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Ways of Life That Never Happened to Brian and Justin 7B: Starlet
Summary: The Peterson twins, Brian and Lindsay, dominate their high school's musical theater department, starring in the annual musical year after year. A new student, a child star named Justin Taylor, threatens to change that.
---
The drama teacher's name is a big, bright woman named Debbie. When reporters swarm around her, asking her to make predictions, she bats them off with ease and a few choice words. Justin is impressed by her inability to be starstruck, but then, he suspects that the crowd of reporters isn't out of the ordinary for theater developments regarding Brian and Lindsay.
That Justin's here only accentuates the drama.
"Well, everyone, most of you are here to - " Debbie breaks off, grinning. When she smiles, her face gets red in the same way that Justin's father's does. "Well, no," she rectifies herself. "Most of you are here to take pictures and gossip about my babies, the Petersons. While I can't stop you from doing that, I can forget to tell you where the emergency exits are. Kids, you all know where to go. Journalists, in case of fire, grab a kid and run."
Debbie pauses for laughter. There is some, but sparingly, and only from the students.
"So here's how it's going to work. Today's Tuesday, and there'll be three days of auditions. Chances are that today'll be entirely about some of our big-name contenders. You all know who you are, so I'll give you your fifteen minutes right now. You know, just in case U.S. News and World Report is here and wants to write a list about the top ten Pittsburgh Schenley theatrical contenders."
This time there is laughter, and mostly from the reporters. Justin can hear scribbling across the room. It seems like such a personal noise - the unveiling of thoughts on paper, or as close as anyone can come to verbalizing their thoughts. It's not as easy as conversation makes it out to be.
"All right, then," Debbie says, and sits on a stool entirely too small for her. "Give it up for the talented little fuckers! Starting with… Melanie Marcus!"
Melanie does not blush. She just squeezes Justin's hand for support and heads for the stairs leading to the stage, appreciative of the scattered applause and cheers. Justin sits in silence, contemplating this new development. As far as he'd known, the only actors of interest at Pittsburgh Schenley were Brian and Lindsay. In retrospect, he admits that that was silly - if that were true, how could there be entire casts? But all he'd heard of were Brian and Lindsay, Lindsay and Brian. It had never been mentioned or even implied to him that there might be others within the school who had talent. Melanie had certainly never mentioned it.
So here, competition isn't fierce. But it's present. There are the spotlight-hungry teenagers who are trying to claw their way up the latter, and even if the top rung is occupied, they will do their best to get anywhere else they can. Melanie being one of them is what surprises Justin. She seemed so down-to-earth, so grounded. The perfect example of a reality check. As far as Justin knows, actors are drama queens, are overt optimists and pessimists, not realists like Melanie. They are impulsive, instinctual, and feelings-driven, whereas Justin has always seen Melanie as the epitome of logic, the quintessence of reason, the embodiment of rational thinking.
Reality check, Justin Taylor. She has amazed you. And she has used you. Why else would an actress try to get close with a famous actor without once dropping a hint that she acted as well?
Well, she did. The whole thing was a hint that she acted as well. The whole thing was an act. At least, that's what Justin's paranoid celebrity instincts leave him to believe.
Then again, though… Justin has always wished he could be, well… rational. Reasonable. Considering of potential consequences. Melanie was really nice, and - no. That's emotions talking. But if he springs to conclusions, then that's emotions too.
This crap is harder than he thought. He'd rather just be the shallow gold-blond actor with nothing to worry about besides the dirt under his fingernails before an audition than go through all this trouble of considering what's head-thinking and what's heart-thinking. It's exhausting.
The auditorium is silent, and Melanie is trying to subtly gesture Justin up onto the stage. Smirking, Justin saunters onstage as gracefully as he can manage, taking a place between Brian and Melanie.
"Now," Debbie says, "that we have Heartthrob here up on the stage - no offense, honey," she soothes, touching Justin's arm - "we can start our auditions! A girl and a guy in every corner and one pair in the center, please."
Brian and Lindsay scramble for the middle. It is the first time that Justin has ever seen them look rushed, unprofessional. Really, they've never shown emotion around him before. He doubts it's just because of his presence.
Melanie takes Justin by the hand and leads him off to the side.
---
Once the five pairs are situated on the stage, there is a moment where the auditorium is dead silent. That's another reason why stage acting makes Justin uncomfortable. The silence during performances is unnatural. People should be able to speak, to express disinterest or confusion or excitement. In movies, a certain leeway is permitted with regard to speech; a few comments, a recitation from the trailer, a muttered curse when spilling popcorn. But the theater insists that it all is dead silent, because it's so much better than those noisy, dirty movie theaters.
Justin is certain that there has never once been a moment of silence while filming a movie. Every second that there is filming, there is noise - not just of the actors being filmed, but of the crew and the producer and the director and everyone watching them. Mostly the noise has to be filtered out, but during replays and while watching the movies, which Justin always inevitably does, he can hear the voices and comments of everyone who was talking during filming. Advice, whatever. It stays with him like the words of the script, like the director's notes between takes.
Then a pair of scripts topple down onto the stage next to Justin and Melanie, and when Justin reaches for one, he sees that Melanie's hands are shaking. He takes both. When he hands her one, he mutters, "It's the silence that's making you nervous, right? Imagine someone singing in your head. Tegan and Sara or whoever the fuck."
"How did you know I like Tegan and Sara?" Melanie murmurs, a smile in her voice the same way a voice can contain a frown or a smirk or a scowl.
Justin looks at her seriously over the top of his script. "Gaydar."
Suddenly Justin realizes that it is no longer silent. People are chattering and gossiping and snapping photos. Over in the middle, Brian and Lindsay are flipping through the script fiercely, searching for a trace, anything, where the title of the play might be revealed. Justin turns to the first page and it says in clear blue letters, "Plain and Fancy."
"Plain and Fancy?" Justin repeats, horrified. "But the textbook said Fiddler and Melting Pot!"
Debbie whistles loudly for attention. "Students," she says in a tone of fake patience that isn't fooling anyone. "There were two play titles in the textbook paragraph, yes. But it also used the words 'Plain and Fancy.' And that is the name of the play that we'll be performing. Plain and Fancy by Joseph Stein, Will Glickman, Arnold Horwitt and Albert Hague."
Brian looks outraged. Lindsay is pouting. Justin takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, fists clenched in his pockets. Melanie just chuckles.
"What?" Justin demands.
Melanie just waves a hand in the air. "This happens every year," she tells him. "Debbie sets us up with a clue that turns out to be bullshit. I thought I was seeing through it with The Melting Pot, but no such luck. It's okay, though. She's going to say she'll never do it again, which is what the reporters want to hear."
"How does that make it okay?" Justin asks her, patience wearing thin.
Melanie shrugs her thin shoulders. "You're the celeb. Don't you always want reporters to be happy?"
"I'd rather be happy," Justin says quietly. His voice cracks. Upset by the display of emotion, Justin puts on his brightest smile and turns to page five.
