A/N: This is incredibly overdue (really, it's months late), but this is the incentive piece I wrote for Angie (Angelikah on FF, thetourguidebarbie on Tumblr. Basically, the greatest person I've met since joining this fandom.) for the Klaroline Gives Back charity project. The prompt was: "Our drama teacher is a matchmaking asshole and our scene is going to be incredibly awkward because your S.O. is in the class and they are a total douchebag." It's entirely AU/AH. Also, sorry Angie, but there is no sex. I couldn't bring myself to fit it anywhere.
SPOILER ALERT for anybody who has never seen nor heard about the musical Spring Awakening. I ruin one of the bigger plot points near the end. But also, if you haven't, what have you been doing with your life!
So, Angie, and everybody else, please enjoy!
"And now our bodies are the guilty ones,
Our touch will fill every hour,
Huge and dark, oh, our hearts
Will murmur the blues from on high."
"The Guilty Ones" | Spring Awakening, OBC
Everybody Knows Your Name
Silas is walking in circles around all of us. Some he pinches, because apparently that helps him decide which part you are perfect for. Others he frowns and shakes his head, silently wondering how you were accepted into Fame High in the first place, let alone the drama department. I see him physically cringe when he reaches Jeremy Gilbert, the zit-faced boy Silas has repeatedly said will only ever get uncredited roles in low-budget TV shows. How is it that this man hasn't yet been fired?
I can answer that question: Because he, once upon a time, was a well respected actor-turned-director. Now he is a semi-functional drunk who picks on kids and their insecurities for money. He is clever, I'll give him that much. He knows his way around a script. His credentials don't mean I have to like him, though.
He has a problem with students he deems "unworthy" of being in his classes. By "unworthy," of course, he means "you did not come from a rich acting family." Greek bastard.
I fall into that category. My parents are worthless nobodies I left in London with my four siblings.
"Mikaelson," Silas says when he reaches me.
I startle—everybody startles—surprised Silas has spoken at all. During these "walk-arounds" as he calls them he never opens his mouth. I have been in his acting class since the beginning of Senior year seven months ago, and never once has he spoken while he evaluates our "presence." For a moment, I am worried he has found something terribly wrong with me. I skim the rest of the class—which consists of only fourteen other people—and notice most of their eyes have widened considerably. Except for Tyler Lockwood's. No, his dark eyes have turned to slits.
Silas is standing in front of me, his mouth pulled into a thin line. I am taller than him by two inches and am not afraid to bend slightly in the hopes he cowers away.
"Mmm," Silas grumbles, stroking his chin. His green eyes survey me, starting from the rusty curls on my head to the black oxfords with blue laces covering my feet. "Can you sing?"
I frown. We're actors, not singers. I'm sure all of us can carry a tune, but this is the drama department. Singing is reserved for the music department, or, at the very least, the musical theatre department.
"Well?" Silas grows impatient quickly. He has started tapping his foot. Soon, if I don't answer, it will be up ass.
"Yes, sir," I say firmly. "I can sing."
I can sing, it's true. When my baby sister—who is now no longer a baby—was just born, I would sing her to sleep every night. Singing hasn't been a part of my life since then, but I can do it.
"Excellent. Get up on stage." Silas points to the black box behind our circle and turns his head away from me. "Caroline Forbes, follow him."
Inwardly, and perhaps outwardly, I groan. I've been going to school with Princess Forbes for nearly two whole years, and every time I'm forced to work with her I wish I didn't love acting so much. She is the daughter of acting legends Elizabeth and William Forbes, who themselves come from acting families. I was not here at the time, but it definitely surprised everybody at Fame High when the girl who grew up going to the Academy Awards ceremonies came in for an audition.
The bubbly bond quickly nods her head and races in front of me to the steps beside the stage. Her white dress bounces, her pin-straight hair rippling with the movements of the fabric. I creep next to her once we reach centre stage, making sure to keep a good foot between us. Thankfully, the lights are not on. I will not melt in my black long-sleeved shirt.
Had I known we were picking parts for the Senior Play, I would have worn lighter clothing. Silas does love to surprise us.
"Closer," Silas says from the ground, motioning for Caroline and I to shuffle closer with his olive-toned hands.
Rolling my eyes, I take small steps to the left until I can feel the heat radiating off of the acting legacy.
"Perfect," Silas congratulates. He turns to face the disbanded circle. "I have decided that for your Senior play, we are to stage a musical!" he announces giddily.
There are murmurs of whats and huhs and are you fucking kidding mes floating around the room. We are all struck. Confused and unsure. Did we hear our teacher correctly? A musical?
"But, Silas!"
I look to my left. Caroline Forbes, pale skin glowing against her dress, pink lips taut and angry, has her hand high in the air.
Silas's eyes brighten. "What is it, my dear?"
Caroline puts her arm back down and clears her throat. Always ready for a performance. "Ahem, we are the drama department. We don't do musicals."
"That is the wonderful thing about being me," Silas says haughtily. "I can do whatever I want, and they cannot stop me."
"But"—Caroline begins saying before Silas holds up his hand to silence her.
—"But nothing, Miss Forbes. My decision is final. We will be performing a musical this year."
"Well, can you at least tell us what it is?"
Again, Caroline Forbes is the one who speaks. The entire class turns their attention to our clearly deranged teacher.
"Spring Awakening," he sighs wistfully, gathering his hands together. He stares directly at Caroline and I, and my heart splits in two before plummeting down my legs. I can feel my pulse in my toes. "And you two will be playing the leads."
