Author's Note: Full Summary - From an anonymous prompt on Tumblr: "Highschool AU. Erik is a 17 year old sophomore (on account of being held back because he wasn't emotionally ready to go up in grades) Christine and Raoul are freshmen, Erik has permission to wear his hood up in place of a mask. Erik is in the theatre but due to obvious fears never performs. There's the school musical and Christine and Raoul have the leads, but Erik has to dub over Raoul's singing onstage because he can't sing. And of course, Erik has a crush on Christine from day one." Thank you for this, anon. This was so much fun to write! I hope that it is enjoyable to you and everyone that comes across it! :D Just a couple of quick notes. First the obvious disclaimer that I do not own PotO or anything that Rodgers and Hammerstein have ever done. Buzzkill, but still a fact. Also, note that there is some adult-language used here, although not excessively. On that topic, a reminder that 'FUBAR' stands for Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition. I do believe that is all. Again, thank you anon, I absolutely adore this prompt! Darling readers, don't forget to review. ;) Enjoy!
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Backstage
Erik
The first day of the semester after winter break at this high school - and probably every high school, really - is always a colossal pain in the ass, as far as I'm concerned. It's too chaotic as students attempt to finetune their schedules to meet their own petty needs in lieu of practicality. Not that I have much room to complain - I always insist that my own course schedule put me as far into my comfort zone as possible, though even when my requirements are met that leaves me with much to be desired. I don't like attending public school at all, to be honest, and I've been out of it for a while now. This past year has been my first year away from homeschooling and seemingly endless hospital stays since I was a child. But as a result, my social worker seems to think that I lack in social skills, and she's probably right. Still, I'd rather skip the whole thing altogether - save my socializing for college and hope that my peers have grown a brain by that point.
But as it stands, at the very least I have Theatre Arts first thing every morning, the one class I will willingly admit that I look forward to each day. It's a surprising elective for me, of course - I don't play well with others in general, nor do they care for me in turn, and I have absolutely no interest in performing in front of an audience. I stand out too much, and in a bad way. My facial deformity has seen to that over the years; my mother saw to that when she chose to feed her heroin addiction instead of tending to her pregnancy with me. But it is what it is, and although I am certainly not happy with the state of things - although I am bullied relentlessly - I can at least bring myself to minimally function in school in spite of shit circumstances. Yes, I definitely stand out - I wear the hood of my jacket drawn up at every moment, wear sunglasses indoors constantly to hide as much of myself as possible, but I'm here. I show up every day, angrily, stubbornly even - but I'm here. Mr. Thompson hates it, that I hide myself with no plans to change that practice. From day one, he wanted me to sing in his concert choir - or at least do something in his orchestra - but I spent all of last semester reminding him that I really could not attend any choral or orchestral competitions as I am, hidden or not. He was disappointed, but accepted my reasons understandingly enough. In the end, I conceded by taking his dramatics course. In the theatre, I'm content to work backstage with the tech crew, hiding out all the while, and that's enough for me.
Plastic chairs scraped over the filthy linoleum floor as other students arranged the seating for this class period - a practice steadily developed over time with no real rhyme or reason. I hung back from the activity as Mr. Thompson attempted to wrangle everyone; but he more or less gives up as he always does, allowing his charges a few moments to settle as the first passing period of the day winds down. The bell would ring soon, and a part of me dreads it; everyone will be seated, contained in that space for nearly an hour, and the majority of them will be looking at me - especially the newcomers. If they haven't seen me yet this year, they've heard of me. I hate it, but there isn't much to be done. At seventeen, I often wonder if I should be used to it. But I'm not. I pulled the hood of my jacket more securely over my head, around my face, fidgeted with my sunglasses in the hopes that they're concealing as much as possible. It's a wasted effort, I know, but it's a habit I can't let go of. Nadir appeared and took a seat beside me where I've settled in the last row. We're outcasts together - he, the only Muslim student in a population primarily made of various Christian denominations, and myself, the freak with half a face and a bad attitude. I nodded in acknowledgement of him, he smiled back. He has a far better outlook on life than I do, and I envy him of that. He knows it, tries his best to break me out of my shell, but I rarely take his advice. He has good intentions, but he has no true way of knowing how hard it is for me to actually act on his words of encouragement.
