Chapter Text
Calle adjusted his outfit nervously while he waited. He was wearing the costume dress for his Helga character in Hotel Nutsefjord, but instead of the waiter’s costume he usually wore underneath in rehearsals, he only had on one of the girls’ white button up shirts with the frilly sleeves. The fabric on the girls’ shirts was always so much softer and nicer. He’d told Vegard he wanted to work a bit one on one with him on some of the scenes of the play, and invited him to do so together that Sunday morning when they’d have the auditorium to themselves. However, it wasn’t actually necessary for them to be in costume for this particular rehearsal.
He liked Vegard. He craved his attention, which he usually gave gladly, but he wanted more. He wasn’t sure what exactly. Perhaps just for Vegard to look at him the way he did at Helene, a girl in their year. Vegard liked girls, Calle knew that. But they were really becoming such close friends these days, the way they behaved together, sometimes he wondered whether it was really so unthinkable…
Vegard finally showed up at the auditorium, he himself dressed in an ordinary old Tshirt, jacket, and jeans. He expressed his confusion when he saw the way Calle was dressed, laughed a little and asked him whether he wasn’t cold, since he wasn’t even wearing any pants. Calle just sort of shrugged bashfully and gave non-committal answers, diverting him to start working on the play while trying to scan his face for any sign of a reaction he might actually be seeking.
They worked for a while, revising dialogue and trying different acting approaches, until they decided they needed a break and sat side by side on the steps leading down from the stage into the seating area. The skirt didn’t cover Calle’s knees and so, the way he sat, his underwear was on full display to the empty auditorium.
“Seriously though, dude, why the dress?” Vegard asked after a moment of comfortable silence, having closed the previous topic.
“I don’t know, I guess I just like it.. don’t you?” Calle glanced at him expectantly.
“Um.. sure?”
The following silence was awkward, but Calle soon broke it by stretching out his legs in front of him and saying, “some people say my legs look kind of like a woman’s.”
“Really?” Vegard asked, tilting his head to one side as he observed the long and lanky limbs.
“Yeah, I tried on my mom’s high heels once and my family said I could totally pass for a woman from the thighs down.”
“Wow, that’s weird.”
“Is it?”
“I don’t know, isn’t it?” Vegard didn’t seem to quite know how to react to the whole subject.
“Do you think you could have pretended I was a girl?” Calle asked, resenting the tremor beginning to build up in his arms.
“Well, I kind of already do.”
“What?”
“In the play, when you’re Helga.”
“Oh, yeah. But that’s like a character. I meant for real.”
“If I could pretend in real life that you’re a girl?” Vegard asked, and Calle nodded. “But why would I?”
“I don’t know, do you need a reason? I’m just asking if you could see me as a girl.” His heart was beating faster now, and he was very much aware that their sides were touching slightly in the small space on the steps.
“But.. but you’re not a girl, why would I pretend you are unless we’re acting?”
“Look, Vegard, this isn’t rocket science!” before he knew what he was doing, he stood up in front of him, placing his hands on his hips and standing more on one leg in a pose attempting to look more feminine, “Look at me now, and pretend that I’m a girl.”
Vegard looked him up and down, confusion still being the dominant expression on his features. “Okay..?”
They stared at each other. Calle didn’t know what he was doing anymore. He felt so pathetic standing there in that dumb dress, making Vegard look at him without understanding why, because he himself wasn’t sure what he wanted to come out of this. The deeper the line between Vegard’s eyebrows got, the tighter Calle’s chest felt.
“Now what?” Vegard asked.
Calle exhaled sharply, dropping one of his hands loose to his side and looking away before finding his eyes once more. “Do you… Do you think I’m.. pretty?” He hated himself immediately for asking it.
Vegard opened his mouth as if to speak, but whatever it was got caught in his throat and only a short choked sound came out. His eyebrows furrowed even more as he tried and failed to properly process the implication of this question. Calle’s hand was shaking visibly now, but other than that he didn’t dare move. His brain had grinded to a halt and no words or ideas came to him. He didn’t know how to get them out of this bubble of uncomfortableness in which he had stupidly entrapped them both. Finally, it was Vegard who broke the silence.
“Calle, are you.. gay?”
Now it was the tall boy’s turn to have his words caught in his throat. The question was so blunt, so unexpected, he didn’t know how to answer it.
“Are you?”
“No.. I don’t know.. what does that have to do with anything? Are you gay?” Calle mumbled defensively.
“No, I’m not. But you’re the one asking me to think of you as a girl and stuff...“
“That’s just..”
“Calle, you’re not a girl.”
“I know that, I..”
“So I don’t see the point in me pretending that you are, when you’re not.” Vegard glanced at his wristwatch before continuing, completely missing the anguished expression Calle let slip before covering it up with his best attempt at nonchalance, “Look it’s getting a bit late, I promised Bård I’d do a thing with him today. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Oh, um.. sure.”
Vegard got up from the steps and patted Calle’s on the arm, “and then you can explain to me what all this is about, yeah?”
“Okay, sure.” Calle nodded, not meeting his eyes. He both wanted him to leave and desperately wanted him to stay, at the same time.
But he did leave, and then Calle stood alone in the auditorium, trying to organize his feelings and calm his breathing to no avail. He had no idea how he’d intended for this day to go, but that was nowhere near it. All he felt was embarrassed and stupid. There was obviously no way he was showing up for school tomorrow if it meant he had to explain to Vegard what just happened. Maybe if he was gone for a few days he’d forget about it. He looked down at the stupid black dress he was wearing and, in a series of angry, clumsy motions, pulled it over his head and tossed it aside.