Chapter Text
~*~
Agron checks the room number on the door against the one on the crumpled printout of the schedule he had in his hand and heads inside. He instantly sees a handful of people that he knows – Donar, Lugo and Saxa – sitting near the back corner of the room with a bunch of other guys from the football team. They wave him over. Agron smiles and obediently heads back to the chair next to Donar.
“Dude, what kind of gay shit do you think they’re gonna have us do? If it’s lame, I’m totally dropping this stupid workshop. It’s not worth the damn credits, I’ll just take ceramics or something and make a couple bongs for my creative elective requirements,” Lugo grins stupidly when a bunch of the other guys laugh in agreement.
“God, you’re such an asshole,” Saxa mutters.
Agron rolls his eyes at Lugo, shifting away from the football goons and closer to Donar and Saxa. “Hey,” he mumbles in greeting to them.
“Hey, Aggie. So you too, huh? Didn’t know you were signed up for this class,” Saxa says.
“Yeah. Thought it’d be fun, and I used to act some--a little bit-- kind of,” Agron trails off.
“Well, Lugo and the others back there might be in for a surprise,” Donar smiles conspiratorially, speaking under his breath. “The guy that runs the drama department’s a complete hard-ass. Supposedly, he’s really good. So, yeah, totally not a class you can coast through.”
“Why, Donar! My heart would just break into pieces if Lugo drops this class. To think we would just miss out on his glowing insight each and every week,” Agron replies sarcastically in a deep southern drawl as he fans himself and bats his eyelashes.
“Not to mention the habitual mocking when we do actually have to perform in front of them,” Saxa adds.
“Christ, I didn’t even think of that,” Donar says, rolling his eyes, and glancing over his shoulder at the guys in question. They are too busy laughing at various people in the room, including the oddest of the bunch, the guy by the front door.
The three of them turn to look and see a short guy trudge through the door. He is wearing dark eye makeup and ill-fitting black clothes. He takes a seat by the exit in the front. He clearly stands out in a room half-full of college kids; most of them are still dressed in their pajamas and look like they just rolled out of bed five minutes before class started. The only exception was maybe Agron’s group, which are wearing neat, expensive, and slightly preppy clothes. Agron looks him over curiously. He can see the room’s dim lighting glint off of the guy’s piercings.
“So who’s that?” Agron asks Donar and Saxa, jerking his head towards the little guy.
“Who?” Donar asks frowning and looking around.
“The short guy in the front,” Agron clarifies.
Donar shrugs, saying, “Um, Nasir? I think? Total art freak, man.”
“Then what’s that make you? A dumb jock?” Saxa scowls at him.
“I guess. Either way, it’s better than being an art freak,” Donar smirks at her and yelps when she smacks him in the back of the head.
The professor walks in, nodding to a few of the students that he recognizes, Nasir, the art freak, being one of them. He walks up to whiteboard and scrawls his name in large looping letters. “I see we have some old faces and some new ones here as well. Welcome back to those of you who I’ve worked with before, and to those who I haven’t, be afraid--be very afraid,” he smiles darkly. Some of the people near the front of the room giggle nervously. The teacher paces from one end of the room to the other with his arms folded in front of his chest, surveying the students in front of him.
“My name is Lucius Caelius. This is an acting seminar and is not by any means a class you can breeze through mindlessly to fulfill a requirement. It’s going to be challenging work, and I will expect a full commitment from anyone taking part,” he smirks at the chorus of groans. “This is also not your typical acting class. It is an experimental theatre workshop dealing with controversial subject matter. It explores the idea that anyone can do theatre. First, I should warn that if you are going to be a diva, get out now. Keep in mind, every acting class should be considered Acting 101. If you think you’re too good to work with a beginner, this isn’t the place for you. Second, if you have a problem with not-so-PC topics, leave. And, finally, if you are not willing to give me everything you’ve got for the next few months and are just here for the credits, there’s the door. Don’t waste my time,” he tells them as he rounds the corner of his desk and sits down. “Just form a line here and I’ll be happy to sign your drop forms, and you can be on your way.”
