Chapter Text
PERCY
I’ve never understood the appeal of stage acting. I can’t think of anything worse than standing centre stage, literally under a spotlight, thousands of eyes on me, waiting for me to speak.
Today is the first day of Modern Orchestra, and our first project is to design a musical accompaniment to Modern Theatre’s original play. We’ve already practiced some standards and now I’m watching the theatre students from the side of the stage with a morbid fascination.
I recognise a couple of them from school, due to the fact all of the queerest kids from my year, myself included, gravitated to Brighton University in the hope of living it up in the gayest city in the country.
Johanna, the disgustingly delightful girlfriend of my fellow band-nerd and long time best friend Sim, is currently demonstrating some interpretative dance moves for an already smitten-looking classmate. Another old classmate, a lad who I’m struggling to remember the name of, is effortlessly flirting with a handsome red headed boy, leaning casually against an old set piece and giving him a lopsided grin.
Johanna looks over at me and I frown, realising how creepy I must look, standing on the sidelines and studying these normal human interactions as if I’m watching a chimpanzee enclosure at the zoo.
She grins at me and waves, because of course she does, so I lift my hand to wave back when I feel someone bump into me. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you–”
“Oh, that’s alright, I–” I turn, and immediately freeze. Shit. It’s August. “I…”
“Oh, hi! Percy, right?” He puts his hands in his pockets and smiles at me. “I’m August.” As if I don’t know. “We’ve shared a few classes already, I believe?”
Oh my God, he’s aware . He’s… noticed me? In what classes? Why has he noticed me? Did I do something weird? Oh, no. Am I standing out? Am I–
I realize I’ve been gaping at him for a while when his smile turns awkward. “Are you… alright?”
“I–” I force out, “I, um.” I swallow. “You… play nice.” When I realize that makes little sense on its own, I point at his cello, standing behind him.
He looks back. “Oh. Oh! Thank you. I haven’t heard you play yet, but I’m sure you’re great.” He smiles, and I suddenly get very distracted by his freckles. “Well, see you around.”
And with that, he leaves with a cute little wave, heading over to talk to some of the other orchestra kids.
“Smooth.”
I start. I hadn’t heard Sim approach at all, so when I find her grinning at me with her arms crossed, I go red entirely. “It wasn’t that bad,” I say, which is a lie, and we both know it.
“It was awful,” Sim says. “Almost sad, really. Like middle-schooler-with-a-crush levels of pathetic.”
I bury my face in my hands. “Kill me, Sim. Put me out of my misery.”
“Nope. This is too entertaining.”
“You’re cruel.”
“Be less pathetic at flirting.”
I slink down onto a chair, hugging my violin case to my chest. “I’m going to be an old spinster and die alone, Sim.”
“You are.”
“Not helping.”
She pats me on the shoulder. “Know what, we gotta get you out more. There’s this party tonight, you should come.”
“Can’t. I want to keep up with homework.”
“Boo. You’re a boring, boring person, Newton. I don’t know why we’re friends.”
“You’re too good for me.”
“Indeed. But lucky for you I am your benevolent friend, so I’m going to help you.” At that, she raises an arm and calls, “Hey! August!”
I panic but try to hide it. “What are you doing?” I hiss at her.
Unfortunately, August is already coming over. He looks between us in question, still with a good-natured smile on his face, and I want to leap out of a window.
“Hey, Sim,” he says. “What’s up?”
“You know about the party tonight? At Theo’s?”
“Yeah?”
“Percy and I are gonna be there. You coming too?”
I look at her in shock, trying to convey she should cut it out without looking like an idiot.
August, damn him, just shrugs. “I might. See you there?”
“Yes, you will.” Sim smirks, eyeing me from her peripheral. “Won’t he, Percy?”
“I... yes. Yes, he will.” He glances at me, and I hope I’m imagining the glint of pity in his eyes. “If he goes, I mean. If you go. Ha! I’m talking about you like you’re not here. You said you might go. So– so, we might see you there. If you go.”
I can actually feel the incredulous look Sim is shooting at the side of my face, so I decide the most sensible option is to avoid her gaze. Forever, if it’s at all possible.
August just nods, giving me what can only be described as an extremely tolerant and polite smile. I wonder if it would be too weird to climb under this chair and hide.
