Something about Us

Even Wilting Daisies are Beautiful

--Arthur--

Today was the day of the performance. Oliver, Francis, and I had met again yesterday to practice and we all memorized our lines. Francis had helped Oliver pick out an outfit to fit the American 1920's style, (which I hadn't seen yet) and I had picked a simple black suit. Francis had a white suit with a pink silk undershirt, as if he couldn't be any more of a pompous prick. He also said that his parents owned a flower shop and he was planning on bringing in a large amount of flowers to "set the scene" as he said. After that was settled, we finally felt ready.
On Friday, Oliver and I arrived to first period together to find the classroom empty and a note scrawled on the board that said "Class in Auditorium today! Break a leg everyone!" With several drawn hearts underneath it.
Oliver led me to the huge room packed with dark red seats in front of the stage, and we both stood backstage, getting ready and practicing our lines.
"Arthur I'm going to go get changed, I'll be out in a minute, okay?" He said to me as I slipped on my jacket. I nodded, excited to finally see the costume he picked.
"Sure thing,"
After several minutes in the single dressing room, I heard the door creek open. Light flooded from behind the door as Oliver exited, looking at his feet.
My heart stopped. For a moment everything slowed down, it almost froze. He looked so beautiful... Beautiful is a bad word for it, he is... He was ethereal, angelic, heavenly, breathtaking, stunning, shockingly amazing.
He wore a dress. A white lace dress with cap sleeves and a hem that fell just below his knees. It flowed off of him like it was made for his body, perfectly fitting him in a way that I didn't seem possible. His hair was tucked into a matching white hat. It was small and rounded at the top with a small pink flower and a feather coming from the side. On his feet were simple white flats, and the whole outfit together took my breath away.
"S-so um... Is it bad?" Oliver asked, playing with the dress, face red and nervous. "I mean it's a dress so-"
I was too stunned to say anything, but I felt hands grab my shoulders and a voice speak for me.
"You have made him speechless with your beauty, Oliver,"
I nodded at Francis' words, still unable to speak and staring at Oliver.
Oliver mumbled a nervous, "Thank you," he turned back to go get his script from his bag to review again, and Francis turned to me.
"You're lucky, Angelterre,"
"I know... I don't know how I ever..."
"Love is mysterious. And strange. But it knows what it's doing. If you love someone and they love you, never question it,"
For the second time in two minutes I was rendered speechless. However our teacher's voice interrupted my speechlessness.
"Okay! Peoples! The first group to preform their scene is..."
I mentally crossed my fingers
Not us. Not us. Not us.
"Alfred, Gilbert, and Mathias!"
Thank god.
The trio entered the stage. Gilbert I recognized instantly, Alfred was the American with the hero complex (who I had appropriately nicknamed "Captain America" the first time we spoke) and Mathias was the dane who had the same egotistical attitude as the other two. I sighed at the three of them. What a perfect group of people.
As they preformed their scene, many of the girls in the class watched excitedly, huge smiles on their faces as the three completely butchered their characters' lines and personality. However, I must say, Alfred was actually very good. He delivered his lines with stunning clarity and stuck to his role very well, going so far as to cover for Gilbert when he messed up. Which was often. At the end, I clapped for them, impressed mostly by Alfred's skills.
"Okay, very good job you three! Up next will be..."
Oliver had walked back up to my side as the last group came on and he whispered to me when the teacher paused.
"I hope it's us. We are so much better than them,"
"Oliver, Arthur, and Francis!"
There were a few claps in the audience (which was made up of our class of 30), and some whispers at Oliver's name. His shoulders sunk and I grabbed his hand.
"You'll do great," I said. "Prove them wrong."
He nodded. "I will,"
Francis then stepped to side and helped me clear the stage of Gilbert and Alfred's props, and then we set up our couch and all of our other props.
I hissed at him. "Francis, where are the flowers you promised?"
He smiled and then pointed off stage.
There were three grown men, dragging a giant window frame on stage. The window was painted glass and from it hung huge potted flowers that had vines and petals flowing from over the side of the walls.
The crowd gasped, seeing it.
"Oliver painted the glass," He said.