---
"So you've all read," Debbie says after the oral auditions are done. Not a single reporter has left. They are here because they have yet to see what they want to see: Justin, Brian, and Lindsay singing. Tape recorders whiz and whirl as Debbie announces what is to be the singing portion of the auditions. She rolls her stool over to the very edge of the stage, a notebook in her hand, and beckons Melanie.
Melanie stands on the stage and somehow manages not to look alien. Justin cannot understand how she can stand there with spotlight on her face and not cringe. She'd never seen the type of girl to embrace public attention, yet there she is, her face gold from the lights, practically beaming.
"Hi, my name is Melanie Marcus, and I'm auditioning for the role of Hilda," Melanie declares. Her voice never wavers. Cameras flash. Her smile intensifies.
She looks to Justin and he gives her a thumbs-up. On the other side of the stage, Lindsay scowls at her. Melanie smiles at Justin, too lost in the spotlight to care about Lindsay's attitude. Justin knows the feeling.
When Melanie sings, Justin watches her with a sort of trance. Her song is Say A Little Prayer by Aretha Franklin, and while it is out of the ordinary for musical theater auditions, it seems to have the desired effect. Debbie's eye makeup begins to run and she scribbles down notes. The tape recorders stop when she stops, and many more cameras go off after her finish than went off at the start of her song.
Justin claps for her, as do several of the reporters. Melanie just smiles, lost in her own words and tune and the thrill of performing.
Behind cameras, it is impossible to get lost in the thrill of performing. There is no thrill when you are constantly reminded that your emotions, your heartbeat, your heavy breathing will have no impact on the final product.
Looking at the Petersons, Justin feels a flash of envy.
---
When it comes time for Justin to sing, an avalanche of reporters stampedes through the auditorium and scoots up close to the stage, laying their cameras and tape recorders on the stage itself. He feels like he's auditioning for a movie with all the taping of his performance.
Making a split-second decision, Justin decides to go with Wild Horses by the Rolling Stones. He isn't particularly fond of the song - to be honest, most Rolling Stones songs go right over his head - but it is practically tailor-made for his voice, so he gives it his best.
"Childhood living is easy to do," he begins in his best angel voice, glancing at Melanie for a reaction. She does nothing. "The things you wanted, I bought them for you."
Realizing what song he is singing, the reporters practically shriek with delight. When Justin was twelve years old and a contender for the movie Camp, his audition tape of this song was somehow leaked to the press, and was publicly critiqued by the judges on American Idol. Most of the feedback was positive, but the press had other things to say about it - that a boy with such a childlike voice could hardly be a serious contender for such a movie.
Now Justin is seventeen. His voice teacher loves to give him assorted comments on Wild Horses, which he calls Justin's "default song." Because it can fit under several descriptions - pop in one version, rock in another, et cetera - and it sounds so perfect with his voice, Robby (the voice teacher) loves to have Justin sing it for as many auditions as possible. As a result, he knows it like the back of his hand and is an expert at the notes.
Debbie looks amazed. Brian and Lindsay are conversing urgently via text-message though they are standing right next to each other.
When Justin finishes singing, Melanie peers up at him. She looks like she has been crying. Melanie, who would never let herself cry due to her fierce pride, has red eyes. Justin knows for a fact that she doesn't have allergies, and if she did, they wouldn't be hitting her in the middle of November.
So he believes her.
---
Three weeks later, the casting results are up.
"Anticlimactic," Melanie comments as she and Justin half-walk, half-run through the school hallways that morning. "We go through all that shit - the wait, the clue, the auditions and the fucking media - all to have one moment where we find out what makes our hearts beat."
Justin doesn't answer. He's too busy focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, his arms swinging at his sides for speed and tension relief. He's never been this nervous before. Never been forced to witness this sort of thing firsthand - a cast list that may or may not have his name on it.
When Justin auditions for things, he either hears that he'll be "joining our fantastic team!" or forgets all about the project. If the latter is the case, it doesn't impact him at all - he never hears about it again, and he doesn't have to wallow in the let-down. If it's a project in which he really wanted to throw his hand, well, there'll always be those. And sometimes he'll get involved, and sometimes he won't. But he's never been forced to see who got the part he wanted. That just seems cruel.
"Justin," Melanie says, breaking into his thoughts. Justin looks around and finds himself in front of the auditorium. He cringes. "This is the list," Melanie tells him.
Justin slowly walks over to her and peers at the orange sheet of paper crudely taped to the door. Melanie places a hand on his shoulder as she reads.
There is a moment of silence. Justin praises the theater gods for it.
"I got it!" Melanie shrieks, jumping up and down. Justin has never seen her so enthusiastic, and he's amazed that she can even be so happy. He grabs her and hugs her. It doesn't sink in to him that he got his role of choice as well until Melanie, breathing hard, sets both feet on the ground and squeezes him tight, whispering congratulations.
"I can't believe it," Justin breathes.
Melanie coughs. "Sure you could," she teases. "You said 'not this time.' Remember? You knew you'd blow them right out of the water. You're just that good."
Justin, smiling contentedly, leans against the wall. "I guess I am." He looks at Melanie concernedly. "We are. And we'll have to be love interests onstage."
"We're good enough," Melanie laughs. "Just close your eyes and think of England."
Justin grins. He has no problem with stage kissing. No way could he have made it this far if he did. Checking his watch, he asks, "You want to head to...?"
"No way," Melanie interrupts. "We have to wait for the Petersons. I can't wait to see their faces."
As if on cue, heels click against the linoleum. Neither Justin nor Melanie exercises their right to turn around, aware of the strength in remaining steadfast. When a pale, manicured hand sets itself on Justin's shoulder and pushes him to the side, he only takes comfort in the fact that at least Lindsay isn't begging him for the news.
Behind her stands Brian, who looks… spiffy in a blind-white button-down with rolled-up sleeves and tan khakis. It's not at all his usual style, but Justin assumes that it is an ensemble devised with the intention of impressing Debbie. Brian makes no attempt to look at the cast list. Justin assumes that Brian feels comfortable assuming that he got the lead role. Well…
"Brian," Lindsay says urgently. "Look at this."
One lazy snap of his heels against the floor later, Brian purses his lips and turns to face Justin. "Do you know what the lead guy's name is in this?" he asks sharply.
Melanie squeezes Justin's hand, thrilled by this reaction. Justin can barely keep from beaming. Somehow he manages to keep his cool. Voice unwavering, devoid of anything, he says, "Yeah. Peter." He pauses and continues, "There's also Dan, who's sort of the narrator-slash-witness kind of guy. Why? Who did you get?" he asks innocently. A high-pitched squeak emerges from Melanie. Justin covers it up by sliding his newly-polished shoes against the floor, imitating the sound almost to a tee.
Brian looks at Justin in disbelief, then back at the list. "Ezra," he says calmly, but his voice wavers a tiny bit on the second syllable, betraying his anger. Justin acts as though it hadn't happened.
"Oh, well, hey, don't worry," Justin says in a patronizing tone. "Ezra has lots of lines! He even gets a fight scene! With, ah, with me." He smiles charmingly. "I'd say he's even one of the principles."
Brian just glares. "Thanks for the insight," he says in what sounds like the most civil tone he can manage under these conditions. When Justin just continues to smile, Brian gives Lindsay a look. As if following a cue in a script, the twins leave.