—
At lunch that day I sit with the only person who is willing to be seen with me, Matt Donovan. He's a sweet guy currently in the film department. Tall, All-American. Wears thick-rimmed glasses and looks like he's related to some Greek god. My would-be nightmare. The only reason we are friends in the first place is because when I moved to the States needing a place to stay, he let me crash at his apartment.
"There's so much singing," I complain, scrolling through Spring Awakening's Wikipedia page on my mobile. "And a sex scene. Tyler Lockwood is going to fucking kill me. Maybe I should turn down the roll and hand it off to him."
Matt grabs my wrist and shakes his head. "You can't do that, man," he says firmly, releasing me. "Silas's decisions are final, you should know that by now. My older sister had him and said some guy got kicked out of his class because he questioned Silas's choice of shirt colour for one of his scenes in Hamlet. Besides, he's got this reputation to uphold."
I scoff. "What reputation?"
"Maybe reputation isn't the right word," Matt admits. "Okay, look, he's got a track record with these kinds of things."
Looking up from my phone, I ask, "What kind of things?"
"Haven't you heard?"
Clearly my best friend has gone insane. I decide to humour him. "Heard what?"
"Oh, man, this is the spookiest thing. Every year, Silas picks a man and a woman—except for the one time he chose two men—to be his leads in the Senior play, and every year, without fail, they fall madly in love and get married."
I don't laugh very often, hardly at all really, but this makes me burst into a fit of chuckles.
"You don't believe me?" Matt pulls out his phone and searches for something before holding in front of my face. "Check this out."
Squinting, I see he is showing me a Facebook page entitled Silas's Matchmaking Services.
"Twenty-four members?" I ask, taking the phone.
"Silas has been teaching the seniors here for twelve years," Matt says. "Each of those twelve couples is still together. Last year's seniors are already engaged."
"No way. You're pulling my tail."
"You think I created this Facebook page and made twenty-four accounts to join it as a joke?"
I shrug. "Perhaps."
Really, though, I'm starting to worry. If Silas's plan is to get me and Caroline Forbes to fall in love, he's got another thing coming. Firstly, she's dating Tyler Lockwood, another legacy. His great-grandfather is widely considered one of the greatest actors of all time. Why would she go for me, a loser with no prior acting experience, when she has him? Secondly, I am a loser with no prior acting experience. Princess Forbes prides herself on dating only the most affluential men. Just last year she was caught up in a scandal when it was discovered she was having an affair with the director for her debut film. He is fifteen years her senior. I shiver just thinking about their rendezvous.
Matt puts his phone away and continues eating, finally taking the hint that I don't want to talk about this.
I could very well discuss it with Silas. Tell the old man I'm fearing for my life. Tyler Lockwood would surely have me killed if I so much as accidentally brushed against his girlfriend in the hallway, let alone do all of the things I would have to do to her if I took the role of Melchior Gabor.
—
The next day, everybody gathers into our circle before Silas shoos us out of it, telling Caroline and myself to head back on stage. Beneath the harsh lights of the theatre, I can barely make out any faces in the crowd, but there is no mistaking the cold glare of Tyler Lockwood. His dark eyes stare daggers into my chest. Spit fire against my skin.
"Um, Silas," I call out, distracting the director from speaking to the rest of the class. He whips around, pushing his glasses down his nose. "Could I speak to you privately for a moment?"
Sighing, Silas nods his head and motions for me to step off stage. I hear Caroline grumble beside me as I escape.
"What is it, my boy?" he asks once I reach the side of the stage.
"Well, you see, I'm not sure how comfortable I am playing this role," I admit.
"You can sing, no?"
I frown. "What? Yes, I can sing, but"—
—"And you want to be an actor?"
Rolling my eyes, I nod. "Of course I do, but"—
—"No, no," Silas puts his hand up and immediately I stop talking. "No 'buts.' You came here from England two years ago, correct?"
Again, I nod.
"I've seen your file, Niklaus," Silas informs me, the use of my full name making me sick to my stomach. Only my father ever called me that. "I know why you left. I know you have wanted to be an actor since you saw Some Like It Hot when you were five-years-old. When I gave you this part, it was not a random choice. I could have picked anybody in this room. You have the least amount of experience, your presence on stage would not be missed by the rest of the class. But I chose you for a reason: I think you are the best. You have proved yourself to be a capable actor. Don't let Mr. Lockwood scare you," Silas says, winking. "Miss Forbes will soon realise she has chosen a brute for a boyfriend."
Silas does not let me say anything to him. He pats my shoulder once before heading back in front of the stage, calling me over with a whistle when I do not move quickly enough. I trudge up the stairs and reluctantly stand next to Caroline, whose foot is tapping an impatient beat.
"Did you sort out all of your issues?" she asks snidely, tilting her blond head to the side. Her blue eyes sparkle like clear cut crystals underneath the lights and I am forced to admit to myself that she is gorgeous. Flawless, even. Physically, at least. "I know in England you're all prudes, but over here, this kind of play is what the audiences want to see."
"I think you'll find Americans to be the prudes in this scenario," I hiss. "Sure, Lord Chamberlain banned the play in the sixties, but let's think about how censored all of your media is today."
Before Princess Forbes can respond with some angry remark, Silas claps his hands and calls us all to attention.
"We will be reading through the lines today, so if everybody could join our lovely leads on stage, I would greatly appreciate it," Silas says, and Caroline and I step out so the entire class can create another circle. Once everybody is standing on stage, with Tyler Lockwood glued to Caroline's other side, Silas begins handing out scripts. "Take one and pass it down. You should all know who you are playing now, and I hope each of you did some research last night so you are not too shocked when we get to certain scenes."
"Yeah, about that, Silas." Tyler Lockwood's angry voice echoes throughout the theatre. "Are you sure this is an appropriate musical for us to be performing? I mean, my parents are already upset that we're singing at all, but once I tell them about this, they really won't be happy."
