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abused-sides · 4 years

Note

Could you write maybe a short angst/fluff thing about them discovering each others triggers and talking about them and how to avoid them? (My family and the people around me dont really respect mine so this is kinda just a request for me to project onto 😅 you absolutely dont have to tho)

fuck your family we’re your family now

Trigger warning: This au follows the sides as abuse survivors.

Other tws for: Yelling, arguments, passive aggression, non-censored homophobic slur used to talk about oneself, sl*t used in a joking and literally not at all degrading/mean manner also non-censored, drama violence (like reading a script), flashback/panic attack, ableism off screen, throw up mention, allergies mention, glass breaking, lmk if i missed anything! <3

enjoy the hurt/comfort lol it took me like an hour and a half xD

Edit: love when it just doesn’t fucking add the read more :) sorry about that guys

Virgil:

-While Virgil was helping Patton fix dinner, Roman and Logan started an argument at the table. Logan was upset that Roman hadn’t finished his chore list for the week, but Roman insisted that he would finish it and he just needed some extra time to work on commissions.

-Logan: We all have jobs, Roman, we still manage to get our chores done! This place is a mess half of the time and that’s largely due to you neglecting the list.

-Roman: Why are you acting like some weekly chore list is worth more than our jobs? Isn’t that why we moved in together, to pursue our passions?

-Logan: How are we meant to do that when we’re living in a mess?

-Roman: You’re completely overreacting.

-Logan: Fine. You’re right. I’ll just do everything. Sorry to be a bother.

-Virgil had slipped away from his job chopping vegetables to glance at the missing items on Roman’s chore list. The first one read sweep and mop the floors. He silently took the broom from its spot between the fridge and the counter, and worked on piling up the mess on the floor.

-Logan was about to storm out of the room, when he noticed Virgil.

-Logan: Are you okay?

-Virgil: Hm? I’m fine.

-Logan: You’re shaking.

-Patton: Of course he’s shaking. Would it kill you two to be nicer to each other?

-Realization dawned on Logan’s face. He bit his lip as he thought, and then turned to Roman.

-Logan: I don’t like it when you neglect your chore list. I understand you’re busy, but it makes life harder for all of us.

-Virgil stopped sweeping, looking at Logan in confusion.

-Roman was just as confused.

-Roman: I... Yeah, I got that, weirdo.

-Logan: I want to make sure there’s no confusion. Do you have anything you want to say to me?

-Roman’s eyes flicked between Virgil- Shaking, gripping the broom, staring at them with wide eyes -and nodded slowly.

-Roman: Some weeks I can’t complete the entire chore list. Finishing my commissions are more important. The kitchen can be cleaned later.

-Patton: And I can help! I don’t mind chipping in on chores.

-Logan: I can live with that. I’m going to my room.

-After that, there was an unspoken agreement to state things plainly, especially when fighting, and to try and keep the yelling at a minimum. Janus and Remus may have appreciated it even more than Virgil did.

Patton:

-Janus and Remus were visiting for a movie night, and they were still setting up. Patton fussed over the organization of the snack table, Roman over who sat where.

-Remus: I’ve got my seat!

-He flopped into Janus’ lap, who grunted.

-Janus: Jesus Christ, babe.

-Logan: You two are so...

-Remus: What? Sexy?

-Logan: No... Not the word I’m looking for.

-Remus: A cute couple of boys?

-Logan fought not to laugh.

-Logan: No... Not that, either.

-Remus: Just an attractive pair of young faggots?

-While Logan, Roman, and Janus burst out laughing, Patton choked. He covered his mouth and tried to recover, but the others laughing quickly died down.

-Virgil: *softly* Patton? Are you okay?

-Patton: I’m fine.

-He forced a weak smile.

-Patton: Are we ready for the movie?

-Remus: You look like you’re going to be sick. Is it something I said?

-Patton: It’s not a big deal-

-Janus: Bullshit. Tell us. What, Remus calling us faggots? It’s okay to laugh, we know we are.