“Told ya,” Donar whispers to Agron and Saxa, as they watch most of the guys from the football team, including Lugo, standup and walk to the front, slinging their bags over their shoulders as they go.
As Lucius signs their forms, Agron leans over to Donar and says, “Well, that cleared the room.”
After the ten to fifteen students around Mr. Caelius get their forms signed and have left, there are less than twenty people left in the room. He sighs dramatically and rubs his hands together. “That’s better. I’ve found that it’s always best to get that out of the way first. For those of you still interested, this workshop will be focusing on controversial social issues. We’ve commissioned some amazing short plays by a handful of up-and-coming playwrights who are eager to have their work shown in a public venue, and you lucky few get to perform in them. So the first thing I’m going to have you do is fill out these questionnaires and tell me a little about yourselves; your major, what you’re interested in, what you’re hoping to accomplish through this seminar, etc., and I’ll use your responses to cast you in the various roles. There will be no auditioning. It will all be decided by the mad, genius residing in my own little noggin,” he states tapping his finger to his temple with an evil grin.
The papers get passed around and a hush settles over the room as everyone concentrates on filling in their answers. Agron looks down at his sheet and writes down the first things that comes to mind as he does. Major: Criminal Justice. Extracurricular activities: None. Previously football (has since left the team). Personal goals for this seminar: To explore my fascination with acting and human psychology within a group dynamic. Previous experience with acting: Four years of high school drama club, including some performances where I was cast as the lead actor. Some community theatre. Is there anything you would object to doing as part of a performance (i.e. full or partial nudity, portrayal of a character with a different sexual orientation than yourself, personal objections to portrayal of violence, controversial topics, religious or political topics different from your own, etc.): No.
After about twenty minutes and everyone taking their completed questionnaires up to the front of the room, Lucius tells them, “I’m going to need a few minutes to sort through these and assign you your parts. I’d like you all to take out a sheet of paper and tell me your thoughts regarding the merits and perils stemming from the exploration of controversial topics in a public forum such as a university.”
The sound of rustling paper and bags being unzipped fills the air, and Agron bites thoughtfully at his lip as he decides on his response, tapping his pen restlessly against his notebook.
~*~
A short while later, Lucius begins reading out the names of people in the room, assigning them to different groups, handing each one their scripts, and directing them to choose a corner or space to sit together in. He gets almost all the way through the names, including Donar and Saxa’s, who are in a group together, leaving only himself, that Nasir guy by the door, and three other people still left unaccounted for.
“Agron Martin, you’ll be playing Rick in No One Hears My Screams,” Lucius announces, holding out a script as Agron stands and makes his way to him. He takes the script from the professor. Lucius gives him a small knowing little smirk that makes Agron nervous, and he then continues down his list, “Nasir Hossain, you’ll be playing Jesse in the same play. It’s a two-man play, so it will just be the two of you in your group. It’s probably the toughest one of the bunch, but I think you’ll both enjoy it and find it challenging.” A few minutes later after everyone moved into their groups, Nasir and Agron find a seat in the left front corner of the room. Neither looks at or acknowledges the other. Lucius looks over the class and advises them, “I don’t want you looking at the scripts right now. Don’t worry about your parts or what your particular play is about. We’re going to do an exercise first in order for you to get to know each other a little bit better, and to see how observant you all are.”
Agron sees Nasir paging through his script out of the corner of his eye and frowns disapprovingly at him, and then just keeps staring as he notices and elaborate tattoo that is peaking out from beneath the sleeve of his black t-shirt. “Can I help you?” Nasir snaps a little defensively.
Eyeliner? Piercings? Tattoo? Take your pick, runs through Agron’s mind, but all he mutters is, “Nothing, man. Sorry.”
The professor calls for their attention and says to the five small groups scattered around the room, “Now that you’ve all been assigned your roles and your plays, we’re going to do a little Get-To-Know-and-Trust-Your-Partner exercise. I want you each to find a partner in your group and examine them. See what you can deduce about who they are, about their traits and qualities just from looking at them. You are allowed and encouraged to touch each other as well, but don’t get fresh. You’ll have five minutes to find out as much as possible about this member of your acting group as you can without any talking. And then you switch. When everyone’s done, we’ll go around the room and share what you’ve discovered.”
