The sun is just beginning to crawl over the horizon, coloring the sky a bright blue when Shane meets Violet the next day. It’s 6:00 a.m. and Shane has just finished closing the bar. When Violet arrives at their meeting spot with dark circles under her eyes, and in the same shirt as yesterday, his mind is made up. “I’m quitting, for real,” he tells her, shouldering his backpack.

Violet barely casts a glance at him, already making her way down the street. This early in the morning, downtown Brooklyn is serene, nearly empty, except for a few early birds. “No way,” she says, now several feet away from him.

Shane stares at her back for a little too long, surprised by her insistence, before he realizes she’s ahead of him. With a groan, he jogs to catch up.

He falls into step with her. “Are you kidding me? Yesterday was awful. Let someone else do it.”

Violet doesn’t break stride. Whether this is because she’s just that determined or that desperate for coffee has yet to be seen. “No.”

“Violet!” Shane sighs when she doesn’t answer. “Violet, come on.”

“Shane, if you really wanted to quit, you would just stop going to rehearsal,” Violet says, neither turning nor slowing down for him. “You don’t need my permission to quit. I don’t want you to, but clearly you want me to tell you you’re bad.”

Shane hates it when she makes a good point. She’s unbearable when she’s like this. “I was yesterday,” he argues.

“That was yesterday. Do better today.”

Like it’s that easy. Shane’s so frustrated, he barely even notices which coffee shop she’s led them to until they’re at the door. It’s the one Adam works in. Dreading the thought of seeing the smug barista, Shane hisses. “Violet, wait,” when she shows zero intention of doing so, Shane catches her by the wrist. “Let’s go to the Starbucks across the street.”

Shane doesn’t think he imagines the fires of hell flashing in Violet’s eyes. “It is 6:00 a.m. I am getting coffee,” she snaps, and whirls on her heel to stalk to the register.

Resigning himself to his fate, Shane trudges after her. The doorbell chimes lightly behind him as they enter the coffee shop, the register is being run by a woman with violet-purple hair, a nose-ring, and eyeliner smudged under her eyes like she slept in it. She regards them with a bored expression as they approach. Shane reluctantly follows behind Violet, desperately hoping that he’s not here.

“One latte and one black coffee, please,” Violet spits out, before the cashier even has a chance to say, “Good morning.”

The cashier seems to take it in her stride, though, and rings them up with a perfect customer service smile. “Eight dollars, please,” she sings, purple hair moving with each tilt of her head.

“You and your fucking lattes, Shane,” Violet shakes her head but slides the cash over.

Shane doesn’t retort, thinking they might be in the clear. But no.

A mop of curly hair hidden under a baseball cap and two calloused hands slide their cups over the counter. The dread bottoms out in Shane’s stomach as he’s certain Adam is going to rip him a new one for Shane being rude and dismissive yesterday. Bracing himself, he waits for whatever offensive remark Adam will come out with.

“It’s the chief and the giant,” Adam’s voice is much too cheery at six in the morning, the cheeriness of the devil. Even the purple haired cashier looks taken aback.

“Adam. I always forget you work here,” Violet sounds disdainful, but Shane decides to put that down to the no caffeine thing.

“I think I’m insulted, Cameron,” Adam says, placing a hand to his heart as he looks at the woman behind the register.

“You’re too soulless to be insulted,” the violet haired cashier says. She props her elbows on the counter and regards Violet and Shane with hawk-like black eyes. “How do you guys know this jackass?”

It’s almost strange to see someone interacting with Adam like he’s a normal person. But when he realizes the two are still staring expectantly and Violet seems unlikely to answer, Shane stutters. “Oh, uh, we’re in the same acting production together.”

Cameron squeals in delight, clapping her hands. “The actors! That’s all he ever talks about, you know. Are you teaching him about romance yet?”

Adam’s previous cheeriness disappears. “Oh, my God,” he mutters, running a hand over his face. “Ignore her.”

Now it seems like Adam’s unlikely to be mad at Shane about yesterday, Shane can’t resist. “Why? Does he need a lesson that badly?”

He’s delighted when Adam scowls. Some part of him is pleased to give the sharp-tongued man a little trouble.

“Oh absolutely,” the cashier’s eyes twinkle with mischief, not unlike how Shane imagines a fairy’s from the play might look. “But he’s hopeless, you know? I’ve tried for ages.”

Shane’s curious, but Adam jumps in before she can say anymore. “Cameron, I know where you keep your vinyl collection.

Cameron raises her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine.”

