𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰!
act two, chapter nineteen
" 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔"

𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟕

          𝑾𝒀𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑯𝑨𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝑨𝑩𝑶𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑵𝑨𝑰𝑳𝑬𝑫. She didn't know why she hadn't thought of it before. And not one part of her felt bad. Theodore had this coming. He auditioned as a joke and had stuck around for reasons she couldn't comprehend. She warned him a long time ago that she was out for him and after a slight blip in the system (ergo, they became friends), she was now back on track.

          Her friends weren't totally on board and her castmates were unaware of what was going on. But Wyatt was sure that once she was through with sabotaging Theodore Nott, they'd be forever in her debt. To conclude, so far, so good.

          On Monday, Wyatt offered to give him a crash course on the key literary analysis points of Romeo and Juliet and subsequently convinced him that the entire point of the play is a comment on the importance of environmental conservation.

          On Tuesday, she burned his script and hid the spare ones in Flitwick's office under her bed.

          Wednesday rehearsals saw no Romeo since Wyatt had framed him for plagiarism over their Defence Against the Dark Arts assignment and he spent the afternoon into the evening in detention.

          On Thursday, she paid off a third-year Slytherin in the Drama Company to lock him in his dorm room using a charm she knew he didn't know. It meant his unauthorised absence in rehearsals (and classes for the day, one of which was Charms) earned him a scolding from Flitwick. The words "unreliable" and "crass" were used, to her delight.

          Friday wasn't as successful, however. After a week of tormenting Theodore with things he didn't do wrong but he still experienced the consequences for, earning himself a place in Flitwick's bad books, Wyatt's idea for Friday didn't go as planned. She was hoping to draw attention to how Theodore was more committed to Quidditch than he was to the play and it seemed when one of his practices clashed with a rehearsal for Act 5 (the most important one), she thought another act of sabotage had fallen in her lap.

          She strode down to the practice pitch like she owned the place. In fact, she didn't think she had ever actually been there in all her six years at Hogwarts. It felt like fate to finally have a purpose at this place.

          Theodore, her unsuspecting victim, thought he was having a normal practice until she showed up. He didn't notice her at first, busy having a life (something she wouldn't understand) when he took a break for water and saw her. She was looming like a haunting ghost in the walkway towards the practice pitch. He brushed it off at first, thinking it couldn't possibly be her, but considering the hell he'd been put through for the last week, it wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility that she had come all this way to jinx him off his broom.

          Resting his broom on the floor, Theodore closed the cap on his bottle and jogged over to her. Just as she had planned.

          "Weird," Wyatt said as he arrived in front of her, sweaty and gross. "Rehearsals start in five minutes, and according to the schedule outside, your practice just started."

          Theodore studied her for a second to confirm she was being serious. Wyatt Buckley had probably never seen a Quidditch practice schedule in her life but now that it suited her, she had studied it. Theodore took a swig of water before he shrugged and said, "Okay?"

          "I'm going to tell Flitwick," she stated.

          "I already told him. And he's fine with it."

          Wyatt blinked once and then blinked again. "What?"

          This wasn't the first time that Theodore had discussed any overlaps of his Quidditch schedule with the play rehearsals, so why Wyatt looked as though fire was about to shoot from the top of her head, he didn't know.

          "Yeah, he said today would just be House Capulet scenes because now that the season has started, I can't miss that much practice."

          Wyatt didn't have anything to say, but her face said everything. There was a burning hatred behind her eyes. A look Theo hadn't seen in a while. What was going on with her? Why was she so hell bent on getting rid of him just when he thought they were getting along?

          After a moment of intense silence, Wyatt muttered, "Unbelievable."

          The next second, she was whipping her hair as she spun around and stalked off.

          To try and piece back together whatever part of their friendship just chipped off, Theodore playfully called back, "Can't get rid of me that easily!"

          He doesn't think she appreciated it, though, because he heard her huff before she continued on with her storming off.

          𝑨𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑨 𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑲 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑹𝒀𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑶 𝑷𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑪𝑨𝑺𝑬 and tirelessly trying to figure out Wyatt's end game, Theodore decided it was high time he confronted her. He had his suspicions, but with the good progress their friendship was making, his suspicions didn't quite make sense. He had such high hopes with the way their relationship was going, so if anything, he wanted to shut down the fears that had been brewing since Monday.

          "Are you trying to sabotage me?" He outright asked her after the first smooth rehearsal in a while on Monday afternoon.

          Wyatt stared at him for a second, found her cool, located her actor's neutral, and stated plainly,  "No." And then she walked out of the rehearsal room, walking away from him.

          But if Theodore had learned one thing while spending too much time with Wyatt Buckley, it was that he knew when she was lying. And he was calling bullshit.