"Hey, look, the Uni-bomber's back," a student taunted in my direction.
"Bite me," I responded.
"Chase," Mr. Thompson chastised the student, then me, "Erik, both of you settle down."
Annoyed, I leaned back in my chair as Chase walked away, satisfied in his momentary victory. He'll start up again another time, I know - right now is only a brief reprieve from the usual bullying. But for the moment I was willing to stay calm and hope to blend in for a little while longer. Nadir arranged papers in his binder as I set my headphones more securely in my ears, keeping the volume low enough to hear the teacher and the bell but not so much that I couldn't tune out the rest of my environment. More and more students filed in - the chairs were completely arranged by then, an organized mess with no true seating chart. Mr. Thompson was writing the day's agenda on the board when a straggling group of freshmen approached him. They looked completely lost, and I gleaned a bit of information that they had switched their electives from AVID to our class. They were completely ordinary, and I quickly lost interest, turning my attention back to my music and waiting for the bell to ring.
"FUBAR, you're still here?" another student taunted me, shoving past me with more force than necessary to make his way to the middle of the row.
I sighed, quickly losing control of my temper and deciding whether or not it would be worth it to engage with him. I wouldn't mind hitting him, but at the same time I did not want to miss assignments by being sent to the administrative offices for discipline. Tech crew was the only thing I had to look forward to - my only way of being within the theatre culture without having to show my face. But it was so damn tempting to shove him away from me, to fight back yet again and prove that I was not afraid - to prove that I actually did belong even when I doubted that fact myself as often as anyone else did.
I didn't have the chance to make up my mind for myself whether or not I should make an opponent of the idiot in front of me. One of the new freshmen - a short brunette girl that I immediately found to be gorgeous - came up behind my tormenter and confronted him herself.
"You need to back off, Harrison," she said bravely, even though he towered over her.
"Get that stick out of your ass, Christine," he countered, "I'm just messing around."
"No, you're acting like a tool," she responded cooly.
Harrison rolled his eyes but walked away without saying any more. I was relieved, to be honest. In the end, I really didn't need another referral to the office for fighting - I did too much of that last semester as it was, and the new semester had barely just begun. A part of me wanted it to be different this time around, whereas the other part reminded me that it likely wouldn't be. I didn't want to think about it. The bell rang and the girl - Christine, I reminded myself - took her seat in the row ahead of me. She looked back to meet my eyes - unseen to her behind the sunglasses - and smiled, really smiled at me. I was surprised by the gesture, by how genuine it seemed, but still I acknowledged her just the same, mouthing thank you before realizing what I had done. I wasn't used to my classmates being nice of me just for the sake of being nice, nor did I have many chances to actually show people that I had at least a few manners instilled in me. Her smile widened in response before she turned away.
"She's pretty," Nadir whispered beside me.
I nodded. She was, of course, but the last thing I needed was to be distracted by her. Better to keep my distance, but I replied to Nadir regardless, "She's too young. Probably only, what, like fourteen?"
"Fifteen, actually," Christine said, turning around to meet me again. I cringed, hoping that I hadn't offended her, but she just smiled again before turning her attention away once more.
I slumped back in my seat, thoroughly embarrassed but otherwise no worse for the wear. Mr. Thompson made his greetings to returning students and his welcomes to the newcomers before easing into his routine introduction to the class. For the most part, I tuned him out - nothing that he was saying was new to me. He didn't catch my attention until later, when the class had dissolved again into an uproar.
"Alright, alright. Be quiet," he paused, receiving no change in the volume of the chatter, "Shut up!" he called out, finally getting his students' attention, "Thank you. Okay. After school we're having auditions for the spring production," he said, "My last before retiring, so make it good. It'll be Carousel," he paused as the students murmured - some in excitement, some in exasperation - before continuing, "I know, I know. Thank you, Rodgers and Hammerstein. Don't complain. Open auditions, so tell your friends. And rejoice, you don't have to be in the play to get credit in this class. You just have to attend," he said smugly, "Oh, and tech crew members, I need you to come half-hour early today," then to me directly, "Erik, you're in charge this time around, and you're on the catwalk this semester, alright? Congratulations, you've been promoted. See me after class for the keys."
