up, but I knew I couldn't. That wasn't me. I still had to make enough money to pay the bills, so I continued to work. Through the years, I had moved on from simple jobs waiting tables and taken a proper seat at Vogue via internship.

Then one day, I was reborn, and Jonathon Sparks came into being. What? You thought I was simply born into a name as classy as that? Hardly. And though I do love my birth name, this one seemed to fit me. One might ask; why did I create an alter ego for myself? It's simple. I was beginning a new business venture and taking another step towards something that I was interested in. This something had every potential, including that for failure. If this did flop, I did not want my own name tarnished in the process. I had every confidence in myself, and so did Pierre, but I did not want to risk ruining my birth name. You only get one of those. I made a big deal about this rebirthing process, and the venture I was about to take on. I had this giant meeting with a bunch of the people I had made friends with, and of course, Pierre. I even called my Father and his new wife so that they could join in on the talk via speakerphone. We all spoke for hours, and then finally, my decision was set in stone. I was starting my own magazine.

It sounded like the perfect idea for me. I had risen from intern to actually seeing some of my designs on a catwalk. I had taken supporting roles in big theaters all over town, lead roles in smaller theaters, and smaller roles on Broadway. When the subject of gay marriage being legal in all states and not just New York came up, I had fought tooth and nail to publicly and loudly give my full support and voice to the cause. So many ventures, so many of my interests had been explored. I believed it was time to step out of my comfort zone and go for something big. Maybe this would be great, and maybe this would get me further into the warmth and bliss of my dreams.

And so I began the steps needed to begin a magazine. I had saved up a good little chunk of money over the years; I was always responsible like that. So I started with a single room space that was small enough to be laughable, and built myself up from the ground. From nothing, I managed to pull together an entire crew, and through sweat, blood, and buckets of tears I came out with my first issue only six months after that meeting with all the people whose opinions I valued. Well, not all of the people who had opinions I valued. You weren't there, and don't think for one second that I didn't leave a seat open for you.. Just in case you magically knew that I needed you. Of course, you didn't. You're not a mind reader.

My first issue was self-published, a process I pursued by myself, and I managed to get a few copies distributed throughout town. A few of my friends even stood on street corners and sold handfuls of copies like the newspaper boys of old. I was so grateful for everything I had, for everyone I had. It took a year before I was able to publish enough copies to get them into stores, but it was still local. My magazine, Fem Nouveau, had yet to reach beyond New York City, but it was my next dream for it to become more than just a local thread. I liked to approach things one step at a time, since I had become mature enough to make fully detailed task lists and run a magazine single handedly. Well, that wasn't fair to say. I had plenty of help from other people and Pierre had both hands dipped into the magazine as well, but my name was the one under the header, and my decisions were the final say.

A few more years went by, and now I was ready to bring my magazine into the real world. I wanted to be able to spread the span that I distributed across in one foul swoop. I had been saving and collecting the best writers I could find. Not all of them were in New York either. I scourged the country, and with the money I had saved up throughout these years I was able to afford to fly out myself to interview the more important ones. Finally, my team was set up and everything was ready to go. I brought everyone to where they needed to be in order to begin working, and warned everyone how important this issue was. I wanted everyone to be as serious as I was, and I left knowing that I had complete confidence in everyone that was working for me.

I finally felt like I knew who I was again. I wasn’t lost anymore, and eventually.. I stopped pining over you. I stopped waiting and I let myself just… live.

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"What? Can't she just push it back in? Oh my god!" I exclaimed, sitting on the couch of my childhood home in my pajamas. It had to be about five in the morning, and my crazy sleep schedule had really caught up with me. I slept at weird hours, and always woke up wondering about my magazine, or auditions, or whatever play or musical I was currently in. This was supposed to be my vacation, and even now I couldn't calm my mind down. The moment my cell phone rang I had picked it up, answering it on the first ring when I recognized the number. My fiancé -- Yes, that's right, Pierre asked me to marry him and I said yes -- sat beside me, an arm lazily snaked around my waist, mumbling things in French about how early it was, and how even I shouldn't be getting calls from work at this hour; Especially not on my vacation. Biting my lower lip, my eyes darted around the room nervously before I lifted my hand to chew on the tip of my thumb. It was a nervous habit, and I was nearly shaking with nerves now. "I don't want to sound rude, but this is not the time for her to be having that baby."