-Patton didn’t take the bait, shakily sitting down. Janus’ grin faded.

-Patton: I just... I don’t like that word too much, I guess. It, um...

-Virgil: *quietly* Bad memories?

-Patton nodded quickly.

-Remus: Jesus! You should have told me! I’m sorry, Pat-A-Cake! I guess Janny and I have just been calling each other that for so long, I forgot it bothers some people.

-Janus: Yeah, um, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have encouraged it, it wasn’t very-

-Patton: Guys, stop. You don’t have to apologize, okay? I’m okay.

-Roman opened his arms with a soft smile. Patton sighed happily and crawled into his lap, his back against Roman’s chest.

-Remus: So what can I say instead? Slu-

-Janus slapped his hand over Remus’ mouth.

-Janus: Why don’t you just try behaving?

-Patton: *laughing* No, I’m actually pretty used to that one. Roman can’t see a cute boy without calling himself that.

-Remus: Perfect. Was that the word you were looking for, Logan? Just a bunch of cute little sluts?

-Logan slapped his hand to his forehead.

-Logan: *dryly* That’s exactly the word I was looking for.

Logan:

-The morning was a busy one. Logan had three projects due that he’d somehow neglected, Roman had two auditions, Patton had an increase in orders to pass out, and Virgil had an interview for an apprenticeship at a tattoo parlour.

-Everyone raced around the kitchen-- No time for a family breakfast today. Logan banged at the coffee maker as it went painfully slow, Patton trying to carefully package a box of cupcakes. Roman slid between the two of them to get to the fridge, nearly tripping over Logan’s feet.

-Roman: Hey, watch out! Tryna get out the door here!

-Logan stiffened.

-Logan: Apologies, Roman.

-Roman looked at him in confusion at the formal tone, but shook it off and grabbed his water bottle so he could race out the door. Soon, the apartment was empty, everyone left to their respective tasks.

-Logan didn’t come home for a while.

-Patton left a sticky note on Logan’s door to say his dinner was packed up in the fridge for whenever he wanted it, but couldn’t stop feeling worried. He stayed up until 4am on the couch watching cartoons, eventually passing out.

-When Logan still wasn’t home in the morning, Roman carried Patton to bed and stormed across the hall.

-He rapped loudly on the door. It swung open a moment later, revealing the tired, angry face of his brother.

-Remus: What do you want?

-Roman: Is Logan with you?

-Remus: Well, I know where he’s not.

-Roman: I’m not fucking around. Just tell me-- We’re worried about him!

-Remus arched an eyebrow, a sick grin spreading across his face.

-Remus: *whispering* Are you now?

-Roman: What’s going on? Is he okay?

-Remus: *voice still hushed* You would think out of all of us, you and I would know better. You and I would know exactly what to say to make someone feel worthless. The difference is, it’s usually me who says it, and you who avoids it.

-Roman: I don’t get it. What did I say? Did I hurt him?

-Remus: He feels like a waste of space in his own home!

-Roman pushed past Remus into the apartment, finding Logan asleep, Janus curled around him protectively.

-Roman: Logan!

-Logan and Janus both startled awake. Janus glared and hissed.

-Roman: My God, why didn’t you tell anyone you weren’t coming home? We were so worried! Patton stayed up all night waiting for you! Why was your phone off?!

-Logan frowned in confusion and sat up, self-consciously scooting away from Janus and brushing his arm away. He found his glasses and put them on.

-Logan: What? I just figured, the apartment seemed cramped lately, people were getting cranky. Janus and Remus offered to let me stay before in the past, so I thought I might give you all some space.

-Roman shook his head wildly.

-Roman: Why would you think that? You scared us! Dinner’s still waiting for you in the fridge, and- and you could have at least called us to let us know!

-Logan fought not to shrink in on himself. He was silent for a while, before he said, quietly, confused, “I thought this was what you wanted.”

-Roman: No. Where did you-

-Roman paused.