          "Can I talk to you for a minute, Wyatt?" He asked her, jogging up to her side and lightly wrapping his fingers around her arm so that she really couldn't say no.

          Wyatt stopped walking and looked down at where he was still holding on to her, as if she was about to fly away. She sighed, pulling her arm away, "If you must."

          Theo didn't immediately start talking like she expected him to. Instead, he walked away, glancing back to ensure she was following him. He then entered the same cleaning closet he had pulled her in after the rounds of auditions, the one where she found out that Theodore was going to be her Romeo.

          Wyatt groaned. She wasn't happy about it, but she followed him inside, locking the door behind her and pulling on the toggle to turn on the light. She stared up at him and waited. Wyatt had forgotten just how tight this cupboard was and how close it made them stand.

          "What's going on with you?" He eventually asked her, face contorted in desperation.

          "What's that supposed to mean?" She asked, partial disgust clinching her brows closer.

          Theo looked over her head, taking a second to find the confidence to call her out. When their eyes locked again, her irises like pools of warm chocolate, he fumbled and lost a bit of that confidence.

          Holding his breath, he finally said, "One second, you're calling me Theo, going to my games, getting jealous when I'm talking to another girl, and now you're trying to get me off the cast?"

          Wyatt was dumbfounded. He was not supposed to read into it that much. He wasn't supposed to read into it at all.

          "Okay, there's a lot to unpack there," she scoffed, holding out her hands. They grazed his chest from how claustrophobic this closet was, and she instantly lowered them. "Theo is your name, that proves nothing. You practically forced me to go to that game. And I wasn't jealous! You could fuck the whole school and I wouldn't care." A flicker of hurt passed his eyes and she faltered. His expression and the way it made her feel made the next part of her speech harder to say. "Because we're not really friends, Theodore. It's a friendship of convenience, at best. And I told you at auditions not to mess with my play, so you really should have expected me to do something about it."

          Her chest was rising and falling like it was strenuous to get all of that out.

          Theo stared down at her. Where she looked like she wanted to bolt, Theo was still. Calm on the outside, but it was taking everything inside of him to put up that facade. Inside, his stomach was sinking, and his heart dulled.

          It was Theodore to bolt first. "Whatever, Wyatt," he spat. "You make no sense."

          And then he was gone, turning off the light as he went, plunging Wyatt into a lonely darkness.

          𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑯𝑬 𝑲𝑵𝑬𝑾 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑴 𝑺𝑶 𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑳, Theo had avoided any talk about the play with his friends. They didn't need to know the true reasons that he was seeing it through but the simple fact that he was seeing it through was enough for them to give him hell for it.

          He could not, however, predict or prevent when they would bring it up.

          Draco considered the library an adequate place to do this. "You quit the play yet?" He asked at full volume. The only problem with this was no one was brave enough to tell him to keep it down.

          Theo subconciously clenched his fists. The parchment crumpled beneath his fingers but he kept his head low. "No."

          "No?" Draco scoffed, drawing the attention of the rest of the group of friends.

          "That's what I said."

          "Well, why not?"

          "Because I don't want to." It was getting harder for Theodore to focus on his Charms assignment, especially when the other three opposite them were now staring him down.

          "Oh, I get it," Blaise said. "You're gonna stay on it and quit right at the last minute."

          Draco clapped him on the back. "Genius plan of destruction, Nott. I applaud it."

          "That's not what I'm doing," Theo told them, respecting the library rules and speaking at a hushed volume. Much like the people around them, he too would like to not speak at all.

          "So you're hanging out with a bunch of dorks for what? Fun?" Draco still appeared amused which told Theodore that the former didn't quite (and probably never would) understand what was happening. 

          "They're not dorks," Theodore said confidently, before his brazenness faded and his head fell back to his books, "and it is fun."

          "Who are you and what have you done with Theodore Nott?" Crabbe rolled his eyes.

          Theodore found none of this funny. "I'm right here, pal," he said unimpressed. "Now, can we focus on this, please?" He asked, tapping his quill to his open textbook. "I really can't afford to fail another class. Flitwick is on my arse about keeping up with my studies."

          "So now you care about what Flitwick says?" Goyle spoke like he had a lime in his mouth.

          "You're broken, mate," Draco added.

          Theo felt close to breaking point. What happened to friends supporting friends? Apparently, that didn't count when it didn't fit Draco Malfoy's perfect mould.

          "Or maybe," he said, talking normally now, "I've found a life outside of you guys and you're not happy about it."

          Draco spoke with frightening calm next. "There is no life outside of us."

          "Someone's cocky."

          "And someone's gone soft."

          Theo actually broke into a smile by this point. Did they hear how ridiculous they sounded? "Whatever, Draco, I don't want to hear it."

          A train of muttered insults followed, but Theodore had his head back down, his hair long enough to frame his cheeks.