Melanie and Justin giggle all the way down to European History.
---
Ezra, according to Debbie, also acts as Peter's understudy. The same goes for Lindsay's role, Hilda - she acts as the standby for Melanie's leading role of Katie.
This calls for Brian shadowing Justin during rehearsal, which it seems is the absolute last thing that Brian wants to do. It is also the last thing that Justin wants Brian to do. It's intimidating enough knowing that there's a serious stage actor in the room plotting his doom; he doesn't need said actor to be right beside him at all times, looking… gorgeous…
When Justin relayed this to Melanie, the first thing she could say was "So that's what this is about." But it isn't. Justin is - far too professional for that. When it comes to his work, he leaves zero room for emotion. Zip, nada, zilch. All work and no play may make Justin a dull boy, but he is a boy who knows dedication, determination, and commitment. He knows that to surrender what he has come to know as his passion for something as small as a hope, a want or a wish - would be suicide. Professionally and otherwise.
And while Brian may be absolutely gorgeous, Justin knows a boy who got involved with his co-star while filming. He was outed, his name and career were stomped through the mud, he was fired and he hasn't been in another movie since. And he was a huge star.
Sometimes on the street, Justin hears his name mentioned in the context of "whatever happened to…?" It terrifies him. The way someone can in a split second go from being a household name to being one of the herd, ordinary…
He can't let that happen.
He is dead-set on being the one. The one who does not fade. Whose name is known for years and years and years and doesn't evaporate. He can do everything right. Never tred on footsteps, walk around piles of eggshells instead of trying to make his way across them. He can shine bright for eternity.
Brighter than the Peterson constellation. Brighter than anyone. He's that good.
To Melanie, he says resolutely, "I won't disappear." A promise. To himself and her.
Melanie gives him a look that seems almost pitying. "I know, Justin," she says quietly. She rubs circles on his back and shoulder. "I know."
---
"Brian, Justin, fight scene. Take it from the top."
Justin steps forward. Stage combat lessons from the gym teacher's son have steadied him, refined his fighting style. Like any WASP, he can tussel with the best of them - behind closed doors, of course. But a little help from Cody has tightened his fists, adjusted his stance, brought feelings of immortality to the front of his mind.
When Brian comes barrelling down the stage, fists at the ready in a rough, brutal way that is a part of Ezra's character, Justin almost laughs at the contrast between actor and character. Brian is in truth the refined, silent fighter that Justin tries to imitate as Peter. But freezing white anger has never been Justin's style; his anger is red and blazing, shielded from the world by a protective screen.
So in his portrayal of Peter, the character is angry, yes. But not cold or silent. The fury blazes in his words and in his movements, the way it does for Justin. And it can be seen if you look for it. Behind the WASP mask and the refined celebrity, there is the same fight instinct that drives every one of us. And the distinguished outer mask feeds its flame - silence and faux-calm and faux-everything serve to contribute to the anger and passion.
He sinks his fist into Brian-Ezra's gut and it feels justified.
Because he never gets to say anything about reporters' speculations. Because he's been called gay in every magazine he can imagine since he screwed that asshole from Details. Because he can never show how he really feels - because he acts for a living, he's forced to act all the time, all the time. On the street, in the car, in the fucking doctor's office. Because when his OB/GYN tests him for STDs, she asks him about his sexual orientation and whether he's had anal sex lately, and Justin can't say anything because of the press.
Because he could have an STD and not know, all because of assholes with cameras. Not because of him or his willpower or his self-confidence. Because of assholes with cameras.
When the fight scene is over, Justin is sweating and panting hard. He looks at Brian with what must be rage, because Brian takes a few steps back and starts talking to Lindsay very fast.
Melanie claps two fingers from each hand together, applauding him for something that isn't acting, because that was no performance.
---
Melanie gets gastroenteritis, and misses nine consecutive days of school, all of which are rehearsal days. Between texting her and bringing her the daily homework, Justin sees the same exact amount of her, which is unnerving.
But he works with Lindsay in rehearsal every day, which is an entirely different kind of acting. Melanie is a talented singer, but her acting is… well, it's not to be compared with that of a professional. But Lindsay is unbelievable.
When Justin runs his scenes with her, Lindsay becomes Katie. Her cold, musical theater princess mask drops to the floor, and she literally embodies openness, kindness, sincerity. She strokes Justin's cheek with an unrivaled gentleness, the sort of touch that one might give a lover, because Katie is Peter's lover.
And because of all of this, Justin becomes Peter. In his scenes with her, at least. It's a new sort of feeling for him, literally stuffing oneself into another person's mold. Though he's been doing it professionally since he was five months old in a diaper commercial, it's different. Because he could get away with slips on camera, and they could always fix it. He could speak in his regular voice as opposed to his "character voice," and it would be doctored in editing.
In rehearsal, it is passionate. He can't afford to make mistakes as Justin-the-actor, so he isn't Justin-the-actor. He becomes Peter-the-Amish-boy, brother of Ezra, lover of Katie. Surprisingly, it's easier to do that than to consider it acting. The transformation isn't at all difficult, because it's what he's always needed to do. Lindsay's stage technique, now adapted by Justin, is what can give his performances an extra drive. Even on camera.
And between rehearsals, Justin learns that Lindsay likes Starbucks. She loves raspberry scones and vanilla frappuccinos, and rewards herself with them only on the days that she goes to the gym. Justin isn't the sort to tell her that she needn't spare herself the calories because she could use them - as far as actors are concerned, any weight-loss efforts are appreciated. He applauds her self-control and they take to going to the gym and Starbucks together, because Justin likes vanilla frappuccinos too.
They can't very well sit in silence in a coffee shop. So they start to talk about petty things - when they started acting, who their voice teachers are (as it turns out, Lindsay's voice teacher was Justin's original voice teacher, when he was seven), and their dream co-star.
That's kind of where things get to feel… strange.
"So if you could star in a movie with anyone beside you as your romantic interest, who would you pick?" Lindsay asks, idly stirring her frappuccino with her straw.
Justin looks up from his scone. He feels a chill run through his entire body, and he doesn't think it's from the frappuccino. Stalling for time, he asks, "What?"
"I mean anyone," Lindsay plows on. "Our age or older, celebrity or human being, boy or girl, whatever."
It's that last set of options that convinces Justin that this is a good thing to do. He's never spoken about it - not even to Melanie. Or to his best friend back at Lakewood, Daphne Chanders. But Lindsay is… well, Lindsay's not even famous. She couldn't spill it to anyone and make more of an impact than the guy from Details. Besides, she wouldn't even have proof.
Justin leans over to her and whispers the name of his dream co-star in her ear.
A wide grin spreads across Lindsay's face, and for a second Justin is sure she's going to tell the press. But then she just leans over and cups her hand around Justin's ear. Her breath hot and smelling of vanilla, she whispers, "He wants you too."
Justin's eyes widen. No way. "You mean he's - ?"
Lindsay crosses her arms over her sweater vest. "Honey," she says sweetly. She purses her lips, contemplating how to phrase it. Then she deadpans, "Why can't you boys ever tell how obvious you are?"
