Strawberries & Cigarettes

The Way We Fall

                                                                       Song(s):

                                                      "Dust to Dust" - The Civil Wars

The days dwindled past in cold, harsh winds and songs sung in an empty theatre; in cigarette smoke mingling with Louis' plumy breaths in the air, late shifts at the pub and early shifts in the café. Rehearsals were dragging but steady, and the play solidified into something better than Louis had first anticipated. Mitch had been right: What these people lacked in talent or experience, they made up for in joy and passion. Especially the swarm of old ladies that were now with them and always brought cookies and tea to rehearsals, much to the joy of everyone (except Eleanor, who was dieting).

Harry and Clare had finished up Louis' costume, giving it the last bits of mending and touching up it needed. Well, maybe it could use some last adjustments, given that Louis' left nipple kept slipping out which was very much distracting him from essential bits of the play, like acting. Or singing. Or moving.

Annoyed, Louis once more covered up his nipple and then looked up to see Greg staring at him expectantly with one eye, the other one covered by a patch. "Oh, is it my turn?" Louis asked.

"Aye," Greg replied, nodding.

"Okay, well... I-" He raised his small wooden sword, then dropped the hand again and turned to the audience area. "I'm sorry. Line?"

Harry, sitting cross-legged in the first row, gave back, "I'm not your prompter", but the edges of his teasing had been softened a bit since the day they had gone shopping together. Both of theirs. "What makes you think I know the lines? You're the one who wrote it, I might add."

"Fine," Louis sighed and looked at the others, scattered across the stage and the auditorium. "Anyone else know the line?"

Niall, currently fake-tied to a plank of wood, shook his head and tried to shrug his shoulders, but then discovered this was not possible due to the ropes tying him to the wood. James quickly flipped through the pages and, about two minutes later, found the right one. The others had already grown impatient, shuffling on their feet and playing with their stage props. One of the ladies from the pirate crew got out a ball of wool and needles, starting to knit a trivet.

"Found it!" James exclaimed, scanning the page. "'I will kill you, Hook. I swear I will. Brother ot not.'"

"That's the line?" Louis asked unbelievingly. "Now, that's just lazy writing."

"Could we please just get on with it?" Niall asked from his position against the mast. "This is anything but comfortable, lads. I can't feel my arms anymore."

"Okay, fine," Louis said, waving his wooden sword around a bit, and then directed it at Nick and Greg in front of him. Or only Nick. Greg was gone. "Where's Greg?" he asked, throwing his arms back in the air.

"Sorry, mate," Greg panted from behind him as he came from backstage and took back his spot. "Had to go for a wee."

"Alright," Louis sighed, repositioning himself. He opened his mouth to restart the scene- then dropped his sword-arm again. "Sorry, what was the line again?"

Everyone gave a loud groan and then said in unison, "'I will kill you, Hook. I swear I will, Brother or not.'"

"Sorry, sorry. No need to get so grumpy," Louis said and pointed the tip of his sword back at Nick's chest. He could hear a quiet chuckle from the audience but didn't twist to see who it was. He knew. "I will kill you, Hook. I swear I will. Brother of not." That really was some lazy-ass writing.