This is all code for: How dare you give my spot to that English guy?
Silas may be a Greek bastard, but he seems to be on my side. He frowns and takes his thumb and index finger to his forehead, throwing Lockwood a look that sends chills down my spine. "Mr. Lockwood, how many times do I have to say this? We are all adults here. This department is mine, and I will do with it what I please. Tell your parents I chose the play I wanted to, and I chose the leads I wanted to. They can complain all they like, Principle Webber already gave the thumbs up."
Tyler turns away from the brewing argument, stapling his eyes on me instead. "Yeah?" he says. "This guy is your lead? He never acted before he got here."
He feels threatened by me, I can tell. I'm not classically handsome, but since entering this school I have gained "bad boy" label so many good girls strive for merely because of my tendency to wear black. And in his eyes, Caroline Forbes is the supposed goodest good girl ever to walk these sacred halls despite all she's done to prove the opposite. Lockwood too is considered a bad boy by many (including teachers), but he lacks my English accent.
I smirk at him, an evil glint dancing in my eyes.
I would never go for Caroline Forbes, but if the boy who has tortured me since I arrived thinks I would, so be it.
"My decisions are final, Mr. Lockwood. Shut up and open your script."
—
In the following couple of weeks, our acting classes are held on the stage, each of us sitting in a circle as we rehearse our lines in one large group without introducing props or sets or costumes. Silas tells us those will come with time, and the designs for each are already being brought to life by some film crew members Silas knows well. Figures he wouldn't trust the school's crew.
Today it's just Caroline and I standing upon the stage at opposite ends, the harsh lights in the theatre burning our skin. I glance briefly at my script, wondering if we will finally be blocking this damned musical. I'm no dancer, but thankfully this show doesn't require much fluidity. I have seen most of the performance clips on YouTube and part of me wishes I had said to Silas that Lockwood could have my role. The man who originally played Melchior Gabor in the Broadway production is plenty more talented than I could ever hope to be.
Silas enters the room just as I catch Caroline Forbes staring intently at me. She sneers when she realises she's been caught and turns to say something to Lockwood. They both snicker.
Clambering onto the stage, Silas comes before us wearing a large smile. "Exciting news everyone, we will start singing today! I want to see how well our lead's voices blend, so we will be going over only their songs. When we meet again we'll get everybody else's voices warmed up."
Wonderful, I think to myself. This is just wonderful.
The songs are even more difficult than the lines.
Minutes later, one of the young men in the dance program enters the room and meets Caroline and I on the stage. He is dressed in loose clothing, and I wish now I had thought to not wear such tight jeans.
Caroline and I stand next to each other as the choreographer speaks and moves, showing us the strange dance we will be performing during our second duet, "The Guilty Ones." The original production doesn't have any dancing during this part, but because we are still just a measly old high school and not Broadway—despite what Silas would like to believe—and therefore cannot have sex, simulated though it may be, on stage, we are forced to compromise and perform a "sensual" dance instead.
Please, just kill me now.
I see Tyler's red face as Caroline and I move closer, mimicking the dancer's movements, and fight the urge to smirk at him. I have never wanted to kiss Caroline Forbes, which this song will call for, but I'm willing to do a lot of things to piss off Lockwood.
"You two have just had sex," Silas says bluntly once the choreographer asks us to show him if we were paying attention. "Wendla, you do not know yet what exactly has happened, but you know it was powerful and it has sparked a revival in your soul. Melchior," he says, turning towards me, "you know what has happened. You know you have stolen the innocence of this girl to fuel your own hormonal desires, but you also know how much you adore her. How joined the two of you are now. Show me these things while you perform this, please."
I nod, not caring to see if Caroline has followed along as well. Everyone must join in during this song, and soon we are all on the stage, our noses held high.
Suddenly, I'm nervous. My heart thudumps heavily and noisily in my chest. I hear the music begin, but it's muted and sounds as though it's coming from another room.
"Hey." Somebody pinches the skin of the back of my hand, hard. I whip my head around, my senses reawakened, and see Caroline Forbes frowning at me. "Get it together," she hisses.
I glare right back at her, ready to pinch her in retaliation, but then she opens her mouth and begins to sing, and I'm frozen in place.
I hate her, I do, but I'm also a student at a performing arts school. I know talent when I see it. And as much as it pains me to admit, Caroline Forbes has a world of talent tucked away in that small body of hers. Her voice carries through the theatre, punching me straight in the gut. She turns her head and sings this ghostly song directly to me, and for the first time since I met her nearly two years ago, I'm lost in the blue of her eyes.
When she nudges me slightly, that frown back in place, I know it's my turn to start singing. Forgetting about the people surrounding us, I follow the music and sing my part, thankful that I can remember every word. When the others join us, that is our cue to come closer together—to touch, to dance, to kiss. I feel Caroline's warm skin beneath the roughness of my fingertips and sway with her as the chorus takes over. Towards the end of the song, when our lips are supposed to meet, Caroline grasps my shoulders and stands on her tiptoes, an ocean of longing dancing in her eyes.
This is a performance, I can rationalise that, but something foreign stirs inside of me when she begins to tilt her head upwards, her pink lips parted in a confused smile. I lean down, as I'm supposed to, but something stops me from reaching Caroline's mouth. Something big and loud and angry.
In one instant, I'm thrown back. My head slams against the hard floor of the stage and I have no time to move before Tyler Lockwood is kneeling on my chest, his fist colliding with my chin. Pain shoots through me, starting in my jaw and going all the way to my toes. It's been years since I have been pounced upon like this, but I remember the drill.
