i forgot that i haven't posted this here.
AU R/K, written for the May challenge at tnpficcontest
Title: Overture
Rating: PG
Pairing: Rob/Kristen
Word Count: 1,981
Warnings: none.
Disclaimer: i don’t own anyone and anything mentioned in this story. i do have the cast recording of Spring Awakening, but that’s about it. it’s set in Melbourne, Australia, featuring musicstudent!Rob, dramastudent!Tom and fancytheatreactress!Kristen. they’re all Aussies.
thanks to mace_francis and mangobaby for reading over this and for assuring me that it was okay. love.
It started with Tom.
Tom had to say, “There’s this girl in ballet class last night and she’s ace.” It wasn’t anything new - Tom said something along those lines every time he walked into the apartment the two of you shared. There was always a ‘beautiful’ or ‘sexy’ or ‘cute’ girl he met somewhere that particular day - in a bookshop, while getting coffee, while waiting for the tram. Tom always said it right after he went home, at night, while you were playing Call of Duty and drinking a bottle of whatever beer he stashed in the fridge.
But now you were in broad daylight, sitting on milk crates in a grafitti-covered laneway and smoking cigarettes in between gulps of glorious coffee, and Tom said again, “She’s ace.” Ace was a word Tom used when the beauty was more than skin deep. He didn’t use it a lot. You felt like you should be a good best friend and started listening.
Tom squinted at you. “You bastard, you’re gonna like her heaps.”
You hadn’t even said anything. But you knew that Tom knew you well enough to be right, so you sipped the last of your latte and grinned.
--
People generally kept quiet in ballet classes. You found that intriguing - surely they had to speak to each other at some point, but evidently, no. You asked Tom about this once, and Tom answered, “We’re quiet because we’re all depressed because we’re adults and we’re taking beginner ballet classes… because we aren’t talented enough to join the Australian Ballet.” That made you a little bit depressed by proxy.
Tom went to ballet class because he needed to. Something to do with his movement subject at Uni and having to learn how to move more gracefully on stage. If Tom had had a choice, he would’ve chosen to kick the footy around and call it a movement exercise. You sometimes came along, because… brutal as ballet was, it didn’t involve running. And you both liked it, because the class you went to - the one you missed last week because you went to an open-mic crawl with Sam and Bobby - was conveniently located about a block and a half away from Victoria College of the Arts, where Tom was studying Drama and you were studying Music. It was always filled with girls - which Tom liked - and didn’t use classical music - which would’ve reminded you of stupid Uni.
You went into the room and settled at the far end of the barre, resting your back under it and against the orange wall. Tom was missing class since there was a rehearsal at Uni, but he said to you this morning, “Ace might be there. Maybe. I don’t know.” So there you were, against your better judgement, with hope that you would meet this girl Tom had only met once and whose name you didn’t know. Being the only guy in the room brought back memories of how you used to be the only boy in black trackies in midst of girls in pink tutus - enough to make you contemplate whether you should flee the building and just hang out at the café across the street. You took your shoes off and pulled up your socks. You found a 4/4 rhythm in hitting the back of your head onto the wall.
The door clicked open. You looked up, eyes widening from the feeling that someone familiar who was about to enter the space, the same way you felt when your phone rang and you just knew that it was a call from home. Instead of Tom, a girl with a shoulder-length, wavy brunette hair and green eyes and a soft pink pout sashayed in. She went past two girls, who were having a giddy, frantic, “like, OMG”-filled discussion at the sight of this girl, and set her duffle bag next to yours. You decided that it was rude to stare, so you observed her from the mirror. The room didn’t breathe. It was too quiet. The corners of her mouth twitched up.
“Odd how it’s always so quiet in these classes, isn’t it?” She ran her hands through her locks, pulling them tight and twirling them into a bun, before turning her body around to face you. “Hi. I’m Kristen.” She waved.
You gave her a smile. A nervous kind, which you hoped she hadn’t noticed. “I’m Rob.”
You opened your mouth although you weren’t sure what else to say, right before someone approached them her with what looked like a theatre ticket, and a black Sharpie.
