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tyttetardis · 3 months

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Macbeth Q&A 18th Jan 2024 Part 1

Was lucky enough to get a ticket for the Member's Event at the Donmar Warehouse that took place on the 18th...with the price of the patronages I sure never thought I'd have gotten the chance, but luckily, they also let in some non-members 🥹❤️

The brilliant performance of Macbeth was followed by a very quick cleaning of the stage - thought for sure it would've taken them longer to remove the blood than like 5 minutes - followed by a lovely, little Q&A session.

The Q&A was led by Craig Gilbert (Literary manager) who talked to Annie Grace and Alasdair Macrae (Musicians and part of the acting ensemble) as well as Cush Jumbo and David Tennant.

Anyway, just gonna write down some of the stuff they talked about :) sorry if it's a bit messy! Might be spoilery if haven't seen it yet but is going to!

To begin with Craig remarked that he didn't think he'd ever seen that many people staying behind for a Q&A before (While I was just wondering why some people even left!? Stressful!).

David introduced himself with "My real name is David "Thane of Paisely" Tennant - while Cush introduced herself with "I´m Cush Jumbo - there's only one of me".

First question was Craig asking them what it was that brought them to the Donmar to do Macbeth - to which David pretty much just replied that 1. It's the Donmar! 2. It's Macbeth! One of the greatest plays of all time in an amazingly intimate space - and that the theatre is famous for its quality of work. So he found it quite hard to think of a reason not to do it!

Cush said she'd worked there before and loves the theatre, how it's so intimate but also a great workspace. Followed by her saying she said yes because David asked her. She talked about how important it was for this play to do it together with the right actor playing opposite you.

David says Max Webster asked him about a year ago if he wanted to do the play - he gave him the dates - and since there weren't any obstacles in the way, David didn't have any excuse not to do it.

He then said that he had slightly avoided Macbeth - there sorta being the assumption that if you're Scottish and has done some Shakespeare plays before you have to do Macbeth. Which he joked was a bit odd since it's not like every Italian has to play Romeo. Then he mentioned that Macbeth is probably a bit more of a jock than he is - that it seemed more like a part for big, burly actors.

Max had laid out his initial ideas to David, a lot of which are in the final production, and David thought he seemed lovely, bright and clever and inventive plus it being the Donmar Warehouse! To which joked that he had last worked there 20 years ago - when he was 8 years old! "It's just one of those spaces" - friendly and epic at the same time where it's such a pleasure to be on the stage.

When Craig asked his next question concerning the sound of the play someone asked him to speak louder as she couldn't hear them - to which David joked that they've gotten so used to whispering. But also said sorry, and that they would!

Alasdair explained a bit about the process of the binaural sound - bit I find it a bit difficult to decipher it all correctly, sorry. He did say that a interesting part of it is that it allows them a controlled environment where they can put all the musicians (and even the bagpipes!) behind the soundproof box so "Poor David and Cush" doesn't have to shout over all the racket.

Craig asked David and Cush what their reaction was when they heard about the concept of the binaural soundscape - to which David replied that it didn't quite exist when they first came onboard - Cush joking they were tricked into it. Then she talked about her and David going on a workshop with Max to get a feeling of how it would all work - and get a sense of how it would sound to the audience, as this was one of the few times, they got to hear that side of it. Their experience of the play being completely different to the experience the audience has.

Cush said they can hear some of the sound - like she can hear some of the animal sounds and David can hear some of the stuff from the glass box - but most of their cues and information comes from timing with each other. She said they won't be able to ever hear what the audience hears - to which David joked "We're busy".

It felt like mixing medias - as it all went quite against their natural stagecraft instinct - but Cush found that in the long run it made things very interesting - like they don't have to worry about getting something whispered to each other - as the audience will hear it anyway.

David said the odd thing is that they don't really know what the experience truly is like. He mentioned that to the sides of the stage there's a speaker for them where they will get any cues that they need to hear. Like they can hear the witches - but they can't hear where they are "positioned" - so they have to learn how to place themselves to fit with what the audience hears. They don't hear everything, though. And the audio they hear is quite quiet, so it doesn't disturb what comes through the headphones.