Thoughtfully, Justin sips his frappuccino.
---
At the next rehearsal, Justin is distinctly different. He abandons his performing technique of becoming Peterin favor of remaining Justin. And not even actor-Justin. He becomes besotted-Justin. Justin who shivers if Brian touches him. Justin who talks in a soft voice reminiscent of romance movies.
Brian throws his hands up in the air at five o'clock. "I can't deal with this," he huffs, and storms off to his dressing room.
A boy in the ensemble who is also Ezra's understudy mutters, "Typical Peterson the drama queen."
Ignoring this, Debbie looks at Justin. "Can you go get him?" she asks tiredly.
Justin has been campaigning for a dressing room for four weeks now, and gives her a particularly lazy look. "Too tired," he enunciates, dragging out each syllable.
"You can tell him he'll have a roommate in his dressing room from now on," Debbie offers.
Satisfied with his victory once again, Justin springs up and heads to go get him. Not only does he get to go touch Brian, talk to him with no one around, but he gets what he's wanted for months. A shared dressing room with Brian Peterson. His dream co-star. His fantasy.
He lowers his hands to cover his crotch as he walks to the dressing room. He can hear Lindsay giggle as he leaves the room.
---
Brian is less than thrilled to find out that Justin will be sharing his dressing room. His argument is "I've given this school everything. I act in the school musical every year. Do you think I can't get better roles, Equity roles? But I give you my talent. And you gave me one tiny thing - a dressing room. Now it's not even that."
Justin hears Brian discussing this with Lindsay on their way out of rehearsal one day. Instead of agreeing with him as is the norm for Lindsay, she just responds with "Maybe it won't be so bad."
"Yeah," Brian replies gruffly. "Maybe he'll put out." At that point Lindsay turns around to check if Justin is behind them, overhearing and laughing, but Justin ducks out of sight. He doesn't want Lindsay to have anything to do with this. And with Melanie sick, Justin's on his own.
It is with this conversation in mind that Justin decides to take his chance.
The dressing room adjoins to the shower space of the boys' locker rooms. In the dressing room, Brian always keeps a few bathrobes - Justin doesn't know quite why, but Brian insists. So bearing one of the robes, Justin heads to the locker room, has a steam shower, and emerges… damp, hair slicked upwards with water and sweat, and wearing an untied bathrobe.
Brian is there.
Well, okay, this isn't a huge surprise. Upon his arrival in the locker room, Justin had texted Lindsay: SEND B TO ROOM. DON’T SAY Y. But he wasn't sure if Lindsay would get it, or if Brian would still be there when he got out of the shower.
But he is.
Justin can play the seductive little nymph as well as anyone. "Oh!" he exclaims, faking modesty and alarm. "Oh my gosh, oh my - " he lets the robe slip off of his shoulder and pool down onto the floor. "Gosh," he squeaks. He lets color flow to his cheeks like all it takes is pressure on a lever.
Brian is sitting in an armchair, flipping through pages of Catch-22. He looks up and sees Justin's robe spilled at his feet. His eyes do not go curiously up and down Justin's body the way he imagined. Instead, they flick immediately to his crotch and then back to his book.
"You'd better wash that," he grunts, presumably referring to the robe.
"I'm clean," Justin protests. He's a bit alarmed by this uninterested-Brian in this curious turn of events, so he walks in front of the robe and bends over, his ass to Brian, to pick it up. This time Brian does show interest, leaning over, setting his book down, and resting his elbows on his knees to watch. He tries to play it off as casual, but Justin knows better. He slips the robe back on and doesn't tie it.
This time, Brian does look him over. Twice. From his hair to his toes and back up to his head again. It's a long glance later before Justin leans forward and straddles Brian's lap.
Their tongues are in each other's mouths before Justin can even think of the press.
---
That night, Justin gets on his top-secret, absolutely-nobody-knows-about-it Instant Message account. Before he can so much as look to see if Melanie is online, a box appears on his screen. This is alarming - did a fan find out? Did the press?
But when he sees it's from LPPrincess1, he relaxes. Momentarily.
LPPRINCESS1: so how far did u get?
Justin doesn't know what to address first - her finding his screenname or the fact that somehow she knows that he got somewhere with Brian. He decides that at least the latter can be addressed in a few minutes. Cautiously, he thinks for a moment and begins to type.
GOLDENBOY118: how did you get my sn?
Pause. For a second Justin wonders if she's even still there. But then there is a ding, and Lindsay's response (smooth as ever) appears on the screen.
LPPRINCESS1: do u have any idea how popular i am? i can get anything i want.
Remarkably, Justin doesn't doubt her for a second. But it still doesn't answer his question. Mustering up all the charm he possibly can with some teenage immaturity along for the ride, Justin formulates a reply.
GOLDENBOY118: well yeah but i try to keep this a secret. who told you?????
Barely a second later, Lindsay replies.
LPPRINCESS1: some guy from details
GOLDENBOY118: what!??!?!?!?!?!??!?!
LPPRINCESS1: jk. it wasnt him. i know some kids at lakewood, and a girl there told me where u went 2 middle and elementary school, and a girl from ur 2nd gr class told me what ur sn was back then. u never changed it!!!!
Appalled, Justin throws his hands in the air, slamming his elbow down on the desk by accident. "Crap," he mutters, trying to think of an appropriate reply to Lindsay. At last he settles on the crudest response he can think of.
GOLDENBOY118: that's crazy! why didn't you just ask me?
Less than a second later comes Lindsay's reply.
LPPRINCESS1: cause u never would have told me, duh. nyway, how far did u get w/ brian?
Well, that's too much. If he says that online, she can send the transcript to the press. If he texts it to her, she can show it to the press. And if he says it on the phone, who is he to say that she doesn't have a tape recorder?
This is too much. This post-orgasmic sense of - not regret, because it was great, but… fear. He's not afraid of Brian or what Brian will say, even though maybe he should. His logic is that it would be just as incriminating for Brian if he revealed it to the press, but musical theater actors, especially minor ones, aren't automatically assumed straight. And besides, who cares about some teenage actor who's never been on TV or in a single movie? They care about… Justin. And that's why he's scared.
Because people care if he's gay. Just like they care if he picks his nose or wears tweed pants or smokes, and god help him if the printed aftermath from smoking his first cigarette hasn't permanently scared him away from them. They care if he ties his shoes the "bunny ear" way or the "loop" way. They care if he catches a fucking cold.
They don't care if Brian's gay or wears Converses or gets caught drinking chai instead of coffee. Good lord, Justin had an interview over that last one wherein he was obligated to explain why exactly he chose that particular drink. Daphne, his best friend back then, made fun of him for weeks.
LPPRINCESS1: hello?
LPPRINCESS1: u there?
Justin sighs. Well, what the fuck is he supposed to tell her?
GOLDENBOY118: i don't know what you're talking about.
And maybe Lindsay can read between those lines. Maybe not - maybe they're not that close yet. But there's literally no hidden message there. He's not trying to make something clear to her without saying it outright. He's just lying. Lying between his teeth for his own sake, because if one little lie is what it takes to save his career… Justin will do it. He'll do things that are a lot worse.