Survival instinct kicks in, jolting me awake. I shake off the pain and sit up, throwing Lockwood off of me. I stagger up, more dazed than I realised, and am on the ground again before I can put my fists up.
"Tyler Lockwood!" Silas booms as Lockwood's bloodied knuckles are poised above my nose.
Tyler's body is dragged off of mine by a couple of students. I stand, still dizzy, noticing a slight throbbing in my bottom lip. I must have bitten it when that bastard punched me.
The music is still playing, but I can't hear it over the squeals of the class.
"Everybody shut up! Turn that damned music off," Silas shouts, running on to the stage. He walks passed me to where Lockwood stands fuming. "I'm sure you know how this works by now, Mr. Lockwood. Take him to Principle Webber. Now." As the two boys who were holding Lockwood walk away, Silas approaches me. "Miss Forbes, could you please escort Mr. Mikaelson to the nurse. He looks like he needs some ice."
A stunned Caroline comes up to me and nods her head, taking my arm and leading me off of the stage. We walk in a sort of loud silence as we head for the nurse, but I can feel Caroline's eyes on me every now and again. When we reach the nurse's office, Caroline stops.
"I'm sorry," she says.
I laugh bitterly. "You're not the one who punched me."
"No, I guess not. But I should have known it was going to happen. Tyler's a possessive asshole. He did the same thing last year to Stefan Salvatore when we were the leads in A Streetcar Named Desire."
"Is that why his brother had to step in?"
Caroline shivers. "Yeah. Damon. God, that was horrible. He's such a creep."
We stand outside the nurse's office, motionless, for a few more seconds.
"Why are you with him?"
"What do you mean?"
Rolling my eyes, I lean against the wall by the door to the nurse. "Lockwood. Why are you with him? He's violent, not as talented as he thinks he is, and an all-around horrible human. What's the appeal?"
"Not that I have to defend my choice of boyfriend to you," she says, crossing her arms and not meeting my eyes, "but I'm with him . . ."
She trails off.
"Because he's from an acting family, and you are too?" I cut in.
Caroline laughs humourlessly. "Probably." She glances at me, her brow furrowed. "You're dripping blood. Let's get you to the nurse."
I allow Princess Forbes to guide me inside the room, wondering if this act of kindness is merely guilt, or the beginning of a not-so-volatile relationship with the most famous girl in school.
—
"I can't believe they expelled him."
"I can't believe he lasted this long here. You know, he's been in eleven fist fights since he was a freshman?"
Matt shrugs. "It doesn't surprise me. The guy's a menace. I don't even know why he was in public school in the first place."
"Apparently his parents put him in here to show him how the other half live," I explain as Matt and I finish up our lunch.
Lockwood and I had our meeting with the principle earlier, the day after our lovely fight. Short story short, he was thrown out. If I could smile without my lip splitting open, I would. This is the happiest I've been since I started coming to this school.
"I hear Caroline broke up with him," Matt says suggestively.
"And what does that have to do with me?" I ask.
Once she left the nurse's office, our paths didn't cross again until our class earlier in the day where she completely ignored me outside of our scenes. I'm perfectly okay with it. We've spent almost two years pretending the other doesn't exist. Just because she was nice to me for five minutes doesn't mean we're automatically the greatest of friends.
Matt leans over the lunch table as if he's about to tell me a big secret. "She's single now."
"Yes . . ." I drag unenthusiastically.
"Well, that means you can get with her."
"Why on earth would I want to do that? She's a pain in my ass, has been for two years. I'm not going to pine after her now her boyfriend's beaten me up."
"Ex-boyfriend," Matt corrects cheekily. "You can't deny it, my friend. Silas paired you two up, you're destined to be together."
"Silas is an old grump who probably experimented with too much LSD when he was younger. I don't care about his track record with setting people up. Caroline Forbes and I are not meant to be together," I say firmly.
For the rest of lunch, Matt goes on about fate, but I stop listening when I spot the princess herself sitting with her friends across the room. As she laughs at something one of her crony's says, her eyes lock on mine. I don't know what compels me to do it, but I find myself offering her a tight smile, only remembering my injury when I notice hot blood dribbling down my chin. I remove the smile immediately, but I manage to catch Caroline's own small smile flickering across her lips.
—
The music is swelling in my ears, sending a dose of adrenaline through my veins. I never thought that mere music would have this kind of effect on me, and I know that if my father could see me he would laugh. I stare at Caroline as she sings her verse, her mouth moving, eyes glistening. I have to kiss her soon. I'm glad my lip has finally healed, seeing as it's been nearly a week since Lockwood got expelled and we've not been able to practice the kissing scenes because Silas has been afraid of aggravating my injury. Overprotective Greek bastard.
Caroline, dressed in full Wendla garb, grabs my arms just above my elbows as her verse finishes and we move into the chorus. Then it is my turn to sing. With an aching jaw still yellow from the attack, I sing my lines, making sure to get every ounce of emotion I can into them. When I am finished, the rest of our class move from behind us, surrounding us on all sides, and sing the second chorus.
"This is it, guys!" I hear Silas yell from the theatre seats. "As soon as you hear the last 'fall in silence from the sky' I want you to kiss. Big, passionate kiss until they stop singing."
My pulse skyrockets as the choir standing around us moves further towards the end of the song. I've kissed girls. Lots of girls. Girls trying out the "other side" for a while before deciding that leather doesn't feel as good as it looks. But there's something different about a stage kiss. Especially a stage kiss with someone who, according to a Facebook page, is my soulmate.