He wanders back to his friends and I finally work up the courage to look back at Sim.
“We’re going,” she says. And I know from the tone of her voice that it’s not a request.
I sigh. “Sim, I really just want to stay–”
“ We’re going. I swear to God, if you finish this semester without at least attempting to get deflowered, you’ll be in the market for a new best friend.”
I pull a face. “Deflowered? Am I a Victorian society lady now?”
“Save your piss-poor attempts at wit for tonight.”
At times like this, I wonder why we’re friends. Then I realise that without Sim, I would literally stew alone in my dorm room for the entire year, watching the tamest porn I can find (I embarrass too easily) and watching everyone else having actual fun on my Instagram feed.
“Fine.”
Fuck. What do I wear?
The party is… pretty much what I was expecting. A typical student house (or at least I assume it’s typical, it’s the first one I’ve ever seen) but with added Brighton-y touches. Several Pride flags hung on the walls alongside Urban Outfitters tapestries. Strong incense smells wafting through the air, poorly concealing the scent of weed.
It’s not too crowded, and after a couple of beers, I’m feeling marginally less uncomfortable than I did when we first walked in. I’m still uncomfortable of course, as it’s pretty much my default setting.
Sim has disappeared with Johanna, probably to grope in a quiet corner somewhere. I comfort myself by thinking at least they’re not doing it right in front of me for once , but after about twenty minutes of awkwardly standing alone, I start to think watching my best friend make out with her girlfriend all night might actually have been preferable.
I sigh and go over to a table where someone has generously laid out some communal booze, picking up another bottle of beer and a bottle opener. I turn back, considering trying to find someone from one of my classes for some stilted small talk when someone bumps into me.
(Is this going to be my only method of human interaction at university? Clumsily colliding with people?)
“Shit! Oh! Hi! Percy, isn’t it?”
I look up to see one of the theatre students I was watching earlier. The flirtatious one with the dimples. He gives me an approving up and down look, like he’s decided I’m attractive enough to be worth speaking to, which makes me scowl slightly.
“Hi. Yeah.” He smiles at me and I try desperately to remember his name. “Uhm…”
“Oh, ouch! I’ve been forgotten!”
“I’m not sure we’ve ever actually… met.” It suddenly comes to me. “Henry?”
“Absolutely not.” He holds out his hand. “Monty.”
I shake it. “Right. Sorry. Henry Montague.”
“Please stop calling me Henry.” He lets go and looks at the drinks table, grabbing a bottle of gin to top up his cup. “See, I knew I was unforgettable.”
“Apparently so.” I watch him, wondering if I can just leave, when he turns back to me, looking expectant. “You were in my year, right?”
“I was! And you…” He tilts his head. “...were the last person to come out before sixth form ended. I kept track of all of the school queers. Bit of a hobby.”
I blush slightly. “You kept track of me?”
“Only from a distance!”
“Right. Well.” I motion to the other side of the room. “I should probably go fi–”
He cuts in. “So! How’s your love life now you’re out and proud?”
He casually sips on his gin and looks at me, waiting for an answer. I’m so surprised by how personal the question is, that I do nothing but give him an open-mouthed stare for several seconds.
He grimaces. “That bad?”
“Wha.. no! It’s… fine !” I swig my beer, turning slightly red. “It’s also none of your business.”
“Okay, okay! Just making conversation, Perce.” He nudges me slightly. “But if you ever need any tips on who to avoid, who has herpes, that sort of thing…”
“Very kind of you. Thanks.”
Now that we’re speaking, I’m putting together my vague school memories of Monty, and the fact he’s already starting to put together a list of who has STIs, one week into the university year, doesn’t surprise me.
Across the room, a few people move aside as a new group enters the scene. As I’m in the middle of taking another swig, I realize that it’s August and his friends. I choke on my drink and turn to face the table, praying that he won’t recognize me.
Monty watches me studiously as I cough and wipe the spilt beer off my chin. A grin tugs at his lips. “Maybe the love life isn’t that bad after all.”
I resist the urge to crawl under the table and stay there. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But it rather loses effect as choked up as my voice sounds.
“Aw, you can talk to me, darling.” Darling. Is that just a general thing he says, or does he think we’ve bonded because he’s made fun of my ineptitude to deal with a crush? “So which one is it?”
“What?” I turn around again, following his line of sight back to the group. “None of them! Leave me alone!”
