The hard metal seat was cold as Arthur Kirkland slid onto it, the unpleasant bite sinking into his thighs. He softly hissed through his teeth, wincing and rolling his shoulders back.

Next to him, Francis silently chuckled, shaking his head. Arthur glared at him, making sure that it lacked any of his normal venom- which, he admitted to himself, he oh-so-desperately wanted to give. He knew from the grin sent his way that Francis was waiting for it. A challenge, then.

He twisted in his seat, scanning the relatively empty auditorium. Their drama director was nowhere in sight, the booth in the very far back of the room dark and silent. The rows of seats- red upon migraine-inducing red- were empty as well.

Good.

Arthur turned back towards Francis, crossing his right knee over his left, gifting him with a two-finger salute. He then brought his index finger down. Francis grinned.

Francis opened his mouth to speak, something probably something that would turn out to be equally infuriating, only for the thumping sound of footsteps to interrupt him. The chair next to him creaked as Alfred F. Jones flipped it in the other direction. He winked at Arthur as he plopped down, hunching over the chair's back, crossing his arms together and grinning.

"Careful, Alfred. Any longer and the chair'll collapse from under you."

Arthur didn't bother to turn his head at Francis' words, instead keeping his eyes fixed on Alfred. Alfred's smile slightly faltered, as if Francis had managed to strike a cord, only for it to be back up in a fraction of a second.

Francis didn't seem to notice. Maybe he had, though, with that smug smirk gracing his lips and a look in his eyes that had nothing but malice stewing in them. Arthur glanced over at him, cocking his head to the side. Perhaps Francis added being an asshole to his list of achievements.

He rolled his eyes. Uncrossing his foot, Arthur slightly tapped Francis in the ankle before recrossing. Arthur grinned, turning back to Alfred.

"Well, Francis." Alfred leaned back from his seat. He dipped his chin, looking down directly at his stomach. He softly patted it, using both hands. He looked back up at them, his wicked smile growing wider. "I supposed that I've gained a couple pounds. You know, eating your boyfriend out six times a week is definitely delicious, but it's not the most nutritious." He gave his stomach an extra pat.

Arthur couldn't help it. His lips burst open into a laugh, his stomach shaking and the corners of his mouth beginning to ache.

Several of their fellow cast members shot glares over in their direction, some almost amused-looking, but Arthur ignored it. Alfred ran his tongue over the top row of his teeth, wiggling his eyebrows with a silent promise in his eyes.

From the corner of his eye, Arthur could see Francis sneer. "Fuck you, Alfred."
Alfred winked again, lightly clicking his tongue. "You? No. But Arthur-" He let his voice quietly trail.

An echo sounded on the stage as Francis' ankle hit the metal leg of the chair. His wince was negated by his wrathful glare. He opened his mouth, no doubt to positively destroy Alfred, but was interrupted by the sound of the theater teacher breezing in.

Mrs. Karpusi slid into one of the blue plastic chairs, a large binder overflowing with notes held in her arms. She set it on her lap with a large thump, crossing her right leg over her knee.

She looked up, slinking observing eyes around the circle, pausing for a fraction of a second on each cast member before moving on. Stopping at the three of them, Mrs. Karpusi looked back and forth between them. She only spoke after she had continued on. "I hope that you've all had a nice break. I know that you three have, especially. I could hear your entire conversation, word for word, out in the lobby."

Arthur sighed, ignoring the light burn on his cheeks. Alfred leaned forward, his chair creaking from under him. "Sorry, ma'am, we were just having a bit of fun, that's all." Francis said nothing, staring at Alfred as if he were imagining strangling him.

"That's fine, Alfred." She opened up her binder, steadying it with her left hand, licking her thumb and flipping through a few pages before stopping. "Just watch the language next time. I'll just assume that you and Mr. Kirkland were talking about regularly going to a restaurant."

"Oh, yes, we definitely were." Several snickers filled the room, along with a couple groans.

Her smile tightened as she continued to flip through her binder. "If you haven't gotten your scripts out yet- like you're supposed to, by the way- do so now. Also, get out a pencil. If I see a pen in anyone's hand, I'll blow a gasket."

Arthur smirked as he leaned to the side. He ghosted his fingertips over the surface of the stage floor, moving around until he could feel the smooth texture of paper.