---
Summary: The Peterson twins, Brian and Lindsay, dominate their high school's musical theater department, starring in the annual musical year after year. A new student, a child star named Justin Taylor, threatens to change that.
---
The drama teacher's name is a big, bright woman named Debbie. When reporters swarm around her, asking her to make predictions, she bats them off with ease and a few choice words. Justin is impressed by her inability to be starstruck, but then, he suspects that the crowd of reporters isn't out of the ordinary for theater developments regarding Brian and Lindsay.
That Justin's here only accentuates the drama.
"Well, everyone, most of you are here to - " Debbie breaks off, grinning. When she smiles, her face gets red in the same way that Justin's father's does. "Well, no," she rectifies herself. "Most of you are here to take pictures and gossip about my babies, the Petersons. While I can't stop you from doing that, I can forget to tell you where the emergency exits are. Kids, you all know where to go. Journalists, in case of fire, grab a kid and run."
Debbie pauses for laughter. There is some, but sparingly, and only from the students.
"So here's how it's going to work. Today's Tuesday, and there'll be three days of auditions. Chances are that today'll be entirely about some of our big-name contenders. You all know who you are, so I'll give you your fifteen minutes right now. You know, just in case U.S. News and World Report is here and wants to write a list about the top ten Pittsburgh Schenley theatrical contenders."
This time there is laughter, and mostly from the reporters. Justin can hear scribbling across the room. It seems like such a personal noise - the unveiling of thoughts on paper, or as close as anyone can come to verbalizing their thoughts. It's not as easy as conversation makes it out to be.
"All right, then," Debbie says, and sits on a stool entirely too small for her. "Give it up for the talented little fuckers! Starting with… Melanie Marcus!"
Melanie does not blush. She just squeezes Justin's hand for support and heads for the stairs leading to the stage, appreciative of the scattered applause and cheers. Justin sits in silence, contemplating this new development. As far as he'd known, the only actors of interest at Pittsburgh Schenley were Brian and Lindsay. In retrospect, he admits that that was silly - if that were true, how could there be entire casts? But all he'd heard of were Brian and Lindsay, Lindsay and Brian. It had never been mentioned or even implied to him that there might be others within the school who had talent. Melanie had certainly never mentioned it.
So here, competition isn't fierce. But it's present. There are the spotlight-hungry teenagers who are trying to claw their way up the latter, and even if the top rung is occupied, they will do their best to get anywhere else they can. Melanie being one of them is what surprises Justin. She seemed so down-to-earth, so grounded. The perfect example of a reality check. As far as Justin knows, actors are drama queens, are overt optimists and pessimists, not realists like Melanie. They are impulsive, instinctual, and feelings-driven, whereas Justin has always seen Melanie as the epitome of logic, the quintessence of reason, the embodiment of rational thinking.
Reality check, Justin Taylor. She has amazed you. And she has used you. Why else would an actress try to get close with a famous actor without once dropping a hint that she acted as well?
Well, she did. The whole thing was a hint that she acted as well. The whole thing was an act. At least, that's what Justin's paranoid celebrity instincts leave him to believe.
Then again, though… Justin has always wished he could be, well… rational. Reasonable. Considering of potential consequences. Melanie was really nice, and - no. That's emotions talking. But if he springs to conclusions, then that's emotions too.
This crap is harder than he thought. He'd rather just be the shallow gold-blond actor with nothing to worry about besides the dirt under his fingernails before an audition than go through all this trouble of considering what's head-thinking and what's heart-thinking. It's exhausting.
The auditorium is silent, and Melanie is trying to subtly gesture Justin up onto the stage. Smirking, Justin saunters onstage as gracefully as he can manage, taking a place between Brian and Melanie.
"Now," Debbie says, "that we have Heartthrob here up on the stage - no offense, honey," she soothes, touching Justin's arm - "we can start our auditions! A girl and a guy in every corner and one pair in the center, please."
Brian and Lindsay scramble for the middle. It is the first time that Justin has ever seen them look rushed, unprofessional. Really, they've never shown emotion around him before. He doubts it's just because of his presence.
Melanie takes Justin by the hand and leads him off to the side.
---
Once the five pairs are situated on the stage, there is a moment where the auditorium is dead silent. That's another reason why stage acting makes Justin uncomfortable. The silence during performances is unnatural. People should be able to speak, to express disinterest or confusion or excitement. In movies, a certain leeway is permitted with regard to speech; a few comments, a recitation from the trailer, a muttered curse when spilling popcorn. But the theater insists that it all is dead silent, because it's so much better than those noisy, dirty movie theaters.
Justin is certain that there has never once been a moment of silence while filming a movie. Every second that there is filming, there is noise - not just of the actors being filmed, but of the crew and the producer and the director and everyone watching them. Mostly the noise has to be filtered out, but during replays and while watching the movies, which Justin always inevitably does, he can hear the voices and comments of everyone who was talking during filming. Advice, whatever. It stays with him like the words of the script, like the director's notes between takes.
Then a pair of scripts topple down onto the stage next to Justin and Melanie, and when Justin reaches for one, he sees that Melanie's hands are shaking. He takes both. When he hands her one, he mutters, "It's the silence that's making you nervous, right? Imagine someone singing in your head. Tegan and Sara or whoever the fuck."
"How did you know I like Tegan and Sara?" Melanie murmurs, a smile in her voice the same way a voice can contain a frown or a smirk or a scowl.
Justin looks at her seriously over the top of his script. "Gaydar."
Suddenly Justin realizes that it is no longer silent. People are chattering and gossiping and snapping photos. Over in the middle, Brian and Lindsay are flipping through the script fiercely, searching for a trace, anything, where the title of the play might be revealed. Justin turns to the first page and it says in clear blue letters, "Plain and Fancy."
"Plain and Fancy?" Justin repeats, horrified. "But the textbook said Fiddler and Melting Pot!"
Debbie whistles loudly for attention. "Students," she says in a tone of fake patience that isn't fooling anyone. "There were two play titles in the textbook paragraph, yes. But it also used the words 'Plain and Fancy.' And that is the name of the play that we'll be performing. Plain and Fancy by Joseph Stein, Will Glickman, Arnold Horwitt and Albert Hague."
Brian looks outraged. Lindsay is pouting. Justin takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, fists clenched in his pockets. Melanie just chuckles.
"What?" Justin demands.
Melanie just waves a hand in the air. "This happens every year," she tells him. "Debbie sets us up with a clue that turns out to be bullshit. I thought I was seeing through it with The Melting Pot, but no such luck. It's okay, though. She's going to say she'll never do it again, which is what the reporters want to hear."
"How does that make it okay?" Justin asks her, patience wearing thin.
Melanie shrugs her thin shoulders. "You're the celeb. Don't you always want reporters to be happy?"
"I'd rather be happy," Justin says quietly. His voice cracks. Upset by the display of emotion, Justin puts on his brightest smile and turns to page five.
---
"So you've all read," Debbie says after the oral auditions are done. Not a single reporter has left. They are here because they have yet to see what they want to see: Justin, Brian, and Lindsay singing. Tape recorders whiz and whirl as Debbie announces what is to be the singing portion of the auditions. She rolls her stool over to the very edge of the stage, a notebook in her hand, and beckons Melanie.