“I’m sorry to interrupt - ”
Kristen hugged her knees to her chest and gave the girl a smile.
“- but are you Kristen Stewart?”
You started to really wonder if you should know who she was.
“Yeah, yeah I am… do you want me to sign that for you?”
The two girls talked for a long minute. You caught some words while pretending that the trackies you had on were interesting. You waited until the girl who was not Kristen - a fan, you assumed - went back to the other side of the room.
Kristen cleared her throat. You reflexively cleared yours.
The music began.
--
You opened the door for her and together you walked out the building, trotting side by side towards the main road.
“So, uh, you’re in a show?”
She smiled. “Just this little thing called Spring Awakening.”
You knew this musical. Tom auditioned for the lead role. They turned him down because he was too pretty and not rockstar-y enough, and you had to bear with him bitching about it for weeks.
“My roommate auditioned for that.”
“Oh, did he?”
“Uh, yeah. For Melchior, I think? The lead role.”
Her index finger found the elastic band and flicked it, letting the hair loose. You inhaled the scents of lavender and almond. They were sweet and fresh. “I must’ve seen him somewhere. SA audition was such a long process.”
“He got three call backs, then lost out on the final round.”
She nodded. “That’s just how it is in the business.”
“Which part are you playing?”
“I’m a swing.”
You really should’ve been listening to Tom when he talked about theatre and used its jargons. “Pardon?”
She gave you an understanding smile. It hid the scowl that almost crossed her face. “I’m in the ensemble. I understudy Ilse, but I also know the other girl characters’ tracks. So if they can’t go on, I’ll cover them. I’m also the dance captain, so I know all the chories.”
“Wow. That must be -”
“It’s intense, but it’s fun.”
She took out a cigarette from her pocket. You scrambled your hand into your jeans and procured a lighter. “Thanks,” she whispered. You lit your own cigarette.
“Did you audition, Rob?”
“Huh?”
“For SA, when your friend -”
“Tom.”
“- Tom… wait. Which Tom? I know there’s a lot of Toms, but… which is yours?”
“Uh, Tom Sturridge?”
She stopped on her track and laughed. “Far out!”
You mumbled a silent prayer that she wasn’t one of Tom’s girls.
“My best friend Dakota - well, she’s more, like, my almost sister - is dating his brother.”
“Arthur?”
“Yeah! Unless he has another brother…?”
“Uh, no, just Arthur.”
“This is fun. Melbourne theatre world is way too small, I swear.” She shivered from the cold, and you wanted to wrap her in your arms.
“So. Did you audition?”
You cleared your throat. “I don’t act.”
“You don’t?”
“No. Not anymore.”
“But you used to?”
“Yeah, well, um, it didn’t work out. I’m studying music right now.”
She smirked. “You would’ve been a good fit for Moritz.”
“Moritz?”
“You’ve already got the hair for him.”
You could see a tram approaching from where all the city lights shone.
“That’s number 16.”
“That’s my tram.”
You cursed the universe under your breath. “Maybe I’ll see you in your show.”
“I’ll be on this Sunday night, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Alrighty.”
“If you do go to the show, come to stage door and say hi, yeah?”
“Sure thing.”
“Or maybe I’ll see you in ballet again next week.”
“Maybe.”
The tram stopped in front of you. She gave you a wave once she sat down. A smile was on her face.
You turned around and started walking home, with the same big smile in your heart.
--
Tom caught you Googling ‘Spring Awakening’ and turned all pouty.
“We’re not going to see it!”
“Well, I am! I need to buy a ticket tomorrow, this girl is going to be on this Sunday, and -”
“What girl?”
Tom could be really nosy sometimes. “This girl I met in ballet class -”
“Ace?”
You turned around and gave him a look that said, how the fuck would I know if she were THE Ace?
“You’re about to pop your musical cherry to Ace and you didn’t tell me?”
“Mate, I don’t know if she -”
He pointed at the page that was loading. “That one?” The tip of his index finger was on Kristen’s forehead. “Rob, that’s fucking Ace.” You swatted it off.
“Yes.”
He looked at you. “You like her.”
“Shut up.”
“Uhuh.”
