Procrastinators on Stage (Chris Kendall/crabstickz fanfic) *unedited*

Part 33- I Don't Like Being Divided

My calves burned with an aching flame as I slowly lowered myself down onto the soft cushion of the living room sofa. The souls and heels of my feet felt worn and battered, as if I’d been skipping gleefully across coals for hours on end, and I’d then been cobbled back together with fibrous thread and a rusted needle. Every simple twitch of a muscle, flex of a toe, or stretch of a limb left me twisted in dull, aching, pain.

“What happened to you? Did you get hit by a car, or something?” Chris said gruffly from the other end of the sofa where he was scrolling through something on his laptop. His eyes lifted sceptically from his screen to look over my body and how I was strewn across the sofa like an aged rag doll. I’m a very attractive being, I know.

With considerable effort, I turned my head to look at him. “Elphaba practice with Liss,” I puffed out with careful breaths as to not stretch my muscles so. I’d completely forgotten what it felt like to feel pain in the muscles which wrapped around my ribs.

“The fake Elphaba girl?”

I nodded, not in the mood to correct him right now. “We did an hour of practice at lunch and then three more after work. Why’d you think I was back so late? It’s almost nine.”

Chris shrugged. “Like I said, I thought you got hit by a car. I was almost concerned for you and was gonna ring Carrie if you weren’t back by next week or so.” He repositioned his laptop on his lap and started to scroll again, dismissing me.

I sighed and leant back into the support of the sofa, gently testing my leg and feet muscles to see if I was capable of getting back up again anytime soon. Despite my four hours of practice today, I’d stopped in on an Indian takeaway shop on the way home to get dinner for Chris and me. He’d only complain otherwise. This food was resting on the kitchen sideboard at the moment. Chris only had to use some initiative to go and get the food if he wanted it. I just wanted to nap for a little while.

I suppose I sounded a little ungrateful for Liss’ help, which I honestly wasn’t. Liss, in all of her sugar sweet aesthetic glory, had been able to give me so many more opportunities to learn about a real theatre production by just hanging out with her for four hours. She was just a very encouraging and focussed teacher and I felt like I’d progressed a lot already.

“I know you haven’t done this in a while, Jamie, but you really need to project your singing,” she’d said to me as we’d stood alone on the stage at lunch. Today, Liss had been wearing a cream button-down shirt with a gathered front, paired with a knee-length black circle skirt. Once again, she looked like she’d taken clothing inspiration from the sixties. Either that or she was meant to be performing for ‘Hairspray’ rather than Wicked. Her blonde hair was even tied back in this fancy ponytail which had a small swirl at the top of her hairband. It was only a little bit degrading to see her looking like that when I was darting about on stage with a messy ponytail and wearing a giant Bastille t-shirt and leggings.

“What should I sing?” I asked her as she slowly walked along the edge of the stage before me, her steps barely wobbling even in her large heels. We’d already gone through some vocal warm-up exercises where she’d given me a minute lecture about singing from my abdomen, so apparently this meant that I was ready.

“Try ‘No Good Deed’. Perform it as if everyone you love and care for is seated in the audience, listening especially to little you,” she said calmly. She paused at the far edge of the stage to my right. “I’ll go and stand in the audience and I want to hear you from all the way at the back if you can do that.” Liss began to trot down the steps leading down from the stage before striding off into the rows of dark seats which filled up the theatre.

“But they wear microphones!” I yelled after her, feeling like I was on the verge of a toddler tantrum with every exaggerated word. “Stage actors don’t have to be heard from the very back!”