Chapter Text
Theatre wasn't easy; Philip knew that much. Still, the applause, attention, and satisfaction! They were totally worth the sore muscles. This was easier said than done at the moment. As Philip was currently being pressed down like a pretzel by one of his classmates to help him stretch, preparing him for the even more strenuous activities.
The script for the upcoming play of the theatre department had just been released; a midsummer night's dream. Thismaking Philip adamant to play Lysander, the male lead. The main issue here was that it was hard for him to find the motivation the character had. Sure, Lysander only wanted to marry for true love, but Philip was 23 and had no fucking clue what that could mean. It was often described as a spark of magic, whatever that might be, and he had been searching for any kind of inspiration ever since the play was announced.
All this set back on 'emotions' and 'feelings' could not hold him back, though. He knew he was a great actor, so this was just a minor setback.
The rehearsals seemed to last ages; having a bunch of people fighting for the spotlight brought up perfectionism, and as long as no casting was announced, nobody was willing to share any attention.
Yes, his line readings went well, his vocal exercises were no issue, and he could flawlessly capture an audience, but he was missing something. That spark inside him that usually comes so easily to him. It wasn't knowing your character; it was becoming your character, and Lysander did not seem to want to overtake Philip. The fae realm would stay closed to him, and he would be forced to live in a bitter reality of side character castings. Honestly, the best thing for him to do would just be to give up, study law like his father had wanted, and live a long life in comfortably rich misery.
Then the reality sank in that even with that money, he'd be unhappy, unhealthy, and forced waaaaay deep back into the closet. He'd have to grin and bear it. Speak to some people, get their advice. But who would he speak to? Dan had dropped out last year to live with his older boyfriend, and they hadn't had much contact since. Not that that mattered much; they had been 'best friends' in the most superficial terms. Never emotionally vulnerable, but joined at the hip regardless. Philip didn't miss him.
Then there was Shallot. Philip thought about texting her, but he was so not feeling up to any 'follow your heart' speeches.
No, the best solution had to be the age-old friend of any stressed out student: alcohol. That surely would solve all his issues.
As classes ended, Philip quickly made his way to his dorm. Not too quickly, of course, otherwise people might think you're desperate, and that's incredibly tacky. No, it was a good up-tempo gay walk, as if the soundtrack of his life was sung by Britney Spears personally.
Philip's dorm was decorated with an over-the-top pink decor. He had a double bed with fluffy pillows and one of those old timey phones you'd see teen girls call their friends on. A small nook was left open, so he could rehearse his texts, including padding on the walls so the sound wouldn't carry too far.
Philip had had a roommate, way in the beginning, but they had dropped out. And nobody had been placed back with him, probably the doing of daddy's money. The privacy was nice, and he never had to worry about somebody being messy, but it could be lonely having the place for yourself the entire time. Because of this, Philip made it his mission to be out as much as possible. Looking for the social somewhere else instead of these pink walls. He could have easily invited someone over, but something in him didn't like the idea of people seeing his special place. I was too, well, too intimate. And the thought of that alone was enough to snap his mind back to the drinks he would soon have.
Opening up his big wardrobe, another perk of not having to share, Philip went through his clothing, sorting through the huge variety to find something fitting. Examining outfit after outfit, he was struck with a brilliant idea. Tonight, he would dress as if he belonged in the world of the fae. If Lysander didn't want to come to him, he would come to Lysander. Everybody would see him stumble into these magical 'woods', searching for the one he desired. If this didn't work, he didn't know what would, and this plan was pretty desperate already.
Surreal, it absolutely was. As soon as he walked in, the sensation of the party overtook Philip. The speakers were droning some music unknown to him, a drink was thrust into his hand, and the purple lights engulfed him. This might not be the forest, but it surely was the realm of the fae.
People came and went while Philip drank, flirted and danced, all his worries washing away from him. It was sweet, it was warm, and he could disappear here just for a minute. Disappear into the full spotlight of the party, being met with nothing but awe.
That was until the spotlight suddenly went to another. Philip had just gone to the kitchen to get another drink, just to see a crowd have gathered around someone with the same look of awe on their faces, almost as if enthralled.
Pushing people aside, he went to see what the big deal was, before his eyes fell on a person he had never seen before. He was slender, had a great deal of poofy hair, and was bathed in freckles, as if the starlight itself had kissed him. Before all of this could fully sink in for him though, Philip had himself pulled in by the stranger for a dance. Well, at least he had taste, that much could be said. Let's see if his skills on the dancefloor were just as refined.
The night had flown by, and Philip had not even asked the name of his fae captor. It wasn’t necessary; their bodies close together made him feel more than words could do at this moment.
After yet another drink, he found himself alone with the stranger, him mumbling something Philip couldn't quite understand. Not that it mattered, because after that the stranger would lean in and kiss him.
The kiss was magical, like fireworks going off, beating in his chest, longing to rip him apart in this ecstasy. Philip could feel himself getting lost in it as he wrapped his arms around the stranger, feeling him return the favour. He didn't know for how long they had stood there, but when he opened his eyes, he was in his bed, alone.
The stranger was gone, as were the rest of the memories of the party, save for the massive hangover.
It truly felt like a strange dream.