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"Normal. If you had to choose to be an understudy for one of the roles - who would you choose?"
Normal glanced over at Hermie from the crate of props he had been organising. The teen was lazily flipping through the script for an abridged ‘Hamlet’, highlighted and filled with sticky notes until it had almost doubled in size. With no answer, Hermie stared-down Normal with a waiting look. It made his palms sweaty so he balled them up into his Teen High hoodie.
"Err, um. Isn't that rude? To say who I'd want to, like, replace?"
Hermie shrugged. "No ruder than me asking it in the first place. The actors here are frankly mediocre and, if I'm honest, I'm curious. Won't you indulge my curiosity?"
A Cheshire-like grin spread over Hermie's face and Normal looked away again. Having a crush was bad enough - but when he was being actively toyed with, Normal considered just going and quitting the theatre tech team altogether.
"Fine. Maybe Polonius? He seems fun to play? He's like a total doofus. Should be easy enough." Hermie scoffed at that and unrolled his script again.
"Pah, Polonius is a joke. You can do better than a joke, Normal. What about Ophelia?"
Normal frowned. "But she's so sad! She's in love with Hamlet and he treats her like garbage. If I get to choose I don't want to play someone who just cries all the time. Do enough of that myself thank you very much."
Not wanting to see their face drop, Normal turned his back to Hermie. Instead, he lifted up the prop box and started to shuffle his way over to a shelf. He slid the props underneath and ran a hand through his hair - still greasy. Despite himself, he spared a look at Hermie again, who seemed itching to ask Normal another question. He bit the bullet.
"What?"
"How about Horatio?" Hermie offered.
"What's up with Horatio?"
An elongated, elaborate sigh was the response. Hermie stood up and walked over to Normal, bringing him in closer to the script. For all his teen-crush hopes that Hermie would smell like licorice or mint or something strange and sweet - Normal was thoroughly disappointed and unsurprised to find Hermie smelt more of BO, a hefty amount of hair gel, and some kind of awful cologne. It should not have made his stomach coil up into a springy, tight knot, but it did.
"Horatio is Hamlet's best friend. His confidant. The only person Hamlet trusts until the end. A true paragon of hope in a tragedy otherwise haunted by distrust and decay. Horatio cannot be understated, my good Normal. Put some respect to his name."
Hermie was flicking through the script, passing through underscored lines with notes that were going by too quickly for Normal to catch any of them.
"He says that one line, right? 'Goodnight sweet prince'?" Normal muttered.
"'- and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest'. Yes Normal. See? You'd still do a brilliant job."
Normal paused as Hermie found the final page. They seemed pleased with themselves and it was getting under his skin. He decided to speak up about it.
"Why would you want me to play him so badly? He barely gets any dialogue."
"Tch. You still don't get it. Horatio and Hamlet's subtle dynamic is saddled with homoerotic overtones that require a rich understanding of subtext. The current actor seems to be utterly determined to ignore this reading and speaks his drivel like he's a store clerk trying to sell me his cheap wares. And I'm not one to boast-"
"Yes you are."
"Yes I am- but do I not deserve a better scene partner?"
"And you think that partner could be me?"
Normal was genuinely taken aback. This was as close to a compliment as he'd gotten from Hermie, covered in snide commentary as it was. This last question seemed to perplex Hermie, as if she hadn't considered that interpretation. She brushed her hair back and twisted the loose strand, a nervous habit she’d developed from her role as the Joker in the last play. Normal hasn't realised but he'd begun to mimic it over time, and he mirrored Hermie again, pulling at his curls waiting anxiously for an answer. Finally, Hermie coughed into her fist and chuckled under her breath.
"Normal. I would be amiss to deny your flowers in the acting pursuit. A bit shabby, overenthusiastic, but the determination? The sheer authenticity? Very few can muster up that courage on stage."
"But I've never acted in a play Hermie?"
Hermie gave Normal a grounding look, a depth to it which made Normal pause. The butterflies that would usually start to build up and make him blush were quiet, pausing for his next word.
"An actor recognizes an actor Normal."
A chill ran down Normal's spine, interrupted by Hermie clasping a hand on his shoulder.