There is a small rumble of nervous laughter and chatting as everyone in the larger groups start to look for a partner. Agron is slightly relieved that this is not an issue for them.
“Ready? I’m going to set my watch…” Lucius says.
“You can go first,” Nasir tells him, standing with his hands at his sides, just like half of the rest of the people in the room are doing.
“Oh! Um, ” Agron says, standing and nervously scratching the back of his neck and head. He catches himself and shoves his thumbs in his back pockets. “You mean…check you out?”
“Yeah,” Nasir agrees with a smirk watching Agron squirm awkwardly.
“Alright class? Your five minutes start…now,” Lucius tells them.
“Okay,” Agron mutters to himself as he faces this strange little man. Agron tries for the least creepy way possible to proceed. He decides to start with Nasir’s face. He looks him up and down. He thinks Nasir has to be damn near a foot shorter than him as he is around six feet, four inches. As Agron studies the other man’s features, he startles a little when he notices how Nasir is just staring back at him.
Clearing his throat, Agron tries to concentrate and count Nasir’s piercings. He has an ornate wooden piercing in his left earlobe, gold stud in the cartilage of the same ear, and a small hoop in his right eyebrow. The eyeliner brings out the rich darkness of his eyes. His hair is tied up in a messy knot on the top of his head. His gaze wanders downward over his rumpled baggy clothes. He finally notices Nasir’s hands. He tentatively takes hold of one wrist and mumbles quietly, “Sorry,” as he presses their palms together and mutters, “Jesus.” Nasir blushes slightly when he sees how Agron’s large hand engulfs his own. Agron smirks at Nasir’s response. He can see the miniscule, multicolored splatters on the black of his clothes and reaches out to touch them. As his fingertips scratch over the paint, he can feel how surprisingly firm Nasir’s pectoral muscle is. He pulls his hand back so quickly it looks like he was burned by the contact. Agron catches a distinct whiff of tobacco smoke and cinnamon...gum or mints? “Hmm,” he hums, as he observes something else about Nasir’s attire, and files it away. Agron finds himself taking hold of Nasir’s right hand, running his finger over the tattoo he saw on the webbing between his index and thumb. He traces the design with his finger, and then reaches and traces the bottom of the tattoo on his forearm. He follows it up and looks at Nasir for permission who nods slightly focusing on remaining still. Agron raises Nasir’s sleeve and gently traces the intricate design the all the way up to the top of his shoulder.
He glances up at Nasir, who’s still watching him closely, and with clear amusement as Lucius proclaims, “That’s five minutes! Time to switch!”
“My turn,” Nasir smiles.
“No fair. You’ve been staring at me the whole time,” Agron protests.
“Why do you think I let you go first?” Nasir retorts. Biting at his bottom lip, Nasir looks intensely over Agron, who feels suddenly trapped and very exposed. Nasir starts right away, not seeming nervous or shy at all. Cupping his hand under Agron’s chin, Nasir tilts his face down and studies his eyes. Agron blinks at him, defiantly staring right back. The shorter man’s gaze drifts upwards, over his stubbled chin and cheeks, down along his neck. He releases Agron’s chin and instead fingers at the cord around his neck, tugging on it and pulling out the charm that is strung on it, revealing what had previously been tucked carefully away in Agron’s shirt. Tensing visibly as Nasir turns it in his fingers. Agron tries to focus on not snatching it away from him, so he takes a few steadying breaths and forces his eyes away. Nasir lets go of it after a moment, and takes Agron’s hand in his. He turns it palm up and runs his fingers gently over it from wrist to fingertips, and then flips it back over, looking closely at his nails.
Moving on, he walks around behind him and Agron shivers involuntarily when he feels Nasir raise up on his tiptoes and touch the back of his neck, pulling down on the collar of his shirt. Agron tries to turn his head around to look and see what he is doing back there. Nasir only gives him a wide-eyed, faux-innocent look, pushing the tag back into his polo shirt.