He felt a slight fuzz spreading through his head as he pulled himself upright, but ignored it after shaking his head. Patting around his pants, he realized that his pockets were empty. Arthur scowled.

"Francis, dear, do you happen to have a spare pencil?" He only looked towards Francis when his words were just about finished, keeping his voice in a hushed tone as to not disturb the other cast members. No need to show off.

Arthur held out his hand expectantly, flexing his fingers, and within a few seconds, he had a pencil. He flipped it over, the grip in between his fingers, swiftly inspecting it. Mechanical, and one of the good ones, too.

He debated the prospects of pocketing it- it wasn't as if Francis wouldn't get it back, eventually- when Mrs. Karpusi began reading, the words spilling from her mouth at a mile a minute.

"Before the break, we finished up on the first act. Flip to the prelude of the second, page seventy-six." The sounds of turning pages filled the room. From his peripheral, Arthur saw Alfred reach his destination on his first try, a triumphant grin spreading across his cheeks. Arthur lightly chuckled as Alfred tried and failed to discreetly pump his fist at his side.

"The same person from Act One will read the prelude for this one. I still haven't decided who, exactly, that'll be yet, but I'll get back to you all on that next week. Now-"

Arthur allowed himself to ease into autopilot as she continued on, lightly tapping his pencil against the plastic cover of the script book. He crossed out parts of the script that were deemed "distasteful", writing above it what was deemed better. By the time they finished the page, he could barely read the printed words, the scene almost completely different.

He scanned over the page, turning back and forth to glance between his current and previous work. Arthur cringed. He would have to write it all out by hand to be able to understand it later.

They continued like that for another ten minutes, page after page, sentence after sentence being revised until Act Two was finished. It wasn't until Mrs. Karpusi mentioned his character's name that Arthur snapped back into attention.

"Now, after Alex and Jared-" She nodded to Alfred and Arthur as she mentioned their parts- "finish up 'This is Us', Jared and Arlene are supposed to kiss. With the context of the song, that's ridiculous."

Arthur pushed his thumb against the eraser of his pencil before flipping it up-right, marking out "Arlene" from the top of the page. He looked up expectantly at Mrs. Karpusi.

She paused for a moment. They made brief eye contact before she shifted her eyes away and over to Francis. She bit her bottom lip, scraping it with her teeth, sighing and looking away. Arthur knew what she was going to say before she even said it, and by the way Francis' eyebrows began to knit together, it was obvious that he did, as well.

"So, what I think we're going to do-" She trailed off, her words already slow. "I think we're going to have Alex and Jared in the kiss scene instead of Jared and Arlene." Mrs. Karpusi put an extra emphasis on 'Arlene'.

A band rang out through the stage, Arthur turning to find Alfred sitting there, his eyes wide and mouth gaping. His lips split into a triumphant smile, revealing rows of shiny white teeth. He lightly patted the metal seat as he cackled, his shoulders shaking as he laughed.

Arthur could only think that he sounded as if he were dying.

He rolled his eyes as Alfred struggled to speak, the latter's face growing red from lack of breath.

He glanced over to Francis, who looked as if he was struggling to hold back a sneer.

Arthur slumped down in his chair, his shoulders rolling back and his chin almost touching his chest. He huffed.

Fuck.

Arthur knew that Francis was behind him from the moment they left the auditorium. He chose to take the back way this time, if only to prevent any listening ears from prying into the upcoming fight. And it would surely happen. That was the way they worked.

The sound of the heels of his boots echoed against the bone-white halls, mixing with the sounds of Francis' own. Arthur started to walk faster, shoving his hands into his pockets to feign a chill composure. The blood in his veins boiled.

Francis matched his pace and Arthur knew that he was going to try and grab him. From the sounds of light squeaking against the tile, Arthur gave them an arms' worth of space. At the very most.

"Arthur." He kept walking, ignore the desperation, the barely contained anger in Francis' voice.

"Arthur, please."

He didn't bother to turn around and look at Francis, didn't want to see that hurt face of his. It was cruel and childish, he knew, and something small inside of him screamed for him to stop.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head. Fine.

Backing up to the wall, Arthur let Francis catch up to him. They were facing each other within seconds, Francis stepping forward, their chests just barely touching. His warm breath squandered against Arthur's cheeks.

