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Look Less Dead (M, another Ross story)


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Hi all. :) I must have scribbled out this small thing ages ago, but what the heck. I thought I’d share it anyway. Hope you like.

Happy New year!

~Sky

 

Look Less Dead  (REHEARSAL TAPES - APRIL)

 

Trees must hate theatre. ‘Damn, you too?’

 

 “Hihh...” Ross sniffled eagerly and gave his nose another rub. He wrinkled it and wiggled it, but the itch seemed to only grow. “*snf!snf!* Ehhhh.... *ssnff!*”

 

 “You good, Ross?” Andy questioned after a bit.

 

 “Yeah, I’m fine.” He replied, fingering absentmindedly at his nose. “H-hhuh... Huh’TSCHHIEWW!! *sssnff!* *ahem* Oh. Scuse be.”

 

 “Allergies?”

 

 “Yeah,” Ross sighed. “*sddrf**ahem*”

 

 “Alright guys!” Andy handed Tina, the short choreographer, a handheld mic. “Wassup- ooh.” She held the microphone away from her face and after a moment of feedback, continued. “Alright. So, today we are working on, number one: the opening number. Then the dream sequences. I think-“ she covered the mic with her hand. Ross saw her ask Helen something and she nodded. “Yeah, that’s all we have time for. So, everyone, onstage.”

 

 Andy sauntered up from stage right, followed by Ross and the other dancers. The dancers arranged themselves into rows, each spaced out as to create windows. Ross was fixated on rubbing his nose, which was still utterly ticklish. Unable to make a difference in the hay fever-induced itch, he ceased and sunk his hands into his pockets. 

 

 “Can we see what we have so far?”

 

 Lights out. Ross and the rest of the standing dancers stood with their heads down, arms hanging by their sides.

 

 The opening number began with dozens of morning alarms. A clever way to begin the caricature of a day in the busy metropolitan work life. A sharp brass note, and Ross arms took position. Rest. Another note, and they took another position. “Good morning...” A radio broadcaster greeted. The alarm beeps doubled, piling on rings, beeps, chirps, whirring and buzzing all at once, growing louder and louder. As they did, the dancers on the floor slowly uncurled themselves like blooming flowers, yawning and stretching. A sharp brass note took the band into the next vamp. 

 

 “Wait!!” Tina hollered.

 

 Cue the silence.

 

 “That part where the all the alarms are going off, I want to see contrast, you all need to be moving in unison. Okay, except for the stretching. But some of you guys were late on the - ‘dah!’ part.”

 

 Out of the corner of his eye, Andy saw Ross turn his back to the audience and double over with two powerful, but muffled sneezes into the crook of his arm.

 

 “Bless you!” chirped Steve, to his left.

 

 “Dude, you good?”

 

 “*snnff* Yeah.” In the blinding light, it was easy to see the tinges of red around Ross’ glassy eyes. Not to mention the cherry red nose, which seemed to be having a number of its own.

 

 “Sure?”

 

 The beeping started once more. Ross’ arms dropped to his sides, and Andy said nothing. Again, the alarms crescendoed into sensory overload, accompanied by trumpets and woodwinds, until it reached the brass pop. 

 

 “-and pose!”

 

Dah-dah-dah-dah. Cue percussion. “Good!! Keep it up next time!”

 

Enter Man #1:

 

“Tumble outta bed and I stumble to the kitchen....” 

 

Enter Woman #1:

 

“Pour myself a cup of ambition....”

 

Ross sniffled harshly, turning and posing. In perfect unison - except for Steve’s foot, Ross heard - the dancers hopped and made the action of hearts beating in their chest. The music was lighthearted and catchy, and although the words weren’t all too uplifting, somehow it sure felt refreshing to swing into the beat with what energy students possessed at the end of the day.

 

All the males exited stage, and the girls filed into two perfect rows, bouncing to the music.

 

Enter Jillian. Violet:

 

 “My two lives have got me hopping, dawn til midnight, there’s no stopping! Don’t know which I’m mothering the most!”

 

 Jillian’s shimmering vibrato filled the auditorium. Ross nearly tripped over the pulley to the blue curtains, stumbling into place for the next entry.

 

 “ESSSHHIEWW!! *snf* huh, huhh....” The sneeze was completely drowned out in the slamming of piano notes, and the backstage vocals, huddled around a few handhelds. Ross panted briefly and straightened up, watching Jillian’s solo from the wings.

 

 “Bless you.” Whispered Finn.