“Oh, I see, the one with the freckles.” He keeps eyeing August in amusement. “Personally I think your freckles are cuter, but you’re right, he is a sight.”
“Don’t talk about him like that,” I hiss, then realize my mistake when he looks at me from his peripherals and his grin widens. “That was not a confession. He’s just– I just think he’s nice, so you shouldn’t— why am I still talking to you?”
“Because otherwise you’d be on your own and your crush might think you’re a sad little loner, effectively reducing your chances.” He takes a long sip to mark the end of his sentence, looking way too smug. “I’m just teasing you, darling. But really, I can help!”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“My reputation must have preceded me. I’m an excellent flirt. I’m great at other things too.” At that, he suggestively waggles his eyebrows.
I roll my eyes. “I don’t need any help, thank you very much. I’m perfectly capable—if I want to go over there,” I tip my chin in August’s direction, “and ask him out, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
He crosses his arms. “Okay. Then do it.”
My heart vaults. August is talking to his friends, laughing at something one of them said. He looks beautiful, even in the dimmed light. He’s nice. He’s a genuinely nice person. If I went over there and asked him out, and he wouldn’t be interested—the thought mortifies me—he wouldn’t hold it against me. He’d be nice about it, as he is about everything, and I’d have to fake my death, change my name, and leave the country.
“Well?” Monty says.
I glare at him. Like hell I’ll let him win. And really, how hard can it be? So I empty my drink, slam the bottle down on the table, and march over there.
I lose momentum quickly as it dawns on me what I’m getting myself into, and a metre or so before I reach August and his friends, my march turns into more of a stilted shuffle. Thankfully he spots me, so I don’t have to force my way into the conversation, and flashes me an annoyingly adorable smile.
“Percy!”
I’m suddenly extremely aware of Monty’s eyes on the back of my head as I lift my hand and attempt what I hope is a somewhat smooth wave.
“Helloooo!”
“I’m glad you came!” He looks around. “Where’s Sim?”
“Oh, she’s…” I clear my throat and raise my voice. “Gosh, it’s loud isn’t it?!”
He exchanges a look with the friend standing next to him, a short dark-haired guy with giant brown eyes. “Uhh… not particularly?”
“Is it not?” Where am I going with this? “I think it’s quieter– I mean if it was loud, it would be quieter over... “ I point extremely vaguely to the other side of the room. “Over there?”
He looks where I’m gesturing, then looks back at me. He frowns in confusion.
“Did you want to… talk to me alone?”
“Yes!” Calm down, Perce . Be casual. “I mean… yeah. We can if you like.”
He shrugs slightly, looking apologetically to his friends and then looking at me, waiting for me to move. I didn’t expect him to actually agree, so I’m momentarily flummoxed.
I lead him away from his friends, aware that I need to be near enough for Monty to be able to listen in on us, even though the concept of that makes me want to disappear into a hole in the floor.
I stand a few feet away from the drinks table and turn to August, giving him what I hope is a charming smile, though by the look on his face, it’s come out rather more constipated than endearing.
“So!” He nods slowly at me, so I guess I need to say something else. “Music, eh?”
“Music. Yep. How long have you played violin?”
“Oh, we don’t need to talk about music! Surely there are more interesting topics?”
He blinks at me. “You brought up music.”
“Oh. Oh! Right! Well, I just meant– I mean, there’s more to me than just– I just meant, because you and I both– I…” Am I talking loudly? People are glancing over, but that might just be because of the excessive arm gestures I’m doing. “I just… Sorry. Can we start over? I’m Percy.”
Oh God, he’s actually looking at me like I’m mad. “...Yes? We established that?”
“Right. Of course we did!” I laugh awkwardly. Over August’s shoulder I see Monty, still at the table, looking a combination of surprised and amused. Oh God, am I actually messing up that badly? I need to put us back on the right track, right now . I’m grasping for something to start up a decent conversation, anything at all. “Um. My whole life.”
He blinks. “What?”
“The violin.”
Several mortifying seconds pass before he catches on. “Oh, right.”
“Right. Riiiiiight.” I want to bash my own skull in. “Well, not my entire life,” I adjust quickly. “I didn’t start when I was a baby. That’d be dumb. Could you imagine? A baby playing a violin?”