Just as he is turning his head back around, Agron jumps and yelps with laughter as Nasir grabs at his waist just above his hipbone, and Agron twists immediately out of reach. “Ticklish?” Nasir laughs.
“Hey! That’s not cool. I didn’t grab you did I…are you ticklish too?”
“Shh…no talking,” Nasir scolds him with an elegant finger pointed to his lips to cover his mischievous smile.
After another minute or so, the professor calls for them to take their seats and starts to go around the room, asking people to say what they have discovered. When it is Agron’s turn, he says, “Nasir is about five feet, seven or eight inches? He has brown eyes and three piercings. He exercises but he smokes and likes cinnamon. He has a tattoo that covers most of his left arm and a smaller one in between his pointer and his thumb that looks like a misshapen hook. And, I think he might be an artist because he has paint splatters on his clothes.”
“Very good, Agron,” Lucius tells him, and he tries not to squirm at the way Nasir is eying him sideways from his chair. “Nasir, what did you find out about Agron?”
“He wears contacts, but his eyes are naturally that ridiculous color green. He doesn’t do manual labor and wears designer clothes. He wears a necklace that’s very important to him, and he’s extremely ticklish.”
“Excellent Nasir,” Lucius says, and moves on to the next group.
“And it’s six, by the way, not three,” Nasir says quietly to him.
“Excuse me?” Agron responds.
“My piercings,” Nasir clarifies.
“You have three more? Where?”
“That’s a rather personal question,” he says evasively. “Hey, did you see what our play is about?” Nasir says changing the subject.
“No. Why, did you?” Agron asks.
“Yeah,” Nasir says.
“Well?” Agron pushes insistently. Nasir smirks mischievously. “Is it that bad?” Agron says, growing worried and pulling out his script. He flips hastily through it. As he skims it, his eyes get progressively wider and the blood completely drains from his face, “Oh my god,” he mutters.
“Gonna be an interesting couple of months huh,” Nasir remarks, raising his eyebrows at him.
“Understatement,” Agron mumbles, rubbing away a headache that’s forming at his temples.
~*~
“So what’d you get?” Donar asks, as they throw their bags onto the dirty, carpeted floor of their apartment and Agron flops backwards lengthwise onto the couch.
“You go first,” Agron says, rubbing both of his hands over his face.
“Aww, is Aggie embawassed about his pway?” Donar mocks going to the fridge, and popping open a can of soda.
“Asshole,” Agron growls.
“Mine is about racism and prejudice,” Donar says matter-of-factly, sitting down at their small kitchen table and opening his bag, pulling out his books and notes.
“Jesus,” Agron swears, propping himself up on his elbows, “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Good times,” Donar says sarcastically. “So? What’s yours?”
“Domestic abuse,” Agron mumbles.
“But it’s just you and that art freak guy right?”
“His name is Nasir,” Agron snaps.
“So it’s about gay domestic abuse?” Donar asks.
“Yeah,” Agron mumbles.
“I didn’t even know that was possible,” he says thoughtfully, pondering the idea.
“Are you that much of a dumbass? Just because it’s two guys instead of a guy and a girl doesn’t mean there isn’t abuse,” Agron barks.
“So which one are you?” Donar asks.
Agron blushes and his eyes show his anger and confusion, “I’m the abuser,” he says finally.
“Think you can pull it off?” Donar asks, folding his arms and looking him over, sizing him up.
“I’ve spent enough time learning about abusive relationships and neglect. It shouldn’t be too hard to find my motivation,” he replies angrily.
~*~
After the first class, their homework is to review the handouts they had been given on the basics of theatre, to look over their parts and to analyze their particular character.
Agron had been certain Monday during the first day of their acting workshop that he had never seen Nasir on campus before, but he notices him a few times during the week by chance, as he moves around campus between classes. Agron sees him sitting under a tree, relaxing, laughing and smoking with a blond guy who has his arm draped around a cute brunette on Tuesday afternoon. On Wednesday evening, he sees Nasir getting into the passenger seat of a big black pickup truck with a police association sticker in the back window, idling in the parking lot beside the old arts building. When Nasir leans across the front seat and kisses the driver, Agron pauses in midstride. He squints into the distance, trying to see the other person in the truck. He only gets a glimpse of dark hair before the person turns to face forward again, and the truck pulls out of the lot.
