Chapter Text
Paintbrush loves their housemates more than anything, but in their opinion, the fact that they survived the move-in process without killing any of them should earn them a gold star from their therapist.
Fan has about half a million posters and Funko Pops and what have you that he’s very meticulous about having set up the right way, Lightbulb can’t seem to touch anything without breaking it, both of them keep distracting each other with things like bickering about the music choice or showing one another funny Tumblr posts they found, and Baxter keeps trying to “help” in the way that cats do, by getting underfoot or sitting on whatever Paintbrush is trying to use.
Test Tube was actually helpful, when she was here, but she had to leave part way through. The four of them arrived quite early to make sure they’re settled in by the time classes start, and today also happens to be the move-in day for new students. A close family friend of Test Tube’s–basically a sister from another mister, as Test Tube called it–is part of the freshman class, so Test Tube is helping her move in.
Even now that they’re all finished, and on the couch going through texts, they’re not relaxed. Marshmallow is also back early because she’s an RA, and she’s blowing up their phone complaining about one of her residents. Apparently it’s someone who was in the year below her in high school, and they really did not get along for some reason. Paintbrush doesn’t know the full situation, but in their opinion, Marshmallow needs to grow up and actually talk to the person instead of just complaining to them about someone she hasn’t seen in a year. They’re not going to say that of course, because they’re not that much of a dick, but they’re very tempted.
They hear the door open, and immediately jump to their feet, yelling, “DON’T LET BAXTER OUT!” As expected, the furry little escape artist makes a break for the door, but thankfully, one of the people at the door is Test Tube, who knows the drill and scoops Baxter up before he can run for the hills.
“You,” Test Tube tells him, “are a little menace. An absolute jeebweezer, you hear me?”
“He’s a cute jeebweezer, though,” the other person at the door coos, reaching over to stroke Baxter’s head. Paintbrush doesn’t recognize her–she’s small, and dressed almost exclusively in bright pink, to match her fuschia hair that’s tied into long pigtails with ribbon.
“Hey, I don’t think we’ve met,” Paintbrush says. “I’m Paintbrush. You must be Bow. Test Tube’s told us a lot about you.”
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out!” Bow replies cheerily.
Fan wanders in, catches sight of the group, and comes over. “Oh, hey, you two! How’d moving into the dorm go?” He stayed with Test Tube’s family part of the summer, so he’s met Bow before.
“Pretty good, pretty good!” Bow replies. “I really like my roommate, Goo. He’s kinda weird, but so am I, so it works out!” She grins. “Speaking of, don’t you guys have another housemate?”
“Yeah, Lightbulb just left,” Paintbrush tells her. “She has to lead one of the opening week groups.”
Bow’s eyes widen. “Oh shit, I have to go to one of the opening week groups!” She gives Test Tube a quick hug, and then waves to Paintbrush and Fan. “Bye, guys! It was super nice to meet you, Paintbrush!” She rushes off.
“Seems like a good kid,” Paintbrush remarks. “Are you gonna recruit her into stage crew?”
“Oh, naturally,” Test Tube replies. “We’re going to need more hands on deck. I keep getting told I’m nuts for still doing lighting design while double majoring in chemistry and engineering, so I could definitely use some backup to keep me from going even more nuts. Plus, a few crew members graduated or transferred, and what with the big Taco blowup last semester, I doubt she’ll be back.”
“Yeah, and the most important person in our design crew is betraying us!” Fan exclaims, shooting Paintbrush a glare.
Paintbrush rolls their eyes. “I’m not betraying you. I’ve acted in shows before, and you haven’t had a problem. Besides, there’s no guarantee I’ll get in, and if I don’t, I’ll be back with you guys.”
“Oh, you’ll get in,” Fan assures them. “You’re a damn good actor, and Ballpointlikes you, so you’re basically a shoo-in.” He pauses. “Wait, no, not Ballpoint, it’s whoever this new guy is! MePhone, or whatever.” He flops dramatically down on the couch. “Everything’s changing now! What’s happened to the theatre department that we used to have?”
Test Tube lays Baxter down on top of Fan’s chest. “We’ll be fine, Fan. The show must go on, right?”
It takes Bow a bit to find where she’s supposed to meet her opening week group. However, once she gets there she’s the only one, aside from a tall, cheerful-looking girl with a round face, even rounder glasses, and natural hair that’s vibrant yellow and pushed back with a silver headband. She waves at Bow. “Hey, you’re right on time! I’m Lightbulb.”
“I’m Bow. Aren’t you another one of Test Tube’s housemates?”
“Yerp, that’s me! I’m also Painty’s partner, you met them yet?”