He thinks it's been exciting - that it's a bit like a mix between film and theatre. It's happening live - but it's also like post-production is happening between them and the audience as it's going on. They just have to trust that the audience is hearing what they are supposed to for it all to make sense.

Cush said she thinks in 10 - 20 years, as these technologies has developed, doing theatre like this will feel a lot more normal - not that they will do it ALL the time, but that they will be doing it - whereas now it's still like an experiment. What Cush really like about the concept is that if was done in a much bigger theatre - then people in the cheapest seats would be able to have an experience much more similar to those in the most expensive seats - they'd be a lot more immersed into the action.

David then talks about how it feels extremely counterintuitive to not go on stage and speak loud enough that the people in the back row can also hear you. And usually, if they can't hear you, you aren't doing your job right! But then it felt very liberating. He loves it.

Cush then talked about how it felt odd waiting in the wings for a cue you can't hear - where you traditionally wait backstage and you can hear your cues, you can hear the rythm and know when it's your turn - so it was quite disconcerting to hear silence. So it's basically down to them now knowing the show and each other's timings - like if David is standing at a certain point, she knows how long she has before she needs to say/do something. So you have to watch each other more closely and really focus on what the others are doing.

David asked the musicians if they can hear everything inside the box, to which Annie replied that they get everything except some extra bits in the soundscape. But they can hear the actors on stage. Annie said it's actually a bit of a mystery to all of them what the audience actually experiences - how the big pictures actually look like - they just have to trust that it's there "Is it there?!".

Someone asked if they had had any adverse reactions from audiences to having to wear the headphones. Quite a bit of laughter all around :P then David said "There's the odd person" and something about if someone hadn't gotten the memo before turning up...but not sure how he ended the line. Then once again says that yes, there's the odd person who doesn't like it and that's fair enough.

The same audience member then said he could see the advantage of it in a big theatre where the distance is big, but not in a small place like the Donmar - to which David very quickly, rather passionately replied that it's not about projection, it's about being able to do things you wouldn't normally be able to do live - where they can speak so quietly that they can't even hear each other when standing next to each other. So even in such a small place, people wouldn't be able to hear that. It's about creating a different play - which isn't to everyone's taste and that's fair enough. But for a play that's been done a hundred and seven million times he thinks it's very valid to try and find a new way into the play - even if it's not for everyone.

Part 2

#David Tennant #Macbeth #Donmar warehouse #Cush Jumbo #I messed up this recording sooooo bad #I didn't see people pull out their phones to record it so I didn't dare do that either...#and man did I get a shitty recording out of it :(#and the audio ain't great either...Craig was sitting the furthest from me and didn't have a mic so can be a bit difficult to hear at times #Cush was sitting the closest to me (not that close - I was still in second row!) and David was sitting next to her #while I didn't have a perfect frontal view - the angle I was at did mean that I still got a perfect view of David's adorable smiles <3 #and all his other lovely facial expressions as he often looked to Cush when she was talking and replied to her...#which made it FEEL like he was looking in my direction *sigh*#and he looked so good with his comfy cardigan - skin tight jeans - and his glasses!#You know I have seen David quite a few times by now - but I'm pretty sure this was the first time I saw him wearing his own glasses!#I desperately wish I had managed to capture some pictures or a video---because OMG! He was so lovely <3 #Oh didn't know there was a text limit...or that I had written this much...guess I'm continuing in a part 2

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lonelyzarquon · 3 months

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DOCTOR WHO REFERENCE IN A NEW PETER CAPALDI SHOW I SEE YOU🫵👁

#i paused to see what his character has written there and boom #very subtle and silly of them :)#criminal record #peter capaldi #doctor who

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weebannihilator · 11 months

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[ID: Three screenshots from Across the Spiderverse. Rio looks at Miles kindly and says, "And he never lets anyone tell him he doesn't belong there". The next screenshot is Miguel speaking harshly to Miles, saying "You don't belong here". End ID]

I am aching at this parallel. She gave this beautiful speech about how scared she is because she sees how willing Miles is to embrace the world and all she wants is for him to be loved and accepted wherever he goes. Shes scared that if shes not with him, he wont have that.

