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

3

"Nothing spoils romance so much as a sense of humor."
- Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

🂳

It was a Wednesday, a regular school Wednesday, George had started the week with the same monotony as the previous one ended. Monday and Tuesday just contained classes, hanging out with Will, classes, hanging out with Joshy, rehearsal, hanging out with Will and Joshy.

George was on his way out of college during his free period, desperate to hit up the corner shop for a packet of crisps and a coke. He had almost made it to the gate when he realised he had left his earphones in the theatre room during rehearsal yesterday. Sighing, he turned back to grab them, unwilling to walk to the store without some entertainment.

When he reached the door to the room, however, he realised it was already occupied by a lone figure. Alex stood on the stage, reading his script aloud.

George wouldn't admit it, but he took a moment to watch Alex. Well maybe more than a moment. The boy stood facing away, towards an imaginary audience, holding the script in one hand and nothing in the other. His pink hoodie was just a size too big for him, and he had pushed the sleeve back on one arm. On the free arm, however, the sleeve came over his hand to cover it. George couldn't explain why it was suddenly so endearing to watch Alex's fingers poke through the sleeves as he acted out the scene. George could have stood there all day.

But Alex was struggling, he kept stumbling over lines and checking and rechecking the script. He was entirely unconfident, the opposite to how he seemed in rehearsals. His voice fell flat on more than a few turns, and he groaned in frustration every time he screwed up a word.

George, feeling this was a moment maybe he shouldn't be seeing, went to grab the headphones and leave, but as he heard Alex stumble over another line and curse under his breath he couldn't help himself.

"You alright mate?" Alex jumped and turned.

"Me?" He realised he was the only one there and blushed. "Yeah I'm fine, why?"

"I don't know, it looked like you were having trouble." George was still standing by the door, a little awkward, but trying not to act like it. He slowly approached Alex's position at centre stage.

"Uh, yeah. I guess this scene is pretty difficult." Alex skipped over the implications that George had been watching him struggle for at least a few lines of the script.

"Sure." George nodded, and skim read the script open on the table. He leant over it, wiry forearms supporting him, one leg slightly bent.

Alex stood there, unsure on what to do, he watched the curly haired boy in front of him trace the lines of the page, his brow furrowed slightly. This was unexpected of George. No, this was near improbable of George. Alex almost went to check if he had a fever, only he couldn't decide on which forehead to measure.

George looked up, acting natural as he sat on the edge of the table. "I can do it." He nodded to himself.

"What?"

"I can read the other part for you." George picked up the script and gestured with it to hide his slightly shaking hands. What was he doing? He had no time to help the grey-eyed lapdance boy. Yet still he found himself locating his first line on the page as the character, Cathy.

George briefly glanced at a slightly overwhelmed Alex, who seemed to give him the go-ahead.

"Good morning Roger."

"Good morning Cathy." Alex seemed to breathe out as he said his line.

It started well, and though George didn't attempt to act, he still managed to get all the words in the right order. It was going fine until: