Axis Powers Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.
Peter Pan belongs to JM Barrie.
Recently, Maddie had felt like time was slipping out of her control. People had always warned her about the perils of junior year, and she was finally feeling the pressure. Not only did her honours classes pile on the homework each night, the rehearsals after class seemed to stretch longer each day. And she was getting really tired of them. For Maddie, stage management was not just about sitting behind the table, dutifully jotting down notes and organising lists. It was unpaid babysitting. Not a session passed when she did not have to search for a latecomer, enforce quiet from chatty ensemble members, or worst of all, standing in for a no-show during a scene. There was nothing more mortifying for a tech, she thought, than being used as a blocking prop. Some of the cast were beginning to treat her like a boarding school matron, sidling over with big puppy eyes in hopes that she would grant them their requests: to reschedule a sectional, a grace period for off book dates, intervene on their behalf to change something HK had decided. When the answer was no – and it was almost always no – they crept off to the sidelines sheepishly, leaving her spirits feeling heavier and older than necessary.
A two-person production meeting with HK in the school library during her only study block would be a breather compared to any of that. Or so she thought.
"Hopefully, we can start full runs in say…a month," HK said to her. They were seated at a study table placed flush against the wall, their papers and pens scattered across it. Through the window, large snowdrifts that had yet to melt gleamed white in the sunlight. Maddie nestled herself into her corner and squinted when the beams shone in and set HK's dark hair glinting.
"No, I take that back. Three weeks." He wrote down a note in red ink, upon a square marked March 5th. Maddie had spent the better part of the previous evening drawing up the calendar by hand on a large sheet of A3 paper. "When's off book?"
She sighed. "It was supposed to be today, but so many people have been asking for line that I finally pushed it back to this Friday. Sorry about that. Seriously, there aren't that many large paragraphs of text or anything…"
"Having a lot of really short lines could also get confusing," HK interrupted thoughtfully. He looked down at the chart with its sticky notes and scribbles in various colours. "It gets easier after there's blocking to go with the words, but they can't really do the blocking with scripts in hand, so you ask them to hurry up and memorise, but they need to know what blocking goes with it…" He trailed off, chagrined at the vicious circle.
As tired as she was, Maddie knew that the past weeks had been tough on her friend, too. As the director, he also had to deal with the immaturity of their performers, perhaps even more so as some of the spats occurred onstage. Doing the fight choreography was physically taxing and he always ran notes with Maddie afterwards. And, HK was actually in more honours courses than Maddie was. The previous weekend had been Chinese New Year, so he had lessened the amount of rehearsal time – but while Maddie could rest and catch up on work, he had been busy with family visits and dinners. It was worth it though, he confided in her, thanks to the money and food. But she couldn't help noticing that he arrived to class in the morning looking exhausted and pale.
She changed the subject. "Anyone for sound yet?"
"I've been downloading and mixing some stuff at home. But no, haven't found anyone to actually run it yet. I also need them to record them as cues." HK rubbed his nose irritably. "And honestly, those are the easiest bits."
"Does Eduard know how to do it?"
"He probably could figure it out fast enough, but he can't run both light and sound at the same time. I wouldn't want him to."
They lapsed into silence. Maddie frowned in concentration, and HK twirled the red pen distractedly over his fingers.
"Props?" He finally asked.
"Here." She dug through the piles until a long list appeared, then handed it to him. "I'm going to send a mass email tonight asking everyone if they can contribute from their own possessions so we don't have to break the bank. Because we still need to build several things."
"True. Let's do that soon," he agreed. They pushed aside the papers to stare at their calendar again, trying to find some free time in the midst of the multi-coloured ink: blue rehearsal dates, vital notes in red, and green for technical duties. Most of them were already highlighted, signifying that they were unalterable.
"Okay, for cereal, you two. My outfit is so not 'too loud' for the library!"