I nodded, feeling something very close to excitement for the first time that morning. I couldn't stand being in school, but at the very least the idea of new responsibilities was enough incentive to keep me going for what was sure to be a long semester.
At any rate, at least working on the catwalk gave me a new hideout.
~~oOo~~
Attending school that winter and on into the spring was a nightmare, as I had expected it would be. I went to my classes with resignation, endlessly frustrated but determined to stand my ground just the same. The reception I received from my classmates was never positive - I was either confronted directly or spoken about in whispers, Nadir my only ally at the beginning. But I found my peace in the theatre, wholeheartedly participating in the technical aspects of putting a relatively large production together, and with time I came into my own. The other members of the tech crew didn't like me, to be sure; but I held a position of authority, and in return they were at least wise enough to perform the tasks I delegated to them and otherwise leave me alone.
I was actually surprised with how Carousel was turning out - between the dynamics shared by me and the cast and crew and the overall unfurling of the show itself, the semester progressed relatively well in that aspect of my life. I was grateful, and more so I was interested to see what else was in store. It ended up being Christine that got one of the leading roles of Julie - a huge accomplishment for a freshman. Several of the veteran choir and theatre members had graduated last year, but even so there were plenty of juniors and sophomores that were talented in their own rights that would have likely gotten the role had their younger counterpart not auditioned. But Christine had definitely earned the part in the end - she was talented beyond her years, even I could see that just by observing her from the wings. Her friend, Raoul, was cast as the other leading role of Billy. Another surprise. Raoul played junior varsity football in the autumn and baseball in the spring - the stereotypical jock that in any other place would not have cared about our department. But he had a sincere interest in the performing arts, and I respected his appreciation for the world outside of athletics. I could not necessarily say that I liked him at first, but he had at least come by his role honestly. Of the principle leads, he and Christine worked the hardest, and in doing so made my job a hell of a lot easier.
Throughout the semester of rehearsals and maybe far too much time spent in close proximity to one another - and another surprise to me entirely - Christine and I had slowly developed a sort of friendship; it was truly grudgingly on my part at the beginning, timidly on hers. I know that I scared her, especially when we first began working together. I am not approachable in the slightest, and when I work backstage I am even less friendly, too wrapped up in my work to remember that the purpose of my attending public school is to become more properly socialized. But once she got more used to my temperament, we worked well together, and over time I found that I actually enjoyed her company. Between rehearsals, I spent the majority of my time alone up in the catwalk. It really was nice there - dark, quiet, generally deserted, and most importantly a stark contrast from my home life. My mother is long-gone, my father somewhere off in his own world, leaving me to age out of the system in a group home. A part of me understands that I'm better off there than on the streets, but I hate it all the while. Contrary to its title, it was not a home - and so I found my refuge in the catwalks instead. I did homework, studied, listened to music. Anything to avoid leaving the theatre for as long as possible. And so it didn't seem likely, even to me, that I would ever feel compelled to share that space - but Christine's friendship had inspired that sort of change in me. On the surface, I only hoped to be friendly; but selfishly, I wanted more time together, not yet understanding exactly why.
She had stayed behind after rehearsals one day, about midway through the production. And I was feeling uncharacteristically brave that day, maybe even lonely. Whatever the reason, when I saw her winding her way through the hall alone, I didn't think twice about asking to spend time with her; she carries herself in an easy-going manner, and it's impossible even for me not to get caught up in the wake of her good nature. So when I ran into her in the hallway that afternoon, I actually stopped to talk to her - just to talk, no mention of the show or school, and not for the first time I was surprised how easy it was to simply hold a conversation with another person.
"Do you want to see the catwalk?" I said after a time.
"Yes!" she nodded enthusiastically, "I've never been up there."
"Don't tell Thompson," I warned, nodding in the direction I wanted her to follow, "I don't need privileges getting revoked, and I don't want you getting in trouble. But I think you'll like it."