 

 “N’nGNKtch!!-ieww... Thagks. *sdf*”

 

 There was the sound of a voice yelling, the music stopped. “Wait, wait wait wait.”

 

 “My Violet girls, I thought we went over this!” Tina snapped.

 

 Ross sighed and sniffled. He ran his fingers through his thick black hair. It was a moment before he realized that Nick, the scrawny sophomore guy who entered before him in the next bit, was staring at him in the darkness.

 

 “What?” Ross finally said, the hoarseness of his voice suddenly occurring to him without the loudness of the band.

 

 “Nothing.” The guy said, becoming self-aware. Then, hands in his pockets, he turned back to Ross. “Your eyes look a bit puffy.”

 

 “Ah.” Great. Awesome, Ross thought, with a harsh, congested sniffle. “Yeah, it’s nothig, don’t worry about it.” He pivoted a little and pulled the hem of his t-shirt over his nose. “Hihh’TSCHieww!! *sdff!*” A little embarrassed, he managed to gain composure and face Nick. “It’s just by allergies.” He said stuffily, running his fingers back through his hair.

 

 “Aw. Bless you.”

 

 “Thagk you.”

 

 “Again, let’s begin from Violet’s part!”

 

 “My two lives have got me hoppin’...”

 

 Across at stage right, Andy was doing the mask off dance. Ross mirrored him, making a few girls backstage giggle.

 

 “Dawn til midnight, there’s no stoppin’! Don’t know which I’m mothering the most....”

 

“Two, three, four!”

 

“Pack his lunch and kiss my son, and grab my purse and I keep running, got so much on my plate, I could choke! Working nine to five-“

 

“Kick, and one, two, wrists!” 

 

 Violet’s solo finished and next came Doralee’s. As the music faded into a lighter country bounce, Ross hurried on next to Mona, his partner. With wide smiles plastered to their faces, they joined hands and ducked beneath each other’s arms, swapping places. The guys held their partners’ left hand and took a knee, as they twirled around in front of them.

 

“Nine to-“ -three, four, five six seven eight, and lift-

 

“You and I-“ “you and I,” -six, seven eight-

 

“They can’t, keep us down,” -six, seven, eight-

 

Mona, a pretty girl with curls that sprung to life in a dance routine, was a girl Ross had known since freshman year. They had nearby home rooms, which meant their lockers were usually nearby. The guys all seemed to fancy her, hanging around all the time after school before volleyball practice started. Ross could admit, she was quite good-looking. Alright, she was fine. Hell, she was the kind of girl you’d see straight out of Riverdale, heels and hoops and a hell of a jawline. Once she slammed that locker shut, all you’d be breathing in was the delicious smell of her vanilla perfume.

 

“You hold on to me, we’ll-“

 

As she threw her arms around Ross’ shoulders for the lift, he caught a full inhale of her gorgeous scent. Sweet and warm, like cinnamon and freshly baked cookies. However nice, this only caused the annoying allergy itch lingering in his nostrils to grow sporadically. His sensitive nostrils twitched. Not now. Not on stage. Most importantly, not on her-

 

“Tell ‘em where to shove it!”

 

Good. Solo over. They dashed offstage.

 

Ross stumbled further backstage. He raised his elbow to his face, narrowly dodging the other dancers in the dark. “Hihh, hihhh...” Fuck’s sake, come on... “Ighhh....” Finally, he snapped forward with a violent triple. “HRRISCCHHh!! HihY’ESSCHHIEWW!! EESCHHIUU!!” Afterwards, he blinked and sniffled wetly, winded from the force of the sneezes. A few people blessed him, giggling. He grinned along, red-cheeked, aware of how his allergies weren’t new to any of the cast members.

 

“Bless you.” Helen said from one corner.

 

The music had stopped once again.

 

“Doralee peeps, where are you?!” Tina bellowed. The dancers crept back onstage. Ross stepped into the limelight, bracing for impact. “Alright you guys,” Tina paused. Ross squinted through the warm yellow rays of light - the look on her face was almost indiscernible. “You guys need to look less dead.” Ross felt his shoulders deflate. He put his hands on his hips, and sniffed. “This is a huge number, I need more energy. Especially for Doralee, because she’s our little ray of sunshine here.”

 

Uh-huh, Ross thought. He shaded his eyes and looked over at Jessica upstage, who was holding hands with Quentin. She daintily tossed her auburn hair over her shoulder, looking impatient. Ross redirected his gaze over to Tina.

