Under Pressure

Part 14

"--from the tempest of my eyes."

Jeremy stood there, staring like a deer in headlights at Brooke. An uncomfortable minute of silence passed and Brooke was frowning at him.

"Jeremy, it's your line." She whispered it, discreetly, from behind her hand.

"Oh. Right. Uh..." Shit, what was his line again? If he fucked this up, Christine would never like him.

"Mr. Heere," Mr. Reyes hissed at him from the side of the stage, "Ay me!"

Jeremy straightened quickly. "Ay me! For aught that I could ever read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth; but, either it was different in blood,--" He was sweating from the heat of the stage lights; it felt like they were burning into his skin, and the sweat rolled down his back, causing the costume to stick unpleasantly. At least he remembered his lines now...

"O cross! Too high to be enthrall'd to low." Brooke walked off to the other side of the stage, away from him, and Jeremy felt very exposed, suddenly. He was alone, in the spotlight, his least favorite place of all his least favorite places.

Wait, wasn't there supposed to be zombies in this?

"Lord, what fools these mortals be!"

Jeremy practically jumped where he stood. Those absolutely were not the next lines, and he didn't recognize the voice, either. He spun on his heel, trying to find whoever was speaking.

"If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended: that you have but slumbered here, while these visions did appear; and this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend."

"Hello?" There was no one on the stage with him. Even Mr. Reyes had left; he could smell the scent of Hot Pockets drifting in from backstage. He heard footsteps behind him and Jeremy looked over his shoulder, unnerved.

"Jeremy Heere." A man stood there now, and despite standing directly beneath the stage lights, he seemed permanently cast in shadow. Jeremy couldn't see his face, but the man held a hand out to him. "Tell me who I am."

"I- I don't know?" This was creepy, definitely not in the script, and they had to be too old to be in high school. Except now that he thought about it, he wasn't in high school anymore, either... The man was still holding out his hand, beckoning Jeremy to take it; he grimaced at it, not sure what to do. They stood there, patiently, unmoving, and every time Jeremy tried to look at his face he heard a loud buzzing in his ears, vibrating through his skull, electric down his spine. It didn't hurt, but it was certainly uncomfortable.

"Don't be afraid."

"I'm not." The opposite, actually. The guy was creepy, sure, but he felt completely at ease, standing here on the stage with him. Jeremy hesitated, then slowly, carefully, took his hand. He still couldn't see his face--Jeremy had stopped trying to look, honestly--but for some reason, he was certain the shadowed stranger was smiling.

"Ḯ̛̤̳͈̮ͯ ̝̙͙̩̙͓ͫͣͅr̥͈ͥͯ̏ͬ̈͢ẽ̟̹̜̂̿̾͛ͩͅa̙l̛̮̠̙̖̣̲̐ͧl̡̯̿y͉̠͞ ̠̫̺ͬ̏͊̑c̘͇̳̗ͬͨa̛ͤ́ͣn̬͈̱̲̰̺ͭ̄̓͠'̠̱̩̜̬̮͛̌͑t̠̯̙̑ͣͬ̀ͯ̑̑͞ ͪ̔͌͟w̞̱͂͠a̶̠͑ͦ̉̐ȉ̈́ͦ̓̆t̺͓̜̀̓̔͆̃.̩̱̪̝̈͆͂̚."

"Uh... what?" He heard a door slam, a startling BANG in his ears, and Jeremy nearly pulled back, but he couldn't move. The stage dissolved, transformed into a long hallway, lined with doors, erupting out of the ground and surrounding the both of them. He hunched his shoulders, taking a quick look around. The doors all looked identical, bland and wooden and white, and when Jeremy looked back at the stranger in front of him, they were suddenly uncomfortably close. He wanted to move away, but they leaned in, whispering in his ear; Jeremy couldn't understand what he was saying.