I sounded like one of those rude, executive prick bastards and I knew it, so I sighed, biting down on my thumb a little harder before Pierre took the hand away from my lips. "Alright, give her my best. Send her a basket with chocolates, a teddy bear, sparkling cider, and enough cute little baby toys to fill up the rest of the space. No flowers, we don't want to end up irritating her senses, and nothing else in the chocolates because we have no idea what her stomach is going to feel like after she has that beautiful baby. Send her my best wishes, and get everyone in the office to sign a card and write my name for me as well. Email me all those other resumes we got when we were looking to fill her job. I'll go over them right now and call back when I know who I need to have interviewed. Au revoir."

Within a minute I was scanning through applications on my phone, looking for the perfect candidates. Pierre whimpered next to me, and I had to explain the situation before he understood why I was working on our vacation. As soon as he knew what a dire emergency this was, he was looking through the applications with me. One of my more important music reviewer columnists had just been taken to the hospital, and she was having her baby early. This wouldn't be a problem normally, but this was an important issue and if this one flopped then I might not be able to fund another one of this magnitude for a while. This was it. The make it or break it moment. This would either go so well that I’d be able to finally become a national name, or it would completely destroy everything I had so painstakingly built. Finally, we picked a candidate, I called my assistant back, and he made the plans for the interview. I was pleased to hear that the man was able to meet me here, in Lima, and that I could have the chance to see him and speak with him myself before deciding to hire him on for this important role. It was so important that I made the meeting for later in the same day, because I needed to be able to be sure I had time to look elsewhere if I needed to. Deadlines were coming up close, so I would already have to work really closely with this man in order to be sure he got things done on time.

Pierre and I fell asleep entwined on that sofa, watching mindless cartoons because they made him laugh and he insisted it would help me get my mind off of work long enough to fall asleep. He worried about my health constantly, because of how hard I had always pushed myself. It was an honest concern, though you would never tell how few hours I slept nowadays by looking at me. I had a wonderful skin care regime, and it kept me looking as youthful and fresh as ever.

The alarm on my phone went off a few hours later, the time was three hours before my scheduled meeting with my possible new writer. Yes, three hours for me to get dressed and ready to impress well enough to feel like I looked like magazine owning material. I showered and brushed my teeth, then moved around my bedroom with nothing more than a robe on, though the sash keeping it closed was held tightly in place. I picked out a deep red colored pair of slacks, dark enough that they looked black unless they hit the sun, and then they glinted with a bit of the brighter color. I grabbed the matching blazer and decided to calm the fashion choice down with a white button up shirt and a thin black tie with little red glittery design details; all designer, of course. After laying that all out on my bed I rushed back into the bathroom, intent on finishing my beautification ritual. There was a facial scrub and a hair mask, and after I rinsed all that off I put on three different moisturizers, an under the eye treatment to keep those pesky bags away, and a cream that was supposed to help keep facial hair from appearing. Because, let's face it, I had a baby face and I did not want to lose it. I dabbed make up concealer on a few spots on my face -under the eyes, my forehead, and some on any spot on my face that seemed discolored in any way- and then powdered my face so it wouldn't look shiny.

That was only the beginning. I styled my hair into place; comb in one hand and hairspray in the other. Once it was done, I spritzed it with a leave-in conditioner that made it even softer than it normally was. I was already hot from all the effort, so I fanned myself with my hand before dropping the robe, neatly hanging it up on its place on the back of the door. It never once touched the ground. No, my clothing never hit the ground, not even my robe. I spread lotion all over every inch of me but my face. There was one more, fancy moisturizer I put on, and this one was for the tougher areas to keep soft; my feet and elbows.

