seventeen.

ADELAIDE REALLY MANAGED to transfer her fear of infections to Nathan. So now, standing shirtless in the bathroom, he kept staring at the gauzes on his arms and legs and feet and hands, trying not to imagine blackened swollen gashes under them.

Nathan shook his head. The wounds weren't infected; he was just getting paranoid like Adelaide. He reached for his sweater and tried pulling it on, but he froze halfway through with a strained expression—the more he stretched his arms up, the more all his muscles and wounds ached.

It was a struggle, and he almost had to call Adelaide to help him get dressed, but he managed to finish up. As soon as he was done, he walked out of the bathroom and slowly—slowly—sat down at the dresser's side where Adelaide was applying makeup.

When he looked at the wall opposite him and couldn't even make out the worn texture, he realized his vision had gotten worse. Great. His instinct told him to reach for something off the dresser to fiddle with, but he didn't find it in him.

So Nathan remained silent, hand on his thigh, occasionally squeezing. Up on the stool Adelaide constantly glanced at him like she was scared he'd faint again. He wished she'd stop pitying him so obviously.

The last look Adelaide gave Nathan was actually directed at his hands. She gazed at the array of cosmetic shit on the dresser, then held an eye-shadow pallet, examined it for a second and placed it Nathan's hand.

"You usually mess with the stuff," she said. "I'm used to it."

The pallet almost dropped from Nathan's hand but he clutched it just in time. He sighed to himself. A tiny smile curved his mouth, but he didn't look at Adelaide. He relaxed back. Absently fiddled with the lid. It clicked, then clicked, then clicked every time he opened and closed it.

In the process, Nathan caught the front row of colors. Rusty grey. Close and open. Faded gold. Close and open. Darkish blue. Open. He kept the lid flipped up this time and stared at it, smiling a little.

Nathan held the pallet up to Adelaide and pointed at the dark blue square. "That's my favorite color," he mumbled.

Adelaide glanced at it. "Teal blue. It reminds me of Bellflowers. I have some back home."

"Then bring these Bellflowers to my gr—" Nathan stopped himself, hoping Adelaide didn't understand where he was going with his sentence but obviously she did. Her expression dropped.

"Gosh," Adelaide said, snatching the pallet from Nathan's hand. After placing it on the counter again, she picked the foundation and uncapped it. "You have to turn it into something awful, don't you?" Silence mingled with a sigh, then: "Your bruise."

The question sounded so stern that Nathan actually felt ashamed. He held a hand up to Adelaide and watched as she squirted some on his finger. "Sorry," he said, rubbing the liquid on his cheek. "I didn't mean to—ow."

Adelaide laughed a little. "You didn't mean to ow. Makes sense." With a grip on his wrist, she forced his hand down and spread the rest of the liquid herself on the bruise. Nathan would protest but she did it better, less painfully.

He looked at her and wondered why she was still nice to him. It was a responsible reaction, not blaming him for what his dad might've done but at the same time—how could she still view him the same way?

Nathan appreciated it, but he hoped she wasn't curbing the bitterness. Too much of that and she'd snap and turn to the Director's side. That would be the real big disaster.

"Alright, done." Adelaide pulled back and wiped her and Nathan's fingers off. "How much time left?"

"I think around five minutes."

Adelaide slipped off the stool and in the meantime, Nathan gripped the edge of the dresser, trying to pull himself up but sharp pain shot through his back so he winced and dropped back down.

This had to be Adelaide's most sympathetic look ever. "I'm sorry," she mumbled as she caught his arm, letting him latch on, and raised him. Her frown kinda made Nathan feel like a burden.

They stood facing each other now. Adelaide tentatively let go of Nathan, like she was still worried he'd collapse. But Nathan's mind already drifted somewhere else. He said, "Remember the plan."

Adelaide nodded. "The plan. Right. Yeah."

After they'd finished memorizing, Nathan had told Adelaide to start a pretense—to convince the Director she was on his side now that she realized who Nathan turned out to be. That was also why Nathan had told her to tell him about the 'conclusion' when they'd asked for more time.

It was another gamble on Nathan's part. If the Director started trusting Adelaide, maybe he'd listen to her orders.

"Don't do or say anything extra," Nathan reminded Adelaide, voice hushed like a thief's midst a heist. "Just agree with what he says about me. About Dolion. He'll sense something's wrong if you completely turn against me all of a sudden."

Adelaide nodded again. "Yeah. I won't mess up, I promise."

Nathan shifted his weight on his feet. He stared right into her eyes and she stared right back and he tried discerning the lie if there was one.

"We're a team," Nathan suddenly said, trying to comfort himself more than anything. "We're in this together. We can't turn against each other."

