SEASON ONE, EPISODE ONE

PILOT

A.J.

          A.J. FLEETWOOD WAS HAVING THE TIME OF HER LIFE.

          Here's why.

          It was opening night, and the curtains had just closed. The roaring thunder of applause had filled the Eugene O'Neill Theatre, echoing inside the walls, and, at that moment, she knew that was exactly what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. Her fingers still trembled from the vibrations coming from the band, her thigh-high socks were sliding down her legs, and her curls clung to the sweaty skin of her face and neck, but she knew.

          There's always that moment in your life when you realize what you were born to do. At that moment, A.J. knew she had found where she belonged—she belonged on the Broadway stages, belting out high notes, suffering while waiting to know whether she had been cast on a musical, rehearsing until her vocal cords felt numb.

          A pair of strong hands held her shoulders, pulling her out of her stupor, and she blinked to let her eyes get used to the change in lighting. Standing and towering in front of her, was Nick St. Martin, the Melchior to her Wendla, the one person in the entire cast who knew her better than she knew herself.

          "Can you hear that?" he asked, beaming, and his face shone like the sun. "The screaming, the applause . . . all of that out there, on the other side of the curtain? It's all for us."

          A.J. opened her mouth to reply, she tried to tell him that yes, she knew the public had loved them, they had loved the show they had watched, but all that came out was a mix of a giggle, a squeal, and a sob. She had enough time to throw her arms around his shoulders, nearly knocking him out of balance, but his own arms quickly found their way to embrace her waist.

          Even though her character had, technically, died on stage to spark several arguments, A.J. knew she'd live on—Wendla, her performance itself, and herself. It was just opening night and, sure, they still had several performances to go before production closed, not to mention they'd be compared to their precursors, but they all knew exactly what they had done.

         They weren't Lea or Jonathan and their castmates weren't John or Lauren, but they were A.J. and Nick, which felt more than enough for themselves and for everyone in the building that night.

          At that moment, they felt truly alive.

          OF COURSE, THE MUSICAL COULDN'T GO ON FOREVER.

          Their Spring Awakening revival was on Broadway for an entirety of seven months, including during the summer, and often played to a sold-out theater. It was a massive honor to revisit those characters and to do it on the same stage as the original musical, not to mention all the praise the cast, the crew and the band received from the public and the critics, but it had to end at some point.

          A.J. wasn't necessarily thrilled about saying goodbye, but even she had to admit things had begun to take a turn for the worse at some point during the summer. It felt like no one was connecting as well as they once had been, back when the thrill of newfound stardom hadn't settled in yet and no one had turned into a diva, but no conflicts should ever set a foot on that stage other than scripted ones.

          The actors were young, college students in their majority, at least as far as the younger cast members were concerned, but not all of them were as lucky as A.J. and Nick were. They were fortunate enough to have their respective universities ensure they wouldn't be held back a year because they were performing on Broadway; in fact, they liked to boast about it, gloating about how their students had landed lead roles on the revival of one of the most acclaimed musicals of all time. Others had to work twice as hard, dumping so much work onto their understudies, and it was supposed to cool down during the summer, but, in reality, it felt like a pimple about to explode.

          A.J. and Nick didn't part on good terms. Somewhere along the way, their friendship was shoved into a closet (the metaphorical meaning of it being a lot stronger to A.J. in particular) and they forced themselves to plaster smiles and giggles and staged selfies on social media just to keep up the façade. After all, no one could know the romantic leads had stopped getting along in real life long ago.

          So, the day A.J. went back to NYSPA for her senior year, she was torn between putting it all behind her and basking in the light of her success. After all, it's not every day that a junior in college got the chance to play Wendla Bergmann on Broadway, and she had fought like hell to get to where she was.

          Her twin brother, T.J., nudged her with his shoulder. "Nervous?"

          "Nah," she replied, taking a sip of her coffee before lowering her sunglasses to cover her eyes from the bright morning of late August. As twins, they shared plenty of physical similarities with some differences thrown into the mix to help differentiate them: the blond hair—his shorter and straighter than hers—the light-colored eyes—hers lighter than his, grayer than blue—and defined skull lines—hers slightly softer than his. "I don't get nervous."

          "Ever?"

          She threw him a deadpan look, even though he couldn't quite see the look in her eyes. "I don't have the time to be nervous."

          He shook his head, his hair glowing golden under the sun as they sat down on opposite sides of their usual table. "The price you have to pay for fame."

          She simply smiled at that comment. There were some things she had learned to keep to herself ever since she landed the role, and most of them were for T.J.'s sake; after all, it's a lot worse to constantly be compared to your own twin, your womb buddy, than to be compared to some random person you've only walked past once or twice.

