Chapter Text
The lights clicked on in the auditorium as the curtains swished closed. All around her, members of the audience began shuffling out of their seats— moving and chatting in a wave of motion.
Bernadetta stayed seated, waiting until most of the crowd had dispersed. She never understood how everyone could move at once without crashing into one another or at least bumping shoulders.
After a few moments the noise died down, leaving only the hum of the overhead lights and the murmurs of voices in the lobby. At last, she stood and made her way towards the large double doors that led out of the auditorium.
She recognized the usher who stood by the doorway—it was the same man she’d seen at every show she’d attended. He was a beautiful man, with dusty purple hair a few shades lighter (and a whole lot neater) than her own. He smiled at her but she was sure he was judging her for attending every showing of the school’s musical.
She ducked her head and darted through the door before he could try and make small talk (he had asked her every night if she had enjoyed the show and she had yet to respond with more than a squeak or a nod).
Frankly, the show was mediocre at best.
It was a jukebox style musical that was hardly more than the drama teacher’s favorite songs mashed together.
The characters were all flat, there wasn’t any pacing and the plot—which barely existed in the first place—was confusing at best.
But it was the actors she came to see.
Or rather the lead actress.
She had a voice that Bernie could only describe as angelic. According to the playbill, her name was Dorothea Arnault, and she was a junior—making her two years older than Bernie.
She had only come to see the play because it was required for her dramatic writing class. In fact, she had considered skipping.
Her grade was high enough that she could have missed it and still passed the class, but she was worried her teachers would report her slacking to her father and he would demand she return home. Of course she understood that was unlikely, but she would much rather endure a single hellish night than risk even the slightest chance of angering her father.
So she went.
She had bought tickets for opening night, hoping to get the worst of it over with so she could spend the weekend holed up in her dorm room writing her report. But then Dorothea stepped on stage.
That first night Bernie had sat in the far back of the theater, but even from a distance she was captivated by Dorothea’s beauty. She wore a crimson gown that shimmered in the spotlight. Her hair was beautiful too, with two braids wrapping around her head like a crown, and long loose waves cascading down her back.
She looked like a princess.
Her co-star was a fairly attractive man. His hair was the same shade of crimson as Dorothea’s dress, which—Bernie thought—only drew more attention to her beauty. Besides, while his acting was good enough, his singing was middling at best.
The show put on a total of 12 shows throughout the week, 6 the first weekend and 6 the next. Bernie had just finished the last show of the first weekend and she hadn’t even started to work on her review paper.
Instead, she had spent the weekend staring at her bedroom ceiling daydreaming about Dorothea.
Luckily her dorm was a short walk from the campus's theater, so she was able to get back to her room before it got too dark out.
Once inside her sanctuary--which she got all to herself, since her application and school ID considered her female, but her father thought she was somehow man enough to be a threat to the other students (not that he had ever considered her enough of a man before but whatever--she slung her bag on her chair and flopped face first on her bed. Immediately her mind drifted to Dorothea:
The way her dress sparkled, or her hair fluttered around her shoulders.
The way Bernie was pretty sure they made eye contact during the final bows. (She was also pretty sure she was being delusional, but no one had ever accused her of being well adjusted).
She rolled over, causing one of her stuffed animals to fall over which snapped her out of her fantasy. She sat up and looked around her room.
Bernie still hadn’t put any posters on the walls (she was too scared that she would damage the paint somehow and then the school administrators would arrest her for vandalism of private property), and it was relatively tidy, at least for a college dorm, but there were stuffed animals covering most of the tiny twin sized bed.
Not to mention her bed sheets were covered in little cartoon bears which was about as unsexy as a bed could get.
Wait, what was she thinking? There’s no way Dorothea would ever see any of this anyways.
She was gorgeous and Bernie was well… Bernie. She fell back on her bed with a groan of defeat.
And yet, despite her best efforts to try and bring herself back to reality, she still ended up drifting off to sleep, picturing Dorothea’s lips against her own.
Bernadetta didn’t dream that night, which was a blessing compared to her usual nightmares.
She woke to the soft music of her alarm. It was the theme song to one of her favorite games and she never seemed to get tired of it.
She pulled her favorite hoodie over her pajama top and swapped her flannel pants for a loose skirt. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to calm her bedhead and she slipped her shoes on.