Melanie stands on the stage and somehow manages not to look alien. Justin cannot understand how she can stand there with spotlight on her face and not cringe. She'd never seen the type of girl to embrace public attention, yet there she is, her face gold from the lights, practically beaming.
"Hi, my name is Melanie Marcus, and I'm auditioning for the role of Hilda," Melanie declares. Her voice never wavers. Cameras flash. Her smile intensifies.
She looks to Justin and he gives her a thumbs-up. On the other side of the stage, Lindsay scowls at her. Melanie smiles at Justin, too lost in the spotlight to care about Lindsay's attitude. Justin knows the feeling.
When Melanie sings, Justin watches her with a sort of trance. Her song is Say A Little Prayer by Aretha Franklin, and while it is out of the ordinary for musical theater auditions, it seems to have the desired effect. Debbie's eye makeup begins to run and she scribbles down notes. The tape recorders stop when she stops, and many more cameras go off after her finish than went off at the start of her song.
Justin claps for her, as do several of the reporters. Melanie just smiles, lost in her own words and tune and the thrill of performing.
Behind cameras, it is impossible to get lost in the thrill of performing. There is no thrill when you are constantly reminded that your emotions, your heartbeat, your heavy breathing will have no impact on the final product.
Looking at the Petersons, Justin feels a flash of envy.
---
When it comes time for Justin to sing, an avalanche of reporters stampedes through the auditorium and scoots up close to the stage, laying their cameras and tape recorders on the stage itself. He feels like he's auditioning for a movie with all the taping of his performance.
Making a split-second decision, Justin decides to go with Wild Horses by the Rolling Stones. He isn't particularly fond of the song - to be honest, most Rolling Stones songs go right over his head - but it is practically tailor-made for his voice, so he gives it his best.
"Childhood living is easy to do," he begins in his best angel voice, glancing at Melanie for a reaction. She does nothing. "The things you wanted, I bought them for you."
Realizing what song he is singing, the reporters practically shriek with delight. When Justin was twelve years old and a contender for the movie Camp, his audition tape of this song was somehow leaked to the press, and was publicly critiqued by the judges on American Idol. Most of the feedback was positive, but the press had other things to say about it - that a boy with such a childlike voice could hardly be a serious contender for such a movie.
Now Justin is seventeen. His voice teacher loves to give him assorted comments on Wild Horses, which he calls Justin's "default song." Because it can fit under several descriptions - pop in one version, rock in another, et cetera - and it sounds so perfect with his voice, Robby (the voice teacher) loves to have Justin sing it for as many auditions as possible. As a result, he knows it like the back of his hand and is an expert at the notes.
Debbie looks amazed. Brian and Lindsay are conversing urgently via text-message though they are standing right next to each other.
When Justin finishes singing, Melanie peers up at him. She looks like she has been crying. Melanie, who would never let herself cry due to her fierce pride, has red eyes. Justin knows for a fact that she doesn't have allergies, and if she did, they wouldn't be hitting her in the middle of November.
So he believes her.
---
Three weeks later, the casting results are up.
"Anticlimactic," Melanie comments as she and Justin half-walk, half-run through the school hallways that morning. "We go through all that shit - the wait, the clue, the auditions and the fucking media - all to have one moment where we find out what makes our hearts beat."
Justin doesn't answer. He's too busy focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, his arms swinging at his sides for speed and tension relief. He's never been this nervous before. Never been forced to witness this sort of thing firsthand - a cast list that may or may not have his name on it.
When Justin auditions for things, he either hears that he'll be "joining our fantastic team!" or forgets all about the project. If the latter is the case, it doesn't impact him at all - he never hears about it again, and he doesn't have to wallow in the let-down. If it's a project in which he really wanted to throw his hand, well, there'll always be those. And sometimes he'll get involved, and sometimes he won't. But he's never been forced to see who got the part he wanted. That just seems cruel.
"Justin," Melanie says, breaking into his thoughts. Justin looks around and finds himself in front of the auditorium. He cringes. "This is the list," Melanie tells him.
Justin slowly walks over to her and peers at the orange sheet of paper crudely taped to the door. Melanie places a hand on his shoulder as she reads.
There is a moment of silence. Justin praises the theater gods for it.
"I got it!" Melanie shrieks, jumping up and down. Justin has never seen her so enthusiastic, and he's amazed that she can even be so happy. He grabs her and hugs her. It doesn't sink in to him that he got his role of choice as well until Melanie, breathing hard, sets both feet on the ground and squeezes him tight, whispering congratulations.
"I can't believe it," Justin breathes.
Melanie coughs. "Sure you could," she teases. "You said 'not this time.' Remember? You knew you'd blow them right out of the water. You're just that good."
Justin, smiling contentedly, leans against the wall. "I guess I am." He looks at Melanie concernedly. "We are. And we'll have to be love interests onstage."
"We're good enough," Melanie laughs. "Just close your eyes and think of England."
Justin grins. He has no problem with stage kissing. No way could he have made it this far if he did. Checking his watch, he asks, "You want to head to...?"
"No way," Melanie interrupts. "We have to wait for the Petersons. I can't wait to see their faces."
As if on cue, heels click against the linoleum. Neither Justin nor Melanie exercises their right to turn around, aware of the strength in remaining steadfast. When a pale, manicured hand sets itself on Justin's shoulder and pushes him to the side, he only takes comfort in the fact that at least Lindsay isn't begging him for the news.
Behind her stands Brian, who looks… spiffy in a blind-white button-down with rolled-up sleeves and tan khakis. It's not at all his usual style, but Justin assumes that it is an ensemble devised with the intention of impressing Debbie. Brian makes no attempt to look at the cast list. Justin assumes that Brian feels comfortable assuming that he got the lead role. Well…
"Brian," Lindsay says urgently. "Look at this."
One lazy snap of his heels against the floor later, Brian purses his lips and turns to face Justin. "Do you know what the lead guy's name is in this?" he asks sharply.
Melanie squeezes Justin's hand, thrilled by this reaction. Justin can barely keep from beaming. Somehow he manages to keep his cool. Voice unwavering, devoid of anything, he says, "Yeah. Peter." He pauses and continues, "There's also Dan, who's sort of the narrator-slash-witness kind of guy. Why? Who did you get?" he asks innocently. A high-pitched squeak emerges from Melanie. Justin covers it up by sliding his newly-polished shoes against the floor, imitating the sound almost to a tee.
Brian looks at Justin in disbelief, then back at the list. "Ezra," he says calmly, but his voice wavers a tiny bit on the second syllable, betraying his anger. Justin acts as though it hadn't happened.
"Oh, well, hey, don't worry," Justin says in a patronizing tone. "Ezra has lots of lines! He even gets a fight scene! With, ah, with me." He smiles charmingly. "I'd say he's even one of the principles."
Brian just glares. "Thanks for the insight," he says in what sounds like the most civil tone he can manage under these conditions. When Justin just continues to smile, Brian gives Lindsay a look. As if following a cue in a script, the twins leave.
