Act One: Villainous

"Your role is of the protagonist's green-eyed husband. He harbors no real feelings for her, but due to his possessiveness and sense of ownership, he becomes a threat to the main character's relationship and lets his violent urges overcome him, ultimately turning to unethical means to keep the protagonist separated from the love interest."

All eyes were on Terrance Hunton once again. And unlike the other times where people stared at him from a distance, a plethora of hands were on his body. Many were adjusting his costume, some were applying makeup, twisting his hair. He accepted his fate with a blank facade, obediently still on his seat.

But underneath the surface, he felt it—the confusion, the tension boiling up inside the dressing room. Not to mention, it was awkward as all hell, the silence deafening. Occasionally, the theater director would bring up facts about his role, but it fueled the tautness if anything.

The others seemed to be as startled by Terrance's appearance as he was.

However, no oppositions were made, no questions were asked, not even a peep that implied defiance was heard throughout the seconds that stretched like centuries. They prepared him and that was it. It was clear that no one had the audacity to question Nikolas' decisions. The entire wardrobe and makeup team's silent compliance proved it to the prodigy.

"Your character doesn't show up as much as the other main characters, so you don't need to deliver an awe-inspiring performance on your first try, just a decent one. Nevertheless, there are some scenes that require immaculate delivery for the shock factor to work. Are you up for the task?"

"I'll give it my best." Never had Terrance's inexperience unnerve him so much in the past. Usually he just jumped into things, followed instructions, and worked his bones until his moves were incredibly polished—no imperfections in the slight.

But acting was different. It required passion Terrance didn't know how to harbor, especially not with the time constraints he was given.

"Good. You better." The director replied.

Despite the clear height difference, the prodigy always being the one to loom over everybody he met, he felt how Nikolas looked down on him—for the very first time in a long, long time, Terrance feared the safety of his spine as it came close to buckling under the pressure of merciful expectations.

Terrance did this to himself. There was no one else to blame.

He solved one problem, at the very least. He was sure Ambrosia would be proud of him. The thought motivated him enough not to push a makeup artist away from his lips, pigment covering the luscious pair.

Before he knew it, his hair and makeup were done. Working hands removed themselves from his frame, allowing him a breath of relief. Terrance was immediately asked to stand and turn, and so he did, surprised gasps following afterwards.

"You're exactly as I envisioned this character. It's almost sadistic how we didn't meet sooner." Nikolas commented, a worn-out script still hanging from his hand.

The prodigy wasn't aware of what to say. He stared at his reflection, fingers grazing his face as if he were an entirely different person.

He didn't look that different with makeup, that was for sure. He was just another version of himself. There was certainly more personality to be found when he was in character, more class, more style. Terrance briefly wondered if Ambrosia would prefer him that way. He perfectly resembled a cunning general—a heartless husband, but a casanova nonetheless.

"Now, all that's left is to see if you can keep up with the rest of the actors."

--

"No! Cut!" Nikolas' agitated voice echoed throughout the theater room, his assistant pitifully trembling beside him, purple clipboard quaking in small tremors. "Terrance, darling, I appreciate you memorizing your lines after a few reads, but it's not enough that you know what to say, you have to know how to deliver."

"Ah. But I'm trying my best to convey the emotions expected from the scene."

The director let out an exasperated sigh, another fragile strand of his patience tested by Terrance's blatant refusal to understand the fundamentals of acting. The prodigy understood that he was walking on a tightrope. However, he had no idea how to amend it.

He heard Nikolas sigh before the director called for a fifteen minute break. The disappointed but empathetic stares of his co-stars sent him into an anxious spiral, still lost as to how exactly a more experienced theater kid would play his role.

Just when things couldn't get any worse, they improved, rather exponentially. And it came in the form of a certain blonde, bright smile and bright brown eyes.

"Oh! Rosia!" Lucy jumped from the stage, donning the school uniform unlike Terrance who was specifically asked to spend his first acting session in costume.

The prodigy's heart raced at the sight of her newly dyed hair, imitating the light yellows of an early morning effervescence. It was clear what she was trying to do. To Terrance, at least.

Even after Hugh had created an unbridgeable gap between her and himself, Ambrosia persisted. And Terrance could only assume this was her way of provoking him into reconsideration.

It wouldn't work, Hugh prioritized nothing above his honor and reputation, the two things Terrance held over his head.

But at the same time, he understood. They were in a three-player game and no one was willing to surrender quite yet.