I looked at Oliver and he blushed, shrugging.
The painting was of the sea and of a huge dock. On the end of the dock, a single green lantern stood, brightening the dark of the night and casting green light onto the water and the wood of the dock.
"It's beautiful, Oll," I said.
"Whenever you three are ready!" Our teacher piped in excitedly.
I glanced at the other two, who nodded. Francis then went offstage and I stood next to Oliver, who sat on the couch. I coughed, clearing my throat before staring our scene.
"Well, Daisy, I'm glad to have you over. We haven't seen each other in some time,"
"Oh, Nicky I know, it's been ages. I'm so glad to be able to see you again!" Once again, Oliver's acting astounded me. He was amazing. He fell so deep into a character his body language and voice even became them. It was beautiful to watch.
"We need to do this more often, cousin, because I miss you dearly and-"
There was the sound of a knock, made by Francis off stage.
I looked back to Oliver.
"Excuse me a moment, someone is at my door," at that point I walked to the front of the stage, addressing the audience.
"Now of course, having arranged this little meeting, I knew very well that it was Gatsby at my door, but I couldn't just tell Daisy that, could I? It would ruin the surprise, Ol' Sport," I said, earning a laugh at the use of Gatsby's signature term. Then I went back to my place on stage and went to bring Francis on.
We spoke in stage whispers. "Well, are you ready?" I asked.
Francis ran a hand through his hair, nervous. "W-well I suppose I have to be, Ol' Sport,"
I nodded and smiled. "Then get in there,"
He nodded and then took a step forward, then another back.
"I can't."
I deadpaned.
"No, I can't, Ol' Sport, I can't. What If she doesn't want to see me, what if she doesn't remember me, what if-"
"Stop being such a coward. Do you love her?" I asked him.
He nodded.
"Do you miss her?"
He nodded.
"Do you want her back?"
He nodded again, and I turned to the audience.
"Folks, let me just say that I am currently helping my best friend get a married woman, and I'm succeeding. I am quite the wingman," I said, getting yet another laugh. Turning back to Francis (Gatsby), I slapped his shoulder.
"So then here's your golden opportunity, pal. Go get your girl," I then pushed him into the room and stood behind him. Oliver (Daisy) turned around to see what all of the fighting was about. When she turned, he froze.
They both stared at each other for some time before I coughed.
"Gatsby, this is Daisy. Daisy, this is my friend Jay Gatsby,"
They both stood there, staring at each other. I turned back to the audience. "It's at this point that I take my leave, and leave the love birds to their catching up,"
As I said that, I exited the stage the same way Francis entered. Now it was up to the two of them.
I watched from the side lines, nervous for them, and for the romance in the scene.
Oliver coughed and looked at Francis, fiddling with a flower.
"J-Jay... Is that really you?"
Francis nodded, unable to speak.
"Oh, jeez. I feel like I'm seeing a ghost,"
"Me too..." He finally said. "But a very beautiful one," he added, making Oliver laugh. "You look just as young and striking as ever,"
"And you're just as charming as ever, Jay," Oliver said, taking a seat on the couch.
Francis sat down next to him, dangerously close.
"Well, I would hope so. Because I... It's been so long, Daisy. I've missed you so much," He said, voice sad.
"I've missed you too..."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"I saw that you were married,"
Oliver's eyes widened and he looked to struggle with something before speaking quickly and nervously.
"I waited for you, Jay, I did," said Oliver suddenly. "But I could only've wait so long before I got too old for love and then.. Then Tom came along,"
Francis sighed and grabbed Oliver's hand, causing a spike of anger to fly into me.
We didn't practice that.
"I was coming back for you Daisy. I was. I loved-" he paused. "I love you, and I've waited six years for you,"
Oliver looked into his eyes, and I almost gasped.
He's crying? How is he doing that? I didn't know he cry on command!
Oliver's voice was quiet and soft yet somehow loud enough to project to the entire auditorium, and his tears were apparent to everyone. The audience sat in apprehensive silence as Oliver dragged on his silence, they all waiting for what Daisy was going to say.