Melanie and Justin giggle all the way down to European History.
---
Ezra, according to Debbie, also acts as Peter's understudy. The same goes for Lindsay's role, Hilda - she acts as the standby for Melanie's leading role of Katie.
This calls for Brian shadowing Justin during rehearsal, which it seems is the absolute last thing that Brian wants to do. It is also the last thing that Justin wants Brian to do. It's intimidating enough knowing that there's a serious stage actor in the room plotting his doom; he doesn't need said actor to be right beside him at all times, looking… gorgeous…
When Justin relayed this to Melanie, the first thing she could say was "So that's what this is about." But it isn't. Justin is - far too professional for that. When it comes to his work, he leaves zero room for emotion. Zip, nada, zilch. All work and no play may make Justin a dull boy, but he is a boy who knows dedication, determination, and commitment. He knows that to surrender what he has come to know as his passion for something as small as a hope, a want or a wish - would be suicide. Professionally and otherwise.
And while Brian may be absolutely gorgeous, Justin knows a boy who got involved with his co-star while filming. He was outed, his name and career were stomped through the mud, he was fired and he hasn't been in another movie since. And he was a huge star.
Sometimes on the street, Justin hears his name mentioned in the context of "whatever happened to…?" It terrifies him. The way someone can in a split second go from being a household name to being one of the herd, ordinary…
He can't let that happen.
He is dead-set on being the one. The one who does not fade. Whose name is known for years and years and years and doesn't evaporate. He can do everything right. Never tred on footsteps, walk around piles of eggshells instead of trying to make his way across them. He can shine bright for eternity.
Brighter than the Peterson constellation. Brighter than anyone. He's that good.
To Melanie, he says resolutely, "I won't disappear." A promise. To himself and her.
Melanie gives him a look that seems almost pitying. "I know, Justin," she says quietly. She rubs circles on his back and shoulder. "I know."
---
"Brian, Justin, fight scene. Take it from the top."
Justin steps forward. Stage combat lessons from the gym teacher's son have steadied him, refined his fighting style. Like any WASP, he can tussel with the best of them - behind closed doors, of course. But a little help from Cody has tightened his fists, adjusted his stance, brought feelings of immortality to the front of his mind.
When Brian comes barrelling down the stage, fists at the ready in a rough, brutal way that is a part of Ezra's character, Justin almost laughs at the contrast between actor and character. Brian is in truth the refined, silent fighter that Justin tries to imitate as Peter. But freezing white anger has never been Justin's style; his anger is red and blazing, shielded from the world by a protective screen.
So in his portrayal of Peter, the character is angry, yes. But not cold or silent. The fury blazes in his words and in his movements, the way it does for Justin. And it can be seen if you look for it. Behind the WASP mask and the refined celebrity, there is the same fight instinct that drives every one of us. And the distinguished outer mask feeds its flame - silence and faux-calm and faux-everything serve to contribute to the anger and passion.
He sinks his fist into Brian-Ezra's gut and it feels justified.
Because he never gets to say anything about reporters' speculations. Because he's been called gay in every magazine he can imagine since he screwed that asshole from Details. Because he can never show how he really feels - because he acts for a living, he's forced to act all the time, all the time. On the street, in the car, in the fucking doctor's office. Because when his OB/GYN tests him for STDs, she asks him about his sexual orientation and whether he's had anal sex lately, and Justin can't say anything because of the press.
Because he could have an STD and not know, all because of assholes with cameras. Not because of him or his willpower or his self-confidence. Because of assholes with cameras.
When the fight scene is over, Justin is sweating and panting hard. He looks at Brian with what must be rage, because Brian takes a few steps back and starts talking to Lindsay very fast.
Melanie claps two fingers from each hand together, applauding him for something that isn't acting, because that was no performance.
---
Melanie gets gastroenteritis, and misses nine consecutive days of school, all of which are rehearsal days. Between texting her and bringing her the daily homework, Justin sees the same exact amount of her, which is unnerving.
But he works with Lindsay in rehearsal every day, which is an entirely different kind of acting. Melanie is a talented singer, but her acting is… well, it's not to be compared with that of a professional. But Lindsay is unbelievable.
When Justin runs his scenes with her, Lindsay becomes Katie. Her cold, musical theater princess mask drops to the floor, and she literally embodies openness, kindness, sincerity. She strokes Justin's cheek with an unrivaled gentleness, the sort of touch that one might give a lover, because Katie is Peter's lover.
And because of all of this, Justin becomes Peter. In his scenes with her, at least. It's a new sort of feeling for him, literally stuffing oneself into another person's mold. Though he's been doing it professionally since he was five months old in a diaper commercial, it's different. Because he could get away with slips on camera, and they could always fix it. He could speak in his regular voice as opposed to his "character voice," and it would be doctored in editing.
In rehearsal, it is passionate. He can't afford to make mistakes as Justin-the-actor, so he isn't Justin-the-actor. He becomes Peter-the-Amish-boy, brother of Ezra, lover of Katie. Surprisingly, it's easier to do that than to consider it acting. The transformation isn't at all difficult, because it's what he's always needed to do. Lindsay's stage technique, now adapted by Justin, is what can give his performances an extra drive. Even on camera.
And between rehearsals, Justin learns that Lindsay likes Starbucks. She loves raspberry scones and vanilla frappuccinos, and rewards herself with them only on the days that she goes to the gym. Justin isn't the sort to tell her that she needn't spare herself the calories because she could use them - as far as actors are concerned, any weight-loss efforts are appreciated. He applauds her self-control and they take to going to the gym and Starbucks together, because Justin likes vanilla frappuccinos too.
They can't very well sit in silence in a coffee shop. So they start to talk about petty things - when they started acting, who their voice teachers are (as it turns out, Lindsay's voice teacher was Justin's original voice teacher, when he was seven), and their dream co-star.
That's kind of where things get to feel… strange.
"So if you could star in a movie with anyone beside you as your romantic interest, who would you pick?" Lindsay asks, idly stirring her frappuccino with her straw.
Justin looks up from his scone. He feels a chill run through his entire body, and he doesn't think it's from the frappuccino. Stalling for time, he asks, "What?"
"I mean anyone," Lindsay plows on. "Our age or older, celebrity or human being, boy or girl, whatever."
It's that last set of options that convinces Justin that this is a good thing to do. He's never spoken about it - not even to Melanie. Or to his best friend back at Lakewood, Daphne Chanders. But Lindsay is… well, Lindsay's not even famous. She couldn't spill it to anyone and make more of an impact than the guy from Details. Besides, she wouldn't even have proof.
Justin leans over to her and whispers the name of his dream co-star in her ear.
A wide grin spreads across Lindsay's face, and for a second Justin is sure she's going to tell the press. But then she just leans over and cups her hand around Justin's ear. Her breath hot and smelling of vanilla, she whispers, "He wants you too."
Justin's eyes widen. No way. "You mean he's - ?"
Lindsay crosses her arms over her sweater vest. "Honey," she says sweetly. She purses her lips, contemplating how to phrase it. Then she deadpans, "Why can't you boys ever tell how obvious you are?"
