You're peeking out from behind the curtain and you see her, there, on the stage and you know that she's trapped. She's in a loop, repeating over and over and over and over unable to break free of the pattern she's in. It makes you hurt to see, you don't want to see it anymore, so you rush out on stage.

It feels familiar. You've done this before, somehow you know.

"What are you doing here?" she asks as you twirl her around. She's smiling, amazed behind the fear still clogging her face.

"What I should have done a long time ago," you say, even though you know that's different. You tear the teapot off her and toss it aside, and that feels the same. And it feels the same when she pulls the bulky foam hat off her head and tosses it off stage.

But when you reache out, grab the black leotard she's wearing and tears, you know something is different. The crowd gasps, but you don't care. You palm one of her now exposed breasts, pressing it into her chest and deftly massaging it as you bring her lips to yours.

Her mouth is sweet, as sweet as the time you tasted it in that acting class. And she's just as good at kissing back then, now, because you feel that same light-headed feeling as your tongues caress and you moan into her mouth. You breathe in through your nose, inhaling her smell. You reach into her hair, undoing her bun, letting the curly blonde tresses fall free so they can waft more of her delicious scent into your nostrils, that smell that you ache to experience again.

And then she's on the floor and you're on top of her, and you're tearing the tear you made bigger, until the whole thing's just a rag that's barely hanging off her and you enter her and she's tight and warm and her legs come around your waist and you gasp and she whimpers and hugs you tight and you pound into her as hard as you can and it's everything you want, everything you could wish you could do. And she's whispering your name "Troy… Troy…" in the way that you always wished that she would and if you weren't such a coward you would have gotten her to do a long time ago.

But then you hear a noise you hate, and know everything's going to go away soon. You grab her tighter, trying to hold on, trying to keep her with you, but she's falling through your grasp like sand and there's nothing you can do and-

#

Troy's eyes wrenched open. He was lying on his stomach, his pillow gripped tightly in his arms. His erection was throbbing, almost painfully, as he pressed it into the mattress of this little shitty room he hated. He was breathing hard, his heart beating lightning quick in his chest.

He closed his eyes again, struggling to control his breathing. His pillow smelled like drool, not lavender, and the feel of the cotton of his boxers is much, much less enjoyable than what he imagines Britta's cunt is like.

He groaned. His mind hated him, it was the only explanation for all these dreams. He sat up and pulled himself out of bed. He had maybe a half hour to shower before his first A/C repair class of the day. They liked to start early over here.

He sighed, thinking of his dream. Fuck Benjamin Chang so hard. He turned his alarm clock off.