Drama Club Part 3

Angel's first class wasn't in the Performing Arts building so he walked into the drama room, retrieved his pack from the floor, hoisted it to his shoulder and headed out for Trig. Boys and girls nodded sleepily or kissed his cheek `en passant' as he walked the blue carpet to the building front. I really need to have a little discussion with Bobby. He's becoming impossible. I'm not really the sensitive type, thought Angel, but some things are just too much. You could never tell what Bobby's mood was gonna be but the sulky thing wasn't uncommon. Neither was the Ignore Thing. Angel sighed, following the carpeted hall around to the main exit.

The door to the debate room opened and Gene walked out, briefcase in hand. He looked up, saw Angel's expression and paused mid stride. Gene, a junior also known as Clean Gene and Gene The Machine, was the star of cross-x debate, wooed already by universities. Right now he was dressed down, for Gene, in a button-down shirt, tasseled loafers and dark jeans. His jeans looked as if they'd been pressed, seams sharp. Angel couldn't help a slight smirk. Gene raised a Mr. Spock eyebrow and raked his eyes up and down Angel, taking in the tousled hair and hastily tucked shirt. His eyes narrowed.

“You might try doing your homework at home, Angel. I do all my homework in my own bedroom. Maybe you should try it.” Gene's eyes never left Angel's. Angel swallowed and felt the flush reach his chest. Gene wasn't really good looking even if he was smart. And who irons their blue jeans? Too thin, too tall, too Vulcan. Plain features. Brown hair. Gene the Machine. Angel slowed his breathing with an effort.

Morning classes blew by, leaving nothing in their wake. Angel had finally pulled Bobby out of Theatre Major Studies, their three hour afternoon block of drama, and squirreled the two of them away in the prop storage area above the shop. No one ever went there in the daytime, so there'd be no interruptions. They curled against the far wall, talking. Or rather, not talking. It'd been fifteen minutes but Angel couldn't get anything out of him.

“Okay, Bobby, I know you don't wanna talk to me right now but its days now and you've been crazier than usual. I gotta know something. Tell me what you're thinking. Any more dreams? And what's up with the attitude lately? Spill, come on.” Angel said gently. Bobby hunched forward, nearly crouching, hands tucked under his knees. He looked at the floor, not meeting Angel's eyes. He said nothing. Angel sighed, wanting a cigarette, wanting a magic wand. Bobby could be really difficult.

“Told who, what?” Angel asked reflexively but he knew. Bobby'd told his parents he was gay. I can't believe it, thought Angel, he'd been talking about this for months and suddenly he just does it? His parents are so old, they're almost like grandparents and they adore their youngest child. God knows what they think.

“I told Mom and Dad I thought I was…that I might be…that I was…” Heavy sigh. “That I was queer.” Still not looking up, studying his Nike sneakers. Angel slid closer and put his arm around Bobby's shoulders.

“Mom cried, I don't know how long, we talked then I went to my room. Dad went into his study and hasn't come out, hasn't said a word to me since, hasn't looked at me. I didn't see him this morning.” Said Bobby.

“Well, fuck, Angel, I sure as shit didn't tell her that I KNOW because I love going backstage and blowing you. What the fuck d'y'think I told her? I told her I knew because I knew. I told her I was sure. She just kept crying. She said my life was ruined. She said I had to promise not to `do anything' with another boy. She wants me to date this girl, some friend's daughter my age.” He saw Angel's eyebrows go up. “Yeah, I fucking know. And I have an appointment with a shrink tomorrow. And a date on Sunday night.” He made a tired face at that last. “A fucking dinner date with some Alison-something I've never met.”

He exhaled shakily and went almost limp against Angel's arm, leaning into his shoulder. Angel pulled him closer, wrapping both arms around the boy, his mind on mute. He couldn't work out how he felt, couldn't get past the idea that Bobby'd finally told them after all this time. His own Mom was cool but she hadn't always been. Dad sure wasn't cool. Not cool six years ago when Angel'd been a skinny ten year old who couldn't possibly know, not really, that he was a fag. That something else could suck worse than that day he knew was possible but he just couldn't imagine it. His father had whipped him three separate times that night and still been as mad as Angel had ever seen him. Maybe that's why he wasn't sorry when the man moved out four years later. It'd been a long four years. He held Bobby closer without speaking.

Eyes clenched shut, head down, Bobby felt Angel's arms pull him tighter and something loosened in his chest. He gasped; god, it hurt so much. I'm not going to cry again, he told himself. I'm not going to cry. He felt Angel's lips light on his hair, his neck. Tears escaped as his throat constricted, his chest tight and painful. I hardly ever cry. I'm not really crying. His shoulders shuddered as he wept silently into the smaller boy's shoulder. Why do they say that boys don't cry? We don't cry for nothing but when we cry, our whole hearts break into pieces and are squeezed out as tears. That's why it hurts so much.

The entire class was spread around the drama room, kids in every corner, sprawled in the center, draped across one another, relaxed and listening to Ms. Robi's voice. The overhead lights were out but sunshine from the hallway managed to banish full darkness. Ms. Robi's voice was calm, low, controlled. They listened with their eyes closed, limp and liquid, ready to follow her voice.