"....I-I've... I'm sorry but...I wasn't waiting for you," He finally admitted. There was a sigh of disappointment in the crowd before Oliver spoke again. "But now that you're here, I feel like I was. I was waiting for you come back into my life, I needed you... And now that you are I... I can't let you go again," there was a collective "aww" from the crowd and I smiled. Then I remembered that was my cue, and walking into the stage, Oliver and Francis looking like they were about to kiss, I took heavy steps and shook some pots and pans loudly to alert them of my presence. I spoke to the audience. "Don't want to interrupt or anything." I said plainly, as if I was t doing it anyway.
Then I walked into the room they were in and they paid me no attention at all, they were too focused on each other.
I coughed.
Nothing.
I coughed again, louder.
Nothing.
I made an annoyed face at the audience, who laughed again.
"So I see you two have caught up," I finally said. "I'm glad,"
The two looked at me and nodded, Oliver wiping his tears.
"Y-yes we have, Nicky. And if it's all right with you, Jay wants to give us a tour of his home,"
Francis piped in. "It'll be amazing," he looked back at Oliver after a long pause. "You'll fall in love," and then we froze and turned, and then bowed, ending our scene.
The crowd cheered loudly and our teacher even whistled. "Very very great job, you three! I am so impressed! 100% on this project!"
We walked offstage and Oliver squeaked excitedly and I hugged him.
"You were amazing, Love, absolutely smashing! I can't believe you can cry like that, why didn't you do that in rehearsals?" I asked, gushing.
Francis nodded. "Oui, that was beautiful, amor,"
"O-oh um... Thanks. I just... I don't know, I though it'd be weird," he admitted, blushing darkly.
"Well it wasn't, it was perfect,"
I kissed his cheek and led him to the audience to take our seats and watch the rest of the class preform. However no one was as good as we were, I was proud to say.
On the way to our seats, several people turned to look at us and congratulate us on how great we were. However, as they turned around, I could hear them whisper.
"Oliver was really good... It's too bad he's a crazy murderer," Said one.
"Who knew psychopaths could act so well?" Said another.
"He was probably crying cuz nobody will love him, and that's the closest he can ever get to it," added a third.
I was about to say something to that person when Oliver stood up and ran from the theater, face in his hands.
He heard them. Damn it.
I snuck up to the person who had made the last comment and wrapped my hands around his chair, pinning him to the seat.
"Listen, if you don't stop saying such rude things about Oliver, I'm going to make sure you can't. Perhaps by crushing your windpipe? Would that make you stop?" I whispered into the guys ear.
My mother told me that our ancestors were pirates and that's why I have this stroke of violence in me. Comes in handy on occasion, I'll admit.
He froze as I spoke and then shook at my words.
"N-no I'm sorry I'll stop, I'll stop," he said, putting his hands up. I loosened my grip on him and then whispered again.
"And tell anyone else who says anything what I told you. I'm not a big fan of bullies," I finally said before chasing Oliver down.
I found him a bathroom, standing over a mirror and staring at himself as he cried. He hadn't heard me come in, but he was talking to himself.
"You don't deserve him. He doesn't deserve to stand by you and listen to all of the words, all of the venom. He doesn't deserve this. You should just... Let him free. Let him go. Don't tie him to your weight, you're only going to make him sink into the water with you, and now... Now you're drowning. Do you want him to drown too?"
At that I rushed in and hugged him, holding his face into my shoulder and putting a hand on the back of his head.
"Oliver, I love you, and nothing is going to change that. Rumors and mean words can only hurt you so much, so long as you know that they're not true, and I will be by your side no matter what, whether you want me there or not. I'm always going to be by you, I'm never leaving you. And if people try to spit words at me, I will spit right back. I will do everything in my power to fix this, I will do anything to fix you,"
He shook his head, crying and mumbling into my shirt.
"Don't stay with me... I don't want you to get hurt..."
"You told me once that love is worth any pain that may come, because love is what keeps you alive. Do you still believe that?"
He looked up at me before nodding slowly.
I kissed his forehead.
"Then let me love you, let me bear your pain and hold your weight. Let me hold you and help you walk when you need it, and let me hurt for you. I love you, and that love is worth any pain I could possibly endure."