three.

NATHAN'S STRESS LEVELS rocketed higher than all the times he'd procrastinated studying until the very last minute before an exam. All he could think of was that his life partially depended on someone else's (rightfully) questionable ability to perform without messing up.

Opposite him, Adelaide was holding her copy of the script that the Director had slipped in beneath the door after they'd returned to their room. The top of the paper curled over so that Nathan could glance at the heading, though upside down.

From his place, he couldn't see it clearly: blurry black block letters, indistinct like someone had dropped ink and let it spread. But he'd read it on his copy, so it didn't really matter, and in his head he could assemble the words:

ACT ONE:
THE ENCHANTER AND THE ENCHANTED

Adelaide pursed her lips as she leafed through the papers. "The script sounds sorta weird."

"It sounds like a cliché love story." Nathan stretched his legs across the floor, grunting at the click in his knees. His copy of the script lay on his lap. "It's not gonna end well. I'm mean, I'm the villain. So my character will probably end up breaking her heart or some shit."

"Yeah." The silence left after Adelaide's word seemed uncomfortably curt—the type filled with unspoken afterthoughts, if her distant expression was anything to go by. "Why didn't he tell us what to do now? Like, how much time do we have to memorize it?"

"We should start memorizing it anyway."

Adelaide nodded, flipping the papers over until she returned to the first page. Nathan held his copy. Not two words into reading the first line and Adelaide was already shifting in her place. Nathan glanced at her through his lashes like he didn't find it in him to lift his chin high enough. "Anything wrong?"

"I'm sorry."

"About?"

"Almost messing up on stage." A strain rendered Adelaide's voice a whisper. Combing a hand through her hair, she brushed the frizzy strand obscuring part of her face away. Her laugh sounded more like a warped cry. "I'm nineteen and all I did was cry. I'm a grown up, I should've handled it better and just . . ."

"Doesn't matter," Nathan said, shrugging one shoulder. "I'm eighteen and I act like a five-year-old all the time. It's not like you get kidnapped everyday. Forget about it."

Adelaide wiped the tip of her nose with her sleeve and it kinda pissed Nathan off. A pet peeve of his. He stood, trudged to the dresser and pulled out a tissue paper.

Nathan took a step back and bent down just enough to offer the tissue to Adelaide. The dimple curved deeper in his cheek. "Better than your sleeve."

Adelaide glanced at him through the corner of her eye, mumbling, "Thanks," as she grabbed it. Nathan was just about to return to his spot when a flash of gold caught his vision. One closer look and he realized it was a necklace.

He frowned, hand subconsciously touching his wrist where the ghost of stolen silver lingered. "How come he left your necklace with you? He took my bracelet and watch off."

Adelaide's fingers latched protectively around the pendent of her necklace as if Nathan had been about to steal it. "I don't know," she said, shoving it beneath her clothes.

The injustice in this almost made Nathan scoff. So the Director threw all the pressure on his shoulders and stole his (highly expensive, mind you) shit? Nathan's mom would kill him if she'd know—

Mom. Nathan slouched against the wall again. "This is so stupid. The only time my mom lets me travel alone and this happens. I can't imagine what she's doing now."

Again, no reaction on Adelaide's part. Only a respectful nod, a symbol of understanding. But then she froze. At this point, Nathan could tell what was coming.

"Hello, my actors," the Director said through the earpiece, voice almost breathless like he'd been in the middle of doing something. "I gave you enough time to check the script out. Now the real works starts. You have three hours to memorize it. Not a single extra minute. The last half an hour is for makeup and getting dressed. I'll remind you when it's time. Now get into memorizing."

Nathan didn't realize he'd been absently staring at Adelaide until his concentration on listening shattered and the world popped back in front of him. He smiled tightly. "At least he's respectful enough to tell us."

"Three hours," Adelaide repeated. "Only three hours?" The panic in her softly accented voice manifested in a slight tremor. "That's not enough—"

"Look." Nathan leant forwards, hazel eyes wide. "Yeah. He said it. Three hours. If we panic about it, we're losing time. So you know what we're gonna do now?"

Adelaide knew the answer and so did Nathan. Still, he said it, word by word, subtle reminder that the pressure fell on him:

"We're gonna memorize the fuck out of this script because I don't wanna get shot today."

In reality, it should've been: I don't wanna die today. But he didn't dare say it because he feared establishment. He hadn't traveled all the way to France only to die before he'd even see his dad.

•••

Nathan leant the side of his head against the edge of the bed in the corner. It'd always been there, but repulsed like electron to electron, both Adelaide and Nathan had refused to settle on it.

The papers in his hands almost slipped and he jolted awake. For the past two hours (assumably, at least. Having no sense of time turned out a form of torment), he'd been reading the exact same lines over and over again. Memorizing had never been a problem; he'd never appreciated this ability as much as now.

Adelaide hadn't stopped memorizing for one second. Either she only feared for herself or she hopefully considered she'd be the reason a boy'd get shot and that was why she was so focused.

Nathan sighed. "I feel like it's been more than two hours. He might tell us to get dressed now."

"Yeah," Adelaide mumbled, keeping her eyes on the script.

As if on cue, the Director spoke again, "Time's up for memorizing." Nathan would be proud about his semi-accurate time evaluation in another case. "Everything about makeup and these things is written on the last page of the script. You'll find the clothes you have to wear in the dresser. Now start getting ready. You have thirty minutes."