She had never put too much effort into her appearance, she had tried plenty of times but no matter how much time she spent trying to braid her hair or do her eyeliner just right, she always felt just as ugly as she did when she just rolled out of bed. Besides, the dorm didn’t come with a mirror, and she didn’t want to spend any longer than strictly necessary in the communal bathrooms.
And yet, today she felt even worse about herself than usual. Even without a mirror she could tell her hair looked awful, and her skirt was short which showed off her knees which she always thought looked weird.
Her leg bounced anxiously as she picked at the skin around her nails, trying to think of a way to look at least a little less disgusting.
But time was ticking and if she spent much longer, she’d be late to class, so she grabbed a hair tie and tried to pull her bangs out of her face. She had hoped her hair would lay a bit flatter, but instead it insisted on sticking straight up.
Still, it was better than nothing
…probably.
She walked to class as fast as she could, clutching her satchel bag against her chest. She threw the classroom doors open with way more force then she intended. Then gave a surprised squeal at her own strength, as the door thumped against the wall. Right as she stepped through the door—still panting slightly from almost running to class—the bell rang out, signaling the start of class.
“Miss Varley, how nice of you to join us” her professor, a stuffy overly formal man, said and she entered.
All eyes in class burned into her, as her face turned red with shame and embarrassment. Her eyes darted towards the back corner of the room where she usually sat. Luckily her usual spot was still empty so she darted there as fast as she could, throwing her bag down on the desk and burying her face in her hands.
For the most part, the class was no different than usual. The professor reminded them to see the school’s musical and he went over the guidelines for the report again.
But about halfway through the class he switched topics to their final project. Bernadetta had been dreading this ever since they went over the syllabus. It was a partner project (oh no!) and they would have to work together to write a script for a play. Then the whole class would read through all of them (oh no!!) and vote for their favorites. Of the top three, the professor would pick the best one which would be sent to the theater department to perform for their winter drama.
She would probably have to kill herself. It was as though the entire assignment had been specifically designed to stress her out. However! There was a potential silver lining. She had checked the class roster, and there were 19 students in the class. Which means there’s a chance she could work alone! Her plan was to wait quietly in the back corner until everyone else found groups, and then tell the professor that she didn’t want to intrude on anyone else’s group. It was a perfect plan, she just had to wait.
Just before letting them pick their groups, the professor opened the floor to questions. One student, a pink haired girl who had been faux flirting with the professor all semester raised her hand.
“But Mr. Seteth, there’s an odd number of us, does that mean one of us gets to sit out?”
“It’s Professor Seteth, and no Hilda. You will all be doing the project, there will just be one group of three”
A group of three!? Bernie’s plans collapsed before her eyes. A partner project sounded awful, but getting stuck in a group of three would be way worse! What if no one wanted her in her group so she had to endure the shame of rejection only to be assigned to a group that didn’t want her. And of course they would already be friends so they would resent her for ruining everything, so they would work together to plot her demise!
While Bernadetta continued to spiral, the student—Hilda apparently—made a dramatic show of sighing before shrugging and wrapping her arm around Marianne.
“Right. Any other questions before we pick groups?”
When there were none, professor Seteth released them to pick their partners. The room instantaneously burst into motion.
Bernie snapped out of her spiral just enough to realize that she needed to find a partner. Now. Her eyes darted around the class frantically, looking for anyone who might be as much of a loser as she was.
She knew Marianne a little, and they got along pretty well, but she would clearly partner with Hilda. Bernie never understood how they got along, not that she had anything against Hilda, but she was just so much… louder than Marianne.
Other than Marianne, Bernadetta didn’t know most of her classmate’s names, much less anything about them. She willed herself to get out of her seat and try to talk to someone, but she just couldn’t do it.
She felt her breathing quicken, and she dug her nails into her palm, desperately trying to stave off a full blown panic attack—if there was anything that wouldn’t get her a partner for this project, it would be crying and hyperventilating in the back of the class.
Bernie chewed on her bottom lip, finally building just enough courage to push her chair back from the desk. It made a screeching noise against the floor drawing a few loose stares from her classmates, but she tried her hardest to steady her shaking knees.