He gives me a short, nervous laugh, already glancing back to his friend group. Shit .
“So I was… I don’t know, probably three or something. So close enough. How–How long have you been playing the double bass?” I try to mimic interest, but I think I look more like a caricature of it.
“Um.” He frowns. “I play the cello.”
Shit. Shit. “Of course!” I snap my fingers, laughing. “That was… That was a joke. I was kidding. I know what instrument you play.”
He doesn’t laugh at all, just looks very, very confused.
Okay, time to change tactics entirely. Talking about music isn’t working. I came over here to flirt, didn’t I? So I could ask him out. Okay. How do people flirt? Compliment him? On what? I spin a mental wheel–
“Actually,” August starts, “I should, uh–”
“Your eyes,” I blurt out.
He stops and blinks at me.
“They’re, uh…” Fuck, how do I compliment? I can’t remember a single goddamn adjective. “They’re…”
“Is there something wrong with my eyes?” he asks.
“No! Of course not! It’s just that they’re, uh, they’re…” I make a motion like I’m actually grabbing a word out of thin air. “Blue!”
His brow furrows. “...Yes?”
“As blue as… as, uh…” I rack my brain for anything blue at all. Be witty, Percy, be poetic, what else were those seventeen notebooks full of yearning poetry and teenage angst good for? “Blue as…” Any word at all. “...crabs.”
August looks completely bewildered. In sheer mortification I’ve gone speechless, so he prompts, “...Crabs?”
I nod much too enthusiastically.
“...I didn’t know crabs could be blue,” he says with a forced smile.
“Oh, they can be!” I’m rambling, I’m rambling, I’m definitely rambling. “When I was a kid my family and I used to go on holiday to the coast all the time and there were these abandoned rowing boats? And they’d be absolutely crawling with them, one time I actually got my foot stuck in there and they were just everywhere–”
“Oh, okay!” August says, trying to be louder than my rambling and clearly intending to cut me off. “How, uh. Interesting. Who knew crabs could be blue?” Another one of those forced smiles. “I’m, uh, really sorry, but my friends are sort of waiting for me. Let’s… finish this conversation another time?”
I feel as if the floor under my feet has turned to quicksand. “Oh, o...okay.” And, long after he’s gone and much too quietly, “Bye.”
Several of August’s friends glance at me when he rejoins them, half-smiles and frowns on their faces. I’m suddenly acutely aware that I’m staring after him, my face burning, completely alone at a party, and I’m confronted with the choice of either staying that way or returning to Monty’s side. Or perhaps faking a stroke so I can later blame the whole disaster of a conversation on being unwell, which truly sounds like my best option.
Eyes on the floor and more embarrassed than I’ve ever felt in my entire life, I head back to Monty. He doesn’t even look at me at first, just keeps watching August with his cup to his lips.
“So,” he says after a minute.
I let out a groan, and he starts laughing.
“Truly, darling, if I could say “ it wasn’t that bad ”, I would.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I just don’t know what went wrong!” I blurt. “It was just a conversation! How could I fuck up a conversation that badly ?!”
“Don’t ask me, darling.”
“I just– it was just because I got there and he looked me in the eye and I swear I forgot my own name. Alongside with the entire English language.”
“I saw.”
“I’m becoming a recluse and I’m going to live in the woods.”
Monty laughs again. “Hey, who’s the drama kid out of the two of us?”
I sigh, the adrenaline fading and leaving me bone weary. “What am I supposed to do, Monty?”
He watches me for a bit, bottom lip between his teeth. Then he presses his shoulder into mine. “I wasn’t kidding earlier, you know. I can help you out.”
“What are you going to do, teach me how to flirt?”
“Yes! Sign up for a nine lesson plan and get the tenth for free. Professor Monty at your service.” We both cringe at that. Monty smiles. “But it’s a genuine offer. I promise.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What are you getting out of it?”
“Isn’t the knowledge that I’ve helped a friend a reward of its own?” He holds the act for a moment longer, then cracks. “Fine. I need someone to practice my lines with. My sister is tired of me calling her in the middle of the night for it.”
I scoff. My eyes wander across the crowd, to where August’s dark-haired friend has just brought them all drinks. He takes his cup with a warm smile, and I swear I feel my knees give out under me. Really, what harm could it do? I’ve already immortally embarrassed myself. Least I can do is hear Monty out. Maybe it’ll actually help.