“We talked. We walked along Swanston until -”
“Along the Yarra? You walked along the river with this girl, already?”
“- No, across it - until her tram came.”
“You just talked?”
“And smoked.”
“Huh.”
“It was nothing, you arse.”
He raised an eyebrow. “But you’ll see her in a show and eat two-minutes noodles for the next few months so you can afford the ticket?”
You shrugged.
The next morning, you found a note on the fridge in Tom’s handwriting, telling you that instead of bulk undies and socks, this year everyone would chip in to get you an advanced birthday present.
The same note threatened you not to buy the ticket that day.
--
It ended with you standing in front of the stage door of Regent Theatre, with a bunch of theatre fans shrieking around various cast members. There were about fifteen teenagers, asking for photographs and autographs, and gushing about the show to whoever was in front of them. You felt intimidated and grateful at once, thanking the universe that you didn’t end up in that crazy profession where people would comment and critique your performance five minutes after the show was done. Well. Maybe playing gigs would have the same effect one day, but for now, you were safe from shrieks.
Kristen came out, and the shrieks went two pitches higher, and you were torn between wanting to cover your ears and hide inside a laneway or rush by her side and save her from these crazies. Then you realized that she didn’t need protection. She smiled, chatted, posed for photographs, gave her autographs. Her grace and poise stunned you - you were sure that you wouldn’t be able to do the same if you were in her shoes. You opted to cross the street, sitting on the windowsill of the clothing store - it only sold black and white clothes, how very Melbourne - and waiting for her to finish. You wished the florist were still open. You hadn’t even known her and yet you felt so proud of her. You wanted to give her a flower.
Instead, when she crossed the street and said hi to you while rubbing her hands together to keep herself warm, you offered her your glove-covered hand. She thought for a second, and smiled at you and took it, and you were sure your heart had never felt warmer.
“Coffee?” Her head tilted towards the café around the corner.
You tightened your hold of her hand. Her eyes twinkled. You wanted to be the one who kept her smiling, each and every day.
You nodded. “Sure thing.”
A/N:
If you wanna know more about Spring Awakening, here's their Wiki page: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spring_Awakening
Title: Overture
Rating: PG
Pairing: Rob/Kristen
Word Count: 1,981
Warnings: none.
Disclaimer: i don’t own anyone and anything mentioned in this story. i do have the cast recording of Spring Awakening, but that’s about it. it’s set in Melbourne, Australia, featuring musicstudent!Rob, dramastudent!Tom and fancytheatreactress!Kristen. they’re all Aussies.
thanks to mace_francis and mangobaby for reading over this and for assuring me that it was okay. love.
It started with Tom.
Tom had to say, “There’s this girl in ballet class last night and she’s ace.” It wasn’t anything new - Tom said something along those lines every time he walked into the apartment the two of you shared. There was always a ‘beautiful’ or ‘sexy’ or ‘cute’ girl he met somewhere that particular day - in a bookshop, while getting coffee, while waiting for the tram. Tom always said it right after he went home, at night, while you were playing Call of Duty and drinking a bottle of whatever beer he stashed in the fridge.
But now you were in broad daylight, sitting on milk crates in a grafitti-covered laneway and smoking cigarettes in between gulps of glorious coffee, and Tom said again, “She’s ace.” Ace was a word Tom used when the beauty was more than skin deep. He didn’t use it a lot. You felt like you should be a good best friend and started listening.
Tom squinted at you. “You bastard, you’re gonna like her heaps.”
You hadn’t even said anything. But you knew that Tom knew you well enough to be right, so you sipped the last of your latte and grinned.
--
People generally kept quiet in ballet classes. You found that intriguing - surely they had to speak to each other at some point, but evidently, no. You asked Tom about this once, and Tom answered, “We’re quiet because we’re all depressed because we’re adults and we’re taking beginner ballet classes… because we aren’t talented enough to join the Australian Ballet.” That made you a little bit depressed by proxy.