With a now long-practiced stability, I quickly climbed the ladder first, ensuring that I could give her a hand at the top if she needed it. Unconsciously, a part of me just wanted to hold her hand, to see what it might be like, but I shook my head the moment the thought attempted to make itself more apparent. I just wanted to spend time with her - yes, I had grown to like her, maybe I'd even gotten a crush or some similar feeling, but I wasn't willing to do anything about it. She didn't need to know, and I didn't need the embarrassment when she surely rejected me. I dismissed my line of thinking as I exaggeratedly swept my hand over the space in front of us, half-acting but still proud of it as if it were something I created myself. She laughed at my dramatics and gasped when she took a step forward and looked over the railing, seeing the shining black wood of the stage and the glowing auditorium below her. I actually smiled at her reaction - it was...endearing, I think, to see her respond to the view as she had.
"It's nice, isn't it?" I asked.
"It's amazing. I never realized how big this theatre is. Do you come up here a lot?"
"All the time," I said as I guided her over the wire mesh suspended over the theatre, urging her to be careful here, to take a step there. We walked along together for a little while as I pointed out various technical features that I thought she might find interesting, and all the while it seemed that she was genuinely engaged in what I had to say. Before long, we talked again about other things, turning to go back the way we had come. I had no real destination in mind, no actual plan beyond showing her the space that I had claimed as my own, but that didn't matter to me then.
When we eventually paused, I looked down and noticed a couple huddled together in a dimly lit doorway, and I smirked at the sight, "Should we mess with them?"
She laughed, "Yes," then added in mock-seriousness, "They really should be working."
I leaned over the rails just enough for sound to carry in their direction and wolf-whistled loudly. The sudden and sharp noise scared them - I'm sure they had assumed that they were alone - and they quickly stood up and ran from their place. Christine and I laughed again at the sight of their obvious guilt. It was a strange feeling for me to laugh so freely with someone else - light and uncomplicated - but even so it was nice somehow. And I felt that much more affection for her that, in those moments, I could no longer bring myself to stifle. Not then - I just wanted to enjoy it before she had to leave again, before she went back to her normal life and I to mine. We stood by the railings a little while, talking easily about everything and nothing. She was good company - intelligent, kind; she didn't stare, didn't mock. She never did - not in the few months that I had known her, at least, though I suspected that her lack of meanness was an inherent part of her. She didn't wear a mask for the sake of fitting in or feigning sympathy for no other reason than politeness. I think that's part of what drew me to her. She was just a good person, and I knew so few people that were willing to simply speak with me without either anger or pity.
Eventually, though, I felt that lighthearted feeling escape me as quickly as it had arrived. At some point and without me realizing what had happened, my sunglasses had slipped lower on my face, exposing more of my eyes and ravaged skin than I would ever be comfortable with in public, let alone with someone that I cared about. I moved quickly to correct the problem, but Christine stopped my hand in favor of looking directly at me - looking intently at me. I felt naked in front of her - I wanted to escape, and I nearly snapped at her to stop her movement, to just stop looking. But I was frozen where I stood, unused to physical contact that didn't result in bruises or yelling from myself or others.
"Does it hurt?" she asked after a tense silence.
It took me a moment to collect my thoughts before I could respond, "No, not anymore."
"What happened?" she asked, but at my obvious hesitance she spoke again quickly, "I'm sorry, that's rude. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
I shook my head, finally taking the chance to adjust my sunglasses as I said, "You're more polite about it than most people, actually. It was a birth defect," I said with more patience than I thought I had, "Surgery couldn't fix it. Pretty simple story, actually."
"I'm sorry," she said softly, "I know how everyone treats you at school because of it. And it's not right, the things they say...what they do."
"No, it isn't."
"Well, as long as you're not in pain," she said determinedly, obviously trying to make up for her recent and unexpected moments of curiosity.
"Like I said, pain isn't the issue anymore," I shrugged and paused in consideration, "Thank you for asking about it so...nicely."
She smiled, "You're welcome."
I wanted to say more, had honestly intended to say something more meaningful. But I heard the stage door open then - Mr. Thompson was coming back around to finish up his work for the day.