She flashes another wide smile before turning back to Violet and Adam. “So you’re both part of the acting crew? I heard the director’s, like, a real hard ass.”

Violet’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. Adam groans and despite being amused at Adam’s earlier discomfort, Shane inwardly groans with him. He thinks this might be the end of the other man’s life.

“A hard ass, huh?” Violet murmurs, taking a large gulp of black coffee. That her entire throat doesn’t catch on fire proves she’s truly inhuman.

“Please stop talking, Cameron,” Adam says.

The cashier is all too happy to ignore him. Leaning forward, she elaborates. “Yeah, like super intense and stressed, but you said she’s good at her job, right?”

Cameron addresses the last to Adam, whose eyes have glazed over, looking like he’s going to ascend to heaven any minute. Shane has the urge to pick him up and shake him to see if his soul is still there.

“I like to think I’m good at my job,” Violet tilts her head to look up at Shane. “Right, Shane?”

“You’re very good at your job,” Shane manages to choke out, though he thought he’d died of secondhand embarrassment moments ago. He catches Adam’s eye, who looks equally horrified.

Oh no. They just shared a moment. Shane quickly breaks their gaze, turning back to Violet instead, whose lips have curved into a pleased smile. “Well, as long as you both think so. Thanks for the coffee. I’m going to grab a table, Shane.”

Without another word, she turns and slides over into a table by the window, leaving Cameron, Adam, and Shane gaping. Adam removes his cap, looking a little haunted.

Cameron swallows. “Wow,” she whispers, a bit starry-eyed. “She’s nothing like I imagined.”

“I hate you,” Adam informs her, ruffling his hair, before replacing his hat. “She’s probably going to murder me now.”

“She’s a pacifist. I think you’ll be okay,” says Shane, unthinking.

Both coffee shop workers give him matching looks of disbelief. “How do you know that?” Cameron asks. “Or are you trying to pacify me so I’m not on guard when she does kill me?”

“And you said I’m dramatic?” Adam mutters.

Shane shrugs. “I’ve known her for nearly ten years. I haven’t actually seen her kill anyone yet.”

Adam raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Shane frowns. There’s an underlying satisfaction to Adam’s words, as if the man has just discovered his secrets, or like he’s found the treasure Shane’s been hiding all along. He’s feeling defensive for no reason. “Yeah, since college.”

“Huh,” Adam fingers the edge of his sports cap, peering out from under the brim. His eyes have honed in on Shane with catlike focus. “That must’ve made casting easier for her, right?”

It’s too pointed for Shane to miss his meaning. “Well, I was with her when she got the news that she’d be putting on the play,” Shane says, hoping his tone is steadier than he feels. “But I like to think that she cast me for other talents.”

Adam hums. “I’m sure we’ll see those eventually.”

An odd feeling begins to bubble in Shane’s stomach. “I’ll make sure of it. Excuse me.”

Before Shane can make his hasty escape, Adam calls, “Wait!” Shane turns back with dread, wondering what more Adam can say. But all Adam does is raise the coffee cup Shane forgot. Maintaining a straight face, Shane marches back to the counter and grabs the coffee. He jumps as their fingertips brush slightly, and Shane just stops himself from overturning the coffee on both of them. Snatching it, he makes a quick escape, hoping the heat in his face isn’t too obvious.

“This is why you don’t get any dates,” Shane overhears Cameron say, none too quietly.

As Shane claims his seat across from Violet, he completely agrees with the cashier. For the first time in as long as he can remember, Shane almost feels angry. Over the last few days, he’d been on the fence about Adam.

Shane always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt and not put too much store in first impressions or other’s opinions. Kyle has his own reasons for not liking Adam and Violet seems exasperated by him more often than not. But the other actors generally have no problem interacting with the man, even if he always manages to get into someone else’s business.

After today, though, Shane can say without a doubt that Adam Weir is rude, frustrating, blunt to a fault, and possesses little to no tact. In fact, with his smug attitude and snarky tone, Shane’s surprised Adam finds anyone who could like him.

He clutches his latte to him, takes a sip, and is even more annoyed when he finds that it’s perfect. He looks up at Violet, who has her script and notepad pulled out, pen stuck between her teeth.

“Okay,” he breathes, as her eyes flicker back up to him. “I won’t quit.”

She removes the pen from her mouth, regarding him with sly eyes. “No?”

“No. I’m going to be the best damned Lysander you’ve ever seen,” Shane finishes his declaration with a sip of his latte.

To his surprise, Violet throws back her head and laughs. “Oh my god, Shane. That’s just dramatic enough, you’re starting to become a real actor now.”