Tom went to ballet class because he needed to. Something to do with his movement subject at Uni and having to learn how to move more gracefully on stage. If Tom had had a choice, he would’ve chosen to kick the footy around and call it a movement exercise. You sometimes came along, because… brutal as ballet was, it didn’t involve running. And you both liked it, because the class you went to - the one you missed last week because you went to an open-mic crawl with Sam and Bobby - was conveniently located about a block and a half away from Victoria College of the Arts, where Tom was studying Drama and you were studying Music. It was always filled with girls - which Tom liked - and didn’t use classical music - which would’ve reminded you of stupid Uni.
You went into the room and settled at the far end of the barre, resting your back under it and against the orange wall. Tom was missing class since there was a rehearsal at Uni, but he said to you this morning, “Ace might be there. Maybe. I don’t know.” So there you were, against your better judgement, with hope that you would meet this girl Tom had only met once and whose name you didn’t know. Being the only guy in the room brought back memories of how you used to be the only boy in black trackies in midst of girls in pink tutus - enough to make you contemplate whether you should flee the building and just hang out at the café across the street. You took your shoes off and pulled up your socks. You found a 4/4 rhythm in hitting the back of your head onto the wall.
The door clicked open. You looked up, eyes widening from the feeling that someone familiar who was about to enter the space, the same way you felt when your phone rang and you just knew that it was a call from home. Instead of Tom, a girl with a shoulder-length, wavy brunette hair and green eyes and a soft pink pout sashayed in. She went past two girls, who were having a giddy, frantic, “like, OMG”-filled discussion at the sight of this girl, and set her duffle bag next to yours. You decided that it was rude to stare, so you observed her from the mirror. The room didn’t breathe. It was too quiet. The corners of her mouth twitched up.
“Odd how it’s always so quiet in these classes, isn’t it?” She ran her hands through her locks, pulling them tight and twirling them into a bun, before turning her body around to face you. “Hi. I’m Kristen.” She waved.
You gave her a smile. A nervous kind, which you hoped she hadn’t noticed. “I’m Rob.”
You opened your mouth although you weren’t sure what else to say, right before someone approached them her with what looked like a theatre ticket, and a black Sharpie.
“I’m sorry to interrupt - ”
Kristen hugged her knees to her chest and gave the girl a smile.
“- but are you Kristen Stewart?”
You started to really wonder if you should know who she was.
“Yeah, yeah I am… do you want me to sign that for you?”
The two girls talked for a long minute. You caught some words while pretending that the trackies you had on were interesting. You waited until the girl who was not Kristen - a fan, you assumed - went back to the other side of the room.
Kristen cleared her throat. You reflexively cleared yours.
The music began.
--
You opened the door for her and together you walked out the building, trotting side by side towards the main road.
“So, uh, you’re in a show?”
She smiled. “Just this little thing called Spring Awakening.”
You knew this musical. Tom auditioned for the lead role. They turned him down because he was too pretty and not rockstar-y enough, and you had to bear with him bitching about it for weeks.
“My roommate auditioned for that.”
“Oh, did he?”
“Uh, yeah. For Melchior, I think? The lead role.”
Her index finger found the elastic band and flicked it, letting the hair loose. You inhaled the scents of lavender and almond. They were sweet and fresh. “I must’ve seen him somewhere. SA audition was such a long process.”
“He got three call backs, then lost out on the final round.”
She nodded. “That’s just how it is in the business.”
“Which part are you playing?”
“I’m a swing.”
You really should’ve been listening to Tom when he talked about theatre and used its jargons. “Pardon?”
She gave you an understanding smile. It hid the scowl that almost crossed her face. “I’m in the ensemble. I understudy Ilse, but I also know the other girl characters’ tracks. So if they can’t go on, I’ll cover them. I’m also the dance captain, so I know all the chories.”
“Wow. That must be -”
“It’s intense, but it’s fun.”
She took out a cigarette from her pocket. You scrambled your hand into your jeans and procured a lighter. “Thanks,” she whispered. You lit your own cigarette.
“Did you audition, Rob?”
“Huh?”
“For SA, when your friend -”
“Tom.”
“- Tom… wait. Which Tom? I know there’s a lot of Toms, but… which is yours?”
“Uh, Tom Sturridge?”
She stopped on her track and laughed. “Far out!”