Francis smiled slowly, a small glint of his slightly crooked teeth showing. He went in for a kiss and Arthur met him halfway, bracing his hands against Francis' shoulders and squeezing tight. Arthur swiped his tongue along the seam of Francis' bottom lip, slightly snickering as he did so, the laugh sounding like several huffs of air more than anything.

He pulled away, hands moving down and to the sides to grip the collar of Francis' shirt. Arthur opened his eyes, biting his bottom lip as he glanced Francis up and down. He debated kissing him again before going in without a second thought, this time as a small peck on the cheek. And then the nose. And then, finally, back to Francis' mouth.

It was Francis who pulled back, a small, somber grin on his face. Arthur could only think that it looked like a wince. "Arthur?"

"Hm?" Arthur took another step forward. Their chests were flush against each other, Francis wrapping his arms around the small of Arthur's back. Arthur grinned, lightly shaking his head.

Francis leaned in, his nose breathing in a fraction of an inch away from Arthur's hair. Arthur wrinkled his nose at the sound, but otherwise ignored it, allowing himself to savor the moment, any audience be damned.

Francis' breath turned shaky, his shoulders tensing under Arthur's touch. "Arthur, I want you to go to Mrs. Karpusi and ask her for a different role in the play."

Arthur pushed himself away from Francis, stepping back and hitting the wall with a soft thump.

He frowned, letting it turn into a sneer, cocking his head to the side. "What?"

Francis sighed, shaking his head, strands of his hair lightly brushing against Arthur's cheeks.

"Arthur, please, don't get into it with me over-"

"And what the fuck do you mean by that? Do you know how lucky I am to get one of the leading roles? Are you not happy for me?"

Francis threw his hands up in the air, scoffing. A dismissal. "Of course I'm happy for you. It's just that-"

"Then you would just suck it up and deal with it. Are you-" A stray thought ran through Arthur's mind. He tried to will it away, only for it to linger. He narrowed his eyes, and when he spoke, he made sure it was as slow and as accusing as he could make it. "Are you jealous? That I have to kiss Alfred?"

The look on Francis' face only confirmed his suspicions. He sneered. "Are you fucking kidding me? You honestly think-"

"Ok, so what if I am jealous. Is that not alright?" Francis' hair bobbed with his head as he spoke, the bracelets encircling his wrists flicking and clattering in tune with his words. "So what if I'm-"

"Me? With that sorry excuse of a-"

"Goddamnit, Arthur, will you let me finish?"

"No, I won't. Because if you think for one fucking second that I am so untrustworthy that I would-"

"I never said that-"

"Well, you fucking implied it." Arthur crossed his arms, careful to hide his clenched fists. He paused, dropping them to his sides. Let Francis see them.

Francis sighed, pushing his fingers through his hair, his shoulders deflating in a way that signaled defeat. Arthur began to prepare himself for the guilt trip that was almost sure to come, racking through his mind for replies that would shut it down before he could start.
"Arthur." He let Francis move closer, trying his best to prevent his shoulders from tensing under his touch. Francis gently gripped the sides of his chin, slowly running his thumb up and down Arthur's jaw. "Why must you be so difficult?"

Arthur gritted his teeth as he stilled, Francis' eyes widening as he realized the mistake he made.

Good, let him wallow over it. Let him stew in it.

He quickly pushed Francis away, using all the strength he could muster. Arthur watched as he stumbled back a few steps, his back hitting the wall on the other side. Francis didn't make a move to close the distance, a frown gracing his face. Arthur didn't want to think about what he would do if he had.

Arthur clenched his fingers together. Perhaps he should punch him. None of the security guards ever checked this particular hallway, making it their preferred meeting place. Rumor claimed that the cameras in the corners were just for show. He could make it look like-

Francis shifted his eyes down to Arthur's fist. Pinned them there, a questioning- no, a daring- look on his face. He wanted him to do it. To do it and reap the consequences.

Arthur huffed. "You can go fuck yourself, Francis." He spat out his name as if it were the filthiest curse he knew.

He turned and stalked down the hallway, his blood boiling in his veins as a million thoughts buzzed through his head. Arthur didn't turn to see if Francis followed.

Arthur took in a deep breath as the piano started the first few notes of the song's introduction. He took in more and more, not stopping until his lungs started to ache and sting.

