Alex and Theodore ✓

for rules

act one:

i
There is something to be said for rules. They exist for a reason. They exist to remind you where the boundaries of your little world lie. They're the white picket fences of the imagination, the brick walls of the mind, the mimes' cages of the body. They keep you in line. In a straight line. Theodore is anything but straight. He sweeps through life surrounded by a circus - a circus in this case meaning a good many people who are just like him. Jeweled bodices and stiletto nails. Orange eyeshadow and red-painted lips. Alex envies him. Alex envies Theodore despite saying that he wants nothing more than to rid himself of the Theodores of the world who somehow always catch onto his heart and refuse to let go. He envies Theodore for his freedom. For his boldness. For his bravery. He envies Theodore for jumping picket fences and climbing over brick walls and breaking out of mimes' cages. He envies Theodore for being able to do it all in a pink pleated skirt.

ii
Alex is average. Average Alex, his friends used to call him. His mother used to call him that, too, before he told her to stop, told her that it was getting old, told her that if she kept calling him average he would actively cease to be average anymore. Alex is average. And he wants nothing more than to change that. He wants more than his picket fences and brick walls and mimes' cages. Alex is okay with average, though. He tolerates it. He's okay with average because average is all he's ever known, despite consistently falling for people like Theodore. People like Theodore who are called Thunderstriking Theodore because they are miraculous. People who want nothing to do with someone so average as Alex. Alex is content to keep it that way. If he was to be surrounded by Theodore and his circus, Alex would certainly die. Theodore has never gone by Theo, Alex overhears one day. He has never gone by Theo because he is too spectacular for a two-syllable name. Alex wishes he went by Alexander instead of Alex. Maybe that would make him less average.

iii
Theodore sweeps into Alex's world one night in a sequin-covered shirt. Alex has never been a fan of sequins, but they look great on Theodore Park. Theodore leans in tantalizingly close. They're backstage, surrounded by racks and racks of costumes that Alex has imagined himself donning one day. Theodore leans in, and Alex can smell something sweet on his breath. Shirley Temples, perhaps. Who is he kidding? People like Theodore don't drink Shirley Temples. But when he asks anyway if that's what Theodore has been drinking, Theodore flashes a Prince Charming smile. Shirley Temples are divine, Theodore says. Only someone like Theodore would use a word like divine, Alex thinks. Let's go get some together. Alex asks if Theodore wants to go right now. Theodore laughs. Alex thinks that it's the best noise he's ever heard, despite having a violin virtuoso father and an opera-singer mother. Theodore laughs, and Alex melts. Alex falls. Alex dies. If that's what you want, Theodore says. As if the world bends to the whims of people like Alex. But Theodore is looking at Alex, and that means that other, less fabulous people must look at Alex too. When Theodore kisses him on the cheek after three Shirley Temples, Alex doesn't feel average.