The same cruelty she was so afraid of the universe giving him is exactly what he got. I'm so fucked right now. He started out so eager to be a part of something bigger and it ended with him running home terrified and the first thing he tried to do was confide in her again. I cant do this.

#for the record im number 1 Miguel fan i think hes the perfect antagonist for Miles #dont get on here with no omgg Miguel is so horrible!! no! Hes written perfectly in this scene!#miles morales #rio morales #miguel o’hara #atsv #acorss the spiderverse #astv spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #spiderverse spoilers

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taylornation · 1 year

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WE’RE NOT FINE AT ALL! Taylor is nominated for FOUR GRAMMYs! 🧣 Song of the Year - All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (The Short Film) 🎬 Best Music Video - All Too Well: The Short Film 🎸 Best Country Song - I Bet You Think About Me 🪶 Best Song Written for Visual Media - Carolina

#GRAMMYs #Song of the Year #All Too Well (10 Minute Version)#All Too Well: The Short Film #I Bet You Think About Me #Taylor's Version #Carolina #Best Music Video #Best Country Song #Best Song Written for Visual Media #Recording Academy

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beyondthisdarkhouse · 1 year

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Actually, history is more frequently written by that little weirdo in the corner taking notes

#Procopius of Caesarea #Eustace Chapuys #etc etc etc #did not realize this had blorbo post power #but looking at it yeeeeah fair #every friend group has a little weirdo in the corner taking notes #or at least I assume that's true because it's the only kind of friend group left in the written record!

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divorcedfiddleford · 5 months

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it is friday my dudes (little hearts added by @tazmiilly)

#sorryyyyyy for not posting ... please accept these as compensation #gravity falls #fiddleford mcgucket #artwork of the damned #tales of the wild zeep #ummmm ok context for the first one should be mostly self-explanatory #i purposefully left the person he's calling open to interpretation #however for the record i will say i am a 'fiddleford was divorced before he came to gravity falls' truther #but that does not mean he would never call back to cali to check in on his son or anything #so take that as you will #uhhhh everything else is pretty silly and doesnt require much explanation i dont think??#i dont draw pre-college fidds a lot even though i literally have a whole backstory written for him LOLLLL #also i have a whole complex where when i draw a character pre-transition i feel embarrassed #sort of like i've walked in on them in the bathroom or something. like 'whoops sorry' and i politely look away #want to make it VERY CLEAR i dont think theres anything wrong or bad about drawing someone pre-transition!!#it's just a weird thing ive noticed about myself that i'm trying to deal with #and it literally only happens when i'm drawing. not when i'm writing

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transmascpetewentz · 5 months

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#wentz.txt #polls #fallout new vegas #mine is mad about the boy #fun fact: mad abt the boy was one of the first recorded uses of the word 'gay' meaning homosexual #(the scrapped second verse written by noel coward)#there is a recording of him singing it #fallout #fnv

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faelapis · 8 months

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pmmm rebellion: the flower scene

*inhales*

i like pmmm rebellion. a lot. i'd go so far as to say it’s one of my favorite movies. but i've never liked the interpretation from some, of this scene. the flower scene. essentially, the idea is that homura was right in how madoka was "miserable" as a god. because madoka "agreed with her" in the flower scene.

as a baseline, i will say right off the bat that i think pmmm is a franchise where you can never fully escape tragedy. i think any ending to this story will be bittersweet, and there is a certain amount of sacrifice and misery inherent in its very concept.

that being said. i don't think madoka becoming a god was as tragic as homura makes it out to be. i don't think its just a hero sacrificing herself for the greater good. i think it's more. and i think this scene, as much as it is a conversation, is also an act of self-delusion.