The piano swelled into a crescendo, minor keys ringing in his ears. He turned to Alfred, putting on a serene smile, the clip of the microphone attached to his collar slightly scratching his neck.

Arthur shoved down a wince.

Five seconds, at the very most.

Alfred met his stare, his eyes widening, lips splitting into a smile. Arthur could only think about how white and straight his teeth looked under the spotlight.

Four seconds.

He could feel Francis' eyes raking up and down his back. Arthur tried not to think about how slimy it felt. Or that, for once, he felt almost tempted to turn around and ask him to stop.

Three seconds.

The pain in his stomach was almost unbearable, like two snakes coiling into a knot, yet Arthur forced himself to take in more air. He couldn't afford to fall flat. Not with a starting note of eighteen beats.

Two seconds.

Arthur couldn't help but wonder what Alfred was thinking. Wonder if he was prepared, if he felt the spiders and worms crawling through his veins. If his heart was pounding to a beat of a drum similar to Arthur's.

One second.

He scanned the crowd, staring straight at their expectant faces, at the looks of wonder in their eyes.
The piano hit the final note of the into, and Arthur sang. Alfred joined him, his voice shooting up several notes, their voices weaving with each other. A couple measures later, the rest of the ensemble joined in.

Arthur once again looked to Alfred, taking both of the latter's hands within his own, gripping as tight as he could. Alfred's palms were clammy, his fingers slightly fidgeting.

He broke his left hand away, sliding it up to grip Alfred's shoulder. Alfred mirrored him, raising
Arthur's right hand to face the crowd.

Arthur smirked up at Alfred, slowly shaking his head as the starting note came to an end, trying his best to stay in character. It wasn't as difficult as he originally thought it to be, not with how close they were, with the way Alfred seemed to effortlessly smile back.

"I cannot imagine a time." They began their waltz, a million thoughts running through Arthur's head, desperately trying to remember the order of the steps. Right foot to the side, left foot following. Right foot down, left foot down and to the side. Right foot follows. Left foot up. Repeat.

"When you weren't in my life." Alfred finished the sentence, tossing his voice up and managing to hit a note at least half an octave higher than Arthur's max range. The fact that he managed to make it look so careless and easy while doing it was-

Arthur resisted the urge to shake his head. No need to think about it.

They flowed through several verses, Arthur waiting several measures before starting to echo Alfred. The ensemble paused, but Arthur easily ignored their loss.

He realized then that with each verse behind them, the problem that had been plaguing him for months drew closer. They hadn't practiced, not even a single peck, despite Alfred's cheeky insisting. He might have rolled with it, had kissed him as many times as he could, if only to spite Francis, but the guilt of it brought him away.

They rose into a crescendo, their voices starting soft and growing to match the volume of the piano and drums pounding along with them. Arthur guided them towards the upper middle of the stage, an icy blue spotlight following them with each and every step.

Arthur stopped in his designated place, covering a black X on the stage with his boot. Alfred stepped over to his own position, marked by another X parallel to Arthur's. The final verse had arrived.

Arthur quickly drew in another breath, making it as silent as possible. "And I- will- never let you-"

They paused for a split of a second. "Go." They pulled on the final word as if it were a rope of salt water taffy on a hook, the piano softly playing its final notes alongside the quiet clinking of a triangle.

He squeezed Alfred's shoulder. This was it.

Turning his head slightly to the right, towards the audience, Arthur focused his eyes on a small groove in the floor of the stage. "Alex?" Arthur looked back at Alfred, scraping his teeth against his bottom lip.

Alfred lightly shook his head, tsking in tune. He took a small step forward, and then another.

Their chests were touching, the tips of their boots sliding against one another. Arthur could feel light puffs of warm breath from Alfred.

A ball dropped in Arthur's stomach.

Gently cupping Arthur's face in his hands, Alfred moved forward, his eyes fluttering shut.

Arthur's heart sped up to a mile a minute as he met Alfred halfway.
It was supposed to be closed, a tiny connection, and then they would quickly pull away.

That's what it should've been, but it wasn't. The cheer of the audience was nothing less than a roar, but Arthur tuned it out, only thinking how soft Alfred's lips were.

He pulled away when he felt a flick of a tongue against the seam of his lower lip. Alfred slyly grinned, an out of character wink following after.

"Do that again." His voice was breathless, the line not entirely found in the script.

Alfred smiled and obliged him.