Davey Jacobs x Reader

Chapter Eleven

(y/n)'s POV

Butterflies came to life in my stomach on the day of the first rehearsal. This was it, we would read through Heathers the fucking Musical and start some blocking and cast bonding, despite most of us knowing each other.

I paused before I left my car, closing my eyes to take a breath. I was pretty early, but I knew that was the way to go in theatre, so I took out my schedule to find where I needed to be. This was a good day, it made me grin from ear to ear. I knew I was practically glowing as I navigated the halls of the building we always did musicals in, and found our room.

I walked in, looking around. This room had bright lights and a lot more space than the normal rehearsal room. It was probably the "professionals" room. And I was here, as a lead no less.

Nobody else was here, besides Mr. James. I greeted him, beaming. He smiled down at me, considering he was a tall guy. He gestured to a circle of seats, each one labelled. I read the names on the papers taped to the backs. Characters who went together were together, like Kurt and Ram, the Heathers, the adult characters, and I was in between JD and Martha. I almost screamed, just seeing my name under "Veronica Sawyer" in fucking comic sans taped to the back of a chair.

I sat down, putting my small backpack down under my seat. I took out my script, with the already neatly highlighted in blue lines. I figured if I themed everything I could blue, it would help me be in character.

Next in was Maya, who greeted Mr. James and sat near me, in her Heather Duke spot. Then came Davey, who I waved to and pointed to his seat. His face lit up in a smile that made him look like an absolute puppy and he walked over briskly, sitting next to me.

"Fancy meeting you here." I laughed as he sat down. He rolled his eyes, still grinning.

"Are you excited?" He changed the subject, leaning a bit close to me, but I wrote it off as trying to get used to being close or something. We were going to be in one another's personal space a lot for this show. Especially during Dead Girl Walking. It would be awkward, but hey, at least he definitely bathed, judging by the scent he gave off, being this close to me, so it couldn't be terrible.

"Well duh! Heathers has been my favorite for years, I'm so stoked. Plus, I suck but I'm somehow a leading lady which is pretty cool I'd say." I gushed. His face flickered in expression as he listened.

"You don't suck, (y/n). I heard you at auditions, and at callbacks. You were amazing. I'm still in awe of your talent, honestly." He confessed earnestly, making my face go red.

"Oh, thank you, but it's really not much. I'm no Barrett Wilbert Weed or Idina Menzel or anything." I looked down at my dirty, beat up black converse as I spoke.

"Of course, because they've been on Broadway and did professional gigs for years. This is your first one, and you're 17 but your voice is already amazing. Give yourself credit, (y/n)." He told me, reluctantly moving a hand to my arm as comfort.

I didn't really have very good self esteem. I was diagnosed with depression a couple years back, when I was 12, but I was pretty good now. I still had bad days, constant exhaustion, and a negative self image though. I knew I wouldn't be able to internalize what Davey told me, and I would never believe he wasn't just being nice, but I smiled anyway.

"Thank you, Dave. Honestly, you're far better than me, really. You're really good, especially for someone who normally isn't actively into theatre." I reflected the compliment back on him, as you do.

"No deflecting, (y/n), but thank you. Let's just change the subject, shall we? Is that blue highlighter on your script?" He spoke carefully, examining me with this look that I couldn't decipher.

"Yeah, it helps me get into character while I memorize. Since blue is Veronica's signature color and all." I told him, a bit proud that he'd noticed. I didn't know exactly why I was proud, though. I probably just liked the validation.

"Oh, that's smart! That's a really good idea." He said, and I could tell by the look on his face that he meant it.

"Oh, uh, thank you." I was grateful, but I was still awkward. I hated leading conversations, so it was really great that he was able to, and seemed to effortless and sincere when he did, like he actually cared to know me, despite me probably just being the co-star who it would be best to know while we do this show.

"No problem. You seem nervous, are you okay?" He asked gently.

"Yeah, I'm all good. It's just with the anxiety, real-life talking can be uncomfortable. It's not you, I promise." I explained, rushing to reassure him with the last part.

"Oh yeah, I get it. If at any point you want to chill on your own, I'd be happy to just work on memorizing my lines. Don't feel at all pressured to talk to me." He sat a hand on mine, making me calm down. Davey was helpful, it felt good to have him care.

"Thank you, I'm okay for now. I really appreciate you being so considerate, though. You're a wonderful guy, David, really." I told him. He smiled, the kind of smile that makes it obvious the person just melted a bit. He probably didn't get compliments very often, which I could seriously relate to.

It was really nice and calming talking to Davey, and I almost forgot we were at our first rehearsal.

(984 words)