this one-note interpretation of madoka as a tragic sacrifice (in how she herself feels) is ignoring... well. the context of the whole series. which homura herself is also ignoring. by which i mean, she was a quite the unreliable narrator in how she described the sacrifice / miracle madoka would go on to perform.

for the record, i think there is something both selfish and selfless to homura. i think she genuinely believes she is helping madoka. and i think homura thinks that's all she wants. this is not an attempt to slander her - but more about how i think she has an incomplete understanding of madoka, and what madoka wants in life.

basically, i'm not trying to argue here that madoka's sacrifice is just good "for the world." obviously, it is. we already know that. what i'm trying to argue is that i think it - in some ways - is also good for madoka herself. not in an uncomplicated way, but that its not all bad. that she gets something out of being this godlike being. at the very least, i think it is better for madoka than the world homura creates.

okay. so. flower scene. homura pretty vaguely just says “you’re going to be separated from everyone you love." which, on its own, is pretty sad. she mentions that there's something "only (madoka) can do". and that madoka, being selfless, would do this because she feels she has to. that it is a tragedy.

what homura doesn't mention is madoka becoming this godlike, conceptual being who is everywhere at all times. which is a pretty big fucking thing to leave out. homura might as well have said “you’re going to be separate from ME, and that’s going to make ME sad” for how honest she was about the context of the situation.

in short, homura is framing the situation as tragically as possible because she wants madoka to say what she wants to hear. she wants to be told that it was miserable. because homura was miserable.

essentially, what homura says will happen: you'll be away from everyone forever. it will accomplish ~something~, but i will not tell you what. it will make me very sad. please comfort me. (which madoka does, because of course. lest we forget part of what she says is she would never want to make someone as strong as homura sad.)

what actually happens: you will have the power to save every magical girl from suffering. you will become a conceptual god, which will remove you from your human life. but you will also be with every magical girl, always, and give them comfort. you will not only have your own agency, but make sure that the wishes of magical girls everywhere MATTER and don't end in despair. including your own. even when you would become a witch and despair, you will save yourself. and when i die, i will be with you as well.

i think by framing it this way, homura IS being honest about how it "felt" to her. but homura also misunderstands what madoka wants.

first of all, madoka's life as a regular human... well, i'm not going to say it was unhappy. but i think it was unfulfilled. i think madoka was an insecure girl without much sense of what she wanted in life. and it was also ignorant. ignorant of the pain of the world, of the suffering that other magical girls had gone through. it was privileged, but it was also, in this way, empty.

madoka’s self-actualization (in the series) has a lot to do with helplessness vs being able to make a difference. in short, she wants agency. what her wish does is give her that agency, which she trades for her life as a normal human.

what homura’s wish does is the reverse. it’s giving madoka her humanity back, but in return, she no longer has agency. she doesn’t get to do the self-actualization of becoming someone with the power to help others. she is, in that sense, suppressed.

so. like. yes, THAT “regular magical girl who knows zero context of her own character arc” version of madoka? of COURSE she doesn’t want to leave everyone behind. big duh. she isn’t told what it would accomplish (in any specific terms), she isnt aware of how it would create a version of herself with the power to change the world. nor is she acquainted with the non-magical girl version of her in the pmmm series, who had no agency at all until she chose to become a god.

in the series, that is not a moment of despair for madoka. that is when she finds hope. that is when she attains a world where she can give rest to all magical girls. and give herself a reason to fight. that hope and determination carries her, and she is with it forever.

it’s also worth noting, rebellion!madoka's not just saying it would make her sad. she is also doubting herself. she's saying she is far “too spineless” to do it. how she's this weak, helpless person who would never be able to leave people for a greater calling.

putting aside how she’s not really gone / at least exists in this abstract way - she is also demonstrating how she doesn't believe in herself. so even this "happy" magical girl version of madoka still has some of the helpless insecurity of her series counterpart. she may live a relatively peaceful life, but she is not fulfilled. she lacks the purpose, determination and hope of her series counterpart.