Early on Thursday morning, he stopped to get a tall cup of very strong coffee at the café by the campus. The air cool and crisp but nice in the full, bright sun as Agron heads over to watch Donar’s football practice at the south field. Passing by the track on the way, he sees Nasir running. He is surprised into a smile at the sight of him out of his usual all-black and in blue shorts and a grungy grey t-shirt instead. He turns to continue walking towards the varsity team’s practice field when he hears Nasir behind him, “Agron?” Raising a hand to shield his eyes, he sees Nasir jogging off of the track and coming towards him. “You watching me?” Nasir asks, breathless, with a bright smile.
“No, I just…you deviated from your typical color scheme today. I almost didn’t recognize you,” Agron says, indicating Nasir’s clothes.
“Do you really think you know me well enough that you know what my usual wardrobe is?” Nasir asks, catching his breath with his hands planted on his hips.
“I guess not. So, do you run a lot? Are you on the track team or something?” Agron asks curiously.
“Nah. I just enjoy it. Good exercise, a good outlet for stress and all. You should try it,” Nasir suggests.
“Nah. I had more than my share of running when I played football. All the laps and shit they made us do. Brings back too many bad memories of the dickhead coaches,” he explains.
“I didn’t know you played,” Nasir says, looking him over, as if he missed the sign on him saying ‘former dumb jock.’ “Is that why you stopped? Because the coaches were ‘dickheads’?”
“One of many reasons,” Agron says vaguely.
Nasir watches him, trying to decide whether to push, but instead asks, “Did you read the play yet?”
“Yep. The whole thing. And I’ve been taking notes on Rick, trying to get him straight in my head,” Agron says.
Nasir snorts, “Trying to get him ‘straight’...you did see the stage directions for scene seven, right?”
Agron nods, blushing slightly, “Are you cool with the gay stuff? I assumed you must be, because of the questionnaires. Lucius wouldn’t assign people to a play like this if they had any issue with it.”
“Totally cool with the gay stuff,” Nasir winks.
“Oh,” Agron says, scrunching up his nose as he looks up at him. “You’re gay?”
“All my life,” Nasir states staring unblinking with cold dark eyes into nervous green ones. “That’s not an issue, is it?” he asks rather firmly.
“No. No issue at all. Totally cool,” Agron smiles with a faint pink tinge to his cheeks.
“Good,” Nasir says, staring him down in that disturbingly piercing way that he has a moment longer before tugging the familiar knot loose that holds his hair up. His long dark mane unravels and lifts lightly in the cool morning breeze. He runs his fingers through the knots and pulls it back up into a knot again before he turns to go back to his jogging with a final, “See you in class then, Agron.”
“Yeah. See ya,” Agron replies absently, watching him go before he continues on to the football field.
~*~
The first hour of that afternoon’s class is spent listening to Lucius explain to them about stage directions, marking their scripts, and character analysis. He tells them how they should ‘mark’ the beats in their scripts with a line: a beat being a moment in the script where their character wants something. They could want to be embraced or be loved; they could want respect, to offend or to insult. The things that they want are known as their ‘objective’. After they mark the beats and write down their objectives, they should also note the obstacle, which is the thing preventing them from achieving their objective. So, for instance, if their objective is to be loved, their obstacle could be that the other character is angry at them. The way that they achieve this objective and overcome the obstacle is known as their tactic. And these things can change from line to line. It all depends on the reactions of your partner in the scene.
After Lucius covers the theory behind the marking techniques, he sets them all to work analyzing their own scripts. As they all quietly concentrate on marking them, they scattered around the room, some of them sitting with friends, some sitting with their assigned group. Lucius goes from student to student and checks on their progress. He warns them not to let their scene partner, or partners, know how they are marking their scripts or what their tactics and objectives are, so they are not able to anticipate what each other is going to do from moment to moment. It should flow naturally, and they should be able to react honestly to each other.