“Yeah, I have! They seem nice!” Bow had known beforehand that Paintbrush was nonbinary, and she can’t quite put her finger on why, but she always finds it cool hearing people use singular ‘they’ pronouns. She also notices Lightbulb herself has a trans pin on her jacket, which cheers her up as well. It’s just neat that people are comfortable in their own skin, she thinks.
“How ‘bout the real head of the household, Baxter?” Lightbulb asks.
Bow giggles. “The cat? Yeah, he tried to make a break for it when I got there.”
“Classic Baxter.” Lightbulb glances around, and Bow does too, noticing that the rest of the group has trickled in. “Alright, I should probably get started, now everyone’s here.” She claps her hands to get peoples’ attention. “Alright, hey everyone! My name is Lightbulb, my pronouns are she/her, and I am here to introduce all you wonderful baby bird freshmen to the world of college.”
“Correction,” one student next to Bow jumps in, “not all of us are freshmen. Transfer students, such as myself, are also required to come to these events.”
Lightbulb shoots her a finger gun. “Right you are, my friend whose name I don’t know! Hey, could you get us started with intros?”
“Absolutely. Cabby, she/her pronouns. Nice to meet you all.” She speaks primly, with her chin held high in a manner that matches her very put-together presentation. Her periwinkle hair is perfectly neat, and she’s dressed more like she’s going to a job interview than college. She has a pencil behind her ear and a notebook in hand, and the bag slung across the back of her wheelchair seems to have a plethora of similar notebooks in different colors.
“Okay, wonderful, let’s go this-a-way.” Lightbulb gestures clockwise, which means Bow is next.
“Um, hi, yeah, I’m Bow, and uh, she/her, I guess,” she mumbles, as fast as she can speak intelligibly to get it over with. She doesn’t know why she hates introducing herself, especially with pronouns, it just always feels a little wrong. Whatever. Not a big deal.
The rest of the group go around and introduce themselves as well–Bow learns that the cheerful girl with the butterfly shirt is Clover, the sickly-looking boy is Tissues, the gloomy guy in all dark blue and black is Blueberry, the girl with the southern accent is Hay Bale, and the other two who seem joined at the hip are Clip and Toilet Paper.
Cabby seems to spend the whole time buried in one of her notebooks, writing furiously. She continues this as they set off on a tour around the campus, putting the notebook in her bag when they start moving so she can turn the wheels of her chair, but pulling it back out the second they’re stopped.
Just for the sake of making conversation with someone, Bow taps her on the shoulder. “Whatcha writing?”
Cabby startles a little, but then smiles. “Oh, hello! I just like to keep track of everything I hear, you know? Always good to have things to look back at later.” Clearly, Bow thinks, glancing at Cabby’s bag. There sure are a lot of notebooks. Cabby pulls out one of them to replace the one she has in her hand. “You said your name was Bow, yes?” When Bow nods, Cabby flips a few pages. “You know, I’ve been looking into some of the history of this school, and–”
Bow cuts her off. “Yeah, I know, there was another Bow that went here that supposedly died somewhere in the theatre building, and yes, we are related, she was my aunt, and I was named after her.” She doesn’t mean to be snippy, but she’s gone her entire life being told she looks exactly like her aunt, and it’s only gotten more common as she’s gotten closer to the age she died. Bow would never say so to her family, of course, but she’s kind of sick of it.
“Good to know,” Cabby replies, writing something down. Lightbulb calls for them to follow her again, and Cabby puts her notebook back in her bag. “I was actually interested in getting involved with the theatre department myself, you know. I’ve been talking with the faculty about being a dramaturg for the upcoming production of The Winters’ Tale.”
“Yeah, I wanted to do some tech stuff!” Bow giggles. “I mean, it feels kinda cursed to, like, work in the building where a relative who looks uncannily like me and has my name died. Theatre people have so many superstitions I can’t keep track of them, but that definitely can’t be good luck.” She shrugs. “But my, um…” Bow trails off. She always finds it hard to describe her relationship to Test Tube. ‘Friends’ seems not quite the right word–they’re more like family than anything–but describing them as ‘sisters’ is just incorrect and confusing. “I have a really close family friend I grew up with, Test Tube, who’s been here a few years, and she does tech, so I wanted to do it with her.”
“Well, I’d be happy to work with you!” says Cabby cheerfully. “By the way, what you said about superstitions reminded me, I’ve been doing some preliminary research on the topic of Shakespeare production, and I found out that the infamous Scottish Play superstition is suspected to have come from the fact that Macbeth was so popular in its era that it was often the go-to play that struggling theaters would put on to bring in money, but was also expensive to put on and would also often bankrupt said theaters. Interesting, no?”
“...uh,” is all Bow can think to say.