in other words, even this version of madoka needs to self-actualize. and part of her knows that. in homura's "happy" new realm, madoka "feels wrong." she seems shy and insecure. ill at ease. uncomfortable. like she's at the start of her arc, not the end. yet the godlike power within her refuses to be erased. it can only be held back. for now.

in a way, i see homura trapping madoka a bit like the symbolism of not letting someone grow up. sure, adulthood might not be as "simple and happy" as childhood, but it also gives you knowledge and agency in life. it allows you to learn & grow, understand the world as it is, make educated choices in who you want to be, and become that best version of yourself. THAT is what madoka is denied. that is how she feels wrong in this “happy” illusion realm that homura creates.

also. god madoka would definitely be a lot happier if she could be with homura in heaven and have the ability to save her lol.

but there's a problem with that, for homura. and that problem is, that would give madoka the agency in the situation, and leave homura the passive receiver of blessings. which is at odds with homura’s own desire for control. like madoka, she wants to not be helpless and have the ability to affect the story. after all, she did fail to stop madoka in the series. i think homura wants some of that agency, too. hence the imagery of her soul gem going from a pawn to a queen.

essentially, i see this as a conflict between two sides who want to be in charge of their own destinies. they've been stripped of their agency by the world, and they want to have it back - no matter what it would cost. this is what they have in common.

when homura refused to join madoka in "magical girl heaven", she was ultimately refusing happiness for the sake of agency. for the sake of being able to be "madoka's hero." that's what she always wanted to be, and failed to be in the original series.

tl;dr: there is something tragic in madoka's wish. for sure. but i think it gives madoka agency in the world, which she always wanted. i think being able to help others can be genuinely fulfilling for the individual, rather than just a sacrifice. it’s empowering, as much as it is the loss of old self. and i think homura wants to feel like that kind of hero, too - no matter what. they both do.

*exhales*

#pmmm #madoka kaname #homura akemi #madoka #puella magi madoka magica #not su /#long post /#for the record we all agree that in an ideal world none of this would fall on the shoulders of middle schoolers #but that’s not why these stories are written #in madoka as with any young anime protagonist it has as much to do with the world of being the burdened protagonist 14 yr olds want to see #and to the symbolic fears dangers and perils that come with being 14. learning about the world and shedding childhoods naïveté etc

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atlaswav · 8 months

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LOST WITHOUT YOU ☆

INFO: 2812 words, Alhaitham x gn!reader, a little mildly suggestive content (16+) SYNOPSIS: after focusing your whole life on studies and beating Alhaitham, you find that you've lost yourself, and you don't know how to put yourself back together. AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is so rushed and bad but the ideas just kept flowing out and suddenly I wrote a whole short story 😓 (unedited pls lmk if u find errors! likes and reblogs also very much appreciated!!!)

It was never a competition – not to him, at least.

Him, with his cold, unwavering demeanour and even colder, unshakable gaze.

It never was a competition, but to you, everything was. You hated it all. You hated his expression, permanently arranged in disdain, and his withering glare. That look that he always gave you, always the same, blank stare.

Above all, you loathed his overwhelming sense of self importance. He carried himself with such an air that you felt absolutely unremarkable next to him, and in your drunken wishes, you yearned for him to be put in his place.

Wishful drinking, you called it, and such was suited to a night like this. The night before receiving the results for your final exams, the only one that really mattered in your seemingly futile quest to outshine Alhaitham.

Your roommates were fully aware of your infatuation, though you wouldn’t call it that. They teased you for locking yourself up in your room while they went out socialising and bar streaking, most often returning with the reek of alcohol staining their clothes, passing out on the couch.

They thought you weren’t a drinker, too, but truthfully, you only saved drinking for important occasions, and this seemed like an occasion important enough. With a flair for dramatic, you had claimed yet another bottle of cheap wine off the kitchen counter before retreating to your room, several glances of concern and curiosity following you down the hallway. Seated on the miniature balcony, you twisted open the cap on the bottle, wincing at the wine’s harsh bitterness as time slipped by, minutes blurring into hours with hushed murmurs outside your door.