"We should leave," I sighed, regretting that the moment had ended, "Like I said, I don't want you getting in trouble for this."
"Thank you for bringing me up here," she said as we made our way back to the ladder.
I found myself able to smile again as I spoke, "I'm glad you liked it."
"I really did," she nodded and began to leave, but turned back to me at the last minute, "You have nice eyes, by the way. They're bright. I like that."
I couldn't respond - I didn't know how to respond. I was too shocked by her words to do anything but stand in front of her, thoroughly making a jackass of myself all the while, I was sure. But she just smiled and waved goodbye. I sighed when she was gone, finally bringing myself back to reality and trying to comprehend what had just happened between us - caught between hoping that she might somehow return the feelings I was developing for her and reminding myself that anything like that was not possible. I was about to go back to the tech cage to pick up my books and get ready to leave when Nadir approached me.
"You like her," he said lightly without greeting me. Clearly, he had witnessed what had happened at the landing of the catwalk ladder.
"I didn't know you were still here," I muttered, then shrugged - there was no point in denying anything to him, "And yes, I think I do."
"I know you do, don't play it off. Ask her out."
I laughed humorlessly, "No."
"She seems to like you, too."
"She's just nice," I countered, " And I'm fine with that. Besides, isn't she dating Raoul?"
"No. They're friends, and he already has a girlfriend. Someone that's not Christine."
"You don't know that for sure."
"I do," he insisted, "Because I actually talk to people, few willing ones as there are."
"Well, I don't talk. I'm fine just listening."
"Then listen to me," he said, "Ask her out."
I shook my head, "That isn't a good idea. Not now."
He sighed, knowing me well enough to understand that I wouldn't cave in to his nagging without a fight, "Just think about it, alright? Maybe now it's not a good idea, but who knows what will happen later. By opening night, things could change."
"By opening night," I repeated, wondering if what he was saying could ever be true and conceding, "We'll see."
~~oOo~~
Opening night began routinely enough. Backstage was in its customary state of barely reined in chaos as tech crewmembers and castmates saw to last-minute tasks. It was in that rush that I felt most at home - at peace, even. The darkness, broken only by safety lights and the fluorescent glow of the tech cage, was actually relaxing to me even in spite of the rush of people around me, in spite of me being unable to wear my sunglasses for the time being. This was my element, I was sure. I felt like a king reigning over my kingdom, spurred on by the sense of accomplishment that the crew was under my direction this time around, that I had assisted so many people in bringing the production to life after the many months of it just being an idea to us all. Echoes from the warehouse behind the stage blended with the scuffing of shoes and screaming voices from the dressing rooms beyond, frustrated calls to crew members and nervous costumers rushing around me all blended together as the night went on. But altogether it was a comfortable sort of madness. I didn't want to be anywhere else. In truth, I would have loved to be a part of the cast, to participate in something normal by my own choice, but if working behind the scenes was all I could get, then I could accept that fact. It was better than nothing, and it felt right.
It wasn't until the time was winding down dangerously close to the beginning of the show that the routine chaos gave way to true panic, and I truly hadn't anticipated the events that quickly unfolded in front of me.
"Erik," a fellow crewmember called out to me as I checked the labels on headsets in the cage, "Thompson needs to see you. It's an emergency."
"Where is he?"
"The nunnery, I think."
Following the glow-tape behind the scrim - the fastest possible way across the theatre - I made my way to the appointed location. The nunnery, as it was nicknamed for unknown reasons - officially the nicer of the green rooms saved for teachers and directors - sat well beyond the warehouse, and it was an almost entirely pitch black journey to make it through that section of the backstage. At one point, in my rush to find Mr. Thompson and see what had gone wrong, I stumbled over the edge of an abandoned choir riser and fell hard on one knee. I wasn't hurt badly, but I was frustrated just the same, and all of my training as a crewmember told me that someone had made a mistake in not leaving the pathway clear with absolutely no lighting. Over my headset, I told another crewmember back in the cage to turn the lights up back there - it was hazardous with only glow-tape as my guide, and if someone else didn't get badly hurt by falling down there as well, then at the very least an accident could cause a delay or interruption of the performance. I was only satisfied when I received an affirmative response to my request and continued on to my destination. When I finally made it to the nunnery, I pulled my hood more securely around my head and replaced my sunglasses, assured that I could emerge from the shadows with what little dignity I had. Knocking sharply before opening the door, I entered to find Mr. Thompson, Christine, and Raoul together - each of them looking absolutely terrified.
