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Ray’s head is buzzing. Today has been a mess of dizziness and dissociation.
“There’s blood on thy face.”
He didn’t sleep at all last night. The homework alone kept him up until 2am, and then he tossed and turned and wallowed and crushed a pillow over his head until his alarm shrieked at 6.
“Then comes my fit again…”
He should’ve grabbed a Red Bull or something on the way to school. That way he could’ve actually focused. Instead, he was an idiot and didn’t even think about caffeine—just raw-dogged classes running on fumes. There’s only so many times he can nod off in AP Government before someone starts getting concerned. He saw Lilian’s face as she shook him awake.
“The table’s full.”
But classes are always a slog, sleep deprived or not, and now the hardest part of the day is over. All that’s left until he can go home and conk out is rehearsal. Ray lives for it; the thrill of entertaining people makes the hours of grueling memorization and practice worth it.
He knows he can’t slack off, knows that he has to be at the top of his game, but his thoughts feel like sludge and his limbs are heavy as he gestures. Just for today, go through the motions. Hope that muscle memory kicks in and he remembers all his lines. He’ll be better once he rests.
Time to lock in.
“Thou canst not say I did it. Never shake thy gory locks at me.”
The banquet scene, to Ray’s benefit, is the perfect scene to act a little loopy. Macbeth isn’t all there himself, for good reason. If Ray stumbles while circling the table, or says his lines like he’s not comprehending the words, or trails off as he meets Banquo’s—Gabriel’s—piercing gaze, it’s in character! The director might give him some notes, but to everyone else? They’re none the wiser.
Well, maybe he shouldn’t say everyone. Ray, ranting a mile a minute, lurches the wrong way. His vision blurs. Slamming his hand on the table to stabilize himself, he can’t stop his momentum fully and collides with Lilian.
Lilian, professional as she is, does not break. She grabs him by the shoulders and sets him upright, and leaning in, she speaks tautly, like a hushed aside between them. “My worthy lord, your noble friends do lack you.”
Ray plays it like it was Macbeth’s mistake, not his. “I do forget.”
The tiniest imperfections continue to be written off as performed madness. Ray can’t believe he’s getting away with this. He hasn’t slept in…God, over 30 hours? He wishes he could remember exactly what he’s doing, so he can use it for runthroughs where he isn’t dead on his feet. This might actually go off without a hitch—
Ray freezes. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees them.
They're deep, deep in the back of the auditorium, cloaked in darkness, peeking out from behind a wooden column. Golden eyes stare back at him. They’re unblinking.
Ray knows exactly who it is.
No, no, no no no. Why are they here? What more do they want?
Wasn’t the phone call enough? The phone call where they verbally tore Ray to shreds, where they declared that they would never speak to him again? The phone call that was the very thing that set Ray’s sleep schedule spiraling into chaos in the first place?
No, they just have to break his heart more. Watch him from afar. Taunt him.
Ray can’t stop staring back, stock-still on center stage. He’s jolted out of his flow, all else forgotten as his heart races. His mind, frayed and exhausted, has no capacity to think of a better reaction.
“My lord?”
He blinks and remembers there’s a scene going on. Turning back towards the stage, he finds everyone waiting for him, confused. He’s being prompted. For what? Hell if he knows. Macbeth’s train of thought is long gone.
Ray's face warms. “Sorry, line?”
The scene finishes without any other issues, but the golden eyes lurking in the dark do not fade. Ray ignores them long enough to deliver the rest of his lines, but the moment the director calls for a 5-minute break, it’s back at the center of his attention.
“Gabe.” Ray takes a seat at the table onstage next to Gabriel, who has returned to Banquo’s seat. “Do you see them?”
“See what?”
Ray motions with his head to where the golden eyes have remained. He doesn’t want to comment on it too loudly—he knows he’s being watched. “Look. Top of the stairs, by the door.”
Gabriel squints before shaking his head. “Nope. I don’t see anything.”
Ray starts. “You’re kidding, they're so obvious. You can’t see them staring down at us? The fuck are they doing?”
Blocking the stage lights with his hand, Gabriel leans forward, trying with all his might to find what Ray’s talking about. “I really don’t see anyone up there.”
Wind rushes through his ears.
“Whatcha guys up to?” Lilian makes her way over, watching Ray curiously.
“Ray’s hallucinating,” Gabriel says, casual.
“No I’m not!” Ray bolts up out of his chair, causing Lilian to flinch. “Lilian, please, tell me there’s someone at the back of the auditorium. They've been watching us.”
“Is that why you froze up back there?”
“Please, just look.”
“I didn’t see anything when you flubbed your lines, but I’ll look again.” She tilts her head up and scans the length of the auditorium. “I still see nothing.”
Ray fills with dread. That can’t be. That’s impossible.
He clenches his fists. “You two are useless!” he snaps. “I’ll show you myself!”
Hopping off the stage, he stomps his way up the stairs to the back doors of the auditorium. The climb takes much longer than he’s used to—the stairs feel like they go on forever when your legs are as heavy as lead. He has to stop to catch his breath at the top.
Ray frantically scours the back area, and, to his horror, finds nothing. It’s just a dark pathway behind the back row of seats. No students, no stalkers.
It must be a mistake. They must’ve left before he got up there. They have to be close by.
Ray bursts through the wooden exit doors and out into the hallway. The bright, sterile lights blind him, and he crashes into a locker as he covers his eyes. Once his vision adjusts (not fully, he's having trouble focusing), he combs the hallways surrounding the auditorium. He can’t seem to get his balance, which only worsens when his search continues to come up empty. His desperation betrays him. All of the other clubs have gone home.
Only the theater kids remain, and they’re the only souls Ray manages to find. In the music hallway—the weirdly shaped one with the band room and the choir class—he notices Mica and Theo sitting on the ground, chatting with papers scattered about. The two of them aren't needed for the banquet scene, so of course they’d go messing around elsewhere.
“Hey,” he confronts them, breathing heavily.
They look up and immediately change expressions: Theo looks scared, Mica looks worried. “You okay?” Mica asks.
Ray doesn’t answer that. “Did you see anyone pass by here recently? Did they go into the auditorium?”
“We didn’t see anyone. It’s just been us,” Theo replies.
“Liar!” Ray shouts. “They had to have passed by! I saw them!”
“Why would I lie?” Theo says, raising their voice. “I don’t even know who you’re talking about.”
Mica puts her arms between the two of them before things can escalate. “I didn’t see anyone either. But we’ve also been doing homework the whole time, so maybe we just missed them?”
Ray thinks through her answer, swaying gently. He is 0 for 4 in corroborations. As much as he hates to admit it, maybe his mind is playing tricks on him. No one saw them because they were never there.
But he really did see something. Every time he thinks about that unyielding glare, he wants to tremble and hide. It was clear as day, he knows those eyes anywhere. His terror is as real as ever.
He doesn’t know what to think.
Ray sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Alright.”
He has to head back inside soon, the director’s going to want another runthrough. He makes his way towards the wooden doors and sneaks his way back into the auditorium, reentering the dark path where that glare should have been.
They’re getting into position down there, and Ray knows he should start hurrying, but the adrenaline is wearing off. If Ray was running on fumes before, he's now fully hit empty. He rubs his eyes, his body aching. Give him a couple more minutes. Then he’ll have enough gas to go again.
Leaning his back against the wall, he slides down to sit. The darkness back here is such a relief from the lights onstage and outside. They’re going to look for him, and they’re going to find him hunched over, head on his knees, fast asleep. It’s not his best self. He doesn’t have enough energy to build up the walls that are his best self.
He’ll be better once he rests.