          "So gay."

          "What a loser."

          As Theodore tried to tune out his so-called friends, Wyatt Buckley, sitting on a table behind the bookshelf separating them, was doing her best to try and hear the whole conversation. Draco Malfoy always made himself known, and she had come to recognise Theodore's voice better than her best friends'.

          So far, she didn't like what she was hearing. For once, it wasn't the words coming out of Theo's mouth that she had a problem with. In fact, he was coming to her and her fellow dorks' defence.

          But why was Theo putting up with all of that? Surely he agreed with them? Or at least felt confident enough to defend himself? If the plan was to audition as a bit of a laugh, then why was he still here almost a month later? Unless he truly enjoyed it and was willing to put up with his friends' shit if it meant he got to stay. 

          For the first time since Wyatt had set out to sabotage Theodore Nott, she felt bad.

          𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑺 𝑶𝑵 𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑪𝑨𝑺𝑬 and Wyatt hellbent on his destruction, Theo was not looking forward to the whole production rehearsals on Wednesday. These days were reserved for getting as much done as possible, encompassing both the cast and the crew and updating everyone on where the company was with scenes other people hadn't seen yet.

          Theodore hated Wednesdays. He always felt as though people were scrutinising his solo scenes instead of appreciating his own interpretation of them. And now that Wyatt was praying for his downfall, he felt even worse about his ability to play Romeo.

          With his monologue out of the way, all Theodore had to endure were a couple of the fight scenes alongside Casey and Dean. Flitwick liked to stage these kinds of scenes early, especially since it was such a violent play. 

          Wyatt was sitting near the back of the auditorium. The scene being rehearsed right now was purely for the House of Montague, so she ran through some lines with her feet kicked up. But she couldn't quite focus.

          Despite feeling sorry for him earlier, Wyatt concluded that it wasn't her problem. You get to choose your friends and Theo had made the mistake six years ago to befriend Draco Malfoy. This was on him. So now, Wyatt was biting back laughter. Theo was informed by Wyatt that the swords in Romeo and Juliet represented the destruction of climate change and she could tell he was incorporating that into this stage fight. They actually represented violence and masculinity, but something about that told Wyatt that Theo would just love the play even more.

          Unbeknownst to her, it was all about to come crashing down.

          "Where are the swords?" Flitwick asked, getting to his feet and approaching the stage. "I asked for them to be ready for when we staged the fight scenes. I'm not having Benvolio say put up your swords if we haven't damn well got any."

          Wyatt could tell they had reached the point of play preparations, that the stress really got to Flitwick. She would feel sorry for him if she weren't distracted by the panic creeping onto Theo's face.

          "Yeah, we don't have them," Dean said with a shrug.

          No one else in this scene knew where they were because Theodore was in charge of the faux swords. And Flitwick had drilled it into him that the sooner they got them, the better, since staging fights was hard for students so used to flicking wands around.

          So much had happened to Theodore that he had completely forgotten. He had never had to juggle so many things at once before: the play, the new season, Wyatt's bipolarity towards him, and now school mattered more to him than it ever had.

          As Wyatt watched the blood drain from his face, she knew what she had done. In trying to bring Theodore down, she was bringing down the whole company. And not just because the strain of it all was getting to him, but because the whole cast had been working with Theo as their Romeo for weeks now ─ it would be silly to recast him. In fact, it would be self-sabotage.

          As Flitwick remembered the absence of the swords was Theodore's doing, the whole company's attention was now on him. Wyatt felt like she had received an electric shock by how quickly she was on her feet and scrambling towards the stage.

          "Theodore," Flitwick said slowly. Everyone could hear the disappointment and the scolding was no doubt seconds away. Theo looked so fed up with himself. "Care to explain where the swords are?"

          Theo's mouth dropped open and then closed as he tried to find the words to explain himself. But he couldn't. He couldn't explain himself and he might as well give up this part right here, right now. Flitwick was wrong and Wyatt was right ─ he was not cut out for this. At least Draco would be pleased to hear─

          "That was my fault, actually, Professor Flitwick."

          Wyatt was heaving from running down the aisle and up the stage stairs as quickly as she possibly could. But she made it and now all eyes were on her.

          She braved a glance at Theodore, nodded once, before holding her breath and continuing on. "I told Theodore that I would do it. And then I forgot. He didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry."

          Flitwick's eyes narrowed once as if he doubted her story. But that doubt was only momentary. Wyatt was always eager to help out where she could, it made sense for her to absolve Theodore of this responsibility. What didn't make sense was for her to forget.

          "I needed those swords today," he told her with a sigh. "I'm disappointed, Wyatt."

          The words stung, but she took them in her stride and disappeared behind the curtain.

          Theodore was right on her heels.

