"Your assignment is for you and a partner to write a short two-person skit in two weeks and perform it in front of the class. I will assign your partner and skit genre," my English teacher says. "Partners will be . . . Mike and Dustin, (Y/N) and Will . . ."

I stop listening after I hear my partner's and my name. I've never really talked too much with Will, but to my knowledge, he's a pretty nice guy. I look over at him and smile; he returns it. I think this is going to be fun.

.^.^.^.^.

We find a quiet corner in the room, away from everyone else. "So, our genre is romance," I tell Will. "Have you had any experience in writing?"

"Not a lot," he says, "but I read a lot."

"Nice. Any acting experience?"

"Not really . . . unless you count playing Dungeons & Dragons," he says with a shrug.

I smile. He's such a nerd and it's pretty adorable. "Counts as far as I'm concerned. Roleplay, improv, it works. Am I correct to assume that you've never actually performed in front of an audience?"

"That you would," he nervously laughs.

"Don't worry; the first performance I was in, I had the first line. Which means the start of the play was determined by myself."

"That's a lot of pressure. Were you nervous?"

"Like hell. But, you want to know a secret? The whole time backstage, I was mentally singing my favorite song and pretended like I was performing in some sort of music video."

"And it made you less anxious?"

"Much. And the performance was amazing."

"Which one, the play or your music video?"

I snort. "Funny. But in short, there's nothing to be worried about. Plus, our skit is going to be, what, five minutes?"

"I suppose."

"So, first things first. We know our genre is romance. What should be our general idea?" I grab my notebook to write down ideas.

"I don't know; a guy and a girl meet and fall in love?"

I start to write it down, and then pause. "Wait, are they just meeting for the first time, or are they already friends, or maybe they know each other . . . ?"

"Well, uh, I guess they already know each other. That would be weird if they fell in love after they just met. . . . Maybe they're, like, acquaintances?"

"I like it. So, next—how and/or why do they fall in love?"

"I was kind of hoping you would have an idea for that."

I chuckle. "Hm, maybe one of them is picked on, bullied, an outcast, and the other is there to comfort them?"

"Yeah, like he's been called queer and a fag."

"Well, I don't think we can use language like 'fag', but I like how you're thinking." I go to write it down when I realize Will's face doesn't look very happy. Then it hits me, and my face falls. "Oh my God. . . . Pardon, but . . . have you been called that before?"

It takes him a second, but he nods. My heart drops. "By whom? If you don't mind my asking."

"Troy and James." He sighs. "My father."

Holy crap. His own freaking father? "That's awful," I mutter, not knowing what else to. What do you say to something like that?

He simply nods and hangs his head, staring at his hands in his lap.

Maybe I don't need to say anything.

Sometimes, actions speak louder than words.

Despite how cliché it is.

I bite my lip and hold his hands in mine. We lock eyes and I show a small smile. He shares a secret smile in return; so slight, you can hardly see it, but you know it's still there.

"Hey, you know? I've got the perfect names for the antagonists, the bullies."

He cocks his head to the side, asking for further explanation.

"Trey and Jamie."

This time, his smile's so big, it looks like one of such that won't go away. "And the guy and the girl are Gill and (Close/N)?" {Just a name that's close to your own I guess.}

I grin. "Perfect."

.^.^.^.^.

We scout out a cool area in the shade underneath an oak tree to work more on our skit.

"So, this may just be me, and you are fully obligated to turn this down, but I think we need a kiss," I say.

"Like, a kiss-kiss? I've never done one of those before," he says.

"Well, don't worry; when you're on stage, you don't actually have to kiss. You can put your thumbs over the other's lips, so when you kiss, your lips aren't actually touching. Like, uh . . . May I?"

He shrugs. "I guess."

I place my hands on his jawline with my thumbs over his lips, press my lips to my thumbs, and pull away with barely a second passing. "See? Easy."

"Okay, I like the idea of having a kiss."

"So," I review what we have so far, "you—er, Gill is outside in the school courtyard, crying about Trey and Jamie. (C/N) finds him and wonders what's wrong. He tells her about the bullies. They talk for a while and eventually kiss. And maybe Gill and (C/N) will become something more in the future."

"I hope they do."

I laugh. "That's for the audience to decide, I guess."

.^.^.^.^.

"Hey, (Y/N), what's that song you were mentally singing at your first performance?"

"Uh, it was The Stranger, Billy Joel."

He starts mouthing the lyrics of The Stranger and I giggle. "Look, it's going to be all right, okay?"

"I know, but it's presentation day, and I want to get a good grade, and people may not like it, and we have to do the kiss—"

"Hey." I grab his shoulders, looking at him directly in the eyes. "It's going to be fine. We've rehearsed a million times and we did some good work. Our grade will be high; people will like it; and the kiss will be just as we rehearsed it. It's going to be fine."

He takes a deep breath. "Okay. Yeah. It is. I hope."

"Next, we have (Y/N) and Will with their romantic piece," the teacher announces.

I glance at Will. "Here's to hope."

We walk out in front of the class. Will sits on the floor, pretending to cry as Gill. I sit down next to him as (C/N) and ask, "Hey, Gill, you okay?"

"Not really," Gill says. "It's Trey and Jamie again."

"Of course it is," (C/N) replies with a sigh and an angry eyeroll. "You know they're idiots, right?"

"You say that and I know that, but it's still hard to just ignore them," he says. "It's like no matter what I do, they're still there. Like a scar from your childhood that sticks out like a sore thumb."

We breeze through the first few lines of dialogue, but he seems to freeze up when it's time for the kiss. "Just trust me," I whisper out of the corner of my mouth not visible to the class. He looks at me and we lock eyes for a few seconds before he positions his hand on my cheek, although it's a bit off my lips, and it doesn't go exactly as planned.

When I make contact with him, my lips are directly on his. I expect him to pull away automatically, but he doesn't, and he smiles, like he did plan for it to happen that way or he wanted it to. Either way, I decide not to retreat, either. If I could describe the kiss in one word?

Perfect.

Anyone who says that perfect doesn't exist has never experienced a kiss like this.

We break apart to my dismay and we both stand up. I hold his hand and raise my arms, bringing them down in a bow. Is it that obvious that I'm a theatre geek?

The applause from the class dies as the teacher asks if any of the kids have questions.

One boy raises his hand. "Are Trey and Jamie based off Troy and James?"

Will looks at me, a look of slight worry plastered on his face. But, hey, I'm an actress. We live to lie.

"No, actually," I say. "Despite how close their names sound. Really, Trey and Jamie were both antagonists I made up in previous stories I've written, so we decided to use them like some sort of—I don't know—secret Easter egg? I will, however, admit that Gill and (C/N) were slightly influenced by ourselves."

When no one else has any more questions, we return to our seats next to each other.

"You know? I'm really rooting for Gill and (C/N)," I whisper to him.

"Me too," he says. "I bet in the future, they go to the Snow Ball together."

I smile. "Sounds like the perfect story to me."

He hesitates but says, "Maybe we could have the same fate as they . . . ?"

I look at him, my smile growing wider. "Will Byers. Are you asking me to the Snow Ball?"

"Depends. . . . Do you want to?"

"Like hell I do."

Roses are trash
Violets are trash
This story is trash
I am trash
Okay.
Request some imagines/preferences please. I need something to do in study hall other than read :p
I mean, not that I don't enjoy reading, but when I don't have work, it's ALL I EVER DO.
Mkay bye.