"What's going on?" I asked, curious as to why I was seeing cast members in front of me. I had assumed that I was being summoned for technical issues.
"Raoul took an elbow at baseball practice," Mr. Thompson began, "Hurt his throat. He can't sing tonight."
"Okay," I said slowly, not understanding, "Well, where's the understudy?"
"Not here - "
"Then do you need me to get the contact list and find his understudy, or - "
"His understudy bailed," Christine said despairingly.
"What do you mean?"
"He isn't here," Raoul said, his speaking voice clearly strained from his injury. There was no way he would be able to sing tonight, "No one knows where he ended up."
"Probably getting high with his friends," Christine huffed.
"Erik," Mr. Thompson began, "I want you sing Billy's parts for Raoul tonight."
"Excuse me?" I openly gaped at him, "No, no way. I can't take over, I only know the songs, and I've only seen the blocking," I shook my head, embarrassed by the real reason behind my excuses, "I don't know this role."
"Look," Mr. Thompson began patiently, knowing full-well why I was hesitant to actually help, "Raoul can still be on the stage, and he can still talk if he's careful. But he can't sing. You, however, can. You can dub for him, I know that you can work out the lobs for that."
I shook my head again, "I have to stay in the cage…"
"Nadir can take over for you there. Just hang out in the wings, do the songs, that's all," Mr. Thompson said, then added gently, "You don't have to appear on stage. But you're the best singer I have. You know the songs, and you have the best voice out of anyone here tonight."
"He's right," Raoul said encouragingly, "You're better than me, even. I've heard you singing while you work."
I did not respond as I stared at the floor, feeling completely overwhelmed.
"Please, Erik," Christine continued, grabbing my attention and looking at me so sadly that my heart broke for her.
I sighed, finally resigned to what I had to do. There really wasn't any other option. The house lights would be turned down for the audience to quiet down and the show to begin in less than fifteen minutes - enough time for me to warm up my own voice and make last minute arrangements with my crewmembers. But not enough time to find another understudy, that much was clear. Anyone else remotely qualified or prepared was dedicated to their own roles, and the idea of rearranging them and understudies of their own sounded like an administrative nightmare on such short notice. It was opening night, and while I cared very little for my classmates in general, I understood all the same just how hard everyone had worked to get to this point. One person flaking out and disappointing everyone else involved was not a good enough reason to forfeit that hard work. Finally, I nodded my assent. There was a collective sigh of relief throughout the room, but I did not share in that feeling - I was too nervous then to be happy that opening night hadn't been ruined.
But I sang; after warming up and forcing myself to settle into my impromptu role, I found myself standing in my appointed place in the wings, careful that the audience could not see me. And when the time came, I just sang. Altogether, it was a flawless trick to sing in Raoul's place - from what I was told later, no one in the audience could tell that Raoul was only lip syncing. We worked well together - I did not miss a cue, mindful the entire time to pay close attention from my awkward vantage point. In the end, my only difficulty was singing "If I Loved You," to sing it with Christine while she in turn looked into the eyes of another person. I think it was too close to home for me then, too close to my own thoughts regarding how I felt about her. In the weeks that separated her seeing and accepting that glimpse of my face, we had grown closer, much to my relief. But all the while I was never able to bring myself to be honest with her, to ask if we could ever be more than friends. Some days I sensed that it was on her mind to ask, that she would not necessarily outright reject the idea, but I was not brave enough to find out for sure. Still, in spite of my own crapshoot of emotions during the show, I covered well, sang the lyrics as if I actually had a chance with her as myself rather than as Billy singing to Julie. It was bittersweet. But in the end, the first night of the show was a success - that was what mattered.