Maddie and HK looked up at the new voice that cut into their conversation. A short, lean boy stood pouting at the end of the table, arms folded and hip tilted dramatically. The outfit in question was a royal purple sweater over mustard yellow skinny jeans, which in turn were tucked into a familiar pair of grey and mauve suede boots, now a little worse for wear after being used for a second winter. The reality was that while his clothes were rather eye-catching, it was the volume of his complaints that were attracting the disapproving stare of those nearby.
"I mean, hello! Learn a little history, hon – royal colours of both East and West! I'm a walkin' cross-cultural phenomenon. Nobody's gonna cramp my style up in this club! And ever heard of contrasting colours? Take a spin on the colour wheel, you little bi-"
Maddie hastily pulled over another chair before he could finish the sentence. Feliks flopped down with melodramatic dignity. His lips remained in a plump pout until he pulled out a ragged sketchbook – when his expression changed completely.
"Okay, can I just like, thank you soooo much for picking a fantasy show this time? Forget the dramz, let's get creative in here! God, last year Arthur was so pissy about it being 'historically accurate'. I was amazing anyway, but like, it was stifling my inner diva, y'know?"
"Well, free to go as far as you want," HK replied mildly. He had opened the sketchbook and had begun flipping through the pages. "Just remember that we're on a budget."
Feliks sighed dramatically and flicked some of his long blond hair out of his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I knoooow. That's why let some people use some of their own stuff, though they gotta check with me first, obvy. At least some people in your cast aren't totally fashion hopeless. Like Natalya, for example."
Maddie peered at the upside-down sketches and scribbles. "It seems that you've just assigned them to supply their own tights."
"Duh, because that's the only 'normal' thing these characters would wear, silly!" Feliks reached over and turned the page. "But for reals, now. I could alter last year's white dress, the Maria one, into a nightgown for Wendy."
"That…that would actually be a really good idea. But wait," Maddie suddenly recalled the costume count she had made at the beginning of the year. "We don't know where it is."
"Oh, I kept it."
"You kept it?"
"Well, yeah! It's mine!" Feliks thrust his hands under her nose. "These fingers bled for that embroidery! Like, a river of blood!"
She looked at HK incredulously, but he merely shrugged. "We can just say you're returning it to us a bit late."
"Totes," Feliks said brightly. "And I got tons of body glitter at home. Like seriously, you guys, I swear the 90s are coming back. With a vengeance!"
He stood up and flipped his hair behind his shoulder, but since it wasn't that long yet, they just bounced back. "Aiite, are we good? 'Cause Ima go fabric shopping now. Those ruffles," he declared, pointing at the pirate designs, "Ain't gonna make themselves."
HK smiled for the first time all day. "Sure, no problem. This is great, thanks."
"'Kay, awesome possum. Wait 'til you see them for real! Byeeee!" With a flick of the hand that was more of a salute than a wave, Feliks sauntered off in all his purple and yellow glory.
Maddie watched him disappear behind the shelves. "At least someone's happy about all this work."
"He's a good guy to have on our side. Probably will have good set ideas too."
"Well, let's not talk about it yet. I've got enough to deal with for one day," she grumped, pulling the sketchbook towards her. "Did I even do this much last year? I can't remember."
"No, you see, I'm much more generous than Arthur is. I'm not so much of a self-centered perfectionist not to share the workload."
Maddie looked at him. He was trying to joke again, but there was a note of meanness in there. That was really unusual.
She decided not to comment, and bent her head over the sketchbook, slowly writing out a list of needed items beside it. As a result, she missed the way HK carefully angled his computer to hide the screen from her. Quietly opening up his email, he began to type.
Hi Arthur,
How are you? I am fine. Rehearsals are progressing slowly. We are done with all the basic blocking, and about halfway through the fight choreography. In particular, the fight between the pirates and Indians involves the most people, so naturally it's the most dangerous. Luckily, our Zoe (Peter) and Adam (Hook) are two of the most level-headed (so to speak) members of the cast, and work hard and carefully. Your brother and Jonas Stahl – Berwald's cousin – get into some argument almost every other rehearsal, which is obnoxious but surprisingly, feels routine now. Maybe if you were here, they'd shut up faster. You did have this knack of freaking people out. In a "good" way.
