ACT I, SCENE 2: In the green room.

Enter FRANCIS, ARTHUR, RODERICH, and CAST.

"You all must be wondering why I gathered you here today," a slim brunet announced. He folded his gloved hands on his lap as the murmuring crowd shushed each other in the pit. He cast down his vaguely purple eyes before he continued - "As most of you may already know... someone among you is absent."

A grim silence swallowed the room. Francis' palms suddenly went damp with sweat; memories of the past few months flashed across his eyes. A sweet Southern tinge - locks of gold - soft cerulean eyes. All not here. Panic starting to creep up at his throat, the words constricting themselves. It couldn't be, it would ruin the production, not the lovely -

"Amelia. What happened to her?"

Francis whipped around to locate the source of the voice. A stupid thing to do, really; he could recognize that drawl anywhere. Two eyebrows- much too large for any high school student, let alone any person- framed the already too-wide eyes of the speaker. As they grew wider still, Francis watched with disgust. The student's hands started to tremble; whether it was panic or pleasure though, Francis couldn't tell. But it's not like it mattered. Arthur was finally going to get the role he wanted - because Amelia wasn't here. Because Amelia was sick. Because Amelia was hospitalized, Arthur Kirkland, easily the biggest nerd in school, was getting excited to finally get his own chance on stage - and thought nothing more of the person he was to replace.

That bastard.

Roderich grimaced, giving a slight nod. "It's my displeasure to tell you that our lead is currently undergoing hospital treatment. She... unfortunately was caught up in automobile accident."

The room gave a collective gasp. Arthur's eyes almost bugged out of his head - at this rate, Francis swore he could just give Arthur a slight squeeze and they would roll out onto the floor - but the British boy still did not offer a word. His already pasty face went white as a sheet. Francis' mouth started to visibly curl out of disgust, when suddenly -

The dark room. The dull hum of the heater. The incessant practicing, the chant-like repetition of words, the dogeared pages, scribbled with notes and highlighted words -

No man must know.

Francis smiled.

There are better ways of conducting revenge.

Walking up to Roderich's seat on stage, he exclaimed, "He has all the lines down. I've seen him practice." He waved his hand, generously gesturing towards Arthur - almost as if he was waving all of Amelia's responsibility onto Arthur's bony shoulders - and grinned. He continued, "He, of all people, can take Amelia's role."

His steady gaze watched Arthur flush with colour. There was no way the boy could admit that he had stage fright - not when the whole cast was watching - not when the spotlight was on him. As Arthur struggled for an answer, Francis amusedly watched the boy silently glared at Francis all the while. Francis threw a simpering smile back.

Yes, definitely better.

"I insist."

The room, previously tense with sheer silence, explodes in an uproar. Arthur Kirkland, loser of the century, taking over the lead role of the school's one and only beauty queen? Recommended, nonetheless, by Francis, star of the show? Impossible. Unspeakable. Absolutely unheard of.

Arthur stares down at his shoes, face now a ruddy crimson with embarrassment. Meanwhile, Roderich mulls over the situation. There were no substitutes; indeed, he had barely made the cast requirements in their vastly uncultured school. Besides, all the initial cutoffs (or rather, cutoff, since Arthur was the only one), simply did not possess the aura to be on stage. There was nothing particularly outstanding about him. Arthur stutters; he shivers; he sweats. If anything, Arthur had looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die onstage. Stage fright, Roderich had mused - he wondered why the boy had even tried out in the first place.

But then again, this would be the school's last production if they did not do anything about it. Simply put, the Drama department had not been particularly popular in previous years. The low turnout of auditioners was proof enough. It simply could not do if the play went on without such an important role; it needed as much support as it could get. After all, Roderich hoped, the Drama department would be able to stay alive with his new cast of dazzling sophomores- they had all shown promise. He recognized their flair from the start. If only... if only he could convince the school board. If only he could win them over with this play. If only his leads, Francis and Amelia, could regain -

Oh, right.

Amelia.

He groans.

What other choice does he have?

Sighing audibly, Roderich rubs his pinkies to his temples. The conundrum couldn't be helped, after all. Waving one hand at his rowdy students to silence them, he dramatically clears his throat. As the audience holds its breath, his mind races one last time. Francis and Arthur - a dynamic, mutually explosive relationship - piano and forte, loser and star, hate and hate. How much worse could it get?

Not much worse, he decides. After the near-suffocating silence, he finally, finally declares:

"Let's give him a shot."

Arthur stares. Francis smirks. The crowd goes wild.

Revenge has never tasted so sweet.

Exeunt.

A/N: here's the new chapter/scene/whatever this thing is called. hahaha there's quite a bit of angst between francis and arthur, eh? i wanted to touch upon the love-hate relationship they have particularly throughout this fic – i hope i succeeded u_u thanks so much for everything so far ;o;;; please feel free to critique and review!