-He felt so stupid.

-Roman: No- God, Logan, I’m so... I’m so sorry. I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry I ran into you, and then...

-Janus and Remus looked at Logan, waiting his response before reacting.

-Logan: It’s okay, Roman. I guess I just got confused. Has Patton started on breakfast yet?

-Roman: No, he’s asleep.

-Logan: I’ll make breakfast. I’ll be there in five minutes.

-Remus gripped Roman’s shoulder.

-Remus: I’ll show you out.

Roman:

-Roman and Remus were in the main four’s living room, scripts in each hand. Roman had asked Remus’ help in reading lines for a scene, and they had both gotten way too into it.

-Patton: Be careful with my throw pills! My sister stitched those!

-Remus cackled maniaclly from his position on the couch, a plastic sword held at Roman’s throat.

-Remus: Now what did I tell you?!

-Roman, on his knees on the carpet, faked a pained groan.

-Roman: It’s not true.

-Remus: Still thinking that, huh? What do I have to do to get it through your head? Beat it out of you?!

-Remus lurched forward with his fake sword.

-Roman’s heart stopped, the blood drained from his face, and he threw himself away from Remus’ advance. He fell back, nearly knocking his head against the coffee table they moved, crossing his arms in front of his face.

-Remus: Roman? *nervous laughter* Come on, I know I’m not that good an actor. Are you... Okay?

-Roman shakily lowered his arms, staring at Remus with wide, paranoid eyes. He gasped for breath.

-Patton jumped up from the kitchen table and raced into the living room. Remus caught Patton by the waist as Roman flinched and covered his face again.

-Patton’s eyes welled up.

-Patton: Roman? Roman, what’s wrong?

-Remus: *mumbling* Go sit on the couch, I’ll wave you over.

-Patton didn’t want to, but he listened. Remus sat on the ground, plenty of space between him and his brother.

-Remus: Ro? I need you to look around, tell me five things you can see.

-Roman: Stained- Stained glass.

-Remus: There’s no stained glass here. Look around, harder. What do you see?

-Roman: Your stupid mustache.

-Remus: *laughing* Yeah, that’s good. What else?

-Roman: Um... Um- The- The carpet.

-Remus: What colour is the carpet?

-Roman: Green- No. No, it’s beige.

-Roman ran his fingers along the beige carpet, trying to control his breathing.

-Remus: That’s good. Three more.

-Roman: I see Patton. Um, his glasses. There’s flour on his hands. Does that count?

-Remus: Sounds like five to me. Four things you can touch?

-Roman: Carpet. Um, my shirt. The table. Y-You?

-Remus scooted forward slowly and opened his arms for Roman to curl into. Remus held him tight, his chin rested on Roman’s shoulder.

-Remus: Tell me three things you can hear.

-Roman: Your heartbeat. Patton crying- Patton, please, love, I’m okay.

-Patton: I- I know. I’m sorry. I just- I know.

-Roman: Patton’s voice.

-Remus: Two things you can smell.

-Roman: That awful deodorant you use. And Janus, for some reason.

-Remus: One thing you can taste?

-Roman: Salt.

-Remus: You back in the present now?

-Roman buried his face in Remus’ chest. Remus held him tightly and waved Patton over. Patton staggered to his feet and Remus gently transferred Roman to curl in Patton’s lap, who cooed in his ear and kissed over the side of his face. Remus quietly slipped out of the apartment.

Remus:

-Janus: Remus? What’s wrong?

-Remus didn’t answer, slamming the door shut and headed straight for the bathroom. The water turned on a moment later.

-Janus looked through Remus’ drawer for his meds and counted them carefully. He’d taken his dosages. He settled against the headboard and waited for Remus to finish showering.

-About an hour later, Janus was startled awake to a wet pressure on his chest.

-Janus: *mumbling* Ew. You couldn’t have dried off? Got dressed?

-Remus looked up at him with wide, teary eyes. Janus raked his fingers through Remus’ hair and kissed his forehead.