 

“I know y’all are tired. What do you say we take five? You guys go grab some water.”

 

 Jillian yawned. She checked the time on her phone: 4:27. She looked up. The others had gone to take a break. Too tired to get up, she enjoyed the peace and quiet backstage behind the black curtains. That was, until-

 

 “Hah’ESSHHIEWW!!” Enter Ross, bending double with an uncovered, harsh explosion. Jillian startled, looking up from scrolling on her phone. “*ssnfff* heaaACK’TCHIEWW!! Hih! Hehhkt’TSCHHIUU!! *snnrff*” Ross, unaware that he wasn’t alone, doubled forward with another forceful sneeze. And another. 

 

 He sniffled wetly several times. Jillian’s heart sank as he let out a soft moan or sigh, using the hem of his shirt to dab at allergic tears.

 

 “Hey.” 

 

It was Ross’ turn to jump, watery-eyed and dazed. “Oh, Jilliad, I did’t see you there.” He sniffled again, harshly. 

 

“Bless you. Are you okay?”

 

Ross sniffled wetly a few times. Her boredness had shifted into concern, but moreover amazement, at how he was able to perform, well - like that.

 

 “Yeah, I’m good. Hay fever is kicking mby ass....” he trailed off breathily. “Hhet’CHIEWW!! *sndff* Jesus.”

 

“Bless you.”

 

“Thagk you. Ugh. Gross.” Ross’ nostrils twitched with another sniffle. His eyes narrowed, staring upward, captured with the unrelenting need to sneeze. “I- hhhh....” he started talking through hitching breaths. “J-just- ohhh, I have to sdeeze.” He stood with one hand at the ready, guarding a face full of pre-sneeziness. Finally, the boy exploded with a triple, each sounding unique but equally desperate. “Heh’ASSHHHh!! Heh’ISCHHhh!! *sdf* heh! Huhhh, huh- Huh’TCHIEWW!!” Ross coughed, and gave a weak chuckle, looking somewhat defeated by his allergies. The way he looked, frustrated but careless, vulnerable and alone, as Jillian rarely ever saw him, was something else. One corner of her lip perked up, as sympathy tightened around her heart.

 

“Bless you again.”

 

“Ughh... Just stop already,” he moans, rubbing at one eye. He sits on the couch planted backstage right, on the half that wasn’t covered in old fashioned telephones. Jillian could’ve sworn she’d seen a tiny plume of dust puff into the air from the old couch as he plopped down.

 

She coughed and fanned the air. “Oh, you might not wanna sit there.”

 

Like water to a hydrophobic substance, Ross popped right off the couch cushions and started pacing again, this time rubbing fiercely at his nose. “You’re- Hih’NXGkk!-juhh... probably right - HETCHSHHHhh!!”

 

They opted to go sit on the edge of the apron, waiting for the dancers to come back. Jillian batted at the back of Ross’ sweatshirt to get rid of the dust that had clung to it.

 

“Ok. You’re good.”

 

“Thanks... *snff*” Ross’ sniffles were all that broke the tired silence. 

 

“You alright, Ramirez?” She asked slowly. Jillian’s voice was gentle, a bit of a contrast from what he’d faced that day. He blinked his itchy eyes, and raised one sleeve to dry up any moisture. He was quiet for a moment, and his appearance said it all, but then:

 

“Yeah, I’m good.” He persisted.

 

Jillian felt the urge to laugh or to interject, something to acknowledge the fact that he was clearly suffering, but then she realized what good it would do anyway. What a stupid question. Why ask? Besides, there wasn’t much she could do now - was there? Her train of thought was cut off by a sudden “-oof!” and a nudge to her side. When she looked up, there was Andy, one arm slung around Ross’ shoulders.

 

“‘Sup Joe?” He greeted with a sort of shit-eating grin. Ross gave a flushed smile. 

 

“Nothig, *sdnnf* just sort of, trying ndot to perish y’know.” Ross scoffed congestedly and then sniffled harshly.

 

A few close others heard and either smirked or grimaced, sitting around the apron of the stage until break time was over. Ross eventually escaped Andy’s headlock of death to cough up his lungs, of course making a show of it to play it off as no big deal around the others. Because, that’s just how it works, Jillian thought. The show must go on. And, as they say, anything that can go wrong will go wrong. But, the grind never stops.

 

‘They just use your mind, and they never give you credit. It’s enough to drive you crazy if you let it.’

 

~~~

 

Thats all, folks. Happy Holidays! xxx

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