Cabby laughs. “Oh, look at me, going on. I get so caught up in my ramblings, it slips my mind that not everyone is as much of a nerd as me about these things.”
“No, Test Tube is a big nerd too, so I’m used to it.” Bow laughs as well. “You know, you two would really get along, now I think about it. She’s kinda awkward, but she’s super smart and a great friend if you get to know her. I should introduce you if I get the chance!”
“I’d really like that, actually,” Cabby replies. “Even outside of having just transferred and all, I’m…not always good at making friends, and I want to change that.”
“Well, I don’t see why anyone wouldn’t want to be friends with you,” Bow tells her. “I know I just met you, but I definitely do!”
Cabby smiles and writes something down. “I could say the same to you.”
They chat for the rest of the tour, and Bow can’t help but feel relieved. Between Cabby, and Goo, and all of Test Tube’s housemates, she already has a solid selection of friendly faces here. Maybe this college thing won’t be so hard.
Bow: tt. omg i just met your dream girl
Test Tube: ??? Explain please?
Bow: she was in my opening week group
she’s really smart, it seems like she knows about like literally everything? she has a bunch of notes on all sorts of stuff, she showed me some and theyre really in depth and she sounds just like how you get about your science stuff when she starts talking about something she’s interested in
she’s also like. exactly your type she looks like if you took every girl you’ve ever had a crush on and made them into one person
Test Tube: And just how do you know that?
Bow: bc you’re really bad at hiding when you’re into someone
Test Tube: Fair point. What does she look like, more specifically, though? So I can recognize her if I see her.
Bow: uhhh she has like shortish blue hair and she uses a wheelchair. also she’ll probably have a notebook or smth. her name’s cabby, lmk if you run into her
Test Tube: Will do! Thanks, Bow!
Bow: thank me when youre walking down the aisle
Silver lays the last of his many bags down on the bed and lies down on top of it, staring up at the ceiling and trying to keep his eyes open. It’s 6:30 in the evening, and he knows he should go for dinner before the cafeteria closes, but he’s not hungry at all. His internal clock thinks he’s still across the pond, and is trying its damnedest to convince him it’s the middle of the night rather than dinnertime.
He’s alone in his room for now, but that won’t be the case for long. Of course he did know that applying to special interest housing meant that there was a chance he’d be in a double, and luckily the room does have a division, but in his personal opinion, as an upperclassman, he should have been placed in a single. God forbid his roommate is messy, or annoying, or–
“Well, well, Silver Spoon. This is just like the Renaissance Faire all over again, isn’t it?”
Silver sits bolt upright at the familiar voice. For the past two years he’s been selling the jewelry he makes in his spare time at the school’s Renaissance Faire. And each and every time, he’s been next to a tarot booth run by none other than…
“Candle?” He smooths his hair and straightens his shirt. “Don’t get me wrong, my dear, it’s lovely to see you, but…what are you doing here?”
Candle raises an eyebrow. “I am….moving in? To this room in which I live? Did you not get the email informing you I would be your roommate?”
“Ah. Perhaps my inbox ate it.”
“Perhaps,” Candle replies with a shrug. “I’m mostly just surprised his highness would deign to live on campus with us plebeians.”
She’s baiting him, and he doesn’t want to go for it, but he’s too tired to think of anything to say other than, “Well, outside of tuition and necessities, I’ve been mostly cut off, so having my own house isn’t really an option.” Oops. A bit too much for someone he’s barely ever talked to outside of Ren Faire, but there’s no taking it back now.
Candle’s brow furrows, and Silver braces for too many personal questions about his family life, but instead, she simply says, “You don’t look well, Silver.”
“I don’t feel well,” he admits. “I only just got in a few days ago, and it’s 2:30 in the morning in London. I was waiting for you to arrive so I could get some sleep.”
“That’s a terrible idea,” Candle replies. “If you sleep and eat when your body wants you to, you’ll never get used to the time difference. Have you had any dinner?”
“No,” Silver grumbles, curling up on his side. He knows she’s right, that he should eat, but his stomach is killing him.
“Perfect! You go get some food, and some natural light, which will help your body adjust, and I get some space to unpack.”
Silver sits back up. “Are you kicking me out? You can’t do that! I live here too!”
“It will benefit the both of us,” Candle replies, rolling one of her bags into her room. “But yes, I am.”
Silver groans and pulls himself to his feet, wobbling a little but catching himself. His eyes are so bleary he can barely tie his shoes, but somehow he makes it out the door.
He certainly still wishes he got a single, but…it could be worse, right?
Microphone is trying her best to listen to her gender studies professor explaining the syllabus for the semester, but there’s a girl across the room who just will not stop staring at her.