They cared, they really did. But you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge them, not with your thoughts too occupied with outdoing Alhaitham to amount to anything substantial. Your roommates already thought you were a studying fanatic – those looks of concern weren’t a first time occurrence as you trudged up the stairs with the wine in tow. You didn’t care enough to correct or reassure them – though were they wrong?

You hardly left the house enough, if it weren’t for classes and your job, you’d be a hermit. It felt suffocating, sometimes, the life you’d given yourself. Though ahead in all other aspects, you couldn’t help but feel like you were falling behind. Everyone was falling in love, while you fell behind, caught in the grinding cycle of academics and validation.

Melancholic and dramatic, you were, when you were drunk. Though others may be hopeless romantics.

“[name]? Someone’s here to see you.” Your roommate knocks on your door.

You don’t glance over your shoulder as the knocking becomes more insistent. “No thanks.”

“May I come in?” A familiar voice echoes from down the hallway. Your hand freezes halfway to the bottle.

The door creaks open, and you turn around, slowly standing up and steadying yourself on the railing. Alhaitham stands in the doorframe, only his silhouette visible through the light pouring in through the hallway.

You’re suddenly far too aware of your pyjama pants and well worn hoodie, folding your arms across yourself. “Why are you here?”

He stands there for a while, completely still. Then he sighs. “I don’t know.” Stepping across the threshold, he starts to close the door behind him.

“I didn’t say you could come in,”

“Sorry.” He says. After a brief silence, he leaves.

You stand there, confused, with unspoken questions hanging in the air.

Then, the door opens again.

You’d never seen him so unsteady before, gaze darting around the room and a flush high on his cheeks. His Emerald eyes are bright as he steps into the dim light of your room. “I have to come in.”

You frown at him in confusion. “Why are you here?”

The moment doesn’t seem real as he crosses the room, joining you on the balcony. Quiet lingers around the two of you as you give up asking for his motive and simply reassume your position at the railing. Maybe you’re too tired or burnt out to care, but as he hesitantly joins you, casting you indiscreet side glances, you offer him the bottle.

A show of camaraderie, perhaps.

He shakes his head, and you take a swig from the bottle, yourself, before setting it back on the low, rusty coffee table.

He fidgets with his hands, turning the ring on his index finger over and over. It clicks with the ring on his other finger, occasionally, resonating an irritating ticking noise.

“Can you stop? What do you want?” You finally outburst, startling him. Alhaitham faces you now, entirely focused on you. But his usual look of casual disdain is gone, and you’re not sure you recognise the man staring at you.

His features bathed in moonlight, his gaze looks softer than it ever had before. The soft breeze brushes his hair across his forehead, and you can’t help but wonder how soft they’d feel to your touch.

“I want you,”

Before you can fully register his reply, he draws you in, one hand reaching around your waist, another reaching softly into your hair, and kisses you.

You fail to register anything at all – all other sensation is irrelevant with the sheer feeling of the warmth of his lips on yours. It feels so wrong, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

It’s intoxicating. He tastes like wine.

He withdraws, expression blank again.

“What?” You utter, and abruptly, as if snapping out of a stance, he flees your room with such rapidity that you have to consider whether or not it was all a dream. As his footsteps echo down the hallway, you run a hand through your hair, tousled by his touch, snatch the bottle from its place and drink deeply.

–

The autumn chill drifts in the air. Other students dawdle about on the lawns, boisterous laughter echoing across the courtyard. Your class sits in solemn silence. You with your ringing head in your hands, and him with his back turned to everyone, focused on the lecture hall’s door.

When you woke that morning, the morning after that, you were insistent on believing that it was a dream. But the empty bottle lying on the balcony and the ring on the ground said otherwise.

You turn the metal ring over in your pocket, running a finger over the miniature inscriptions on the inside.

‘Empathy, the double-edged sword’

You’d been fretting over how to return the ring, avoiding the primary subject on your mind – overshadowed with the return of the test papers.

The minutes tick by in anxious silence until the door bursts open with a professor whose arms are filled with papers.