Caroline lifts herself on her tiptoes. My hands automatically find her waist. She looks at me with a demure kind of smile, and though she is in character, I can't help how my heart reacts by dropping into my stomach. Then, I hear it. Those words. I close my eyes automatically, my hands scraping up Caroline's sides until they reach the sides of her face. Leaning forward, I'm startled by the ferocity that greets me when my lips meet Princess Forbes'.
There's a loud hum circling us, but I hear no words, only a vibration. Caroline's tongue lashes at mine, her hands grip my shoulders hard, fingernails digging into my shirt. I move my hands from her face to her waist again, bringing us closer, and slide my hands so they rest upon her spine.
I've kissed girls, but never before has it felt like this. Never before has it felt like the whole world has gone silent, and nothing exists except me and her.
When the music cuts off and Caroline and I separate, I'm dizzy. Smoothing my shirt down, I swipe at my lips, noticing how swollen they've become. Caroline still stands in front of me, a dazed look in her eyes.
"Excellent!" We all turn our heads to find Silas rushing up the stairs to the stage. "Amazing. Spectacular. This is going to be amazing." He comes to Caroline and I, grabbing both of our hands and leaning in close. "I am so happy I chose you two. It feels so right to watch you together on this stage."
Out the corner of my eye, I see Caroline's cheeks redden and can't stop my mouth from lifting into a half-smile.
"Go take a breather," Silas suggests. "We'll reconvene in five."
I walk away first, leaving Caroline to ask Silas some questions, and go backstage. Wires and costumes lie about the floor, but it's void of humans back here. I see props and set pieces from past performances and notice a few that can only be for the Junior's production of King Lear.
"Hey, wait up."
I turn, watching as Caroline Forbes makes her way over to me. She's smiling.
"I, um, just wanted to say how sorry I am about Tyler again."
I stare blankly at her. "It's fine. You didn't order the attack."
"No," she says, giggling. Something odd is going on here, but I can't figure out what it is. "But, as I told you before, I knew how jealous he could be. I didn't warn you."
Is she flirting with me? It feels like she's flirting with me.
"Really, don't worry about it," I say.
Caroline inches closer to me. Wendla's costume calls for a blue baby doll dress that stops before it reaches the knee and as Caroline moves closer, the dress sways. "I'm just glad you're all healed up."
"Yeah," I croak. She's definitely flirting. "Me too."
What happened to her extreme dislike of me? On multiple occasions she's complained that I'm not a real actor. She puts her nose high in the air whenever I talk. Perhaps she's on drugs of some kind. Xanex to stop her from freaking out about being single.
No, Princess Forbes would never dabble in prescription drugs. Her best friend died of a drug overdose when she was fourteen—that wound is still fresh in her mind.
Thankfully, before Caroline can get any closer to me, Silas pokes his head through the curtain and calls us back on stage. I wait for Caroline to go through first, taking a moment to catch my breath before joining the class.
—
I'm scrubbing the stage make-up off of my face when Matt knocks on the door to my room. Tonight was the final performance for the show, the end of weeks of misery for us seniors in the drama department. Though I'm bummed high school is nearly over, I'm happy to be starting my own life. Silas has gotten me in contact with a management company on the lookout for new talent. Maybe he's not such a Greek bastard after all.
"It's your mother," Matt whispers as I open the door for him. A phone is pressed against his shoulder.
My eyebrows fuse together. "Why's my mum phoning you?"
"She isn't. She called the landline," he says, motioning with his eyes towards the bulky phone in his hand.
"We have a landline?"
"My mom insists I have a landline, otherwise she worries she won't be able to contact me. She never really got on the cell phone train. Do you want to talk to her?"
"To your mum?" I ask stupidly.
"No, you idiot. Your mom."
Matt thrusts the phone in my face. I have no choice but to take it.
My roommate leaves in a hurry once the phone is in my possession. The few times I've spoken to him about my family have clearly left the right impression. I hate my family. I came to America for more than Hollywood.
"Nikky, darling, is that you?"
I hear my mother's put-on posh accent and in a huff reluctantly crush it against my ear. "Yes, Mum, it's me."
"Darling, we haven't spoken in ages."
"Because I've done my best to avoid you."
"Now, now, Nikky, that's no way to talk to you mother."
I rub at my forehead. "Mum, why are you phoning me?"
"Well, darling, I checked your school's website and saw you had been cast as lead in the play. Why didn't you tell us?"
"You've never supported my desire to act before. Why should I have told you?"
I left two years ago to avoid these conversations. How she found the number to the landline I didn't know existed is beyond me, but I want nothing more than to hang up this phone and forget this conversation ever happened.
She tuts, a little disapproving snort. It makes me want to crush the phone instead. "When are you coming home, darling?"
When did she start calling me darling? She's done it four times since this conversation began.
"I'm not coming home, Mum. You and Dad both know this," I remind her. She must remember the conversations leading up to my decision. She was crying through most of them, begging me to stay while my father laughed and told me sod off. "My acting teacher even got me a meeting with some people in the business. I'm almost there."
I don't know why I said that. Despite being my mother, she has never been interested in my plans to be an actor. Maybe I want to finally hear her say that she's proud, but even that sounds too sissy for me. And it is too much of a reach. She would never say she was proud of my decision to abandon the family and move across the Atlantic just to become a bum.
"Nikky, I was looking an article about people coming in to Hollywood in the hopes of acting, and this article told me only one percent of hopeful actors truly become famous. That isn't a very good statistic, darling."
One percent. I've heard that number before. It doesn't worry me. "Mum, I can be that one percent. I have talent, drive. I'm English, for Christ's sake"—
—"Don't get your hopes up, darling," my mother interrupts, snuffing my fire yet again.
I nod slowly and stare at the blue walls of my vacant bedroom, a sinking feeling rolling through my stomach. I feel almost defeated. The adrenaline from tonight's performance has completely gone. "I have to go, Mum," I say impassively, hanging up the phone before she has a chance to complain.