          That didn't change the fact that she had been chosen, out of all the NYSPA students who had applied. She had beaten all the girls on the fight for Wendla, and that had to come from somewhere, it had to mean something. It meant she was greater, more talented than all of them, and someone out there had acknowledged what she had felt for over twenty years: she was destined for outstanding things, and refused to settle for less.

          Some called it arrogance. She called it knowing her worth, but even that had to come with an ability to bite her tongue whenever T.J. was around; as their parents often liked to remind them, she was the only one out of the two who had designed a future beyond NYSPA, whereas he still had no idea what he wanted to do with his life.

          A.J. knew she was good, better than the others, but that wasn't something she could brag about during family dinners with her twin brother sitting to her right.

          "Good morning," tiny Diana Santiago greeted, sliding to the empty seat next to T.J. and pressing a kiss to his cheek. A.J. was truly grateful for her arrival, being saved from having to reply to T.J.'s comment and making it a lot more awkward than it needed to be. Then, Diana leaned forward. "Did you know? A.J. is no longer the most popular or the most famous person attending NYSPA."

          "Oh, no," Miyu Aoki retorted, as she occupied her usual seat on A.J.'s left. It had always been like that—you never saw one without the other, even while considering A.J.'s status as a twin. Her black hair fell down her back as straight as a board, as if it had never seen a curling iron or a humid day in its life. "How in the world will she survive without the constant feeding of her ego?"

          "I think I'll live," A.J. said, sliding her cup of coffee towards her best friend, and Miyu's fingers brushed gently against hers as she accepted it. "I can feed my ego just fine on my own, thank you." She turned to look at Diana, who bounced up and down on her seat in excitement. If there was anything in the world Diana loved more than glazed donuts and her singing voice, it was good gossip. Luckily, people in general felt drawn to her just enough to let her be the first to spread the news. "So, what's going on? Who's the celebrity threatening to steal my spotlight?"

          Diana's face instantly lit up, in great contrast to Miyu's reaction, as the latter remained completely expressionless. Though it could be slightly overwhelming at times, it was one of the multiple things A.J. loved the most about her—her ability to stay calm and composed.

          A.J. had a faint idea who Diana could be talking about. Even though she had never been a great fan of pitting women against each other, especially in a place where competition between the students is encouraged by the faculty (and by her parents and, well, herself as well), there was one particular person she couldn't stand by any means.

        It irked her, just thinking about the mere possibility of Sasha Van der Bilt wanting to or even actually trying to steal her spot.

          "Do you, by any chance, remember that indie rock band that got super popular a few years ago? Apostrophe?" Diana asked, drumming her fingers against the wooden table. "They broke up during the summer."

          "A.J. wouldn't know that," T.J. remarked. "She was living in a parallel universe."

          "True." Diana threw him a smile so warm, so full of affection Miyu quirked an eyebrow. "Anyway, yeah, they went their separate ways during the summer, which was, like, super sad"—she pretended to wipe tears from the corners of her eyes—"but it also meant some of them wanted to go back to school. It's so strange knowing people that talented and that famous are around our age, isn't it?"

          "No, not really," A.J. commented, before she could stop herself. Fortunately, T.J. was too distracted curling a strand of Diana's dark locks around his index finger to pay attention.

          "We got the lead singer!" Diana clapped, looking around her to see whether any of them shared her enthusiasm. When no one reciprocated the feeling, she let her hands fall to the table with a soft thud. "We got Brody Reid. Personally"—she straightened her back, as she had been leaning forward—"I don't think it's that big of a deal and, hopefully, people here will be decent enough to leave him alone and let him get an education. After all, he'll be learning the best from the best with the best."

          "I bet you practiced that in front of a mirror this morning," Miyu said, while Diana just threw her an enigmatic wink in response.

          A.J., in turn, checked the golden watch on her left wrist, remembering it wouldn't be that big of a comeback if she showed up late to class on her first day back. Granted, it would be one hell of an entrance, with all the heads turning to face her, but that's not the look she would go for—it reeks of desperation, being nothing but a clear plea for attention, and not the kind she wanted to attract.

          So, when there were only five minutes to go before the first lecture of the morning started, they all bolted out of their seats and sped towards their respective auditoriums. Attending a performing arts school means there weren't that many theoretical courses they had to take, and most professors also seemed to prefer acting out the theory, but some of them survived. After all the students needed to know the basics and why they did what they did.

          Luck definitely wasn't on A.J.'s side that morning. Her carefully planned comeback had been eclipsed by the arrival of some random singer from a recently broken up band and, while she definitely wasn't one to talk, considering how her relationships with her cast mates had turned out, she was still pretty bummed.

          Miyu, who walked beside her, tugged at her sleeve as they entered the auditorium for their Theater Arts lecture. "A."