“Thanks, I think,” Shane says, dryly.

Violet shakes her head, gaze latching onto the counter. From their vantage point, they can see Adam’s back as he prepares coffee after coffee in a routine fashion. “Did he say something?”

Shane doesn’t say anything, but Violet gives him an understanding nod, as if his silence is confirmation. She snorts, plopping her head on her hand. “That kid is something else,” her lip curls slightly, as if she’s caught halfway between admiration and disgust. “Never seen someone as committed to acting as him, though. He’s always a good presence to have in the cast, keeps everyone on their toes by memorizing all their lines.”

“All of them?” Shane has barely had time to memorize his own at this point.

“Yeah. I guarantee you, he would put on a one-man show if he could,” Violet rolls her eyes. “Plus, he loves working with people on their lines. When he’s in a show, that’s practically all he thinks about.”

“And you cast me instead of him,” Shane feels the anger mostly drain out of him. No wonder Adam was always giving him a hard time. Still, he doesn’t have to be a dick about it.

Violet sips her coffee, eyes thoughtful behind her glasses. “Call it director’s bias, call it wanting to work with a different talent who has a lot of promise. Call it not wanting to give him what he so clearly wants, because if you give his type what they want too soon or too early, their egos get even bigger. Whatever makes you feel better.”

Shane mulls that over, eyes drawn back to the counter. Despite being short, Adam’s shoulders are broad. Shane can see his shoulder blades move under a rather tight black work shirt as he works the espresso machine. Idly, Shane wonders what would happen if you ran a finger from Adam’s neck down his spine. It’s frankly annoying how striking the barista is, even with his terrible attitude.

“Don’t worry too much about him,” Violet says, waving her hand like she’s batting off a mosquito. “He’ll calm down eventually.”

“Sure,” Shane replies, though he has a suspicion Adam has never been calm in his life.

“Anyway, get out of here and get some sleep. I’ll see you at rehearsal later.”

It’s only when she mentions sleep that Shane realizes how tired he is. Between the stress of the terrible practice yesterday, a full bar shift, and now the rollercoaster of wanting to quit and not quitting, he’s exhausted. “Right, I’ll see you later.”

“And don’t you dare try to quit on me again. Otherwise, I’m firing you from the best friend position,” Violet warns, jabbing her pen at him.

“But not the play?”

“No, that would just be giving you what you want.”

Shane laughs and finally bids Violet goodbye.

As he’s leaving, an odd feeling crawls up his spine. He feels like someone’s watching him. But when he looks back, Cameron’s nowhere to be seen and Adam’s back is firmly turned.

* * *

After sleeping most of the morning and afternoon, Shane thinks he’s ready for anything. He arrives back at the theater in high spirits, armed with new resolve, thanks to his run-in with Adam that morning.

He doesn’t count on the rehearsal room being oddly tense when he arrives that afternoon. Most of the actors are gathered in small groups, catching up with each other. He exchanges small nods with everyone, but no one waves him over.

Shane, not for the first time in his life, wishes he was smaller. He feels like his entire body is a target as he makes his way across the stage.

“Hey, Shane,” Charlie hobbles up to him, foot wrapped in a boot, crutches abandoned to one side. Today, she’s wearing a torn and paint splattered shirt that says live punk, die emo.

Shane’s flooded with relief that she’s still talking to him. “Hey, Charlie. How’s the foot?”

“Fucking itches man. Plus, the pain pills they gave me are fucking terrible. They make me so sleepy,” scrubbing a hand through the back of her undercut, she pushes her blonde fringe further over her right eye. “How about you? How are you feeling after rehearsal yesterday?”

Shane eyes her, uncertain how much the other cast members have already said, but her expression doesn’t give much away. “A bit rocky,” he finally says.

“I figured. You gonna be okay?”

Shane forces a smile on his face. “I’ll be fine,” he tries to imbue it with confidence, but Charlie only nods doubtfully. He decides to switch gears. “How about you with the foot? Will you be able to perform?”

Charlie scowls, leaning over to knock her fist against the top of her boot. “Yeah, they say it was a small break and should heal in six weeks. I like to think of it as extra luck.”

“That’s a bit corny.”

“We all need a little corn for the ‘speare,” Charlie says, nodding her head sagely. “Cornspeare.”

It makes absolutely no sense, but Shane can’t help but laugh, so relieved Charlie isn’t outright ignoring him. That would have made rehearsing even worse.