-Remus: It doesn’t matter.

-Janus: It does. Was it that bitch again?

-Remus: She is a bitch.

-Janus: Exactly. What’d she say this time?

-Remus settled back against Janus’ chest.

-Remus: *mumbling* It doesn’t matter. She’s right.

-Janus: I doubt she’s ever been right about anything in her life, especially my Remus. So what did she say? I need to prove her wrong. Proving people wrong is kind of my thing.

-Remus let out a breathy laugh.

-Remus: I got upset again. A family told her about their child’s allergy, and she didn’t tell me. I made the dish normally and the girl threw up and had to go home. I started yelling, because I mean I was freaking out, what if I’d killed her? If it was a more severe allergy, she- she couldn’t have been older than seven, it could have killed her just being on the table, and- and-

-Janus: Hey, baby, take a second to breathe. Just breathe with me for a second, okay?

-Janus took in a deep breath, his chest raising and lowering Remus gently as he followed the pattern.

-Remus: She told me to stop worrying about it, that I was delusional. She asked if I remembered my meds. She said I was overreacting.

-Janus’ hold on Remus tightened as hatred boiled in his stomach.

-Janus: I’m going to get that bitch fired.

-Remus: Janus, no, I probably-

-Janus: You did not overreact. She didn’t tell you, and not only could that have killed the girl, it could have ruined your life. We can’t afford a good lawyer, they would pin it on you and shove it under the rug. And you’re not fucking delusional.

-Remus: I do... Have... Delusions...?

-Janus: That doesn’t have anything to do with this!

-Remus laughed weakly.

-Janus: Yeah, you have delusions that the girl on the fifth floor runs a meth lab, and that someone lives in the basement, but that- That was not a delusion. She should be put in jail!

-Remus raised his head and kissed Janus softly. He nuzzled into his neck, and Janus hugged him tight.

-Janus: I checked your meds. You’re completely caught up.

-Remus: I know.

-Janus: And you’re not crazy.

-Remus: I know.

-Janus: And I love you.

-Remus: I know. I love you, too.

Janus:

-Janus had snuck into the other apartment to see if Patton had any leftovers from his last orders. The others were asleep, but he knew they wouldn’t care. Patton left notes on the things no one could touch.

-He found a small plate of assorted cookies with no warning, and settled at the table to eat a few.

-On his way to put them back, someone on the floor above them screamed a string of curses, and a door slammed. Janus flinched, his shaky hands loosing hold of the plate. His heart dropped as it shattered along the tile.

-He couldn’t breathe.

-Clean it up and leave, go, now!

-Hurry up! Before someone finds you!

-Don’t worry about clean up, just go! You weren’t here!

-Logan: Janus?

-Janus’ head snapped up. He spoke before thinking about the words coming out.

-Janus: I just got here. I don’t know what happened, I was about to clean it up. It wasn’t me.

-Logan raised an eyebrow, eyes sleepy.

-Logan: *flatly* Really?

-That was the worst lie you’ve ever told in your life.

-His stomach coiled in embarrassment. He forced up a smile.

-Janus: I know what it looks like. But I assure you, it wasn’t me.

-He reached for the broom, but Logan carefully stepped over the glass and grabbed Janus’ wrist.

-Logan: Janus-

-Janus: *gasping* I’m sorry! It wasn’t me!

-Logan: Janus. I’m not angry! What’s the matter?

-Janus hesitantly met Logan’s eyes. Logan’s soft, worried eyes.

-Logan: You know I would never hurt you.

-Janus: Of course.

-Logan: I’ll clean this up. Do you... Want to stay over?

-Janus’ heart stuttered.

-Janus: If you want me to, I suppose I could stomach it.

-Logan smiled a little.

-Logan: You suppose?

-Janus: I suppose.

-Logan: I’ll meet you in there.

-Janus’ heartrate had slowly gone back to normal as he laid in Logan’s bed. A few minutes later, Logan slipped in behind him, hesitantly resting a hand on Janus’ hip.

