Duologue - Memeulous x ImAllexx (unfinished - go to the rewrite)

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"You'll find, my friend, that what you love will take you places you never dreamed you'd go."
- Tony Kushner, Angels in America

🂱

The year 12 theatre class was putting on a show for their A-levels. Some sort of stupid bollocks, a romance - something about social change mixed with flirtation and skeletons in the closet. It was set in the 50's, George could gather, but if he was being honest, he wasn't really paying attention to the plot.

He was here only to gain some credit so he could pass his fucking BTECs and get out of this school. He was surprised he had made it this far, with only about 5 months of college left he could taste the freedom. Then it was an apprenticeship or a diploma, or if he was pushed, a couple more years in education.

Meanwhile he'd attend these bloody rehearsals and spend the rest of his time smoking behind the bike sheds with Will and Josh, and louting about town like a good stereotypical teenager on the weekends. Life was boring. But he liked it in a way. Nothing too crazy went on so he had plenty of time to enjoy the little things. Mainly gaming, weekend socials, and time with the sorts of girls who were brave enough to approach him when he was around the lads.

One of those girls was in this bloody play, though, a background character, only there for some rehearsals, and definitely not a key part of the sort of group that the class had going on. She was nice enough, George supposed, but he hadn't felt the need to talk to her more than at parties and when she'd respond to his insta stories.

The key group of actors was about six strong, just enough to be exclusive within the 15 or so cast members. It mainly comprised of who was clearly the most well-liked in the class, the funny ones, the actually talented ones, and the ones who were popular elsewhere so slotted in nicely. George had been to about four rehearsals now and every time this little group converged on the side of the stage, sipping water bottles and doing script practices and practices and practices. They were dedicated, George surmised, but still a little irritating. They were in the year below, after all, and who ever really liked anyone in the year below?

As he watched the group casually, he saw a girl, Emma, he thought, the lead, slip up on her lines. She blushed furiously and took a second to compose herself. "Sorry guys, I'm so tired from my ballet tutorials this morning."

George hid his semi-contemptuous snort behind his paintbrush. Currently he was being forced to construct the background of the set, some fake walls and a painting and maybe a tree or something. He didn't really follow what was going on, and didn't really care, he just painted what looked right to him and left it at that. For someone studying design, this maybe was not the best mindset to have, but he could not be arsed to put in any more effort than needed.

Also he had an image to maintain, George thought, only a little sarcastically, looking at the girls around him.

It wasn't that George thought he was all that, it was the way the school perceived him. Will often made fun of him for it but he couldn't help it. Somehow, it just sort of happened. Girls would come up to him, they would be nice, and he did enjoy it. Well, generally, both parties usually enjoyed it.

George didn't reckon he was a slut, just a man who enjoyed what he wanted to enjoy. Besides, no one at school, except maybe Will, really regarded him as a slut, nor as a player, or whatever. He was George. And that was that.

A couple minutes later the door burst open and a cheerful voice rang out the same tune as always. "Sorry I'm late lads, was held up at the airport."

George turned towards the entrance, mood instantly lifted. This was the highlight of his time at rehearsals.

Alex Elmslie had turned up. His smile bright and infectious. George wouldn't pretend to care, it didn't fit his image. Nevertheless, an unpreventable, almost imperceptible grin was brought to his face watching the boy prance around on stage like he owned it, delivering his lines like they were going to change the fucking world or something.

George was definitely amused by him.

The fact that Alex was pretty didn't hurt either.

He was nice to look and laugh at during the four hours a week George was stuck in this room with these pretentious teens. And today was no different. The lunatic had run in wearing a full football kit. His legs splattered in mud and his face red and sweaty from running. George swallowed lightly and turned away as Alex approached the stage, dipping his brush once again into the red paint and making a decent mess of the backdrop.

Behind him he heard Alex greet his fellow cast members and begin warming up with them, still clad in his kit.

The girls ribbed him while he brushed it off.

"Alex, do you think that's the way the men dressed in the fifties?"

"You're going to get mud everywhere."

"Well, ladies, what can I say? I like to think that I'm method acting. Roger's a dirty guy after all."

The room erupted in a chorus of giggles and, when George turned to catch Alex's eye, a satisfied smile played on his face, which widened when he realised George had deigned to interact. The connection was less than a flicker before the actors were called together for breathing exercises and George got back to his duties.