I D E N T I T Y

Deja Vu

I cried while writing this so enjoy <3

Kevin's POV:

Muffled singing is the first thing my ears pick up when my eyes begin to flutter open. Though...I can't see anything, just darkness. I try to sit up but a sharp pain slices through my head, forcing me to lay back down.

How the heck did I get here?

It smells damp in here—wherever here is—and the only light I see comes from a thin crack near the floor. Light footsteps shuffle from outside the cramped area. I clench my eyes shut; what exactly happened?

I feel the heavy clothing on my back; layers and layers of fabric. Fur itches at my face, tickling my cheeks. My face feels stiff, as if pounds of makeup or paint is caked on it.

I grab my pounding head. Tonight was...opening night for our play. I-I was playing Beast—that's why I have all this weird clothing on—and then...and then...what then?

I massage my temples; what is that singing?

This is a musical, there's bound to be singing.

But if I'm Beast, why am I not up there singing with them?

My brain fights to remember, remember something, anything about what happened. But all I can concentrate on is how badly my head hurts. And I-

Muffled voices from just outside wherever I am draw my attention when I hear my name. I wince as I carefully scoot myself closer to the crack of light.

"First Kevin gets sick, and then Peyton runs off? I really can't believe this! And on opening night too!" One voice says.

Peyton ran off? To where? Oh god, did something happen? No no, not tonight. We weren't expecting tonight!

"Maybe she just couldn't stand having to act in love with Steve again, I mean I heard their breakup was pretty rough." Another voice responds.

It hits me when I hear his name.

Steve

Anger rushes through, white-hot and blinding. He knocked me out; stole my role in the play for some sort of twisted plan. I don't know what the plan was, but if Peyton isn't onstage right now then I can only assume the worst:

They succeeded.

And they can't have, not when we've been so careful, so cautious.

All it took was a minute

I force all of the possibilities out of my mind and focus on getting off the floor. Pain jabs at my head at every slight movement, but I don't stop; I need to get to Peyton. I have to make sure nothing happens to her. I have to.

I use my fury to fuel me as I finally, finally make it to my feet, my head now throbbing. Taking a few quick breaths to steady myself, I reach for the doorknob and...

It won't open. Great.

My anger melts into frustration. Of course Steve wouldn't make it easy enough that I would be able to just walk out the door! I grit my teeth; I am not giving up. So I bang on the door relentlessly, making each knock louder than the last. They give me flashbacks from the time someone pounded on a door, but I don't stop. I can't stop.

Then, finally, I hear the scuffle of shoes coming my way and the door knob begins to wiggle. When the door finally opens, I find myself staring into the green eyes of my understudy, who is wearing the exact same costume as I am.

Anger rushes through me again. Steve Thompson.

Even underneath all the makeup you can see the color draining from his face. His eyes widen. "What are y-"