Agron had started class sitting with Donar and Saxa, but after working for a while on his notes, he leaves them with a murmured promise to meet up later, and goes to sit with Nasir. He finds Nasir sitting a ways off from the rest of the class, and Agron pulls up a chair, looking over his notes and running his lines through his head as Nasir finished his own work.
When Lucius gives them the okay to spend the second half of the class running lines, the room gets louder as people start conversing and getting ready to rehearse. “How much acting experience do you have?” Nasir asks him before biting his lip between his teeth.
“Not much,” Agron responds, trying not to stare at Nasir’s mouth. “Drama club in high school. I was in a bunch of plays there. And I started to working at a community theatre just for fun during summer breaks back home, but I haven’t done that in a few years. How about you?”
“I’ve been in a few plays. Worked with Lucius a few times too, but I cut back this year since I’m a double-major. I just couldn’t fit it into my schedule anymore,” he explains with a note of sadness.
Surprised, Agron gapes a little at him saying, “You’re a double major?”
“Mm-hmm. Painting and Business,” he explains nonchalantly.
“Interesting,” he says, his curiosity peeked and wanting to ask more, but deciding not to out of a fear of seeming rude or overly inquisitive.
“How about you?” Nasir asks, sitting back in his seat and folding his arms over his chest, his dark eyes shining brightly in the ring of dark kohl surrounding them.
“I’m a Criminal Justice major,” Agron offers.
“Pretty heavy stuff, man. You want to be a detective or something?” Nasir asks curiously, if somewhat guarded.
“Something like that. I am specializing in law enforcement,” Agron explains.
“Cool. You don’t seem the type though,” Nasir states while leaning forward watching Agron through his eyelashes.
“You know the ‘type’?” Agron says doubtfully.
“In a way. My boyfriend’s a cop,” he explains.
“Oh. That’s…You’re dating a cop? I thought you’d be with someone more like--well, you,” Agron finishes lamely.
“And just what am I like then?” Nasir asks innocently, resting his chin in his hand and waiting with an openly curious expression.
“Um…artistic?” Agron offers, biting his bottom lip nervously.
“Glaber’s artistic. Just because someone has a normal job, it doesn’t mean they don’t have other interests, you know,” Nasir retorted shortly.
“Yeah--you’re right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -” Agron apologizes with a slight blush.
“You didn’t. It’s fine. We should we get started then?” Nasir says, waving his script around.
“Yeah, I guess,” Agron looks up, seeing Lucius moving around the room, checking in on the different groups. “So for Rick, these are my thoughts. He seems like he honestly cares about Jesse or wants to, and Jesse tries so hard to keep him happy, but no matter what Jesse does, Rick always seems to be angry.”
“And Jesse calms Rick back down by being loving and affectionate…using his charm and body as his weapon. And it usually works,” Nasir interjects.
“Because Rick does care about him, and it shows him what he’s doing wrong. So he apologizes and they move on,” Agron says.
Nasir continues, “But it’s a cycle, because it just keeps happening the same way, until Jesse gets seriously hurt because he doesn’t ask for help. He thinks he can do it on his own, that he can handle it. But he--can’t.”
They lock eyes for a long moment, trying to read each other and letting themselves settle into their respective characters, into the mindsets of Rick and Jesse. Nasir pulls out his script and turns to the third page. Agron does the same. “Maybe we should start here. The first scene doesn’t have too much,” Nasir clears his throat, “dialogue.”
“Yeah. Good idea,” Agron agrees. He shakes himself a little and trying to concentrate and tune out the noise from the rest of the room. He pictures him and Nasir alone in a smallish kitchen in Rick and Jesse’s apartment in the city. He tries to envision it down to the pot of coffee brewing behind Jesse.
“Where’ve you been?” Agron asks sounding accusatory. Nasir watches the fire burning in Agron’s green eyes. This makes it easier for Nasir to channel Jesse.
“I told you,” Nasir smiles uncertainly. “I just went out to get your birthday present.”
“I can smell him on you,” Agron growls.
“No baby, please. I swear it’s just from riding the bus home. You know how it is. Too damn crowded anymore, with people pushing up against you with every turn and bump in the road,” Nasir finishes softly, trying to explain, his dark eyes wide and innocent, his lips pouting a little with sadness.