          "Wyatt," he called for her, but she kept walking. Striding so fast with no real destination. The backstage was tight, limited; she was going to run out of room at some point.

          "Wyatt, please talk to me, it's the least you could do."

          Wyatt stopped in her tracks. She felt caught. The jig was well and truly up. Not only had Theo figured out that she was sabotaging him but he had come to the conclusion that she was now in his debt. Because she had done him wrong.

          She spun to look at him, but when she saw the crease of skin between his brows and the glowering look in his eyes, she was speechless. All she did was shrug.

          "Please explain what is going on with you, Wyatt, because I am so confused right now."

          Wyatt briefly glanced behind him, and she caught a glimpse of Flitwick. Her stomach sank as she remembered what had just happened. Her streak of being the perfect student was up. And when she looked back at the boy before her, that glowering look turned into something of hurt. She couldn't take it all, so she did what she did best when she was with Theodore Nott ─ pretend she didn't care. That they weren't really friends. That they never really had been.

          "You often are confused, Theodore," she told him nonchalantly, folding her arms across her chest. "What's changed?"

          Confusion rippled across his face. "I thought you wanted me gone?" He asked, gesturing behind them to where she had just contradicted everything she was once trying to do.

          "I did," she admitted. "But my plan didn't work fast enough, and it's too late now. It would be stupid to recast you. And I didn't do that for you. I did it for the cast and everyone else involved in this play."

          The only reason Wyatt took the fall for Theodore was for the better of the cast, not because she cared about him. And that's what she would tell people.

          Where Wyatt had expected Theo to smile or sigh or look relieved, he just stood still. Staring back at her, waiting for her to say something else. Why? She couldn't figure it out. She had just given him what he wanted ─ to stay in the play and for her to accept he had a right to be there.

          When the silence dragged, sadness tugged at the edges of his eyes. "Right," he said.

          "We can't fight," she carried on. "We're supposed to be in love. Sabotaging you didn't seem like something Juliet would do to Romeo. Got to get into character, hm?"

          Theodore stared back at Wyatt like he didn't even recognise her. "Because that's all that matters, right, Wyatt? Not that you really upset me."

          She didn't know what to say. "I . . ." Wyatt fumbled for the words but nothing sufficiently summarised how she was feeling. She didn't truly know what she was feeling actually. This was all too much.

          "What?" Theodore scoffed. He was taking gradual steps forward and Wyatt started to back into the wall, cornered. "You didn't realise that Theodore Nott was capable of human emotions? That maybe he actually does care what Wyatt Buckley thinks of him? Surely not, right?"

          "Theo . . ." Again, words failed her. Is this really how he felt? She supposed he was right after all ─ Wyatt didn't know that Theodore could feel so much. About the play, about her . . .

          He was smiling now. But not his usual cheery one. No, it was more sadistic, broken, amused by his own hurt. "No, I get it, it's fine," Theo said to her. "This play matters to you. You're the lead. But did you ever consider for one second that maybe it matters to me too? I know I didn't take it seriously at first, and I'm sorry, but I like being here. I like acting. Shakespeare's cool. But I guess I'm too much of an airhead to deserve to be here."

          His arms flayed at his side, poked his chest, his facial expressions morphed in a series of theatrics. No pun intended. Theo almost raised his voice, but considering how much she had sabotaged him in front of his drama peers this past week, he knew his place in this play was in a precarious position and he didn't want to give anyone anymore excuses to not like him.

          Except Wyatt, he supposed. He seemed not to care about her at all anymore. Like he had flipped so suddenly. Or maybe it was the opposite ─ he cared so much, and that's why he was saying all of these things, calling her out on how inconsiderate she had acted.

          "That's not true." Her voice trembled as she said it. She could sense the wall closing in on her. His feet angled right towards hers, and they almost touched. But that was as close as he was going to get to making contact, as if the idea disgusted him.

          Theo's mouth soured. He shook his head as if he'd never believe another word that came out of her mouth. "Just stay out of my way, Wyatt," he said, before knocking his shoulder into hers and storming out the nearest door.

          Theodore was still due on stage. But he'd rather harm his castmates' opinion of him more than be anywhere near Wyatt Buckley.

          She felt his absence as soon as it arrived. His words repeated in her head, like a marble rattling around in her skull, hitting the sides constantly as it bounced around. His anger lingered in the air with his exit. Raw and painful.

          Wyatt stayed there for a moment. Her castmates checked behind the curtain to make sure everything was okay, but she felt no motivation to confirm this. She just stood, glued to the spot, hoping to rewind the past week if she wished hard enough. She felt tears well in her eyes, her heart sunken right to her stomach.

          She hated herself.

          What had she done?

¨. ༢ ͎۪۫ ༊*·˚

troy bolton core