You mumbled a silent prayer that she wasn’t one of Tom’s girls.
“My best friend Dakota - well, she’s more, like, my almost sister - is dating his brother.”
“Arthur?”
“Yeah! Unless he has another brother…?”
“Uh, no, just Arthur.”
“This is fun. Melbourne theatre world is way too small, I swear.” She shivered from the cold, and you wanted to wrap her in your arms.
“So. Did you audition?”
You cleared your throat. “I don’t act.”
“You don’t?”
“No. Not anymore.”
“But you used to?”
“Yeah, well, um, it didn’t work out. I’m studying music right now.”
She smirked. “You would’ve been a good fit for Moritz.”
“Moritz?”
“You’ve already got the hair for him.”
You could see a tram approaching from where all the city lights shone.
“That’s number 16.”
“That’s my tram.”
You cursed the universe under your breath. “Maybe I’ll see you in your show.”
“I’ll be on this Sunday night, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Alrighty.”
“If you do go to the show, come to stage door and say hi, yeah?”
“Sure thing.”
“Or maybe I’ll see you in ballet again next week.”
“Maybe.”
The tram stopped in front of you. She gave you a wave once she sat down. A smile was on her face.
You turned around and started walking home, with the same big smile in your heart.
--
Tom caught you Googling ‘Spring Awakening’ and turned all pouty.
“We’re not going to see it!”
“Well, I am! I need to buy a ticket tomorrow, this girl is going to be on this Sunday, and -”
“What girl?”
Tom could be really nosy sometimes. “This girl I met in ballet class -”
“Ace?”
You turned around and gave him a look that said, how the fuck would I know if she were THE Ace?
“You’re about to pop your musical cherry to Ace and you didn’t tell me?”
“Mate, I don’t know if she -”
He pointed at the page that was loading. “That one?” The tip of his index finger was on Kristen’s forehead. “Rob, that’s fucking Ace.” You swatted it off.
“Yes.”
He looked at you. “You like her.”
“Shut up.”
“Uhuh.”
“We talked. We walked along Swanston until -”
“Along the Yarra? You walked along the river with this girl, already?”
“- No, across it - until her tram came.”
“You just talked?”
“And smoked.”
“Huh.”
“It was nothing, you arse.”
He raised an eyebrow. “But you’ll see her in a show and eat two-minutes noodles for the next few months so you can afford the ticket?”
You shrugged.
The next morning, you found a note on the fridge in Tom’s handwriting, telling you that instead of bulk undies and socks, this year everyone would chip in to get you an advanced birthday present.
The same note threatened you not to buy the ticket that day.
--
It ended with you standing in front of the stage door of Regent Theatre, with a bunch of theatre fans shrieking around various cast members. There were about fifteen teenagers, asking for photographs and autographs, and gushing about the show to whoever was in front of them. You felt intimidated and grateful at once, thanking the universe that you didn’t end up in that crazy profession where people would comment and critique your performance five minutes after the show was done. Well. Maybe playing gigs would have the same effect one day, but for now, you were safe from shrieks.
Kristen came out, and the shrieks went two pitches higher, and you were torn between wanting to cover your ears and hide inside a laneway or rush by her side and save her from these crazies. Then you realized that she didn’t need protection. She smiled, chatted, posed for photographs, gave her autographs. Her grace and poise stunned you - you were sure that you wouldn’t be able to do the same if you were in her shoes. You opted to cross the street, sitting on the windowsill of the clothing store - it only sold black and white clothes, how very Melbourne - and waiting for her to finish. You wished the florist were still open. You hadn’t even known her and yet you felt so proud of her. You wanted to give her a flower.
Instead, when she crossed the street and said hi to you while rubbing her hands together to keep herself warm, you offered her your glove-covered hand. She thought for a second, and smiled at you and took it, and you were sure your heart had never felt warmer.
“Coffee?” Her head tilted towards the café around the corner.
You tightened your hold of her hand. Her eyes twinkled. You wanted to be the one who kept her smiling, each and every day.
You nodded. “Sure thing.”
A/N:
If you wanna know more about Spring Awakening, here's their Wiki page: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spring_Awakening