Placing the phone on my desk, I return to the task of getting rid of the makeup piled on my face for the show and think of the standing ovation we got at the end. Caroline's hand wrapped tightly around mine as we bowed just the two of us, our second performance of "The Guilty Ones" after the crowd wouldn't stop shouting for us to come back, that final kiss we shared as the lights went out following the encore. Holding her to me at the end, watching as a few tears welled in her eyes, a mix of exhaustion, sadness, and happiness, when the curtain fell, blocking us from the audience, it was a, dare I say, magical moment.
If only my parents could understand.
Once my face is clear, I sit on my bed and start reading Frankenstein—my go to book—for the thousandth time. I'm one-third of the way through, thoroughly enveloped in the story, when Matt again knocks at my door.
"Come in," I call, not looking up from the book.
The door creaks open and I hear Matt's voice. "Um, right, so Caroline Forbes is here. She wants to see you."
Stunned, I drop my book onto the bed and stare up at Matt. "What?" I ask in disbelief. She was going on and on about a party at her house that we were all invited to after the performance. Why on earth is she at my apartment?
"Yeah," Matt says, his head poking through the doorframe. "She's in our kitchen. I have to go to work now. Play nice." With a smile, he shuts the door and walks off. Seconds later I hear our front door slam shut.
Tentatively, I walk into our small-as-anything kitchen, barely big enough to fit me, let alone the giant that is my roommate, and see the great Caroline Forbes sitting at the two person table pushed close against the wall. Her eyes are dribbling closed, a hazy smile lifting her rosy-rimmed cheeks.
What the hell is she doing here, I ask myself again before announcing my presence by knocking on one of the two cabinets in the kitchen.
Caroline seemingly jerks awake, blinking rapidly. Her eyes swivel around the room until they lock on my own.
"Hi," I say lamely, unable to think of any other greeting.
Smacking her hands on the kitchen table loudly, Caroline attempts to stand before wobbling a bit and sitting back down. Stupid English chivalry runs through my veins—I am forced to speed over to her and make sure she is okay. Before I can think of any reasons not to, I touch her cheek, moving her waving blond hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. Her skin is glazed in a thin layer of sweat. She's drunk.
Turning her head, her eyes meet mine for the second time. "You know," she hiccups, "I've been asking about you around school lately. I don't know why," she admits, frowning delicately. "I just really want to know more about you."
I ignore her rant, though her words are confusing me on a whole assortment of levels. "Caroline," I say firmly, my hand still racing to tuck her hair over her pink-tinged ear. "Caroline, did you drive yourself here?"
"No. I made Bonnie Bennett drive me."
I breathe a sigh of relief, my tense shoulders relaxing. "Good. Now, why are you here?"
Caroline laughs. Bubbly, airy, followed by another hiccup. "To see you, silly," she slurs, trying to poke my chest. She ends up hitting my collarbone. "I can't stop thinking about you. It's driving me mad."
Now it's my turn to laugh. This sounds to me like an elaborate prank designed to make a fool out of me. Lockwood's idea probably.
"Yes," I say, "and why are you really here?"
Sharply, Caroline takes my hand, her glossy eyes going wide. "Ever since that first kiss . . ."
Her sentence dies, but her eyes are still burning a hole through mine. She's chewing on her bottom lip, her eyebrows puckered as if she's embarrassed.
"You know the stories, right?" she asks, swaying in the chair. I put my other hand out to steady her.
"The stories?"
"Yeah, the stories about Silas. That he's got magical powers."
"I don't think that's the story"—
—"That every year he's been at the school, the people he pairs up to be leads in the play always end up together," she says, her words becoming less and less comprehensible as she continues. "When he said you were going to be the other lead, I didn't . . . Tyler got so mad. I tried to get Silas to change his mind, but he wouldn't." Caroline pauses and swipes a line of saliva from her cheek I didn't even realise was there. "Then you kissed me, and I—I knew. Silas was right."
Silas, the Greek bastard Matt insists is the fucking matchmaker of the millennium. Cupid without the wings and the arrows.
Caroline believes in that too?
She is drunk, I must remember. Maybe she doesn't know quite what she's saying.
We hate each other. She'll remember that come morning when the hangover bites her in the ass.
"We're meant to be, Klaus," she whispers, her breath smelling of expensive vodka. I'm too startled by her speech to move away when she leans in closer to me. "We're Wendla and Melchior."
Her mouth is nearly against mine. Her beautifully flushed face is no longer in focus, the blues of her eyes now whirlpools of ocean water.
I can't move. I'm entranced.
"Wendla dies," I remind her, my own voice quiet and stuttering.
Caroline smiles a drunken smile. "I. Don't. Care," she breathes, her lips brushing tantalisingly over mine before swallowing them whole.
My hands, which I had returned to my sides during her outburst, surge back to her face as her arms flail around my neck, her fingers dancing in my hair. She opens her lips, her tongue asking for entrance, which I, against perhaps my better judgment, allow.
Soon, we are a mess of lips and tongues and heavy breathing. My knees are aching from kneeling on the kitchen floor, but the feel of Caroline's mouth flowing, her tongue tangled with mine, is enough to make me forget the pain.
I don't pull away until I feel her heavy hand crawl beneath the collar of my t-shirt, her drunkenness slamming into me so hard I jerk backwards fast enough to fall on my ass. Panting, I attempt to gather my sanity, sitting back on my knees once the wave of confusion passes.
"No," I say sternly, planting my hands on both of Caroline's shoulders. She takes this as her cue to go in for more, but I push her back easily. "You're wasted, Caroline."
