nine.

"YEAH, I HEARD that," Nathan said. "And guess what else I heard? That next time you can choose where he'll shoot me."

Adelaide's contemplative trance must've shattered, because she looked at Nathan, wide-eyed and slack-mouthed. She shook her head. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry about what happened," she rambled. "I wanted to do you a favor because you're suffering more than me and I just . . ."

"Don't apologize. Forget about it." Nathan flattened a palm against his throat where the Director had gripped, as if checking on it, then walked closer to Adelaide and sat down.

Adelaide shook her head frantically. "I didn't mean to put you in trouble. Like, I hated how he only gave me water because that's so unfair and I thought I'd let you have some. But, uh . . . that didn't end well."

"No shit?" As Nathan adjusted himself against the wall, stretching his spine straight, at least three of his vertebras popped. "I agreed to drink, so it's not your fault. Now please stop talking about it."

Adelaide recoiled slightly, probably still unable to pinpoint the way Nathan's brain functioned. "Alright."

The abrupt silence was the prompt, and Nathan's memory traced back to less than five minutes earlier: Adelaide looking shocked, repeating the Director's words, fiddling with her necklace. He frowned. "Did what the Director say about villains remind you of anything? You looked shocked."

"No . . . No." Adelaide shook her head on top even though the repetition of no should've been enough. "Nothing."

Nathan eyed her suspiciously. "I'm not convinced. Tell me if it reminds you of anything. Maybe we can figure out where these acts are from or something—"

"I said no," Adelaide snapped. "Can you move on? Please."

Slowly tilting his chin away, Nathan hummed quietly and dubiously. Just because he didn't want to make her uncomfortable—otherwise he'd keep pushing. Not right now at least; she didn't seem liable.

"Let's talk about the acts then," Nathan said. "So far, we can tell Dolion's probably married and he's cheating with Luna. But then there's Luna herself." Like a fast reel, all her lines that'd stood out flashed in his head. "I think she's heartbroken. In Act Two, she basically said she's lonely and platonic love isn't what she's looking for."

Adelaide kept her eyes to the floor as she nodded. "Yeah, I agree. Then Dolion came in and she fell for him?"

"Pretty much. But the thing is, she feels she's doing something wrong too. So either she feels like she doesn't deserve love because her man left her, or he died and she feels like falling for another man is cheating?"

Uncomfortable shifting. Nathan glanced at Adelaide, only to find her fiddling with her necklace again. She nodded when she noticed him.

"So this could end in two ways," Nathan continued, "either Luna figures out Dolion's a bastard and teaches him a lesson, as in the heroine wins, or . . ." Blond brows dropped into a wary frown—the conclusion didn't sound pretty in his head. Worse in words. He pursed his lips. "Dolion gets away. The villain wins. Luna gets heartbroken and maybe—"

"Stop." Adelaide's hand flung out and urgently latched onto Nathan's arm, fingers shaking to a degree. "Just . . . Just stop. This won't get us anywhere. We don't need to talk about it."

She must've been understandably terrified of the idea of acting out a suicide scene. "At least this way we can kinda almost predict where this is going," Nathan said, gut squeezing but expression precariously solid. "And it's most likely gonna be the first option anyway. He hates the hell out of me."

"That's not comforting. I don't want either of us to get hurt." Pulling back her hand, Adelaide looked at Nathan and all the glossy fear in her eyes hit him like a curveball. "You talk like it's nothing. Like . . . dying is nothing. I- I don't know how you can stay chill like that."

Nathan sighed. He'd repeat how his coping mechanism worked but at this point it felt useless—explaining to her how he liked tormenting himself with bitter truths. Realistically both of them already had a foot in the grave; it just depended on how long they'd manage to keep hanging.

Not that enforcing his negativity would help, so Nathan shut up and leant back, giving her a second to gather herself because she looked close to vomiting. He could think to himself. He could analyze on his own. Why would he drag her too if it made her panic?