It’s not an “I have a crush on you and I’m trying to suss out if you’re interested in women” type stare–it’s more, “I’m trying to figure out if I can take you in a fight” type stare. It’s very disconcerting.
Mic comforts herself with the fact that Scary Girl probably could not take her in a fight–she’s at least a whole head shorter than Mic. She isn’t very intimidating-looking in other respects, either, with chin-length blond hair and a smattering of freckles that read more as cartoon character than ax murderer. Her dress sense is what really makes her stand out–business casual meets early aughts Hot Topic, complete with, of all things, a bright green hat modeled after that little robot guy in Invader Zim. Having someone who looks like that staring daggers at you for a full hour and a half is, needless to say, distracting.
So distracting, in fact, that Mic doesn’t notice that the professor has dismissed them until she sees the people around her getting up. When she does, she slings her bag over her shoulder and hurries out the door.
It takes her until she’s already out of the building and en route back to her dorm that she realizes someone has fallen into step beside her.
It’s Scary Girl. Shit.
Microphone might as well try to be friendly, on the off chance this girl isn’t an ax murderer, so she asks, “Do you live in this direction too?” When Scary Girl nods, Mic adds, “My name’s Microphone, by the way. Most people call me Mic, though. What about you?”
Silence. Maybe she didn’t hear or understand the question. Mic can’t fault her for that. She still sometimes has to remind her friends that they need to face her when they speak, because her hearing aids aren’t magic and she still has to read their lips to understand them. So she taps Scary Girl on the shoulder and, once she has her attention, repeats the question. Still nothing–Scary Girl just turns away and keeps walking.
“Ooookay,” Mic says slowly. “Not much of a talker, are you?”
Shrug.
“Well, I definitely am, so do you mind if I talk while we walk?”
Head shake.
“Is that no, you don’t mind, or no, you do mind?”
Scary Girl holds up one finger to indicate the former.
Mic breathes a sigh of relief. Talking always helps her relieve anxiety. “So, yeah, like I said, I’m Microphone. I’m a sophomore, and I haven’t officially declared yet, but I think I’m definitely gonna major in music. I like trying a bunch of different things, though. Like, I haven’t taken a gender studies class before now, but it seemed cool, so I was like, what the hell, why not, y’know? And I’m thinking I’m gonna audition for the main theatre department play this semester, ‘cause my best friend and roommate did a lot of theatre last year and she said–whoa, are you okay?”
Scary Girl has stopped in her tracks, and her expression is unreadable, but it’s not good. It’s somewhere between frustration and distress, with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Whatever it is, she shakes it off after a second and keeps walking. Mic wants to ask more questions, but she doubts she’ll get a response, and anyways, they’re at the door of the building.
Mic turns towards the stairs, but Scary Girl turns the other direction, unlocks one of the dorm room doors, and slams it shut before Mic can say, “Oh, okay, bye…?”
Before going back to her own room, she goes back to the door and glances at the name. Taco. Huh, okay.
As she walks upstairs, Mic decides she’ll ask Soap about Taco. Taco did seem to have a reaction when Mic mentioned the theatre department. Maybe Soap knows what’s going on there.
When she gets to their shared divided double, though, Soap isn’t in the front room. (Excited as they both had been to share a room, they also both knew an undivided room was a disaster waiting to happen. Call it the neurodivergent oil-and-water effect–Mic’s ADHD thrives on a kind of controlled chaos that Soap’s OCD certainly does not.)
Mic waits around for a bit, but eventually she figures she might as well get started on some homework. By the time Soap gets back, she’s completely forgotten about what she wanted to tell her in the first place.
“How’s it goin’, mate?”
Baseball jumps, dropping the pencil he’s been using to fill out his audition form. “Man, Floory, you’ve gotta stop doing that. You’re gonna give someone a fucking heart attack one of these days.”
“Well, hello to you too.” Floory flops down next to Baseball on the comfy lobby couch, who picks up the pencil and gets back to work on the form.
After a moment, he asks, “Why are you even here? You’re always on crew, unless you’re having a senior crisis."
Floory shrugs. “Nope, no crises here. Just wanted to see who we’re looking at here.” He glances around. “Lotta familiar faces here–you, OJ, Lightbulb et cetera–but a lot of new people too. Mostly freshmen, I’m assuming, but I’ve seen that punk looking girl hanging out with Soap, the girl with purple hair was in my psych class two semesters ago, and I think I’ve seen that buff blond guy around campus.”
Baseball follows where Floory is indicating. “Ugh, Trophy? He sucks. Me, him and Knife were on the track team together last year, and he and Knife had some kinda beef, so to retaliate Trophy tried to out him.”
Floory raises an eyebrow. “I…wasn’t aware Knife was in the closet last year.”