If it weren’t for the pounding hangover, you’d be laughing at the anticlimactic atmosphere. The professor grumbles under his breath as he hands out the exam papers and results, not offering a general comment on the class’ results.

He reaches Alhaitham, and gives him the pleased look he always gives him. The class launches into whispers of speculation.

The professor’s walk down the aisles of chairs seems like it takes forever, and you have half a mind to snatch the stack of papers out of his hands and wildly search for yours.

Until he stops in front of you.

A slight smile as he hands the paper to you.

“Well done.”

A perfect score.

Over your shoulder, someone announces it to the entire class.

Alhaitham meets your eyes with a soft smile and a nod. A ninety nine is hastily scrawled onto the front page with red ink.

Relief; Your heart and head feel light, but your stomach is filled with butterflies. It should feel liberating, but you’re unsure what – how – to feel. The past few years had led up to this moment, but it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like you thought it would, like the victory you’d hoped it would’ve been.

As quick as it was, your relief is gone, quickly replaced by a sinking feeling of foreboding as you walk out of the classroom, congratulations falling on deaf ears.

–

It’s midnight, again, and you’re awake, tossing another empty bottle into the corner to join the others.

Your roommates were overjoyed for you, they cooked you a celebratory dinner, toasted to your success, and teased you about going clubbing with them that night. Yet you turned them down like you always did, because nothing felt right anymore.

That gaping hole in your heart, previously haphazardly filled with academics, now felt like a great, yawning chasm with no bottom in sight.

Your entire purpose had been fulfilled, and you had a bright future with job offers lying in your emails, untouched, but it didn’t feel complete.

You realised that you lost yourself.

In trying to become better than someone else, you’d lost yourself, and you didn’t know how to find a way back.

“[name], we’re going out, are you sure you don’t want to join us?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

A slight pause. “Okay. Also, your friend from before is at the front door. Should I let him in?”

You vividly recall the intoxicating, wine stained taste of Alhaitham’s lips against your own, the sensation of his fingers tangling in your hair, and his hand bracing your waist on this very balcony. The ring sits in your pocket, the tiny scrap of metal heavier than ever – a burning weight.

“Sure. Send him up here.” You manage.

Melancholic and dramatic were a few of the things you were when you were drunk, but you were also known to have made horrifyingly bad decisions.

You hear your roommate walk down the hallway and down the stairs. You hear the front door open and close. You take the ring out of your pocket and start turning it over in your hands, pacing around your balcony all the while.

A knock on your door, and you snap to attention, waiting a while before weakly calling for him to enter.

The door slowly creaks open, and his silhouette fills the doorframe. He leans against it, seemingly unsure of whether or not to fully enter.

A long silence ensues.

“Are you here to take your ring back?” You start, holding it out.

“Oh. Yeah.” But he doesn’t cross the room. So you do. You walk toward the door, stepping into the light of the hallway as he steps back.

His cheeks are flushed, gaze darting and fleeting.

With more daring than you’d ever displayed, you grab his hand and slide the ring back on, marvelling at his fingers – long, slender, pale. Pretty. A scholar’s hands.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, looking up from your hands, meeting your eyes for the first time.

The soft look is back again.

“Congratulations, by the way.” He starts, removing his hands from yours. “Professor said we were going to share valedictorian.”

You nod, suddenly immensely uncomfortable. “Not surprised.”

He nods as well, seemingly sheepishly, muttering something under his breath that you don’t catch.

“What was that?”

“Kaveh said that if I don’t tell you tonight, he’d tell you himself.”

“Well tell him that I said thanks.”

He rubs his face with his hand, exasperated. “No, not congratulations,”

“Then what?”

He gives you a long look.

“Are you going to stare at me all night?”

“Archons, I don’t know what you do to me.” He takes your face in his hands and brings your lips to his.

It all feels so right. Alhaitham tastes just as intoxicating as he did the first time, only now, there’s a fervour behind his movements. The cherry wine on his lips is exhilaratingly rich. You could get drunk off his taste alone.