Nathan knew he should be used to it by now but the words in his ear still messed with his heart-rate. Flipping the pages over, he landed on the one labeled: MAKEUP AND EXTRAS. The first line said they'd have to get dressed first. Makeup last.

Nathan pulled himself to his feet, sensing Adelaide do the same behind him. He strode towards the dresser and carefully pulled the first drawer open, only to find two piles of folded clothes shoved in plastic bags, one tagged: VILLAIN, ACT ONE, and the other: HEROINE, ACT ONE.

Nathan grabbed his then glanced in the bathroom's direction—a tiny room connected to their dungeon, its door half ajar. He trudged towards it, and when he was near enough, he splayed his fingers along the wood and forced the door further open.

As soon as he took a step inside, it should've been the moldy sink or filthy toilet seat that'd tick him off but the transition to a smaller area clogged his chest. Too small. Breath hitching, he clutched his collar then quickly turned away.

"Nathan?"

"You get dressed first," Nathan quickly said, hand gesturing Adelaide to pass first.

She nodded and went in. Nathan waited just by the door. It took her around five minutes to finish. When she stepped out, Nathan forgot everything and recoiled: thick belt, baggy flannel. He tilted his head. "Nineties?"

Adelaide shook her head unsurely, giving her front a quick look. Nathan just dropped the subject and hesitated at the bathroom's threshold for a second before finally stepping in.

Closing the door behind felt like he was trapping himself. Nathan's eyes sprang anxiously across the walls. No windows. Not even a tiny one.

Nathan decided to finish with this fast. He ripped the clothes out of the old, dirty plastic bag, then stared at them for half a minute like a dumbass: sweater and vest. It could be an attempt to imitate the nineties' clothing style.

He quickly changed into his assigned attire and hung his clothes on the hanger behind the door. Grappling for the rusty knob, he swung the door open and barged out like a desperate survivor.

Adelaide stared at him. Possibly at the warm pink hue on his cheeks.

"What?" Nathan said, unintentionally defensive. Did he have to be alienated for his fears too?

"Nothing." Adelaide quickly faced away and nodded at the dresser. She stepped towards it. "I still have to put my makeup on."

The stool's legs squealed against the floor as Adelaide dragged it over and placed it in front of the dresser. She sat there.

Nathan trudged closer, then settled on his knees to her left, probing the dusty beauty shit spangled across the dresser.

Adelaide placed the paper beside them, briefly read it, then picked up a brownish pencil. Lipliner? Nathan could never differentiate these things. "This is gonna look . . . terrible," she said.

Nathan leant his forearm against the edge of the dresser and reached for the eyeliner, aimlessly fiddling with it. "Why?"

"Because it says I have to literally just outline my lips?" As Adelaide carefully applied the lipliner, vision rooted to the mirror, Nathan pulled the eyeliner's cap off and brushed the tip against his wrist. Adelaide frowned, side-eyeing him. "What are you doing?"

"Eyeliner reminds me of big cats," Nathan suddenly said, rubbing the mark off his skin. "They kinda have natural eyeliner. I'm convinced that's what inspired Egyptians to start with it."

Adelaide gawked at him for the hundredth time since they'd met. Nathan knew what she was thinking, and he wondered when she'd get used to his tactics.

"I'm more of a dog person," he continued, this time reaching for a tissue paper. He smoothened it against the surface and carefully traced the eyeliner along it. "But big cats are fascinating. All animals are, really—"

"Nathan." Adelaide, for once, caught Nathan's eye. She let out a nervous breath. "You . . . talk a lot, considering the dangerous situation."

Nathan didn't answer for a second as he finished up tracing the tissue paper. Then he lifted his chin, staring at her though an almost shaming angle, and said, "It's my coping mechanism. But if it's bothering your highness, I can shut up."

"What— no. I'm sorry, that's not what I meant. Keep talking if it helps you feel better."

"I'm just joking. Don't worry." Nathan smiled—detached from the actual conversation—then pushed the tissue paper across until Adelaide could read what he'd written with eyeliner:

If you have any idea how we can escape, don't say it. Write it. Just to be safe.

Adelaide's lips formed a perfect O. She nodded, as if impressed, and mouthed: alright.

Nathan grabbed the hairspray and splashed some water onto the paper until it crumpled, then threw it in a small bin in the corner.

"You don't have to put on any makeup, right?" Adelaide asked, either genuinely inquisitive or just trying to seem secretive about the agreement.

"No, thank God." Nathan glanced at the makeup section on his copy again just to be sure: empty. "But it says I have to wear the ring and rubber bracelet on. I found them with my clothes."

"Yeah, I have that too." Adelaide carefully placed the lipliner back down and peeked at her white bracelet. Shallow lines carved into her forehead. "Do you think we can do this? Like, do you think we'll manage to not . . . mess up?"

Nathan kept his mouth shut for a moment. He didn't have an inspirational answer for this. Nothing comforting. But he didn't want to weigh her down with the negativity in his head, the constant suspicion of the worst.

So he said, "I don't know." And it was a quasi-truthful answer; he couldn't know. Couldn't predict. But he'd be shocked as hell if everything actually went well.

_________

a/n: next chapter you'll see them perform the 1st act! Thoughts on how that might go?

thanks for reading/voting/commenting <3