“That’s the funny thing, he really wasn’t!” Baseball laughs. “Everyone was like, ‘uh, yeah, we know.’ But obviously everyone who hadn’t already realized what an asshole Trophy is, because seriously, who the hell does that?”
“Yikes,” Floory mutters. He opens his mouth to add something, but his attention is caught by a girl who’s suddenly standing next to them. “Oh, hey, what’s up?”
“Um, hi, is this the right place for auditions?” The girl’s face is the classic ‘lost freshman’ expression turned up to eleven. Everything about her seems to be an attempt to make herself unseen, from her curled-inward posture to her clothes in all shades of brown other than a few gold accents on her hijab and skirt. She’s also shaking like a leaf. Poor kid.
“Yep, this is the place!” Floory tells her. “Fancy meeting another Aussie here! I’m Floory, and this is Baseball.”
“I’m Suitcase, nice to meet you.” She smiles shyly. “So, do you know what I’m supposed to do, or…?”
“All you gotta do,” Floory explains, “is fill out an audition form, and then when it’s your turn, MePhone will call your name and you’ll go in and do the piece you prepared, and then at some point you’ll get an email if you get a callback.”
Suitcase’s eyes widen, and she sinks down on the couch with a groan. “Oh no! I didn’t prepare anything.” She pulls her knees to her chest, looking like she’s about to cry. “I don’t know why I even wanted to do this. I can’t speak in front of people without going into a panic anyways. I just wanted to meet people, and–”
“Hey, don’t worry!” Floory interrupts. “You know, you don’t have to act to get involved. We over on the tech side can always use more people.” That gets Suitcase’s attention, and she looks over with wide eyes.
“Yeah!” Baseball adds. “My friend Nickel is doing scenic design this year, and he could definitely use an assistant.”
“Nickel?” Floory repeats. “You’re going to feed this poor innocent baby lamb to the wolves?” Suitcase opens her mouth like she’s going to protest against the “poor innocent baby lamb” comment, but closes it again.
“He’s not–” Baseball grumbles, but then sighs. “Ignore that, Suitcase. Nickel is…abrasive for sure, but he’s not bad once you get to know him.” Maybe he should have a more glowing review for his best friend, but yeah, Floory’s kinda right, Nickel can be a lot.
Suitcase sniffles, blinks, and smiles. “Thanks, guys. I’ll see you around.” She stands up, straightening her skirt before walking off.
Things go on as they do—auditions, callbacks, offers are sent and accepted, prospective crew are contacted, and eventually, the final cast and crew lists are sent out. Which means, of course, the Bright Lights household has to convene for a gossip session.
Lightbulb marches into Fan’s room with Paintbrush and Test Tube in tow, flops down on the bed, and declares, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. By which I mean emails, obviously.”
Paintbrush rolls their eyes as they sit next to her. “Jesus, Lightbulb, are you in college or middle school?”
Test Tube laughs, sitting next to Fan and leaning against him. Inane as it is, she has to admit, their goofy little tradition makes her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “You guys first. Let’s see that cast list.”
“Alright, we’re starting out strong with–” Paintbrush tosses their hair and strikes a pose, “--yours truly as Leontes.” The rest of them let out a little cheer–they already knew, obviously, because Paintbrush told everyone as soon as they got the offer, but they’re all so proud.
“Next up we have Candle as Hermione, okay, she’s cool as far as I know, and–ugh, Silver Spoon as Polixenes.”
Lightbulb nudges their shoulder. “You’re gonna have to learn to be civil with him, Painty. Teamwork makes the dream happen, as they say.”
“First of all, they don’t,” Paintbrush says. “Second, I’ll be civil with him when he’s civil with me. He’s a complete stuck-up prick who thinks he’s above everyone. He’s never once been to strike, which is, like, the number one indicator of a complete douchebag actor.”
“Eh, at least you get to try to have him poisoned. Okeydoke, moving on.” Lightbulb scrolls on her phone for a second. “Uh, Soap as Perdita–makes sense, she’s pretty good–and OJ as Florizel.”
“Ooooh, Salt’s gonna be jealous,” Fan singsongs.
“Let’s see, Balloon as Camillo, sounds good, sounds good…Microphone as Paulina, who I think is a friend of Soap’s…some girl called Lightbulb is playing Autolycus, don’t know who that is!” She winks. “Baseball is the Shepherd, Cheesy is the Clown, and Clover, she’s a freshman this year, is Antigonus–”
“Huh, really?” Paintbrush interrupts. “I overheard some of her audition, and she’s, like, really good. That seems like a smaller role than I would’ve expected.”
“Funny you say that,” Lightbulb says, “she was in my opening week group, and we got to talking about theatre. She says she just likes going for smaller roles anyway.”