Right before she could stand, she caught a movement in her peripheral which was way too close for comfort. Instinctively she shrieked and jumped back, almost falling out of her chair.
In fact, she probably would have fallen if not for the arm wrapped around the back of her chair. The pale knuckles gripped the chair with surprising strength, slowly tilting it back in place.
“Woah, sorry didn’t mean to startle you”
She looked back to see who had spoken, though she didn’t really need to, she recognized the voice. She had heard it quite a bit over the past three days.
Still, she leveled her gaze so she was looking him in the eyes—or at least close enough to his eyes, she generally focused her eyes on peoples’ noses or foreheads since direct eye contact was a bit overwhelming.
His face was more freckled than she expected, maybe the stage lights washed him out or maybe he was wearing makeup. Other than that, he looked pretty much the same as he did on stage, all crooked smiles and slouched shoulders.
“Saw you at our show over the weekend. Quite a few times if I do recall”
Something about his tone and smile made her stomach turn. She wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment at being caught, or if it was her instincts telling her this man was dangerous. She panicked trying to think of a response.
“That wasn’t me!”
She cried, her voice far squeakier than she had intended. Not that it mattered, she could feel her face heating and her pale complexion meant there was no chance of hiding her blush. Plus, she had sat in the same spot (row 3 seat 11) at every show except opening night.
The man—Sylvain Jose Gautier if the playbill was to be believed—cocked an eyebrow at her.
“Funny, cause I’m not usually the type to forget a face, especially if that face is as pretty as yours” he said with a wink.
Danger! Danger!
Alarm bells rang in Bernadetta’s head.
This man was definitely bad news. She was mess on a good day and today was definitely not a good day. Which means he had ulterior motives! But what were they?
Maybe he needed money. Bernie wasn’t exactly classy, but everyone knew her father’s name. Maybe he had heard professor Seteth call her by her last name and decided it was worth a shot. Then again, she was pretty sure his watch was worth more than everything in her dorm put together.
Maybe he just wanted someone who was a pushover and would do the project for him? She wasn’t necessarily opposed. She wasn’t good at much, but she was a pretty good writer, and there was nothing she hated more than when people would try to control her story.
“Uh hello?” he waved a hand in front of her face, the same unwavering smirk plastered on his face.
“I know the line was cheesy, but you could give a guy some kind of response.”
“We had to go for class!” she blurted out, which was true!
“I saw you in the audience like 5 times in a row--” it was actually six times, but she was not going to correct him, “--and I’m pretty sure you weren’t there for the plot” he was right since there was none.
“So…” he continued, “did you like what you saw~”
Shit, he was onto her. He knew she had a crush on Dorothea, and he would tell her, then she would publicly humiliate Bernie as retribution for her sins.
Sylvain seemed to take Bernie’s silence as affirmation, and grinned wider, showing off his teeth which were unnaturally white and shinier than she thought teeth should be. Predators had teeth like that. Wolves, and foxes, and men like her father.
“So, I was thinking you’d like to be partners!
For the project that is”
He leaned an elbow on the desk, resting his chin in his palm.
Now, she might regret this—in fact she was pretty positive she would regret this—but…
She did need a partner.
And while it seemed that he was determined to mock her, maybe she was right and he just wanted someone to do the project for him. Which would be about as close as she could get to doing the project alone. So…
“I’ll do it!” she said (much louder and quicker than intended, but that was par for the course for old Bernie).
“Perfect!” He kept on grinning—Bernadetta was starting to think his face was stuck that way. There was no way a man like him could be that happy about working with her.
“I’ve got a few hours between classes after this, if you want to get started. I know a few places where no one will bother us”
Bernie was torn. On one hand, she really did not want to talk to him any more than she had to. On the other, this was her only class on Mondays and she was a terrible liar.
Unable to come up with any excuses, she nodded her head in defeat.
“Great, the bells about to ring, so I’m gonna grab my stuff real quick, and I’ll be right back.”
She watched him as he retrieved his bag, a satchel bag not too different from hers--but clearly empty. She wasn’t the best student, but she at least brought her notebook and laptop to school. She at least tried to look like she was paying attention.
Regardless, she tried to savor the fleeting moments of peace, since she had a sinking feeling the next few hours would be far from peaceful.