I'm actually sitting with Maddie right now, going over technical issues. Feliks dropped by too and gave me his designs for costumes. He's far more enthusiastic about them than West Side Story's. I haven't found somebody to run sound yet, but something will work. You always said that these things only magically fix themselves just before the crucial moment.
We also finally worked out a way to create the illusion of flying without using harnesses, since we don't have the budget for that. Here's the idea: build levers, kind of like seesaws, with small platforms on the front for actors to stand on (we are wondering whether it will be necessary to add straps for safety). Using strategic lighting and/or set design, the back part of the lever can be controlled by another cast member or a tech to make them "hover" or "float". What do you think?
Maddie dropped her pen to rest her hand for a moment. As she wiggled her fingers, she glanced across at her friend. He had paused too, and was staring intently at his monitor with a surprising degree of intensity. Just as she reluctantly reached for her pen, he started typing again, this time with a fury, the tapping sounding more like heavy pounding.
I don't expect an answer to that question because I doubt you'll have even gotten to it, if you open this email at all. And if I am proven wrong and you ARE reading this right now, I'm going to take this shockingly rare chance to tell you: don't bother. I am too tired and pissed off to hear what you have to say about some contraption that wasn't even your idea in the first place, because I can already hear your voice lording your oh-so-great opinion over the rest of us.
Because that's what I'm going to have to do to get your attention, right? If I humbly appeal to your enormous EGO instead of, I don't know, you actually caring about my personal life, our other friends, or anything else we might do without you. Something I occasionally wonder about is do you treat everyone this way, or am I some sort of special case. Have you spoken to Alfred, for instance. Or any of the others from your class, like Francis or Gillian.
But look, I don't want an answer to that either. I'm here to finally tell you that I DON'T CARE. I am way too stressed and tired to care anymore, to write these letters telling you everything about my life and not hearing back for what's been nearly three months running, excluding ten words from Facebook chat. I DON'T CARE that you're busy with midterms and projects and whatever else the fabulous UK has cooked up for you, because I'm busy with my own work and life and this show that all began with YOU anyway. I REALLY DON'T CARE.
Unfortunately I still care about what happened last summer and what you told me then. But don't worry about me, I will find a way to stop caring about it.
I will probably still care about not even being able to pretend you have read these stupid sentimental things, but now I'm comforted with the knowledge that this will be the last time I waste my time on them. And god knows that I can't waste time anymore.
Goodbye,
HK
In the distance, a bell rang. Maddie stood up and began shoving all the papers into her backpack, sighing to herself again. Now there was only fifty minutes until school let out completely, but there would be yet another rehearsal before she could go home to study and finish the scheduling in front of her. Her mental to-do list was interrupted by a loud noise, as if something heavy had fallen to the floor.
HK had slammed down the lid of his laptop and was blinking rapidly.
"Are you okay?" she ventured.
"It's nothing," he replied, sweeping it into his bag. "See you later."
Before she could counter that this was blatantly something and certainly not nothing, he was gone. He stalked through the stacks of books, speeding past the front desk and out the door.
A/N: I actually did write something similar to this during university, though it was purely platonic and perhaps even longer. She wrote me back eventually, but the fact is, she is not Arthur…
Anyway, I finally asked myself the dismally late techie question whilst writing out Maddie and HK's production woes: how the heck are they going to make their actors fly? Somehow I was incredibly stupid and never considered it earlier. The internet offered the seesaw suggestion which I really liked, so I'm just going to borrow it for this production. C:
ALSO, LITERALLY JUST HAPPENED LESS THAN 5 MINUTES AGO AS I WRITE THIS: NEIL GAIMAN REPLIED MY ASK ON TUMBLR. Well, as a private response, but that makes me feel kind of more honoured, if that makes any sense. Just me and Neil. Holy creamsicles, my favourite living author gave me personal advice. I feel so giddy!