Paintbrush looks down at their phone. “Okay, then there’s a few more people playing smaller ensemble-type roles. Salt and Pepper, Trophy–ew, I hate that guy–Tissues, who I think is Soap’s younger brother, and Apple, who I’m pretty sure is the freshman Marshmallow has beef with, so that’s gonna be…interesting. Oh, and Mamillius is someone named Cherries, who has the same last name as Apple, so given that Apple’s from in town like Marshmallow is, presumably that’s, like her kid brother.” They glance up at Fan and Test Tube. “Your turn! Who’ve you got on tech?”
Test Tube gestures to Fan to begin–she knows he lives for this kind of stuff.
“Okay,” he mumbles, pulling up the email. “So first of all, we’ve got this new MePhone guy directing, and everything’s gonna be different and weird but it’s–” he breathes in sharply through his nose, “--fine. At least the rest of the faculty is the same–Tea Kettle for costumes, Lifering for scenic. We’ve got MePad stage managing, and Floory as ASM, and then there’s another ASM I don’t know, Toilet. And then, of course, the amazing Fan and Test Tube as sound and lighting designers, respectively, with Bow doing lightboard op and her roommate Goo doing soundboard op.”
“And they’re going to be kind of like Fan’s and my assistants throughout the whole process,” Test Tube jumps in, because she needs it to be acknowledged that Bow is going to be doing cool stuff. “Sorry, Fan, continue.”
“Knife and Marshmallow on scenic design, Nickel is the props master with Suitcase, who I also don’t know, as assistant props master, Paper on costume design, Pickle and Bomb are spot operators, and Yin-Yang and Blueberry are run crew. I don’t know either of them, I guess they’re probably freshmen. Oh, and we have a dramaturg this year! Her name’s Cabby, I don’t know her either.”
Test Tube doesn’t mean to make a little squeaky noise, but she does, and now everyone is looking at her. Wonderful.
Lightbulb raises an eyebrow. “She was in my opening week group too, but I didn’t know you’d met her, Test Tube!”
“No, we haven’t met,” Test Tube sighs, “but Bow knows her, and…I guess I should just show you this.” She pulls up her conversation with Bow and hands it to Fan. The others crowd around to read it, and break into giggles.
Test Tube rolls her eyes. “It’s not that funny.”
Paintbrush snorts. “Well, I guess you’re gonna find out whether she really is your dream girl pretty soon, since we have a cast and crew meeting literally in half an hour.”
Test Tube goes back to her email, and sure enough, there’s a new one from MePhone telling them to meet in the design classroom at seven. She shoots her friends a death glare. “You guys have gotta promise me you’re gonna be normal, right? I don’t want to be caught up in any drama because you’re being all weird about her.”
“C’mon, Tube, when have we ever not been normal?” Lightbulb asks, with a grin that borders on maniacal.
This is going to be a nightmare.
The thought keeps going through Test Tube’s head for the next half hour, until she finally has to reluctantly make the short trek with her friends to the theater building. When they get there, a few people are already seated around the table. One of them is Bow, who is in deep conversation with–
The first thing Test Tube can think is, oh wow, she was right.
She doesn’t know exactly what it is, but something about Cabby’s clean-cut appearance juxtaposed with the way she’s leaning on the table and clearly very excited about whatever she’s explaining is undeniably attractive to Test Tube. So much so that she’s frozen in place until Bow glances up. “Oh, hey! Cabby, this is Test Tube, Fan, and Paintbrush! You’ve already met Lightbulb, of course.”
“Wonderful to meet you! I’ve heard great things from Bow about all of you. Especially you, Test Tube!”
Test Tube tries to formulate a response, but she’s immediately sidetracked by Cabby’s eyes. She doesn’t normally notice people’s eye color–she’s always thought of that as something that people only do in the fanfics Fan sends her, not real life–but Cabby’s are something else. Test Tube can’t quite put a finger on what she’d call the color, maybe somewhere between hazel and copper, but whatever it is, it’s beautiful. Trying to get herself to snap to, she shifts her gaze to Cabby’s nose instead, but that’s no less distracting, because it’s covered in the cutest little freckles.
She forces herself to say something rather than just staring, but maybe that’s a bad idea, because what comes out is, “Yeah, I’ve heard good things about me as well! I mean, uh, I’ve good heard things–golly, I really can’t talk today, huh?”
Thankfully, Fan jumps in to save her just in time. “Hey, I really like all the pins on your bag! I’ve got, like, a million stickers on my laptop, so we’re kinda twinning!” He gets his laptop out of his backpack to show her.