“You know what,” Monty says, “give me your phone.”
I unlock it and oblige, and watch as he inputs his number. He puts three hearts in the bisexual flag colours next to his name, then gives the device back.
“You think it over, and let me know. It’s an open offer.” He winks at me. “Have fun tonight.”
And with that, he leaves.
“Where did you run off to last night without saying anything?”
Sim has dropped down into the seat next to me in class. I look up from my phone.
“I could say the same to you. I think you hung out with me for about five minutes before you ditched me to go grope Jo.”
She scoffs. “We don’t grope each other, Percy. We’re very much in love.”
I make a slight gagging motion, but she knows damn well I’m extremely jealous, so ignores me.
“Seriously, you could have texted.” She nudges me, raising her eyebrows. “Oooh, unless you pulled ?”
I laugh bitterly. “Nope. Definitely not that.”
“Well, in that case you’re a dickhead, because that’s the only valid reason for leaving a party without telling your friends.”
“Sorry.” I sit back, sighing. “I just wasn’t feeling it.”
That’s a slight understatement.
After Monty left, I attempted to style it out and stay for a while, waiting to see if Sim would come back and at least partially save me from social humiliation. She didn’t, so I downed another beer and made my way out, hoping that August and his friends didn’t notice me making my exit with my metaphorical tail tucked between my legs.
The entire conversation with him, if you could even call it that, is still playing on repeat in my head, and it still stings. The fact I never even got remotely close to actually asking him out is the most painful element.
If I ever hear the word “crabs” again, I think I may die of shame.
“Did you at least talk to anyone ?” I jump out of my thoughts and look back at Sim.
“No one worth mentioning.” I look back at my phone, where I have Monty’s contact open, and quickly lock it. “Can we just not talk about the party ever again?”
She rolls her eyes, clearly giving up. At least for the day. “This isn’t over.”
“What isn’t? Operation ‘Get Percy Deflowered 2021’?”
“Yep!”
I can’t help but wonder how much more pushy she’d be if she realised I’d never even kissed anyone.
I look up as the door to the lecture hall swings open and August walks in, the dark-haired friend from the party (and my new sworn enemy) tailing just behind him.
I feel my face flush immediately and Sim nudges me.
“But seriously,” she says. “I’m gutted you didn’t speak to August. I just think you two would make an adorable little couple. Playing duets together and staring dreamily into each other’s eyes.”
“Yes, that’s exactly how life works.”
“It could be! If you pulled your finger out.”
I scowl at her. I decide I’m better off not responding, or this conversation will be never ending. Instead I just watch August and the gorgeous dark-haired bastard take their seats a few rows in front.
They’re talking, and it looks so easy to them. Laughing and chatting back and forth with no effort at all. At one point, dark-haired boy leans over closer to August and gently wipes under his eye, presumably catching a stray eyelash.
My heart sinks.
I hear Sim let go a slight hiss next to me, and I glance at her. She’s giving me a grimace, as if to say “tough luck”.
“They’re just mates,” I mumble at her. Though I’m not sure which of us I’m trying to convince.
I swear I see August blush slightly, and it takes everything in me to not slide out of my seat onto the floor and await death.
I wonder if he even remembers last night. It will probably end up just being some funny anecdote his friends will bring up at the next party. Remember that weird guy who wanted August to have a threesome with him and his violin?
I take a deep breath and look back down at my phone. I unlock it and look at Monty’s name again, and those three little hearts.
If Monty could just somehow gift me only five percent of his confidence, I could walk right over there and charm August’s brains out. Dark-haired bastard would be nothing but a distant memory.
I open up a new message to Monty, my thumbs hesitating over the keyboard for a moment before I type.
Me: hey it’s percy, so i was thinking about your offer at the party. might take you up on that if i have the time between my studies x
That’s casual, right?
Christ. No. Far too weird and polite. I delete it frantically then sit back, chewing on my nails. I pause for a moment before trying again.
Me: sooooo…. about that offer…
God, that’s too casual. Who am I kidding? I delete that too.
The lecturer finally arrives and I lower my phone to hide it. I look back over at August and he’s giggling again, a gorgeous smile taking over his whole face.
Fuck it.
Me: monty, it’s percy. i need help
I press send.