-Janus rolled over and pulled Logan into his arms. Logan sighed in content, nuzzling into his chest.

-Janus: I didn’t break the plate.

-Logan: It doesn’t matter who broke the plate.

#virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #deceit sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #roommates au #abuse tw #abuse mention

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falls-slice-of-fantasy · 3 years

Text

So, i know no one asked, but have a seat make yourself at home and get some popcorn. This is LONG. Also I think due to this AU I’m J’s dad and not her brother??? but it’s fine even if I really normally HATE erasing her mom. i have to reblog for part 2.

It’s already canon that my Phantoms s/i is a producer who works really hardcore behind the scenes. But here’s the thing. I grew up deep in the entertainment industry and my main jobs include editing movie scrips and mixing music but he also gives HEAVY feedback on all sorts of creative projects from soundtracks to anything else. A lot of it is from his connections though and no one really knows what his official paid job is besides payroll. ( Lyell I know you’re in film school please forgive me if you read this mess???)

So I’m thinking about an AU where he’s older than me for NO reason. He’s been in the industry for about 5 years officially but again, he pretty much grew up in entertainment, he was probs in a few commercials as a wee child but just never really went into acting. It was just more of “Oh, hey Ray’s toddler is here? Maybe we could just add him in the shot!” and “Doesn’t Ray have a 10 y.o who can look at some fish? for this low budget af pet store ad” LMAO. Anyway.

After five years of being in the industry as an official mystery job I decide to do a music class for kids out of the local guitar shop that’s like a block from the local public and private school. I go ahead and rent out the space for weekdays right after school for kids in middle school. My main goal was to give kids a place to go after school if their parents worked but it was obviously open to everyone.

I start putting out ads and eventually I get some kids, but it’s way less than I expected. I honestly kind of worry it’s the “married to a man thing”. I’m pretty well known because my husband’s an actor. But then parents start calling asking about prices.

One day this kid comes in and he’s like this total pop punk kid in a flannel that’s like 100x too big for his damn body wanders in and he slaps a bunch of singles and coins on the table and he’s like “This is 2 months of lunch money is it enough for guitar lessons? I’m going to be a rockstar.”

and listen, I pretend to count this kid’s money and it’s like $8.50. (Lessons are $20 a week + paying for strings or like replacement parts) but I’m like “This is exactly enough! What’s your name?”

“Luke. Remember it! I’m gonna be FAMOUS.” and I just. BABIE.

and I get out an acoustic guitar and start showing him a couple a things. Before he leaves I hand him his money back and he’s like “This was for the lesson.” and I tell him “It’s a a deposit, it was just to make sure you didn’t break the guitar!”

and this babie comes in every day for four days and keeps giving me his 8.50 in singles and coins and I keep teaching him guitar stuff and giving it back. (Crying my EYES out thanks)

and then he doesn’t come in for like 8 days and I don’t think much of it because 1. he isn’t my kid, I barely know him and 2. Kids gain and lose interest in things all the time. Then he comes in and he’s like “Can I bring my best friend? He plays guitar too!”

and I pretend to be all professional like “Of course if he brings his deposit.”

and so this one couple comes in one day with Luke and another boy and the husband comes over and tells me he’d like to enroll his son Reginald. The mom is scolding him I’m like “Okay, great. It’s $20 a week and he can come any weekdays until 6(plural) plus you’ll have to replace any strings or drum heads he breaks.” and this dude is like “Do you take checks?” and I’m like “Sure”

and he tries to pay for 2 weeks and his wife starts fighting with him about how pointless it is to write a check for that little and convinces him to buy like 4 weeks.

He asks me what I’d recommend, and honestly like. This couple is stressing me out. So I tell them. “You know, how about we do three lessons for free and if he gets dedicated enough we can talk about a monthly or bi-montly payment?”

They agree to this. So both these boys are coming and one day Reg is like “I want to play bass!”