Agron sees something flash in Nasir’s eyes, but it’s quickly gone and buried before Agron has a chance to tell what it is. “Is that what he told you to say?” he asks more quietly.
Nasir knows this is the part where Rick grabs Jesse and hurts him. Nasir tries to visualize it, tries to see Agron’s larger body bearing down on him, threatening him, making him feel helpless. “No, it’s the truth, Rick. I would never do that to you, I promise. I love you, baby. Please, you’re hurting my wrist.”
They just stare at each other for a moment, and Agron sees Nasir lick his lips, his breath coming a little faster, a little harder. He wonders for a second what’s wrong with Nasir, if maybe Agron had screwed something up, if there was perhaps something off with the way he read his lines, until he realizes his cheeks are also flushed and hot, his lips parted with his equally quickened breath. The tension thickens and the silence draws out.
“Good job,” they hear Lucius say from over Agron’s shoulder. They both are startle instantly out of whatever had been going on between them, whatever the moment had built them up to and look up at their professor. “Especially for a first reading. I can already tell, you two are going to be perfect for these parts.”
“Thanks,” Nasir smiles.
“You’re going to have to start rehearsing outside of class. Did you guys discuss that yet?” Lucius asks.
“No sir,” Agron responds, “not yet.”
“You can call me Lucius, Agron. Formalities aren’t necessary here, but I appreciate it,” Lucius chuckles.
“Okay--Lucius,” Agron stumbles.
“Good. Keep reading through as much of the play as you can, and after you’ve rehearsed a few times over the week, I think you’ll be ready for me to help you block things out next Monday or Thursday in class. And since this play has a fair amount of violence, I’ll be reviewing some stage combat techniques with you, as well as with some of the other groups in class. Alright?” Lucius asks.
“Yeah, ” they reply in unison.
“And I see that you skipped over the first scene. You should practice that too, on your own. It’ll help you get past the initial awkwardness. And remember, it’s just acting. You just have to make the audience believe it. It doesn’t have to be real,” Lucius explains.
“Thanks. Got it, Lucius. We’ll be okay, I think. But I promise we’ll work on it,” Nasir tells him.
“Excellent. I won’t hold you up anymore. Keep up the good work,” he says, moving on to the next group.
Agron turns back to Nasir. “So we need to find somewhere to meet to rehearse, I guess. I can always tell Donar to clear out, and we can use our apartment,” he offers.
“Why don’t you just come by my studio. I have a private space in the arts building. It’s where I work on my portfolio pieces for my painting final. But it’s good to know we’ve got options,” Nasir says.
They keep reading through the script, and as it becomes slightly more tolerable for Agron listening to the embarrassing, emotional, and suggestive lines that Nasir says. He starts to think about the fact that they are going to actually have to perform this in front of an audience. The knowledge causes him to get nervous again, and he starts to flub his lines, even when he’s looking right at them.
“What’s wrong?” Nasir asks him, frowning.
“How are we going to do this in front of the school?” Agron asks quietly worrying the rolled corner of his script.
“It won’t be the whole school, Agron. Don’t worry, the jerks and assholes usually don’t bother coming to these kinds of performances. They’ll probably open it up to the community though. The couple of things I’ve been in, the audience has been really great, very responsive and supportive of the actors. And you won’t be able to see them anyway, with the lights and all in your face. All you’ll see is me,” Nasir offers encouragingly.
This still does not seem to calm Agron based on his panicked expression, so Nasir tells him, “It’ll get less weird the more we practice it. The novelty will wear off and you won’t think about it as much. It’ll just be natural.”
“Well that’s reassuring,” Agron snarks sarcastically. “It’s going to become natural for me to dominant and intimate you while I beat you up?”
“You know what I meant,” Nasir grins, shaking his head.
Only a few minutes later, class is dismissed, and Agron stands, collecting his things and getting directions to Nasir’s studio.
“So tonight, then? I should be done by around nine,” Nasir says, stuffing his notebook and script unceremoniously into his messenger bag.
“Sure. See you then, Nasir,” he smiles and turns to leave.
~*~