          "Hi."

          "You okay?"

          A.J. exhaled through her mouth, staring down at her best friend. Though there were only six inches separating their heights, Miyu's stage presence was always enough to make everyone focus on everything but her stature. "It's fine."

          "I don't want to pry into your personal life any more than you need me to, but there are times when I have to use my best friend privileges and do just that." She took a step forward, standing so close A.J. could count all the faint freckles speckled across her nose. There was so much she'd give up on just to be able to cut the small distance between them, but she'd also be running the risk of ruining what was probably the most real friendship she'd ever had. "When I said that about your ego . . ."

          "You weren't lying."

          "No. But I also wasn't trying to put you on the spot. I know coming back to NYSPA is important to you, and I want today to be special." She flashed her the gentlest of smiles, the kind she reserved for A.J. and no one else, gently rubbing her arms, and electricity shot up A.J.'s nerves with her touch. "You know how stupidly talented you are and so do all these people. Don't let some random guy from Massachusetts steal your thunder."

          "And how would you know he's from Massachusetts?"

          A discreet pink flush covered Miyu's cheeks. "I may or may not have been a fan of his band back when they were speaking to each other, but that's not the point. The point is: this is your comeback, and you're going to make the most of it, okay? You played freaking Wendla Bergmann on Broadway. Lea loved you." A.J.'s heart skipped a beat, both from being reminded of Miyu's unconditional support and faith in her, but also from remembering that day when Lea herself had tweeted her and mentioned how immensely proud of her she was for doing such a good job at following her footsteps. "I mean, yeah, maybe Sasha hasn't had the nicest things to say about you, but who gives a damn? Not you."

          "Absolutely not me."

          "Damn straight. You're going to walk in there, get through the day and show these people we're lucky to have you, not the other way around." She nudged her with her hip, giving her a gentle push into the auditorium. "But, if you're interested in making your comeback even more special, I might be able to help you, simply because I'm the best best friend in the world."

          A.J. glanced at the auditorium as it filled with students, the whispering turning into faint buzzing as the subjects wavered between A.J. Fleetwood and Brody Reid.

          "I'm listening."

          "What do you think about show choir clubs?"

BRODY

          BRODY REID DIDN'T REMEMBER COLLEGE BEING THIS STRESSFUL. He'd attended college before, back when Apostrophe was only playing smaller gigs and definitely didn't have such a big fanbase or a recording contract, but those were much simpler times, when all he had to worry about was how to juggle rehearsal, volunteering at a mental health facility, working at a diner, and attending his lectures.

          It wasn't simple by any means, and he'd be stupidly naïve to think it was viable or healthy to do so many things at once, but it was certainly better than what he had to go through as the years went on. As the band's name got bigger, so did their egos, which meant there was bound to be plenty of clashing, but, somehow, they made it work at first. His brother, Zane, his best friend (and Zane's ex-girlfriend), Gaia, and Dan, their drummer, often forgot exactly what was at stake there.

          He doesn't even know how he had time to stay in a relationship for so long. He and Jesse had their ups and downs—they even had to survive two deaths throughout their relationship, Brody's aunt's and Jesse's sister's—but they had magically pulled through. Brody didn't really believe in the magical power of love, but, if those two didn't love each other as much as they did, they would have never had made that much effort to make it work.

          Now, there was an engagement ring on Jesse's index finger and Brody had gone back to college after having had to drop out. Jesse had stayed in Massachusetts for med school, doing what he loved instead of dealing with his grief even though it had been three years since Allison's death, and Brody had made his way to New York, where all eyes were on him.

          Most of them, anyway. The rest of them focused on someone named A.J., who had just returned from playing Wendla Bergmann on the new Spring Awakening revival on Broadway. Good for her, he thought. Hopefully she's having an easier time dealing with this than I am.

          He had never really known how to handle being in the spotlight. It's not something you can prepare for, and no one knows what it's like to have your personal life be dissected to the millimeter until they've gone through it.

          As he crossed the campus, trying to find the site of his first lecture of the year, all he wanted was to be able to ask someone for help without having them look at him and treat him as if he was some sort of a magical creature, something totally out of this world. Maybe that was just his most egotistical part speaking, as those people surely had something else to think about other than him, but he had already heard enough.

          So, when he saw an opportunity, he took it. That happened when a tiny girl, who couldn't possibly be taller than five-foot-two, with a mane of wavy dark hair complained about having to take Theater Arts in her senior year. She knew where the lecture would be held at, so he followed her and the tall, blond guy walking next to her and keeping a hand between her shoulder blades, keeping a safe distance.

          They didn't look back once. Perhaps the first day wouldn't be that bad after all; he had gone through this twice—back during freshman year of high school and during freshman year of college—so he knew what he had to do.