She shakes her head adamantly. "I'm only a li'l tipsy," she mumbles. "Come back here." Her hands stretch out to grab me. I take them and place them in her lap.
Running my hands through my hair, I decide I might as well take care of her while she's here. I stagger to my feet and help Caroline up, moving her with me through into the small open space of the apartment. I put her down on my bed and seat myself next to her, pretending not to mind when she lies down and rests her head in my lap.
Though I'm not exactly looking, I can see her lavender t-shirt riding up, revealing the soft skin of her belly.
"Tell me about you, Klaus," Caroline whispers, looking up at me through slitted eyes. "Talk to me until I fall asleep."
The idea of revealing anything to Caroline Forbes makes me inexplicably nervous. Months ago we couldn't stand each other, now she's showing up at my flat, drunk out of her mind, kissing me and telling me she wants to know things about me.
I have to remind myself she's in a vulnerable place at the moment. Her boyfriend and her split, high school is over.
I also have to remind myself as I gaze into her sleepy, inebriated eyes how much I dislike her.
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything."
So, I tell her everything.
Five Years Later
Another poster of Caroline Forbes, looking as glorious as ever in a futuristic spacesuit that shows most of her skin, promoting her newest blockbuster hit glares at me as I pass the bus stop outside the A24 office building. I clutch the script for the indie film I'm working on closer to my chest, opening the door to the building and finding the nearest vacated elevator. I'm going in for a chemistry read today and I can feel sweat gathering against my skin as the LA heat travels with me up the many floors of the building, which is lovely because who doesn't want to look like they've just run a marathon when meeting a potential costar?
"Klaus, buddy, how've you been?" Marcel, the director/screenwriter of the film, greets me immediately as the elevator doors slide open.
My eyes widen in surprise, a smile spreading sardonically over my lips. "I'm excellent. Freezing, actually."
Patting my shoulders as we head to the testing room, Marcel sews his eyebrows together. "Do we need to turn up the heat?" he asks, clueless as always to my sarcasm.
I shake my head. "Never mind."
"So," Marcel says loudly when we enter the small, somehow warmer room, "do you know Caroline Forbes?"
That name, hearing it on somebody else's lips so close to my ear, sends my brain whirring. Images and memories flood my mind—the touch of her hand, her lips. I stagger into my designated chair like a clumsy fool.
I've worked these past five years trying to forget that name, trying to disassociate myself from it—from her—and here I am, one mention of her and I'm a mess.
"What?" I wheeze, coughing into my hand to cover up the embarrassing noise. "What?" I ask again, clearer.
"Do you know of Caroline Forbes?" Marcel asks again, oblivious to my mental breakdown.
Taking a moment to clear my head in the hopes of sounding semi-normal, I attempt to recover my mask of indifference from its hiding place. "Do I know of Caroline Forbes, the most famous person in the entire world? Time's second most influential person of last year? Sexiest woman alive? Sexiest vegetarian"—
The sound of the door to the test room opening cuts me off. With my mouth hanging open, I turn my head to see who's come in.
"Right," Marcel says. "Well, she's here for the chemistry read. Caroline, come in, please. Take a seat next to our lovely lead."
I watch blankly, my jaw unhinged, as Caroline Forbes, three-time Oscar-nominated actress, one-time winner, enters the room, the yellow fairy dress she's sporting flowing all around her like a whole-body halo. Her eyes, bluer than I remember, meet mine for less than a second before she sits down beside me, her attention returning to Marcel. Her body heat wraps around me, sealing me in an invisible, heated blanket. Droplets of salty sweat slide down my neck and back.
"This has all been very hush-hush," Marcel tells me, mouth warped in a smile. I finally find the strength to close my mouth. "We couldn't tell you about it. Contracts and such."
"Yes, I believe there was a threat about cutting out your tongue if you were to dare speak of my involvement to anybody outside of my management team," Caroline says, her voice sounding strange. Fake and almost posh, like she has been receiving vocal coaching from my mother. She laughs, but that sounds equally as fake.
High school is definitely over.
Marcel laughs along before straightening and fixing his bland tie. "Well, Caroline, this is the guy I was telling you about," he says, motioning to me. "He's been our favourite actor here for the last couple of years. Klaus, meet Caroline Forbes."
Instead of hinting that we've already met, that she once drunkenly came to my house in the middle of the night looking for sex and a deep conversation, that our drama teacher essentially doomed us to being soulmates, Caroline offers me nothing more than the tightest of smiles.
Fame has clearly not melted the icebox surrounding her heart. If anything, it's added an iron chest around it.
I catch Marcel looking between us, fear morphing his smile into a worried line. He won't get rid of Caroline Forbes if our chemistry is lacking, but he's become something of a best friend since I entered the business. He's definitely facing a moral dilemma.
"Pardon me for asking," I say, interrupting the haunting silence, "but why exactly are you here? This is an independent film. Aren't you better suited to big name movies?"
Caroline whips her head around to face me, her golden hair lashing out. She doesn't even bother to fake a smile. "I liked the script. Every now and again I get offered an independent feature—this is the only one I've ever actually wanted to work on."
That silly accent is gone.
I lift the right side of my face in a smirk, shrugging and leaning back against the head of my chair. "So, are we gonna get started?"
—
"Charlie, you're mad!" Sylvia cries, hot tears slipping and sliding all over her cheeks.
"He can't get away with this, Sylvie." Charlie stands, knocking his chair sideways. Sylvia winces, more tears rolling from her eyes. "If the police won't stop him, I have to do it myself. I have no choice, can't you see that?"
Sylvia scrambles to her feet, grabbing Charlie's hands. She presses her forehead against his. He can feel her tears touching his own cheeks, an assortment of anger and sadness and uncontrollable lust bubbling inside of him.