So I’m like “Lets do it!”

and the class starts filling up a LOT. Like I have 8 kids now in the class and people are talking about it word of mouth. Reg and Luke are there almost every day of the week. But one day Luke’s parents come in and he’s begging them to buy him a guitar.

and they’re worried about spending that much money on something he’s just going to get bored with, and with very little hesitation I’m sort of like. “Hey, I’ve got an old six string. It’s from like the 70′s but it still plays and he’s welcome to have it.”

and his parents feel so weird about accepting it but I assure them that i have a wall full of guitars that were mostly gifts and I don’t mind parting with it at all if Luke is really passionate.

and that kinda blows over and now Luke has this real beat up six string but it still works. (I left out the fact that some famous country singer gave it to me when he was drunk when I was 15).

A I keep classes open on holiday breaks and extend them but it kinda just turns into a daycare + music when there aren’t school days, and all these kids keep coming and I’m basically made it PAYW/can.

Luke’s parents want to pull him out but honestly he’s the most focused kid in the class. It would kill me if they just kinda snuffed him out so I’m like “I think he could really be great. He puts in 110% in every lesson and there are 30 kids here and I only see that from two other students.”

and his mom is all about how she doesn’t want him to waste his life, and she doesn’t mean it too harshly but she points out that despite my connections I ended up just teaching. I assure her that the only reason I missed this chance was because of my choices and if Luke applies himself he can really make a career of what he loves.

So she kinda agrees to keep him in if he keeps his grades up. Fast forward to the next year where R and L are 7th graders and they’re basically the only two left from the original group. [There are maybe a handful of others but most of them aren't OGs]

R’s parents buy him a brand new bass and it’s really good quality so he can practice at home too. L and R are practicing together all the time.

#smol: unburied 🏳️‍🌈🥁#smol: inside voices only 🔇#smol: he has a way with words ✏

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melchixr · 7 years

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Tech Booth Blues (and Reds)

Anon said: So I have this headcanon for a modern Spring Awakening AU. So Moritz does lights and takes it seriously and Melchi does sound but only actually does it to hang with Moritz in the booth.

so i sorta wrote this as an exercise in writing freeform without knowing what the next plot point is. And that’s fairly obvious. Also VERY Self indulgent.

Words:2059

“Hey, can I have thirteen and seven up?” Moritz’s voice called from the other side of the auditorium. When he looked down and saw the stage still only lit in the golden upstage lights. “Gabor!” He yelled out, a bit louder. Still no change. “Melchior, if you don’t put up seven and thirteen on this very second I will climb down this ladder and shove these filters up your-”

The light beside his head suddenly turned on, casting a dark red light center stage. The heat immediately bombarded the side of Moritz’s face and made it feel like his mass of hair was being singed off. But hell, at least Melchior was listening for once.

“Thank you!” He called over his shoulder and began his descent back to the floor. After the first few months of these treacherous climbs, he finally got a hang of the whole ‘controlling your limbs’ concept. This was, of course, after a handful of times his fall was broken by a handful of seats. When he got to the ground, he slumped back to the tech booth, where he saw Melchior leaning against the back wall with his head tilted back.

He was on the back two legs of his stool, eyes closed and his chest steadily moving up and down.

“For fucks sake, I’ve been gone for five minutes,” Moritz hissed, staring at the other boy with unmeasured malice. Without another wasted second, he approached Melchior and placed his hand between his shoulderblades. He didn’t wake up, which was a step forward. He pushed Melchior forward, away from the wall and sent the stool back to it’s fully standing position.

This sudden jolt woke Melchior up almost instantly. The curly haired boy bolted upright to stop himself from stumbling over and looked up with wild eyes. “What the hell, Moritz. I was trying to nap.”

“This show opens in an hour and a half and only half of our house lights have the filters on. And you’re trying to nap?”

Melchior looked around the booth, as if he were actually surprised by Moritz’s anger. “Uh...Yeah. You said I can’t go home so I might as well try to catch some REM here.”