          Well, mostly. Now, he had to add a) blend in and b) try not to snap if anyone asked him for an autograph.

          The auditorium was already filled to a brim by the time the trio got there and Brody gulped, running a hand through his curls as he looked up at the rows of the chairs in front of him. The room was bigger than any other where he had attended a lecture at, but he had played at bigger venues to bigger crowds. Tiny Girl and Blond Guy quickly made their way up the stairs, occupying two seats on the middle row and Brody reluctantly followed them; he either sat there or he sat up front, where he would be a hundred times more exposed.

          One of the remaining empty seats was directly behind a blonde girl, who looked strikingly similar to Blond Guy, and she paid no attention to Brody as he sank into the seat. She was chatting with the dark-haired girl sitting next to her (Japanese, maybe?), speaking in quick whispers so that the people around them wouldn't be able to understand it.

          Brody let out a small huff as he rummaged through his bag's contents, trying to find his laptop's charger, and, in response to such a small sound, the dark-haired girl glanced back at him, her eyes widening. They both froze, staring at each other, and, even though she didn't say a word, her small reaction was enough to prompt her friend to follow her stare.

          "Oh, sorry," the blonde said. "Hope our conversation isn't bothering you."

          "No," Brody blurted out, as Blondie's friend shot her a quick glare. "No, I'm sorry. I was just—"

          Blondie laughed. "I was just messing with you. Don't sweat it." She turned back around. "What were you saying about show choir clubs?"

         Brody didn't want to keep listening to their conversation, but the subject had sparked some interest in him. He remembered having read something about NYSPA's old show choir club, one of the very few that had to be disbanded for not matching the university's excellence requirements; in a place like NYSPA, that oddity was certainly interesting.

          Apparently, the infamous A.J. sat in front of him, fresh out of Broadway and ready to do something big. He didn't want to admit it, but he saw some of himself in her—the wish to prove herself, to do something that mattered, something to wow her peers . . . he had been there, and he had done it. However, he had never been on Broadway, and she had. Still, was it that different?

          After taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat to get A.J.'s attention, and leaned forward. "Excuse me?" She inhaled sharply, her smile seemingly being a lot more forced than it had been previously, and spun around on her seat, with an arm swung around the back of her chair. "I couldn't help but overhear—"

          "I'm sure you couldn't have," she retorted, and Tiny Girl gasped when she noticed just who A.J. was talking to.

          "A.J.," she breathed. "You can't treat the new students like that!"

          "And how many nice words have you told the freshmen today, Diana?" A.J. questioned. "Keep in mind that telling them to work hard so one day they'll have an infinitesimally small chance of ever being as talented as you doesn't classify as being nice." Diana pouted, but went quiet when A.J. focused back on Brody. "So?"

          "Show choir clubs," he continued.

          "Raisins instead of chocolate chips."

          He blinked. "Sorry?"

          "I thought we were talking about things that don't deserve me giving them the time of day."

          "A.J.," A.J.'s friend complained, exasperated. "Hi. I'm Miyu. I'm the nice one in the relationship. The Betty to her Veronica, if you want to call it that. What's up, guitar hero?"

          "I heard you wanted to revive the show choir club—"

          "We don't want to revive it," A.J. clarified. "We're thinking about maybe giving it its moment of glory. What's it to you?"

          "I might know a thing or two about show choir clubs."

          A.J. shook her head, amused. "I'm sure you do, but I believe the Broadway star in this auditorium is still me. Though, if we need some tips on how to use props if we ever go forward with this, I might think about getting you involved. If you'll excuse us."

          "What she means is we'd love to hear what you have to say," Miyu added, while A.J. slapped her arm. "Meet us after class?"

          "Sure."

          He nervously glanced at A.J., but she never turned back around, not even when Miyu spun to face the front of the auditorium. This didn't exactly classify as blending in, as he had already made a fool out of himself on his first day, but maybe getting involved in the revival of a disgraced show choir club wouldn't be so bad.

          Hopefully.

hi! welcome to smells like tone spirit. there are just a few things i want to get out of the way:

i) if you read noel;/until the day: yes the characters named brody and jesse that were either physically present or mentioned in those books are the same that show up here. don't worry about any possible UTD spoilers.

ii) if you read counterfactual and thought rowan was a sweet baby angel on the first chapter even though he clearly wasn't: you don't get to insult A.J. here. sorry! that would mean i'd be enabling a sexist double standard, and it's important to remember that these two characters are certainly flawed, and neither of them are particularly nice.

iii) no, A.J. isn't meant to be rachel berry.

(if anything: she's rachel x santana x quinn)

welcome to nanowrimo! please, please let me know what you thought. it's my first time writing in past tense and i'm super scared lol