"You have a choice," Sylvia insists, her eyes closed, breathing heavy. "Run away with me. We can take our things and leave New York behind. Go to England and be with your family." She moves her hands up Charlie's arms and clasps his face. "Please, don't go."
Boldly, Sylvia tilts her head and kisses Charlie, catching him entirely off guard. He whimpers into her mouth, his arms coiling around her waist. Her lips are soft and wet, warm. Safe.
"No," Charlie mumbles against her mouth. He grabs her shoulders and pushes her away. "No, I have to do this. I have to go."
Sylvia's closed fist bashes into Charlie's shoulder. "No, you don't! You're choosing to do this. I swear, Charlie, if you leave, you'll never see me again."
This is true. Charlie knows it. A droplet of fear sinks into his belly at the idea of never again laying eyes on the beautiful, strong woman Sylvia has grown to be.
Pushing down his pride, allowing his emotions to take control, Charlie moves his lips all around Sylvia's face. He clips her cheeks, her forehead, her mouth.
"I love you," she whimpers, staring at the ground. "I'll never know why, but I do."
Charlie remains silent. He picks up his duffel bag, planting one last kiss against the soft hair atop Sylvia's head, and leaves.
—
"Wow."
Marcel's quiet exclamation removes me from the scene. Caroline and I are standing in front of each other, panting like animals caught in humidity. Her mouth is taut, tight. Eyes watering, the tears making them appear bluer than I have ever seen.
My own face is wet with her tears. I can taste the saltwater on my tongue from when I kissed her.
If only Silas could see us now.
"Wow," Marcel repeats, coming up to the both of us. We turn to acknowledge him. "I was worried about this, but it turned out a million times better than I could have ever imagined. Congrats," he says, "Klaus I've found you a costar."
Marcel focuses on Caroline, engrossing himself in conversation with the Oscar-winner. I take this as my cue to leave. On the elevator ride down, I think back to the last time I saw Caroline Forbes outside of a movie premiere. When I awoke after spilling my life story to find an empty bed and a half-assed note saying sorry for disturbing you, thanks for taking me in. It's embarrassing to admit, but I still have that note, written on the inside cover of Frankenstein. She apparently couldn't locate any other stationary.
Silas insists to this day he put us together in Spring Awakening for a reason, but I think he's merely upset his matchmaking that year didn't take. Caroline and I are the exceptions to his rule—the only stage couple he chose to never become an actual couple.
As I walk down the busy LA street towards my car, I think I can hear the fast click-clacking of somebody running in high heels.
"Klaus!"
I stop, turning my head to find Caroline Forbes running after me, her pale face flushed. She reaches me in a hurry, holding on to my arm to steady herself.
"God, I haven't run that fast in ages," she puffs, resting her forehead on my shoulder as if we've been friends for years. As if this is anywhere near normal behaviour. She lifts her head and smiles genuinely at me.
"What's happened?" I ask.
Did she not get the part after all? I'm not in the mood for begging Marcel for anything today, so if she's looking for some help, she'll have to contact her scary body guards I can see standing at the end of the street, wearing all black despite the harsh heat.
"I'd forgotten," Caroline admits, standing back and surveying me.
"Forgotten what?"
"You."
"Me."
There is a pause. Silence engulfs us despite the noisy city we are in. I've completely sweat through my grey t-shirt, but I can't find it in myself to step away from this encounter.
Truth is, I've dreamt about Caroline Forbes since that night our senior year. All sorts of dreams. Ones where she comes to me in the rain, having left show business behind, and has realised that Silas was right all along. Dreams where neither of us chose these lives, instead becoming teachers and bankers and farmers, growing old together in the countryside.
She's the reason I haven't had a relationship last more than six months since I graduated high school, despite my efforts to expel her from my mind.
We're an unfinished book in my head.
"Come for coffee with me," Caroline begs, holding my arm again. Her face is bright. Hopeful. "We need to catch up."
I laugh, unable to help myself. This situation is right out of one of my absurd dreams. "I think your life has been written out in tabloids quite thoroughly over the last five years, love. What's there to catch up on?"
"You." She says it simply, quickly. Like I was on the tip of her tongue already. She cocks her head to one side. "Come on, Klaus. We're going to be working together now. What's the harm?"
"Plenty of costars go through production without speaking to each other. Why should we be any different?"
". . . Because," she says emphatically, dropping her hands. I instantly, aggravatingly miss her touch. "Because I've missed you. Which sounds stupid, but it's the truth. You're the first person from school I've run into who hasn't completely changed."
I look around LA briefly, letting the sunshine blind me for a moment. What is the harm?
"Fine," I agree. "Coffee."
Caroline claps excitedly, reminding me so much of the giddy teenager I knew at Fame High. "Okay, then. Let's go."
I allow her to drag me off, glancing behind my shoulder at her bodyguards as they follow a few feet behind us.
"Okay, when we round this corner, I want you to start running," she whispers conspiratorially.
I frown. "Why?"
"I want to shake the bodyguards. Mother insists on them following me, but I haven't had a moment to myself since they were hired," she explains just as we're nearing the turn. "Ready?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Caroline laughs, and the sound is so carefree and young that I can't help cracking a smile. "Not in the slightest."
"And whisper some silver reply."
A/N 2: It's a weak ending, I know, but I couldn't bring myself to make this longer than 9,500 words. But, I have some form of an "epilogue" half-written if anybody wants to know what happens next.
Anyway, what did you think? As long as it isn't terribly mean, don't be afraid to tell me.
Thanks for reading. Hope you liked it, Angie!
-LoveIsATemple