"The world is a stage and the play is badly cast." ― Oscar Wilde

154 days until premiere.

[15:06 p.m. Jermyn Street Theatre auditorium]

"Action!" Jeff called out from the middle of the auditorium. His face turned forward, a crease on his forehead. The lights went dim as a spotlight hit the the stage. A frame, leaned on the back of a chair with a photograph pinned in the middle, across it a hand stroked a paintbrush. To the left stood a frozen figure on a pedestal, straight posture, his hair in curly waves and dressed in a black waistcoat over a oversized cotton shirt. A excessive jawn left his lips and the painter rose.

"Bored by me already, Mr Gray?" He left the portrait and helped the young man down without getting a single sign of gratitude.

"Basil, it's not you that bores me, it's only you when you're painting. You're awfully quiet...-", he couldn't finish the line, the words refused to come to him no matter how hard he tried to remember. His mind was a blank. He did his best to stay in character but within a second his whole face turned into a schruns, his fists clenched together tightly. He dared not look towards Jeff, so he kept his eyes steady on the floor.

"Man, are you alright?" the blonde whispered, seeking his colleague's eye, casting a quick but not unnoticed look towards the director who was about to rise from his chair.

"I'm fine, Niall," the brunette growled, "forgetting your lines isn't a sign of cerebral haemorrhage or anything. I'm just tired."

"Jez, sorry for checking in, mate," The blonde rolled his eyes, he knew Harry had been struggling for a while but he couldn't help himself. He took a step back, leaning back into his own posture, leaving Basil Hallwood for now, awaiting further instructions from Jeff who was on his way down the stage.

"Harry, care to tell me what's going on?" The voice obviously sour with irritation. Harry rose his face, his eyes red from fatigue as they met with his bosses alert ones.

"I'm sorry, Jeffrey," Niall hid a snort when Harry pronounced his full name, and got a sneer back from parts of the cast but Harry ignored it, "I didn't get much sleep last night and-"

"Do you know your lines or not, Harry?" Jeff cut him off, Harry didn't even flinch.

He took a deep breath and pushed a curl back in its place, "I thought I did,-"

"I didn't ask you what you thought or not, I asked you, do you know your lines or not? Otherwise we're wasting time rehearsing a scene where half of the cast can't even speak," He raised a brow towards Harry as if to ask him if he agreed, and he got a closed-bitten nod in response, "good!" he clapped his hands together and walked off the stage.

"Zayn?" he called as he walked back up to his seat.

"Aye," a voice whooped from the front row where the rest of the cast were seated.

"Are you up-to-date with scene three? It's Basil and Harold in Basil's studio," Jeff sat down, looked to Zayn with the look of don't-you-dare-also-let-me-down written over his face.

"Certainly," Zayn answered and Harry's jaw clenched. He watched as Zayn grabbed his script and riffled through the pages until he found the right scene, felt a thick knot form in his chest the more he stared at him doing his job so perfectly. It wouldn't surprise him if he got every single line right on the first try, and it drove Harry crazy.

"Alright, Niall, do you feel comfortable with jumping ahead?" Jeff rose his head from his notes and looked down at them. Niall gave him a thumbs up and grimaced against Zayn, who rose from his seat with a light skip. Harry knew he was supposed to get off the stage to give them room for the scene but he couldn't find the strength to move. The way Jeff had ended the conversation nagging in his stomach.

He twitched when Zayn laid a hand on his shoulder, "Hey, Haz, it's okay," he tried to give him a faint smile, "go read up on your lines and we'll try again later. Sounds good?"

Harry gave him a blank stare, cursing him in his mind, at the same time trying to tell himself Zayn only meant well. But why did he have to treat him like a subordinate in front of everyone they work with? Harry would never do that to him, never. Maybe he would bring it up later when they were home, if he had the energy.

"Sounds good," he said and grabbed the cane that rested against the pedestal, hugging it hard in his hand as he walked of the stage to his seat on the second row. Far away from the rest of the cast, he sank down in the chair, grabbed the script and opened the first page. The lines overlined in pink screaming at him in the dark, why can't you remember us? We're just words. You've done this a thousand times before. After reading half the page he needed to start over, and after reading the whole page it still hadn't stuck.

"Dorian Grey, is that his name?" Zayn's voice echoed in the auditorium and Harry thought the urge of throwing the script across the room. That would've been a sight, everybody would've loved it. The hopeless main character finally losing it completely, throwing it all away in a single second across the stage where he once shone brighter than everybody else in the room.

"Yes, I did not wish to tell it to you," Niall answered. Harry glanced over at Jeff whose concentration was completely turned at the stage, remembered the conversation they'd days ago and the knot immediately made it self remindful. He pushed the thoughts away and kept reading the same words over and over until the scene down on stage was finally over and Jeff called for a short break.

"Harry, a word?" Jeff commanded as he passed behind him and even how badly he wished he could say no, he closed the script and but it back in his bag and got up. Jeff stopped right outside the entrance door, made sure there was no one sitting in the ticket office before turning to Harry.