"Yeah." Adelaide smiled. Genuinely. Or at least it seemed like that. Her eyes glistened, but she wasn't crying. "We'll stay together."

Nathan nodded and exhaled, craning his neck to glance at the door. The thought of performing alone made his anxiety skyrocket. It was hard to stop thinking of what he could be subjected to now, if he'd survive it. If he'd not. Last time peeling his skin like an orange. Screaming. Feet desperately pressing into the floor. Director on his chest and—

Hell. Now wasn't the time for this. In front of him, Adelaide was still inspecting him, probably noticing the PTSD forming and he wasn't even rescued yet. Nathan tried to smile.

He flinched when he heard the chains rattle and quickly made a full turn towards the door. Foot tapping anxiously against the floor, he waited. Don't panic. It took him a tiny gentle push from Adelaide to move when the door finally swung open.

Like every time: up the stairs, on the last rung. They stood there. But this time, Nathan couldn't help but glance at the curtains. If the play really was about his dad, then he sure as hell was the one watching. Nathan's chest constricted like something inside was expanding and closing in, breaking his ribs. Smashing his heart.

"Nate," Adelaide said, gripping his wrist and forcing him towards her. Nathan's eyes lingered on the curtains but then he finally glanced at her. "Don't look there."

A resigned nod. Nathan listened to the Director say, "Prepare yourselves on stage," then walked up to the stage with Adelaide following. There she caught his hands, part of the script, and faced him.

"Act Five: Confrontation."

Nathan and Adelaide waited until the curtains stopped moving, then she readjusted her grip on his hands and careened him along with her towards the bench set up on stage, mumbling, "Come with me, Dolion. Let's sit and talk."

It was more Adelaide's push that made Nathan sit down than his own will. In their position his left knee touched her right one, torsos tilted towards each other.

"I've been thinking," Adelaide said, "about us. Our future. I think . . . I think I'm ready to tell you about something."

Frowning, Nathan nodded.

"But you need to stay calm and listen to me." The way Adelaide stroked the side of Nathan's hand gave him goosebumps, which was weird because he'd never minded her touching him. Right now it felt like they were different people. "Yeah? Because you know I love you. You know that if I hid it from you, it's because I didn't want to scare you away."

"What is it?"

"I'm . . . I'm a widow." Adelaide's eyes watered already. Nathan couldn't imagine how painful this was, enacting her own mother's fate. "I've been for over a year. My husband died in a car crash right after . . . a few days after we found out that I was . . ."

Now Nathan squinted. "That what?" After everything, he still managed to sound skillfully confused. The Director must be proud. Or angrier.

"That I was pregnant. I have a daughter, Dolion. I—"

"You have a daughter?" Nathan feigned a quiver in his voice, tensing his shoulders which wasn't too hard considering they were already tense. "And . . . What, why didn't you—"

"Dolion," Adelaide desperately said, fingers trembling as she caught Nathan's cheeks and forced his face in her direction. Her grip made the painted bruise ache. "Please, please don't be angry. I swear I never meant to lie to you. I was scared you'd leave me. But now I trust you. I want us to get married, and we'll raise my daughter together, r-right? You still love me, don't you?"

"I . . . I- No. Luna, I didn't think . . . Marry you? No, I can't, this is too much." Nathan tried standing up but Adelaide caught his arm with painful desperation, trying to anchor him down. Beside her. "Luna."

Heedless of her attempts, Nathan pushed her off and stood. Adelaide did the same, and she looked him in the eyes and it hurt—seeing the hollow pain, the tears. The recollection. He wished this wasn't true. Wished it hadn't really happened to Luna.

"I can't do that, Luna. I can't marry you. I didn't think this would get so serious. I . . . I just, I'm gonna leave now, we'll talk later—"

"Leave?" Adelaide's voice cracked, brows curved with disgust and incredulity. "What do you mean you didn't expect this to get so serious?"

"I mean that I never intended to marry you. I'm sorry, I can't. I have other responsibilities—"

"What?"

"I'm . . . I'm married, Luna. I can't continue with this."

Adelaide cupped a hand over her mouth, and her eyes did the rest. Convey the shock in glistening sheens. For the first time, Adelaide's acting was actually convincing. Probably because it wasn't acting—because the feelings were real, pain dug up from the grave and shoved in her heart again.

"Y-You're married?" Adelaide said. "You're married? You're . . . cheating on your wife. With me. All this time . . . All this time I thought I was your Luna, your moon? And you were married!"

Slowly lowering her hand again, Adelaide glared at Nathan. Now the anger in her expression was a little worrying. Understandable, but concerning. It felt like she was mad at Nathan, not Dolion.