Finally, I was ready to dress. I moved back into the bedroom, stretching my arms over my head as I walked. After so many years with my own body, I was finally comfortable with it, as long as nobody else was there. I got dressed slowly, I had given myself enough time to do so, and I didn't want to get sweaty. That would gross me out. There were few rare occasions where sweat was anything but horrible disgusting. Like when a man was boxing, his knuckles tight underneath those gloves, slamming hard fists into those unforgiving punching bags until moisture dripped from heated pores. Anyway, that was not the topic of the day. I buttoned every button on my shirt, making sure every inch of my outfit was freshly pressed, and checked out every angle of myself in the mirror before slipping on my shoes and socks. The shoes were black, of course, as were the socks. A sideways glance at the clock told me it was time to go, and I grabbed my briefcase and headed towards the door. Pierre was still asleep, and so I leaned down to kiss his cheek chastely before grabbing my keys and wallet from the table beside the door and heading out.

It took me fifteen minutes to get to the coffee shop where I had planned to meet my potential new hire, and I sat in my car for an extra five minutes giving myself a pep talk to bring up my confidence.

"You are Jonathon Sparks, and you are amazing. You went for your dreams and you reached them. Forget about everything else. You. Are. Jonathon. Sparks. Live it. Love it. Breathe it. BE IT." I said to myself in my quest to gain more courage. I was always pretty good with people, and I was a bit of a diva throughout my life, so I wasn't all too worried by the end of my little chat with myself. My inner diva was awake, and I was ready for business. I grabbed the handle of my briefcase with one hand and the door handle with the other and opened the car door with determination. My head tilted up towards the sky as it so often did when faced with its first noted exposure of the day to the beautifully warm sun. I was still pale as a ghost, but I did enjoy feeling the warmth from time to time. I slid my keys and my wallet into my pocket and hit the button on the car door to lock it before closing it. My shoes made a little sound as I walked across the parking lot to the place that should have felt like a second home to me. How I could have gone to this exact parking lot so many times and not known immediately where I was stepping would have been beyond me if I had known how oblivious I was. Sure, it had a new name and it had been remodeled beyond recognition, but I thought that I would always remember exactly where this place was. It used to be the Lima Bean, after all.

Maybe I was in too much of a rush to feel the familiar sense of being home as I brushed passed the doors and into the building like I owned the place. Truthfully, I looked like a bit of a snob, my nose tipped into the air as I headed for the counter and ordered a drink. Being in Lima made me feel nostalgic, so I quickly ordered a medium, nonfat mocha and leaned against the waiting counter. I tapped my index finger against the hard surface as I scanned the crowd. There were a few people hanging around, sitting in various places. Most people were obvious and easily labeled. Nerdy college boy. High school cheerleader. Annoying hipster. There were a few possibilities for the person that I was there to meet. I thought about it, drumming that finger against the counter all the way until they called out my order loud enough for the room to hear. I turned my head, almost surprised as I was jolted out of my thoughts, eyebrows raised.

"Ooh yes." I said, nodding my head as I took the coffee from the barista. I pushed off of the counter, ready to take a wild guess and find the man I was here to meet. I picked the most likely candidate and as I stepped up behind him I raised a hand, even though he couldn't see me, and called out the name I was given.

"Joshua Cru?" I inquired, my voice confident and clear as I stepped around to the front of the stranger. My eyes were trained on his face, and so when I came around enough to see the features of the man I was speaking to I nearly fainted. I dropped my briefcase but managed to hold onto my coffee and reached out with my newly freed hand to hold onto the back of the closest chair. Yes. My name is Kurt Hummel, fashion icon and founder of Fem Nouveau, and my blue hues just fell on the man that had been my first love. I couldn't breathe. All of that confidence that I had built for myself before walking in just rushed out of me in one single second.

"Blaine.." I breathed out airily, because after all, how could I not recognize that face? Even with the glasses and the slight scruff, he was still the same Blaine I had known and loved; in the face at least. I had no idea that he actually was the person I was looking for, but I still lowered myself into a chair in front of his table anyway, swallowing thickly and panting out a few puffs of air, my expression trying to grasp an emotion but not sure which one to take. "Can I sit?" I asked, though I was already sitting down. It was like I didn't even realize, and truth be told, I didn't notice at all. His chocolate, hazel eyes were staring across the small table in between us and I felt like he was looking right through me; but not like he couldn’t see me, like he could see all of me in an instant.

#kurt hummel rp #klaine #klaine rp #klaine 1x1 #glee 1x1 #para #para: 001

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