“Wow, that is a lot of stickers,” Cabby muses. “Definitely an interesting selection. Fan, I hope I’m not being too forward in saying this, but looking at those stickers and considering what they say about your interests, may I say that…I like your shoelaces?”
To Test Tube, it seems like an innocuous question, if a confusing one–Fan’s shoelaces are plain white, and rather beat up at that. Fan, however, doesn’t seem to take it as such, sighing like he’s just lost years off his life. “Thanks, I…stole them from the president,” he replies through gritted teeth. “My URL’s inanimateinsanityfan, what about you?”
“Oh, I haven't touched it since high school,” Cabby replies. “I was just curious how you’d react.” She pulls out a notebook and writes something in it, giggling a little.
Test Tube is about to ask what on earth language the two of them are speaking, but MePhone gets their attention. “Okay, everyone, I guess we have to get started if we want to go home before stupid o’clock at night. We’re gonna have a presentation from our dramaturg, and then go into the table read. Designers, you should probably be taking notes and thinking about what you might want to do. Or don’t, I guess, but it’s your funeral if you have more work for yourself later on. Up to you.”
Test Tube isn’t sure she likes the vibe MePhone is bringing to the room, but the thought disappears as soon as he says, “Okay, take it away, Cabby,” and Cabby rolls to the front of the room and begins her presentation.
Test Tube has never had much of an interest in Shakespearean history, but Cabby just makes it so captivating. She’s clearly so invested in what she’s talking about, and Test Tube is transfixed by every gesture. She could watch Cabby forever, but unfortunately, the presentation does eventually end and they move on to the table read. Test Tube barely hears a word, flipping between staring unseeingly at her script to look like she’s doing her job and sneaking glances at Cabby. Bow really was right–she’s never had a crush this intense before, especially at first sight.
She’s so out of it that it takes Fan shaking her shoulder to notice the meeting is over. “Hey, uh, we’re going home now.” His mouth is quirked up in the corner, as though he knows exactly where her mind’s been for the past few hours.
“Yeah, I’m just gonna run to the bathroom,” Test Tube manages to say. “You guys don’t have to wait for me.”
Once Test Tube is in the bathroom, she just stares at herself in the mirror, taking deep breaths. “Get a grip, Test Tube,” she mumbles. “If you can balance two separate STEM majors without losing your mind, you can handle a silly little crush.”
She stays there for a minute, then starts to go back out into the lobby. Before she turns the corner, though, she realizes she can hear someone talking, and when she glances out, she realizes it’s Cabby. She doesn’t want to eavesdrop, per se, but she’s too embarrassed to walk in now, so there she stays.
“No, I know I should call him,” Cabby sighs into the phone. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him, he’s just, you know–” She chuckles darkly. “Yes, ‘helicopter parent’ is exactly the term I would use. I understand why, I just…I hate feeling like I’m not trusted. I know that’s not fair, because I barely even trust my own brain, it’s just, I’m not a child anymore, and this won’t be freshman year all over again. The professors here have been more accommodating to my needs, and the students are…kinder.” She listens for a minute. “No, I haven’t. There are definitely people I would consider friends, or at least potential friends, but nobody I’d trust to tell about that. I don’t need to be dumping all my baggage on these people I just met.”
Speaking of baggage–to Test Tube’s horror, her grip on her backpack unintentionally loosens, and it falls to the ground with a clatter. She hears Cabby pause as she hastily scoops it up.
“Alright, I have to go now,” Cabby finally continues. “But thank you for calling, Cork. I’ll talk to you soon.” She pauses for a second again, and then laughs a little as she says, “Love you too.” Then after a few more seconds: “Hello again, Test Tube. I suppose you heard all of that phone call?”
Test Tube is utterly mortified, but she has no choice other than to walk out into the lobby. Cabby isn’t visibly disappointed–her face is almost entirely neutral, her eyebrows just slightly raised inquisitively. Somehow that just makes Test Tube more nervous. “Uh, no, not all of it. Just the last few minutes. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, by the way. I just, um…” She doesn’t have an end to that sentence, so she just trails off awkwardly.
“Oh, it’s no big deal,” Cabby promises. “I can’t say I’ve never stuck my nose where it doesn’t belong before.” She laughs–a warm, hearty laugh that makes Test Tube’s stomach tingle. “I was just talking to my younger sister, Cork. She’s just started eighth grade.”
“Golly, good luck to her,” Test Tube says with a shudder. “Middle school is such a nightmare. What I wouldn’t give to completely erase those years from my brain, huh?”
Cabby goes tense for a second, something flickering over her face, but it passes so quickly Test Tube figures she might have imagined it. “I don’t know, I think Cork is tough enough to make it through unscathed. Maybe I’m just biased, though.”