Moritz rolled his eyes and picked up the blue filters he had left on the soundboard. “You are fucking impossible, Melchior. We have a show to run.”

“Who’s bright idea was it to let all the gay kids have their show during finals week?”

Moritz, red with anger, stopped himself from leaving the booth. He instead turned on his heel to look Melchior dead in the eye. “There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t know where to begin. But first off, it’s The Tempest, one of William Shakespeare’s best works so have some respect. Secondly, they’ve been practicing for months and you would have known if you came to tech rehearsals. And finally, if I find you sleeping one more time I will rip your eyelids off with a pair of pliers.”

“So you’re not gonna defend me calling them gay?” Melchior said snidely as Moritz went back down the steps to the ladder up to the lights on the left side of the house.

As the older of the two climbed, he yelled back down, “I’m not going to pretend like the whole cast isn’t gayer than the fourth of July.”

He could hear Melchior snicker as he took back to climbing the rungs and making sure his sweaty palms didn’t betray him.

Moritz had prayed to all the gods of tech that tonight would go smoothly. He did everything in his power to be sure of it. He had already gotten enough shit from entitled actors and desperate directors so he wanted to be sure that nothing happened. Because if anything did happen, it would be immediately pinned on him.

So of course he wanted to curl into a hole and die when he was trying to discuss one simple lighting change with Ernst and he heard a familiar voice come in over the speakers.

“In a world… Where one man has total control of a production put on by a bunch of geeky college kids, his iron fist rules their sound and soon...their minds!” MElchior cackled dramatically, his voice being sent all over the theater.

Ernst looked at Moritz with a glare that could melt steel. “Please do not tell me he’s the one up there with you.” Moritz was unable to reply at first. That was until Hanschen, dressed in a pair of torn up tights and a baggy blouse, looked up at the ceiling between strokes of the makeup girl smearing dirt on his face and said, “Huh, so that’s what god sounds like.”

“Holy heck,” Ernst said hopelessly, casting his arms to the side in a ‘why me’ fashion. “The first play I’ve ever directed is opening in thirty minutes and this buffoon is in the tech booth.”

Moritz charged to the back of that theater faster than anyone had seen him move. And the first thing he saw was Melchior, beat boxing into the mic with childlike wonder in his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing!” Moritz hissed, which the mic probably picked up. He then tore it from Melchior’s hand and turned it off before continuing. “Do you even want to be here?”

“No.”

The answer, plain and effective, took Moritz by surprise. He stared at Melchior amused eyes. It was as if he were an animal being watched in a zoo. Or a cat being filmed for a fucking Youtube video.

“Well then why are you here trying to ruin this production?” Moritz practically shouted. He knew this kid was trouble on the first day of school. He came into the Lights In Technical Theatre class Moritz TA-ed for twenty minutes late with a Jamba juice and asked if he had to take notes.

Of course you have to take notes, asshole.

“Cause you asked for assistance.”

At first, Moritz didn't know what to say. so Melchior continued plainly. “You seemed desperate for help and no one else wanted to do it. Plus, I didn't want to see you struggling. “

Finally, Moritz collected himself enough to say with a glare, “Well I'm going to keep struggling if you act up for the rest of the night. So don't fuck around please.” Melchior looked at him with soft, understanding eyes. “Alright, doors open in ten. Bring the house lights up all the way.”

Melchior seemed to calm down considerably by the time the audience filed into the room. He sat in the booth, behind the glass, patiently flipping through the little “prompt book” Moritz had made. Moritz was impressed, watching his companion’s eyes look over the words. His expression was gentle and understanding unlike every other time Moritz had seen him. But Moritz still looked at him every time he moved so much as an inch, watching to make sure he didn't fuck with a light or mic when Moritz least expected it.

But nothing. No acting up at all. Melchior had become a perfect angel. And Moritz had realized why about half way through the show.