His hands boldly move down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin – in return, your hands wander his torso, teasingly skimming the skin beneath his shirt. He shudders, pulling away, although the sheer intensity of his gaze tells you that he won’t be leaving you this time.

“Does that tell you what I'm here to tell you?”

“Might have to explain a little more,” You rasp, catching your breath.

Some sort of restraint within his self control snaps, and he pushes you into your room, locking your door behind you.

In light of what happened after that, you were tremendously grateful that your roommates had left to go clubbing.

–

Neither of you were sure what it was.

The morning after, he’d left before you woke up. Rather than feeling betrayed, you appreciated his absence, as it gave you time to gather your scattered, alcohol imbued thoughts.

It soon became a regular thing, where he’d stop by your shared house – that you’d never given him the address to (although he later explained that he got it from Kaveh) – to see you. It wasn’t always a hook up, sometimes he dropped by in the middle of the day if you were around, and made conversation.

The first few nights, however, were actively avoided. He would always hurriedly change the topic or avoid the question, averting your gaze. But it didn’t matter now – or so you thought – as he sat on your bed, watching you read.

A month ago, you’d have kicked him out without a second thought, but here you were, making idle conversation about something as ordinary as TV shows and work with him while you read.

It felt nice – right. It felt like you’d known each other for years when you were intent on resenting him for your entire college career. It felt so secure that you’d forget why you hated him.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, flipping through one of the novels lying on the bedside table.

“You.”

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. “Of course I am.”

You hit him lightly with your book. “Pretentious little shit.”

“Wounded.” He deadpans, setting the book back down.

“Seriously though, I find it so weird that you’re sitting on my bed and making normal conversation with me when a year ago I’d have given you a black eye if you showed up to my house unannounced.”

He frowns. “Why?”

You level him with a blank stare. “Are you being sarcastic?”

He shakes his head, expression genuine.

“You’re not kidding?” You set aside your book, leaning in. “I hated you, you know that, right?”

“What?” His expression is one of genuine surprise as he takes in the apparently new information. “Since when? Why?”

“You have to be kidding me.” You laugh at the comical nature of it all. “You didn’t know?”

He stares at you, mouth half open in shock. “The whole time?”

You nod.

He lies down on your bed, still digesting the discovery. “I thought…”

“What did you think?”

“Your friends always just said that you didn’t socialise a lot, I thought you just didn’t know how to socialise or something,”

You sit and observe him in silence for a while.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m surprised” he runs a hand through his steel grey hair. “It was so obvious, now that I think about it. How could I have not realised?”

“Your turn. Tell me.” You suddenly say, lying down next to him. “What did you want to tell me the first night you visited me?”

He goes quiet. He’s quiet for so long that you have to check if he’s still awake. His gaze is pointed at your ceiling, the glow in the dark stars there.

“I’ve been somewhat in love with you for the longest time.” He finally admits, voice thick.

“You what?” You sit up, mouth agape. “What the fuck?”

“If you want me to leave, I’ll go.” He says, sitting up as well. “I figured I should tell you eventually, and that time is now.”

Quiet ensues, as it so often does when you’re around each other. Not an uncomfortable sort of quiet – the quiet that speaks louder than words.

You’d both been blind the whole time. You, for your infatuation with him – with beating him, with his person, with his attitude and, though you’d never admit it to him, his looks – and him, with his one sided love for you.

And though you’d both been too near-sighted to see the other person in their entirety, now your cracks are showing. The recesses in his facade of steel, and the fractures in your mask of indifference.

Two puzzle pieces. Pieces that could mould to each other, shaping and weathering with time.

So when he makes to leave, you grab his hand. A silent question. The tension eases from his shoulders, and Alhaitham pulls you off the bed, wrapping you in his arms.

The past few weeks with him have proven nothing but the possibility of loving him. That the hatred that you’d accumulated over months of blind infatuation masked the presence of something far more confronting.

You couldn’t recognise yourself in the mirror anymore. So much of you was missing. But maybe, the two of you could find yourselves in each other.

written by @delat1ne, published 27th of August 2023

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