A weird energy lingers in the air, and Test Tube feels the need to say something to break it. “So, uh, what are you majoring in, do you know?”
“History and English,” Cabby replies. “The humanities have always been some of my favorite subjects, so it just seemed natural.”
“Oh hey, another double major!” Test Tube says cheerily.
“Yes, although I’m certainly not going for–” she extracts a notebook from her bag and flips through it to find a page, “--chemistry and engineering, is I believe what Bow said you do?”
Test Tube blinks. “You have stuff about me in there?”
“Of course I do. I try to keep a record of anything that catches my interest, and you do nothing if not catch my interest.”
Test Tube doesn’t even know where to begin with that, but her crush is just getting bigger and bigger with every word Cabby says and every thing she does. She decides to take the conversation back a couple of steps to safer ground. “So, is studying history and English how you got into dramaturgy?”
“Mm-hmm,” Cabby hums. “I’ve always wanted to try it, so I’m excited to get the opportunity. How about you? What brought you to lighting design?”
“I took a tech theatre class freshman year just to get a fine arts credit out of the way, and I kinda ended up falling in love with it,” Test Tube explains. “It’s like–I’m coding, and working with machines, and all that stuff I’m good at, and I can use that to help make a work of art. I think that’s kinda neato.”
“I agree,” Cabby says, and writes something down in her notebook.
Test Tube is snapped out of her romantic daze by feeling her phone buzz in her pocket. She glances at it–it’s a text from Lightbulb that reads, “yo tt where are you did you die? If you did can i have yr room”
Test Tube sighs. “I guess I should get home so my housemates don’t think you murdered me or something.”
“Oh, please. If I wanted to murder you, they’d never trace it back to me.” She attempts to wink, but doesn’t quite pull it off, accidentally closing her other eye as well. She’s so adorably nonthreatening that Test Tube can’t help but giggle, and Cabby joins her.
“So, uh, I’ll probably see you soon,” Test Tube says awkwardly.
To her surprise, Cabby takes her hand in a firm handshake. “See you, Test Tube. It was lovely to meet you.”
Test Tube doesn’t trust herself to talk, given how much Cabby’s touch is making her brain explode, so the two of them exit the theater together in silence before heading out in different directions.
Test Tube is in a daze the whole walk back to her house–when she gets there, Paintbrush and Lighbulb are watching something in Paintbrush’s room, but Fan’s door is slightly ajar. Test Tube enters without knocking and flops onto his bed.
“Whoa, what’s with you?” Fan asks, poking her gently.
Test Tube sighs. “She’s exactly as perfect as Bow says she is. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”
Fan cocks his head. “You know you have to tell me everything about her now, right? It’s codified into the law of being best friends. I’m sending you to friend jail if you don’t.”
“What, exactly, would friend jail entail?”
“You have to listen to me explain the entire history of Dr. Who.”
Test Tube doesn’t actually mind listening to Fan infodump about whatever it is he’s into–she enjoys it, honestly–but she still scoots up next to him and begins explaining her conversation with Cabby from earlier. Even just going back over it, she feels like she’s crushing harder the more she tells.
When she goes back to her own room, she notices she has a text.
Unknown Number: Hi again, Test Tube.
Test Tube: I’m sorry, who is this? I don’t have you in my contacts.
Unknown Number: My apologies, I should have clarified right away. This is Cabby.
Test Tube: Oh, hey, Cabby. How’d you get my number?
Cabby: It was on the department contact sheet.
Test Tube: Oh right, yeah.
Cabby: So, how are you spending this fine evening?
Test Tube: Engineering homework while hanging out with Lightbulb’s cat.
[A picture of Test Tube with Baxter curled up against her chest.]
Cabby: How cute!
The cat, I mean.
Test Tube: Wow, okay, rude :)
I take it you’re a cat person, then?
Cabby: My heart says yes, but my immune system says no.
Test Tube: Aw, that’s too bad!
Cabby: It’s not too bad of an allergy, thankfully. Hives, sneezing, runny nose and eyes, what have you, but not anaphylaxis or anything like that. If I take my medicine I’m fine being around other people’s cats with little to no discomfort.
Test Tube: So if you hypothetically wanted to come meet Baxter at some point, you could?
Cabby: Hm, perhaps, hypothetically.
Test Tube: Actually the four of us have a tradition on Halloween of watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show together. This year Bow wants to come too. Would you be interested in coming over?
Cabby: Sounds like a lot of fun! I don’t have any other Halloween plans.
Test Tube: Great, it’s a date!
Friend date. Thing we’re doing as friends.
Cabby: I’ll put it on my calendar now.
I’ll let you get back to your homework/cat time now. Have a good night.
Test Tube: Night!