With intermission behind them, Moritz had assumed it would be smooth sailing. He watched Hanschen, panting as if the two pound fake log he had been carrying were actually a hundred pounds. “ No, noble mistress;'tis fresh morning with me When you are by at night. I do beseech you--” He said to Wendla, in her plain white sack of a dress that looked perfectly handmade. She just gazed back with an equal amount of awe and passion. And honestly, you don't really need to act enraptured when you're Ferdinand has a face like this. “ Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers-- What is your name?”

Noticing how the line sounded from the speakers, Moritz quickly nudged the gain a bit in hopes that would fix the already minor issue. But as he moved his hand back down, he felt a piece of paper hit him.

It was a piece ripped from his prompt book that Melchior was still pretending to study attentively. And it had been crushed into a ball.

“Miranda.--O my father, I have broke your hest to say so!” Wendla responded with a heavy sigh as Moritz read from the wrinkled paper.

On it was, written in scratchy, cursive handwriting that set Moritz’s dyslexia into a headspin, ‘Do you wanna make out?’.

Moritz looked up at the culprit, the only other person in the booth, Melchior. He was watching the actors, but the little impish smirk on his face told Moritz that he knew exactly what he was doing.

‘Scene transition coming up, pay attention.’ Moritz responded and slid the paper back across the table. Melchior’s hand jetted out immediately to seize it from Moritz’s hands. He wasn’t even trying to keep up his calm and collected facade. Now he was smiling down at the little piece of lined paper.

He looked up for a moment to see Wendla basically ranting about how much of a virgin she is while staring Hanschen down with ‘fuck me eyes’. He then tossed the paper right back to his booth buddy.

‘We have like 50 more lines. That’s roughly 3 more minutes.’

‘I’m not going to make out with you now, Melchior.’

‘Then after the show?’

‘Why do you suddenly wanna make out?’

‘We’re filling up this paper, Moritz. Do you wanna make out of not?’

“TELL ME NOT!” Georg repeated for the third time, shouting because neither his mic was on nor the lights on his side of the stage were on. The shout suddenly grabbed Moritz’s attention and he began to switch the sound board off on and on like a laptop keyboard. Melchior did the same, quickly transitioning the golden center stage lights to the dark blue stage right ones.

“Holy fuck….” Moritz whispered to himself as Georg began to take his line to Thea, glaring at the booth the whole time. “That was almost a trainwreck. Stop distracting us!”

Melchior sighed and leaned back in his seat, pausing for a second before stating plainly. “So… This scene is really long… You sure you don’t wanna make out?”

“Why do you suddenly want to make out!” Moritz hissed an inch louder than he should have. This only caused Melchior to shush him and lean closer to Moritz. His eyes remained locked on the stage though. “This is so out of the fucking blue?!”

“Are you telling me that the sexual tension I’ve been feeling all week is just...nothing?”

Moritz stared at the other in shock, his pupils taking up most of his eyes. “No! I haven’t been feeling that at all!”

Melchior chuckled to himself and went back to focussing on the stage. “Sure...Tell yourself that.”

No one spoke for the rest of the scene. No one even spoke for the rest of the show. It wasn’t until Ilse, in her long flowing robes and big, driftwood staff, did her final bow and all the house lights came up that Melchior looked back to Moritz.

“So uh… I’m assuming you’ve been thinkin it over but…”

Moritz span around in his chair and without a second of hesitation, tossed Melchior the car keys he had been keeping in his lap just for this moment. “Here,” He stated with the shyest smile Melchior had ever seen. “My car is the yellow Subaru in the back parking lot. It’s old and beat up and ignore the Taco Bell wrappers in the back. I didn’t think I would be having visitors today. Either way, let me close up and I’ll drive you to the Denny’s after party.”

Melchior jumped to his feet and practically lunged to gather his things. “Will we be making a pit stop on the way there or….?”

“Well, if I recall correctly, you said you have lots of finals coming up so…” He looked up to Melchior looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. He looked like a puppy being picked up from the shelter. “But we can take the scenic route.”

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