After the last song, in the space between the actors leaving the stage performing their roles and returning as themselves for their curtain calls, I was busying myself with unclipping my lob and headset from my shirt when I heard Christine approaching me excitedly. I was completely taken by surprise when she all but flew to me, wrapping her arms around me and speaking words I couldn't understand at first. She had always been respectful of my extreme unwillingness to initiate physical contact, but caught up in the moment as she was, it seemed that she had thrown that idea to the side in favor of simply being with me. But I just stood there numbly for a few seconds before realizing that she was actually hugging me - that I really should hug her back. Awkwardly at first, I put my arms around her and allowed myself to celebrate with her. We had done well, after all, and I could not bring myself to complain about having someone I cared about so much in my arms.
She pulled away first, but kept her arms around me as she spoke in a rush, "You were amazing, Erik! I wanted to tell you at intermission, but I didn't have a chance. Oh my God, you saved us. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for doing this. And you're such a great singer! Seriously, you were amazing."
I actually laughed, "Thank you, Christine. And congratulations, I think your first show was a success. You were great."
"I hope so. I was so scared."
I shrugged, "You hid it well."
"Are you coming to the after-party?"
"No," I said slowly, feeling tense all over again, "I don't usually go to those."
"You should this time."
I sighed, ready to reject her offer, but then almost out of nowhere I considered Nadir's words from earlier that semester, that things could change by opening night. And they had, in more ways than I had anticipated. I did not want to be out among my classmates, likely getting stared at or pushed around. I didn't like wondering just how the night would turn out, if their opinions of me had changed at all in the wake of our successful opening night. But I liked Christine - romantic interests aside, I genuinely liked her as a person, and spending time with her outside of the theatre or class was tempting. A part of me knew that the easy conversations we had shared so many times before could be repeated in other environments, could potentially turn into the something more than I was beginning to see that we both wanted - I only needed to take the chance. So, steeling myself, I made up my mind.
"You know what, that's not a bad idea," I said, adding quickly, "Will you go with me? Maybe as my - "
"Date?" she offered when my words stalled.
"Yes."
To my relief, she smiled, "Yes, I'd like that."
I was about to respond when Raoul wound his way backstage, rubbing his throat uncomfortably but otherwise looking excited by the positive environment around us.
"Erik, you really un-fucked this," he said, smiling, "Great job, and thanks again."
I laughed, "You're welcome."
I couldn't doubt his sincerity. It was nice to feel that, for once, I wasn't being mocked, that someone wasn't angry with me or unsettled by my presence. That night, I wasn't viewed by those in my immediate proximity as a freak, as Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition. I was just another performer - unexpectedly as I had dawned that role - and the idea served to further spur me on. I wouldn't allow myself to doubt it then, no over thinking or second guessing. I wanted that feeling to last as long as possible.
"Are you coming to the after-party?" he asked.
"We're going together," Christine said.
"Good," he said, smiling knowingly at me. Like Nadir, he had likely witnessed many instances between Christine and I that made him wonder what had taken us so long to come together, "Well, my brother is taking me if you guys need a ride."
"Curtain call, chorus members!" Nadir shouted over the noise of the actors and crew, interrupting our small group's discussion.
"We'll be up next," Christine said to Raoul, then to me, "You should come out, too. You earned it."
I hesitated before I spoke, "I don't think - "
"Wear your shades," Raoul offered amiably, understanding my discomfort, "Bring out the rest of the tech crew with you. You all work hard enough anyway, come out and enjoy some of the credit."
I only nodded, grateful for his consideration.
Raoul and Christine, along with the rest of the principle actors, made their way past the wings and into the spotlights as I walked back to the cage.
"Great job," Nadir said as I passed him my lob and headset.
"Thank you. Hey, get on the intercom and let the techs know we're going out on stage."
"Why?"
I shrugged nonchalantly, "It's time to take our bows."
He nodded before comprehending my words, "Wait, you are, too?"
"This time, yes," I said.
He smiled approvingly, "Alright, I'll round everyone up."
"Thanks," I said, before adding, "Are you going to the after-party?"
"I always do."
"Well, so am I. And I asked Christine to go with me."
"And?" he asked eagerly.
"And she said yes."
He rolled his eyes but smiled as he said, "Good. Finally."