Nathan's eyes swept along the door. He shifted, righting his lazy slouch. The second he moved, Adelaide tugged his sleeve for a mere second and mumbled, "Careful, Nate. There's glass on the floor."

"I know." Nathan's shoulders shuddered. Glass. The pain that this barely perceivable shit could inflict made his feet tingle again with faded pain. "I'm gonna clean this shit before we step on it. I fucking hate broken glass. Last time I stepped on some I screamed like a baby."

Nathan went with a repulsed noise instead of another word. Eyeing the shards, he rounded the dresser, pulled out a paper towel and folded it over.

When he went for the hairspray bottle (filled with water, assumably not that clean), Adelaide had snatched it before him. "I'll do it," she said, still not meeting his eyes. "Give me the paper."

Nathan docilely handed it to her, saying, "Thanks," then walked to the door and crouched by the frame. The sliver of space beneath the wooden slab didn't really allow him to peek below. And above—through the smudgy glass slit—he couldn't see anything.

Neither could he hear anything; right now, outside was silent. Nathan pulled away from the door with a frown. "Does he even stay in this place all the time?" he whispered to himself, and as if on cue, footsteps sounded.

Nathan jerked back and stood aside, then quickly slumped against the wall, gesturing Adelaide over; she'd been throwing the glass she'd cleaned in the bin, and now she hurried to the bed and settled on it.

White papers slid in beneath the door. Slowly but gradually. Nathan scooted closer to the threshold again, trying to catch how far the footsteps would go now. Three steps. A couple up the stairs. Then they faded. Not much that he could draw out from this except that the Director didn't hang out in the transition space.

"Act Three, my actors." The Director almost startled Nathan with the sudden whisper. "You know what you have to do."

Sighing, Nathan pulled the papers all the way out and brushed off the layer of dust coating the top. He pulled the two copies apart.

"Here," he muttered, holding one to Adelaide. "Enjoy another three hours of memorizing."

•••

Nathan left the bowtie hanging freely down both sides of his neck only so he'd feel a little less restricted. He cracked the bathroom door open, just an inch, then turned towards the worn cabinet. Gingerly swinging open one door, he bent forward and squinted at the contents.

Just a quick check. He pushed aside the disinfectant and revealed along dust and rust, like shelves left untouched for years. To the right corner, something white was cramped. One closer look had Nathan mumbling, "Oh shit," and quickly pulling back.

Tampons. At least now Adelaide wouldn't have to worry if she'd get her period. What a considerate psychopath (or maybe just worried about the clothes).

"Nate? What's taking you so long?"

Just as Adelaide's voice traveled to the bathroom where he'd been getting dressed, Nathan closed the cabinet and walked out. He found her glancing back. At him. Then her eyes landed on the spot where he usually sat while she'd do her makeup. Kinda like a routine, a newfound familiarity.

She didn't say anything else but Nathan strode closer and sat on his knees at the dresser's side again, hand instinctively reaching for the nearest thing to grasp. To fiddle with. No distraction meant focus. On the walls. On the constriction. On the limited space-span—

Don't think about it, Nathan cut off his own thoughts. Fucking phobias. So fucking ridiculous. If he was just a normal person, without his stupid fear, he wouldn't feel double the pressure weighing his shoulders.

But no. Nathan had to be Nathan. He hadn't realized he'd been absently opening and closing the mascara's cap until he felt the liquid soaking his finger.

"He sees us as the characters," Nathan suddenly said, glancing at Adelaide as she brushed rouge lipstick along her lips. "Sometimes I feel like he's accidentally mixing up. Like hallucinating? And sometimes I feel like he does it on purpose."

"Yeah. First he called you Dolion then he called me Luna." Adelaide placed down the lipstick. Pushing aside all the cosmetic stuff until she created a free spot, she pulled out a paper towel and smoothened it down. "I don't know. But I think he wants us to get like, brainwashed?"