"Besides. Our undeniable homoerotic tension would surely elevate the scene, no?"
Another tease, another stone added to the pile in his stomach. This is true torture, not whatever Hamlet went through in that stupid play.
"Sure! Haha, whatever you say Hermie. I'm just gonna uh…" Normal floundered around for anything to fix his mind to, stepping away a little and letting Hermie's hand slip off his shoulder. He spotted a discarded script and picked it up to put it away, fumbling for words.
"Yeah just gonna put this script away. People always lose their stuff, hah!" Laughing nervously, he placed the script down on a side table instead.
"You could practise my lines with me?"
Hermie kept prying, and Normal really didn't get what he was looking for. Something was clearly getting to Hermie, and in their typical roundabout way, they evaded the actual issue and used every other means imaginable to make it turn out in their favour. Which left Normal on the clueless, often losing, side.
"With the script?"
"Not unless you know the words by heart. Which you do not."
"I mean. Sure? It's easy enough to do, right?"
"Just flick to Act 5 Scene 2, or whatever this abridged version has called it. Near the end."
Normal did as he was told, thumbing through the pages until he found the lines he'd expected to see. He cleared his throat and took up a fighting stance of sorts - not what the scene called for but what he felt he needed to have to combat whatever mind games Hermie was playing. Immediately, Hermie closed her eyes and almost like magic Normal watched as she transformed into the role of Hamlet - no costume needed.
“Heaven make thee free of it. I follow thee - I am dead, Horatio.”
She started to rattle off her lines, fully immersed in the scene with barely a second’s notice. All he could do was watch, amazed. This was Hermie’s element, dissolving into a role like it was made for her. The only thing to snap him back into the scene was Hermie strutting up to him and gripping his shoulders again - this time with more desperation as Hamlet begged Horatio.
“-But let it be - Horatio, I am dead. Thou livest; report me and my cause right to the unsatisfied.”
Normal coughed before his line, but still felt his voice come out shaky and pitchy.
“Never believe it. I am more an antique Roman than a Dane.” He nabbed a cup from the prop shelf. “Here’s yet some liquor left.”
Hamlet gripped the arm that Normal held the cup with, yanking it towards himself. Their faces were closer now, Hamlet’s eyes staying insistent and heartsick.
“As thou’rt a man, give me the cup. Let go! By heaven, I’ll have it.”
Hamlet’s breath so close to Normal made his head swirl and sink. Despite himself, he felt the cup slip from his grip and hit the ground with a clatter. Fully expecting the scene to end here, Normal moved to pick up the cup but Hamlet placed a hand on his cheek, turning it to meet his gaze. But this wasn’t Hamlet anymore, these eyes were softer and full of want. Normal felt like he hit a wall again. What did Hermie want?
“Oh God, Horatio, what a wounded name.”
Hermie's glasses glinted in the dimmed show lights. Normal couldn't read him anymore, couldn't read him before either. He always felt like he got stuck in these roles with Hermie, whether he wanted to or not. This was the first time he had openly been asked to be their partner, to participate in the scene rather than wish it was him from the sidelines. Still, this felt like too much. It's safe to be the tech guy, to be inside the mascot, to feel like you're part of the production or the big game without ever needing to feel vulnerable. Maybe that's exactly what Hermie wanted, Normal to be vulnerable.
They tilted their head, and Normal felt seen. His throat began to close up and he looked away to avoid embarrassing himself with the tears welling up in his eyes. The moment broke, something lost in translation, that's what he told himself. His mind went blank and he stuttered something out to explain the gap of silence.
"I uh. Forgot my line. Sorry."
Hermie sighed and leaned away, the role of Hamlet seeping out of their skin.
"Quite alright Normal. You did good for a rookie. Maybe another day you can play with the big dogs, how about that?"
"Sure, sure. Maybe. I'm good being back here though."
Another pause, Hermie looked as though they wanted to press further again, but for better judgement decided not to.
"Shame. See you tomorrow, Normal. The rest is silence."
With that, Hermie strolled away, gently closing the door behind him. "Bye..", mumbled Normal to no one in particular.
He put the script inside his bag, for safekeeping.