Nathan prepared for the scripted slap, subconsciously tensing all over. Adelaide was still in a daze almost. She slapped him so hard he actually tilted with the impact and yelped.

Readjusting his position, Nathan looked at Adelaide, and she was still frowning. Still glaring. As if it was his fault. As if this wasn't an act, and Nathan wasn't the boy she met here. A victim, just like her.

Remember that I'm not Dolion, Nathan wanted to scream. Remember that we're a team.

Adelaide suddenly snapped out of it. Worry flooded her eyes again, and her bottom lip trembled like she just realized she'd almost lost control.

"I can't do this," Nathan repeated one last time. His vision knocked out a little, colors bending in front of him, but he quickly got a grip again. "I don't even live here. I traveled for my job. I'm sorry. But I can't."

Turning on his heels, Nathan rushed towards the end of the stage. Behind him Adelaide screamed, "Dolion!" and her raw voice drilled into his chest. "Dolion! You can't leave! You promised me, you promised!"

This was tearing Nathan's heart apart. He zoned out, eyes wide, thinking of how horrible this was. How desperately he hoped his father hadn't actually done that to Adelaide's mom. The belly ache came back in the strongest form, enough to make him bend over, pressing his arm hard against his abdomen.

"End of Act Five."

No fucking shit it ended. Nathan glanced in the stage's direction; he found Adelaide hurrying towards him. He almost flinched when she was close enough, as if expecting her to slap him again.

"I- I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," Nathan mumbled as he straightened again, trying to ignore the pain in his stomach.

They walked to the stage-front together then bowed to the audience and remained in their places until the Director appeared at the other end. He looked exceptionally creepy this time. As if now that Adelaide figured out the what the truth was, what the point of this was, he allowed his sickest side to show.

"You came to the conclusion, my heroine," the Director said. Nathan had to squint harder to barely even make out his face. "You know now, don't you? You should. Logically you should."

"I know," Adelaide said.

"So now you feel like I do, right? When you see his dimple." Gripping Nathan's neck with one hand and his chin with the other, the Director forcefully angled his face to the left. Dimple's side. "Now you know why I hate it. Look at it. Just like that bastard's dimple. Just like it."

In this position, one wrong move and Nathan's neck could snap. He held his breath. Tried staying calm. Thankfully the Director let go a second later, and not-so-thankfully he shoved him back.

The Director kept pushing him until Nathan's back pressed against the chords. Nathan wished he'd take a step away; his breath smelled worse than Max's shit, and that was saying something.

A strong kick to the thigh and Nathan winced, a stronger one to the waist and he crouched down the floor, wheezing for breath. The Director knelt in front of him then gripped Nathan's wrist, which had gotten a bit bonier, and extended his arm.

"Every time I look at you," the Director whispered, callous hands for once shaking against Nathan's skin, "I remember him. How he left her. How I found her dead because of him. And do you know what it feels like, looking at you?"

Nathan stayed silent, mostly because he didn't even have energy to speak or protest. So he watched with a heavy breath as the Director rolled up his sleeve, revealing the gauze Adelaide had plastered over the skin-peeling wound.

"It's like a wound opening all over again." The Director ripped the gauze off, grimacing at it, then flung it aside. Nathan flinched. His knee curved up. The wound already seemed irritated, and suddenly the Director shoved his finger into it. "It feels like this."

Now Nathan's other knee curved and he desperately pushed his foot into planks under him. Adelaide made a muffled noise. The pain exploded in the area where the Director pressed his finger, enough to rob his lungs from the air. Stop, Nathan wanted to scream. Please stop.

Except the Director now scouted for all gauzes Adelaide had plastered and wrenched them off the wounds, one by one, poking the sliced flesh with his fingertips. Nathan bit his lip so hard he cut it. He whimpered. Suddenly all gashes were bare again. Raw. Blood spilled off his legs, the length of his arms. Even his hands and feet.

"Come, my heroine. You understand me." The Director glanced at Adelaide with glossy eyes, pressuring Nathan's wounds like a sadist, heedless of the blood now splattering his own hand. "You understand me. Tell me, my heroine, tell me if this is how you feel when you look in my villain's eyes. Tell me if it hurts too."

It took Nathan a second to realize the Director was crying now, and maybe he'd feel something if the searing pain wasn't killing him.

Nathan looked below; the blood was pooling in small circles under him now. Leaning his head back against the chords, he lifted his chin and let out a pained cry. The muffled noises behind him had never been as noticeable. Nathan knew what it meant.

"Y-You're right. That's exactly how it feels, my Director," Adelaide said, but her voice was still shaking.

__________

a/n: do you think Adelaide would turn against nate?

thank you for reading/voting/commenting! Stay safe and take care ❤️