Thoughtfully, Justin sips his frappuccino.
---
At the next rehearsal, Justin is distinctly different. He abandons his performing technique of becoming Peterin favor of remaining Justin. And not even actor-Justin. He becomes besotted-Justin. Justin who shivers if Brian touches him. Justin who talks in a soft voice reminiscent of romance movies.
Brian throws his hands up in the air at five o'clock. "I can't deal with this," he huffs, and storms off to his dressing room.
A boy in the ensemble who is also Ezra's understudy mutters, "Typical Peterson the drama queen."
Ignoring this, Debbie looks at Justin. "Can you go get him?" she asks tiredly.
Justin has been campaigning for a dressing room for four weeks now, and gives her a particularly lazy look. "Too tired," he enunciates, dragging out each syllable.
"You can tell him he'll have a roommate in his dressing room from now on," Debbie offers.
Satisfied with his victory once again, Justin springs up and heads to go get him. Not only does he get to go touch Brian, talk to him with no one around, but he gets what he's wanted for months. A shared dressing room with Brian Peterson. His dream co-star. His fantasy.
He lowers his hands to cover his crotch as he walks to the dressing room. He can hear Lindsay giggle as he leaves the room.
---
Brian is less than thrilled to find out that Justin will be sharing his dressing room. His argument is "I've given this school everything. I act in the school musical every year. Do you think I can't get better roles, Equity roles? But I give you my talent. And you gave me one tiny thing - a dressing room. Now it's not even that."
Justin hears Brian discussing this with Lindsay on their way out of rehearsal one day. Instead of agreeing with him as is the norm for Lindsay, she just responds with "Maybe it won't be so bad."
"Yeah," Brian replies gruffly. "Maybe he'll put out." At that point Lindsay turns around to check if Justin is behind them, overhearing and laughing, but Justin ducks out of sight. He doesn't want Lindsay to have anything to do with this. And with Melanie sick, Justin's on his own.
It is with this conversation in mind that Justin decides to take his chance.
The dressing room adjoins to the shower space of the boys' locker rooms. In the dressing room, Brian always keeps a few bathrobes - Justin doesn't know quite why, but Brian insists. So bearing one of the robes, Justin heads to the locker room, has a steam shower, and emerges… damp, hair slicked upwards with water and sweat, and wearing an untied bathrobe.
Brian is there.
Well, okay, this isn't a huge surprise. Upon his arrival in the locker room, Justin had texted Lindsay: SEND B TO ROOM. DON’T SAY Y. But he wasn't sure if Lindsay would get it, or if Brian would still be there when he got out of the shower.
But he is.
Justin can play the seductive little nymph as well as anyone. "Oh!" he exclaims, faking modesty and alarm. "Oh my gosh, oh my - " he lets the robe slip off of his shoulder and pool down onto the floor. "Gosh," he squeaks. He lets color flow to his cheeks like all it takes is pressure on a lever.
Brian is sitting in an armchair, flipping through pages of Catch-22. He looks up and sees Justin's robe spilled at his feet. His eyes do not go curiously up and down Justin's body the way he imagined. Instead, they flick immediately to his crotch and then back to his book.
"You'd better wash that," he grunts, presumably referring to the robe.
"I'm clean," Justin protests. He's a bit alarmed by this uninterested-Brian in this curious turn of events, so he walks in front of the robe and bends over, his ass to Brian, to pick it up. This time Brian does show interest, leaning over, setting his book down, and resting his elbows on his knees to watch. He tries to play it off as casual, but Justin knows better. He slips the robe back on and doesn't tie it.
This time, Brian does look him over. Twice. From his hair to his toes and back up to his head again. It's a long glance later before Justin leans forward and straddles Brian's lap.
Their tongues are in each other's mouths before Justin can even think of the press.
---
That night, Justin gets on his top-secret, absolutely-nobody-knows-about-it Instant Message account. Before he can so much as look to see if Melanie is online, a box appears on his screen. This is alarming - did a fan find out? Did the press?
But when he sees it's from LPPrincess1, he relaxes. Momentarily.
LPPRINCESS1: so how far did u get?
Justin doesn't know what to address first - her finding his screenname or the fact that somehow she knows that he got somewhere with Brian. He decides that at least the latter can be addressed in a few minutes. Cautiously, he thinks for a moment and begins to type.
GOLDENBOY118: how did you get my sn?
Pause. For a second Justin wonders if she's even still there. But then there is a ding, and Lindsay's response (smooth as ever) appears on the screen.
LPPRINCESS1: do u have any idea how popular i am? i can get anything i want.
Remarkably, Justin doesn't doubt her for a second. But it still doesn't answer his question. Mustering up all the charm he possibly can with some teenage immaturity along for the ride, Justin formulates a reply.
GOLDENBOY118: well yeah but i try to keep this a secret. who told you?????
Barely a second later, Lindsay replies.
LPPRINCESS1: some guy from details
GOLDENBOY118: what!??!?!?!?!?!??!?!
LPPRINCESS1: jk. it wasnt him. i know some kids at lakewood, and a girl there told me where u went 2 middle and elementary school, and a girl from ur 2nd gr class told me what ur sn was back then. u never changed it!!!!
Appalled, Justin throws his hands in the air, slamming his elbow down on the desk by accident. "Crap," he mutters, trying to think of an appropriate reply to Lindsay. At last he settles on the crudest response he can think of.
GOLDENBOY118: that's crazy! why didn't you just ask me?
Less than a second later comes Lindsay's reply.
LPPRINCESS1: cause u never would have told me, duh. nyway, how far did u get w/ brian?
Well, that's too much. If he says that online, she can send the transcript to the press. If he texts it to her, she can show it to the press. And if he says it on the phone, who is he to say that she doesn't have a tape recorder?
This is too much. This post-orgasmic sense of - not regret, because it was great, but… fear. He's not afraid of Brian or what Brian will say, even though maybe he should. His logic is that it would be just as incriminating for Brian if he revealed it to the press, but musical theater actors, especially minor ones, aren't automatically assumed straight. And besides, who cares about some teenage actor who's never been on TV or in a single movie? They care about… Justin. And that's why he's scared.
Because people care if he's gay. Just like they care if he picks his nose or wears tweed pants or smokes, and god help him if the printed aftermath from smoking his first cigarette hasn't permanently scared him away from them. They care if he ties his shoes the "bunny ear" way or the "loop" way. They care if he catches a fucking cold.
They don't care if Brian's gay or wears Converses or gets caught drinking chai instead of coffee. Good lord, Justin had an interview over that last one wherein he was obligated to explain why exactly he chose that particular drink. Daphne, his best friend back then, made fun of him for weeks.
LPPRINCESS1: hello?
LPPRINCESS1: u there?
Justin sighs. Well, what the fuck is he supposed to tell her?
GOLDENBOY118: i don't know what you're talking about.
And maybe Lindsay can read between those lines. Maybe not - maybe they're not that close yet. But there's literally no hidden message there. He's not trying to make something clear to her without saying it outright. He's just lying. Lying between his teeth for his own sake, because if one little lie is what it takes to save his career… Justin will do it. He'll do things that are a lot worse.
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