"Okay, tell me, what's the excuse this time?" His eyes felt like claws inside Harry's chest, scratching around after an answer Harry wouldn't give him.

"I promised to read up on the lines yesterday and I did. There's no excuse, Jeffrey. I don't know why I can't function up on stage, I'm just as lost as you are," as he spoke his fingers went up in his hair, picking on the short curls as if they held the answers his so desperately needed.

"I hear you and I really want to believe you, but two times is one time to much and this can't keep happening if we want to get anywhere with this play," he paused to examine Harry carefully, his pale skin, those red eyes and the dark circles that witnessed of many sleepless nights, "did you drink last night"?

Harry's head shot back at the question, "What? No-, or, yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

Jeff raised a brow, "Perhaps nothing? Perhaps everything? What do I know, Harry? All I know is that you got to get your shit together if you want to keep your role as Dorian. I know at least two other people inside of there," he pointed towards the door, "that would gladly take your place, and those two are both hard working and has shown me very impressive work these past weeks,"

"If you think threatening me to give my job to Zayn will work as a bait to get me to perform better...,then you don't know me at all," Harry said with a simper on his lips.

"I'm not threatening you, I've simply ran out of ways to motivate you. I need you in there, I need you to be the actor I know you can be. Do you really think I would've given you the part of Dorian Grey if I didn't believe in you?"

Harry shrugged, but didn't answer.

"I wouldn't," Jeff gave him a sincere smile but Harry looked away, "I know you're perfect for this part, but I can't keep believing in you if you don't believe in yourself,"

"What you're actually saying is that if I don't get my acting together, no matter how much you believe in me, you'll give my part to Zayn and I'll be left with a supporting role, if that."

"That's what you're hearing, not what I'm saying. I won't throw you under the vagon, if you do the same for me," by the look on Harry's face Jeff knew he had just made everything so much worse, "I've got a little secret, if you would like to hear?"

Harry gave out a snort and looked up to the ceiling, "Sure."

"Since the last production almost took all of our sanity away, I've decided to take on an assistant director. Someone who will help me have two eyes on two fronts, and it can be good with some new blood around here. Don't you think?"

"I guess," Harry answered. New blood, new cast, new director, new everything, and then maybe he could act again.

"He's a friend of Liam's from college," Harry frowned at that, was it really new blood if the person already knew somebody on the inside? "he's supposed to be a rising star," Jeff continued, and Harry's frown stayed in its place. A rising star was the last thing he needed in his life right now, it was more than enough living with someone who would secretly fight with him over the spotlight. To get a new director also fighting for recognition would surely be nothing else but stressful, but maybe the distraction of someone new working in the production would buy him some time to keep his part as Dorian Gray.

"Have you met him?" Harry asked, not sure why they were still out here talking, maybe Jeffrey felt remorse and wanted to buy him back with inclosing him with something secret. Making him feel special still after threatening to give his part to Harry's friend.

"Yes, last week. He seems good,"

"Good?" Harry argued.

"Yes, good," Jeff shot back, "he was polite, talked about theatre as if it was one of the worlds seven wonders, and he dressed nicely," at that Harry laughed shortly, as if Jeff would ever care about what someone was wearing. It was obvious he only addressed it to make Harry more interested, "Last year he went to see our production of Romeo and Juliet. He said he loved what we'd done to it, the rawness and the wickedness,"

"And the gayness?"

"Ah, yes, he loved the gayness too," Jeffrey smirked and Harry couldn't help but give out a faint smile as well.

"Does this man have a name?" Harry didn't even know why he asked, but something about the way Jeffrey talked about this new assistant director had made him curious.

"Louis!" Jeffrey said, "I think we've taken more than five minutes," he took a step towards the door and Harry followed close behind. The others looked up at them curiously as they entered and Harry sighed.

"Alright, from the top boys, and Camille, I want you to prepare for your scene next!" Jeffrey called out and at once there were movements down on stage, "was there anything else, Harry?" He asked when Harry lingered behind him.

"Oh, yeah, just that I think this assistant director idea might actually be good,"

"I'm glad you think so, but remember not to tell the others, I would like to do that myself."

"My lips are sealed. For how long though? We're supposed to take a beer after work, and you know," he shrugged.

Jeff rolled his eyes but laughed, "I'll tell them at the end of the day."

"And when does this Louis have his first day?" Harry asked, stepping down a few steps towards his seat.

"He'll be here first thing tomorrow, ready to take in all of your starry lustre." and what had felt like a minute of actual excitement immediately turned into another thick knot inside Harry's already overfilled chest, from tomorrow on there wouldn't only be Jeffrey he needed to impress but also this new stranger that didn't know a single thing about him. A stranger that could judge him from the first second, and at once he regretted everything he had said to Jeffrey. He wasn't ready for a stranger to intrude in his most sacred place, well dressed or not. This was his arena, and it didn't matter if he hated it at times and all the people in it, it was still his and he would keep it that way.