"But if he wants me to actually be the villain, it's pretty much like asking me to be an asshole." Nathan kept his eyes on Adelaide's hand as she picked the eyeliner and traced down words on the paper like he'd done the first time. "And he'll hate it if I act like an actual asshole. He flipped out because I drank your water. But then he liked it when I explained I did it because I'm the villain? It's hard to satisfy him in this sense."

"Yeah." Finally looking up, Adelaide pushed the paper closer to Nathan's side. He grabbed it. The idea glimmered in her eyes before he even read what she'd written:

Think we can steal anything from the props? Anything that might help us escape?

Nathan remained silent for a second. The Director had to be smarter than that. So far the props had only been a few items anyway. Not much hope. Still, he grabbed the eyeliner and jotted down:

Like what? So far everything's been useless

Nathan waited for Adelaide to read. Took her a second, then she wrote back:

Maybe a phone?

Far-fetched. A phone? With battery and signal? Sure as hell not. If they'd manage to steal it, they'd either get caught or it wouldn't work.

Nathan wrote: I'm not sure it'll work. We should focus on not accidentally triggering him. Police are probably looking for us at this point

Adelaide nodded as she read it and mouthed: hopefully. Balling the paper, she sprayed water until it crumpled then threw it in the bin.

"Let's cover your bruise, yeah?" Adelaide said, as if changing the subject, and fumbled for foundation. She held one close to Nathan's pale complexion. "Only on the bruise?"

"Of course only on the bruise." Nathan widened his eyes scandalously for a second. "I'm not about to smear this shit on my entire face. If he didn't say I have to cover it I wouldn't be doing this at all."

"Alright, alright." After popping the cap off, Adelaide gestured Nathan to put out his hand. So he did, and she squeezed a dollop onto his fingertip. "Rub it on the bruise."

"Sounds painful," Nathan said but nonetheless lathered the liquid-ish foundation a little above his temple where the bruise stretched in splotchy black and blue. He squinted at the throb, swallowing down the quiet ow. "Good?"

Adelaide studied the bruise for a second, then extended a hand out, blending the painted spot a little down with Nathan's temple. Probably so that it'd look more natural, even though who the hell really cared. "Yeah, you're good," she said.

Nathan relaxed again after he'd been leaning forward. With Adelaide's sigh came out a cluster of despair. Of painful remembrance. In a couple minutes or so, they'd be on stage again, performing like puppets on strings, discomfort levels crashing through the rooftop.

"Nathan." Adelaide fiddled with the hem of her dress. "We can't ignore what's gonna happen. Like, I know it's awkward as—"

Nathan fidgeted nervously. "Did you know that some male spiders dance to seduce female spiders?"

". . . What in the— No, I didn't," Adelaide spoke skeptically slow. "But I know that you're just trying to change the subject. You talk about random stuff when you're worried. I'm getting used to your coping mechanism."

"Impressive," Nathan mumbled halfheartedly. Genuinely impressive considering just around three hours ago she couldn't understand how he tended to cope with stress. The cold flooring nipped at his bare toes where his feet touched."I don't know how we're gonna do that and I don't want to think about it."

"It's just a peck, Nate. I know you won't mean it. And I won't mean it." Adelaide prodded Nathan's arm lightly, trying to comfort him. It really didn't work but Nathan appreciated the effort midst her own terror. "We'll, uh, just pretend it didn't happen."

Nathan's heart sank at the desperation in her voice. Stupid Act Three. Stupid Dolion. So far, this was the worst script. He could talk and laugh or cry and mourn, but actions were actions and today on stage he knew he'd want to tear out of his own flesh and die.

"I know," Nathan finally said. "But that's not even the only thing I'm worried about." He stared down at his bare toes. "In my copy, it's underlined that I have to be barefoot. You got to wear shoes. I have a really bad feeling about it."

__________

a/n: hi! Hope you enjoyed. Quick reminder that literally every single detail mentioned in whatever way is important. Keep the fact that nate hates broken glass in your mind ;).

This is dedicated to Eris345 and @WisdomMage for all their wonderful theories! It makes me so happy to know you guys are taking the time to theorize ❤️

Tysm for reading/voting/commenting!