“Take yourself to that quiet place you've found before and feel yourself there. Smell, touch, taste, breath, be there. Everything is fine, nothing to worry about, nothing to think about. Just relax and feel the special place you've chosen, take yourself there completely. Keep your hands and feet relaxed, quiet, loosen the muscles going downward again, if you need to. Stay loose. Stay calm.”

“Everything is fine, it's a wonderful day and you're at peace. Feel your chest relax, your breathing slow, your heart quiet down. Everything is wonderful, nothing is wrong, you're at peace. Breath evenly, in and out. In and out. Calm. Peace.”

Her voice was familiar to the drama kids and the exercise was known to them all. Ms. Robi did relaxation exercises before all serious work; theatre games, rehearsals and all performances. This was so important. It wasn't possible to give a good performance at anything without being relaxed. The cool thing was that it could help with other stuff: tests, talking to parents, first dates, anxiety attacks. And that last was a good thing because Anthony tended to have them right before an opening, almost without fail. He was sure having one now. He lay on the floor near the door, a kind of flight panic-need he had to be close to an exit, and he tried to let Ms. Robi's voice fill his thoughts. It wasn't working. It really never did for Tony, before openings. His breathing was rapid and shallow, his hands shaking a little against the carpeted floor. He felt a terrible urge to jump up and run outside the door and on out into the parking lot. Just to run. He pulled hard at the air but couldn't seem to get enough. He felt lightheaded. Jesus. Every fucking time.

Jaye opened his eyes from his prone position on the floor and looked at Tony. Anthony's chest rose and fell faster than it should. His eyes were squinched shut, hardly relaxed, and his left leg was twitching a little. Jaye laughed to himself. He'd bet anything that Anthony wanted to jump up, do something, anything; needed to run off some of that wild energy was that he always got before a performance. He really was great as Bottom in the play but you can't tell him that. Especially when he's like this.

Jaye, on the other hand, felt extremely relaxed, his whole body felt calm and under his control. He felt, for instance, relaxed enough to rake his eyes across Tony's body near his and consider the whole theory of relaxation from a new perspective. Anthony was wearing jeans that were pretty snug, outlining his thighs and crotch well enough to give Jaye some ideas about working off nervousness. Jaye smiled to himself and leaned over.

Jaye looked into Anthony's eyes and smiled slowly, languorously. Cat sliding through the grass, gleaming eyes fixed, smiling. Anthony leaned on his elbow and stared through the semi-darkness into Jaye's eyes. His breathing slowed a little as he let his lips curl up in response. He shushed Jaye with a finger to his lips.

“Well, that's the thing. I do need to relax. I think a walk would be good. Wanna come with?” Jaye sat up quietly, not disturbing the others. He looked down at Anthony on the floor, met his eyes and inclined his head towards the door to the shop. Tony grinned, holding back a laugh in the quiet room, and stood. The two boys walked gently over the others, picking their way out of the drama room and into the shop. Tony couldn't stop smiling to himself as he followed Jaye into the boy's dressing room. He'd just cleared the door when Jaye abruptly turned and shoved the door closed with one hand and Tony against it with the other. He held his face close to Anthony's and grinned. Tony laughed.

Not answering, Jaye kept one hand on Anthony's chest, holding him against the door, and moved his other hand down to cup the front of the other boy's jeans. He squeezed lightly, causing Anthony to grunt softly and lean in to kiss him. He pulled back with a sly smile, evading the kiss. His hand groped harder, stroking Tony through the denim. He pulled Anthony's right hand and put it on his own fly button. Eyes still locked. Anthony's left hand joined the right and he fumbled with the metal button. It wasn't helping that Jaye's cock was hard, pressing against the denim, bulging larger as the button continued to resist. Jaye laughed softly, then the button came free and the zipper down. His white briefs were a little full, Tony noticed. His weren't the only ones.

Anthony was having trouble keeping his breathing under control. He was vividly aware of the door at his back and the others not far beyond it, past the shop, in the Green Room. The dressing room door was hard at this back but something else was hard at his front. Jaye's hand held his shoulder against the door. That made his hardening dick twitch in his pants. Jesus. His breath focused as his eyes did. God, Jaye was gorgeous. Blonde hair, loose and smooth, fell across his brown eyes. A single diamond earstud, some of Angel's liner on his eyes. He looked like a surfer boy gone a little Goth, a little Drama. He looked delicious. Jaye licked his tongue across his lips and Anthony let out a little moan, leaning in.

Anthony pressed closer, trying for that kiss again. Jaye grinned and pulled away entirely. He reached down into the waistband of his jeans, grabbed the ends of his tee shirt and whipped it up over his head and off in one fluid movement, chest and stomach muscles flexing as he did so. He tossed the shirt behind him and gently pushed Anthony to the side. He leaned his back against the door: shirtless, pants unzipped, cock straining against his white briefs, looking right straight into Anthony's eyes as he slid his fingers under the band of his briefs and, never taking his eyes from Anthony, pushed them down with an agonizing slowness, pulling the jeans down further as he did so. His cock sprang free as the waistband caught and then released it to slap against his belly.