His humor is short lived when Adam splits from where he’d been talking to Grace, sports cap from earlier slightly askew atop his head. “Kyle’s shit stirring,” he says, with no preamble. A disgruntled frown pulls at his lips and he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t even know how he manages to do that when he wasn’t even here yesterday.”

Frankly, Shane’s confused that the other actor is talking near Shane, let alone to him. It’s like no matter how much the other actor clearly doesn’t like him, he’s always around just in case, to tear Shane down.

“It’s truly a gift,” Charlie says. “Happens when you’re old and Cynthia won’t bang you anymore.”

Adam chokes out a laugh, but quickly gathers himself back together. “Whatever. He’s a gossip and a dick.”

“What’s he saying?” Shane surprises even himself when he asks.

Adam looks up at him, arching his eyebrows, as if to wonder how do you not know? “You sure you want to know?”

Charlie slips her arm under Shane’s elbow, patting his bicep with her other hand. “You can’t bring it up and not say anything else, Adam. Come on, Shane can take it.”

Adam looks doubtful, but concedes. “You know Violet’s a crap director and fumbled her casting, and clearly doesn’t know how to give direction to newbie actors with not enough talent. Oh, and Shane was only cast because he knew her before.”

“That’s basically what you said earlier,” Shane points out.

“When?” Adam asks, seeming genuinely surprised.

Seriously? Did this guy just blank out when he was being insulting? “This morning?”

“Oh,” Adam waves his hand dismissively. “Yeah, but that was between us, and now Kyle’s being an asshole and I hate that guy.”

“That seems a little selective of you,” Shane says, beginning to suspect Adam says so many insulting things he can’t remember half of them.

“You’re here to prove yourself and work, aren’t you?” Adam asks.

It’s Shane’s turn to be surprised and nods.

Before he can say anything, Adam spreads his hands. “Then it’s fine. And you know, if you fuck up, I’m right behind you to take your place.”

“Damn. There’s more drama here than in the play itself,” Charlie removes herself from Shane’s arm, balancing on one foot. “I definitely need to be more stoned for this.”

“Don’t we all,” Shane mutters, eyeing Adam warily.

A loud clap resounds, and everyone turns to see Violet making her way to the front of the chairs below the stage. “Okay, guys, let’s go from the top! Blocking this time.”

There’s a hint of stress already creeping into her voice, which she compensates for by throwing it louder. Shane doubts anyone else notices, though, and everyone is quick to take their places for the beginning of Act one. Only the core actors are left on stage, as the non-essential ones filter off to join Violet in the seats.

Adam claps Shane on the shoulder as he follows the others, parting ways. “Loosen up, big guy. Otherwise, I’ll take your spot,” he calls cheerily.

It’s quick, but the touch leaves tingles shooting up and down Shane’s arm, and he’s anything but loose when he takes the stage again. It doesn’t help that his fellow actors are eyeing him with looks ranging from clearly doubtful to outright irritation. Looking out into the collection of doubt aimed toward him, Shane wishes he hadn’t told Violet he’d decided to stick it out. The anger he felt, fueled by the desire to prove Adam and the others wrong, fizzles out under their harsh judgment.

He can only stare out at the stage as he feels his throat closing up. As the opening lines begin, Shane tries to shift his attention to the words on the page. They seem to move in front of his eyes, blurring in and out of existence.

A soft hand falls on his elbow again. This time, it’s Charlie, a sympathetic grin on her face. “My foot’s broken, so I’m counting on you to help me out there, okay?”

Shane takes a deep breath and nods, offering his arm to Charlie. These people were counting on him to get it right. And he made a promise to prove Adam wrong. Even if his heart is pounding and his brain wants him to go hide in a hole, Shane can’t waste anyone else’s time.

Charlie’s cue comes first and they hobble out together, with Charlie supporting herself on Shane. It’s only due to her arm on his bicep that he doesn’t trip or run away. It’s a bit like a grim wedding, where no one’s happy to see who the bride is marrying, and the groom’s entire family has abandoned him.

After that, his mind goes a bit blank. It’s like he’s on stage but he’s not. He’s certain words are coming out of his mouth, though he’s not aware of what they are. Violet is shouting at him intermittently to pay attention to the blocking, and to keep on rhythm. “No, don’t turn upstage, turn toward the audience,” and the entire time, he can feel eyes boring into him. Eyes of the other actors on stage, eyes of Violet, but when he looks up from the stage, his gaze always falls on one person’s unwavering attention, that he swears he can feel even from feet away.

Adam neither smiles nor frowns when Shane meets his stare, and perhaps that’s why Shane keeps looking for him in the audience. Something about his gaze brings Shane back to himself, reminds him where he is. Sound once more hits his ears, just as his first large chunk of lines comes about.

“‘I am my lord as well derived as he,’” Shane says, and there’s a defiance to the words. Lysander is defiant in the eyes of Egeus, and Shane is defiant in the eyes of these actors.

He finishes, gaze still on Adam. It’s like the entire world has shrunk to just the two of them staring at each other.

Violet’s voice breaks through. “Better, Shane,” she says, and his heart nearly stops in relief. “Remember to focus on the other actors during that part. Let’s run that back one more time.”

Shane nods, feeling quietly thrilled. Emboldened, he turns back to the other actors, exchanging a small smile with Charlie.

“Nice, man,” she says, punching him on the shoulder.

Still, Shane is relieved when he can finally walk off stage. Feeling almost drunk, he stumbles toward the seats and, without thinking, plops directly next to Adam. At first, neither says anything, as Charlie and Grace begin rehearsing the fight scene between Hermia and Helena.

As Shane recovers from the unsteady feeling, he finds himself stealing tiny glances at Adam. The other man is still concentrating completely on the actors, and Shane doubts he even notices his own stare. His eyes trace the curve of Adam’s neck, the sharpness of his jaw, but mostly, and he’s struck by an intense urge to take Adam’s head in his hands, just so he can stare into his eyes again.

The other actors have slid into easy side chatter, some talking about the script, others returning to conversations from earlier. Adam, however, who Shane usually sees engaging one group or another, or picking a fight, is completely engaged in watching Kyle, Cynthia, and Puck work through their scene, starting and stopping at Violet’s directions. It’s fascinating in its intensity.

Finally, as Violet calls for a stop during Charlie and Grace’s second scene, Shane leans over slightly. “I’m surprised you’re paying so much attention to a scene that’s not yours.”

Adam jumps a little, nearly turning halfway around in his seat. His eyes are blown wide open, and even in the darkness, Shane can see the flecks of green. “Huh?” he says smartly.

Shane licks his lips, feeling a little awkward now. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything? But Adam seems to come back to himself, shaking his head. “Why shouldn’t I pay attention to it?”

“It’s not that you shouldn’t. I guess I’m just surprised considering no one else is,” and that Adam never shuts up. They’ve reached a truce of sorts it seems, so Shane resists adding the last part out loud.

“Oh,” Adam settles back into his seat, resting his head on his hand. “Well people should. It’s a good time to learn.”

“About the play?”

“No, about other actors,” Adam raises a finger, pointing at Grace, whose blonde hair is illuminated by the stage lights. “Like, Grace, she acts with her entire body. Something’s always in motion for her Helena. But, Charlie’s Hermia is all prim, proper. A bit closed off. It’s a nice contrast and you can see why Violet picked them.”

“Huh,” Shane’s impressed, now able to see first-hand what Violet meant earlier. It’s a good observation, and definitely not something he would have noticed. “I wouldn't think you’d care about that sort of stuff.”

Adam frowns. “Why not?”

“Well…” Shane hesitates to break the peace they’ve established. Still, he doesn’t think Adam would take lying well. “You know. You seem pretty focused on your own scenes a lot.”

“I like to get the whole picture, that’s all. And to see where I fit in,” Adam chews on his lips a bit. “Acting is my dream. But I still have to work hard at it.”

“I never said you didn’t.”

Adam ignores him and continues. “You’re going to have to work much harder, too,” he turns parallel now, thrusting his chin upward to look Shane directly in the eye. “Especially with as many lines as you have, if anyone notices you’re not good…”

Jaw dropping slightly, Shane interjects. “Excuse me?”

“Then the show will suffer. You’re going to have to put in the work eventually.”

Shane bristles. He had thought Adam had come around to his side this afternoon, but clearly, he hasn’t gained any faith in him

“I am. It’s only day two. I’m going to get there.”

“It’s not about just showing up. You’re barely present.”

When it’s clear Shane can’t readily think of a response, Adam turns back to the stage.

What did that even mean? Shane scowls, unsure of what he wants to say but knowing that he wants to argue with him. This anger, which is quickly becoming a little too familiar, frightens him. He’s never met a person that pushes his buttons so quickly, and he’s uncertain why Adam’s bluntness seems to do so.

Just as he opens his mouth to form a retort, there’s a large crash and Grace lets out a scream. Suddenly, smoke begins to rise…the stage is on fire.

Shane groans, thinking it sums up the week nicely.