"Hey! What's up? You never come to rehearsals." He heard Lucy initiating a conversation with Rose, to which his favorite senior replied, "That's because I don't want any spoilers, obviously!"

It was an otherworldly experience when his favorite senior turned to him, acknowledging his dressed figure with a meek wave, "But I heard Terr got a role, so I wanted to show my support."

"How come you never show your support to me?"

Ambrosia pouted. Her animated expressions sent Terrance into a spiral. "You were being mean to me this morning."

"Eating your cookies is not being mean!"

"Whatever." Ambrosia walked towards the stage where Terrance was frozen from awe. She reached for something in her backpack and pulled out a handful of snacks. "I brought your comfort foods. Come down."

The prodigy eagerly nodded, jumping off of the stage in a single swoop, and walking near Rose with a flustered expression.

Nikolas rolled his eyes at the exchange, "Since when were you running the show?"

"Don't be such a big poopy pants. You guys were taking a break anyway." Ambrosia retorted, not a single sign of fear in her voice. It made Terrance pause.

She had always been bold, but not that bold. What was going on here?

"Do you two know each other...?"

"Huh? Yeah. Nikolas is my ex-fiance."

The replacement actor paused once, twice. He waited for it to come, the stifled laughter, or perhaps a punch to the arm followed by, "Just kidding!"

But nothing came. Ambrosia was dead serious, gaze expressionless.

"No, you see, our parents—" Terrance's instincts refused to let him hear what Ambrosia had to say.

It hadn't been a conscious shift, but his eyes immediately sharpened, glowering at the realization of a threat. Ex-fiance? Did that imply a past relationship? He hadn't heard of Ambrosia's dating history before. It somehow stirred a heinous feeling deep inside him, something that made him want to sink his claws into someone else's throat.

"That expression!" The theater director interrupted his dangerous train of thought. "That expression! It's perfect! I feel goosebumps on my arm."

"What?" Despite the confusing situation, the sheer rollercoaster of occurring events, Terrance's envy-fueled aura didn't falter a bit, voice low, gravely, and full of venom.

"Exactly! Just maintain that and bring it onto the stage!" Nikolas continued to celebrate.

Ambrosia, on the other hand, looked to be as confused as everybody else. "Is this— are we still discussing Terrance's role?"

"What other significance does he have in this room?" The director snapped, demeanor back to its sarcastic and demanding default. "Seriously. If not for your popularity and looks, I would've kicked you out of the theater by now. But it seems like you're capable of delivering a meaningful performance as this character."

Rose tilted her head, scanning the prodigy from head to toe. "Ah, really? What kind of role does Terr have?"

"Ask him. I need a break right now."

"Rude as always."

Ambrosia walked away from the theater director with her arms crossed pouting.

"Hey, rival." She came closer to Terrance, "You're struggling?"

He would've laughed at the nickname, their last squabble still fresh in his mind, but he was too distressed. He was too pressured to let his guard down.

"A bit, but apparently I'm excelling now."

"What kind of role do you have?"

"An antagonistic and possessive husband. I've already gotten the lines down, though Nikolas has been barking at me for being unable to portray the character's desires and emotions properly."

"I see." Ambrosia nodded, a thoughtful expression gracing her face. "I heard visualizing the scenarios with a real life context helps evoke the emotion."

Terrance hummed. A real life context, huh?

Before he knew it, he was back on stage again. His closest bet was Ambrosia... Ambrosia as his wife? Adding the plot points of the story, that would mean that Ambrosia was being unfaithful to him in order to be with... Hugh.

He felt a string of his restraint snap.

"Why are you doing this?!" The actress for the female protagonist exclaimed, a convincing look of hopelessness and despair on her face as she confronted her husband.

"Because," Terrance walked towards the actress as stayed by the script, his fingers clamping around her wrist. "You're mine."

He meant it, the sensation of Ambrosia's skin on his, her weight on his, her breath just a hair strand away blurring his understanding of reality. A part of him was convinced that it was the love of his life he was speaking to, the one he was staking his claim on, unable to tolerate her looking away from him in favor of another man.

"You belong to me. You are betrothed to me. You are my wife and I am your husband. That beggarly pest is but an obstacle in our marriage." He muttered out, voice so sincerely menacing and dark that it sent the whole theater in silence. Terrance looked murderous. And yet, he had never looked so handsome. "Do not fear, my flower. I promise you..."

His hand, almost subconsciously as if he were in a trance, moved to twirl his co-star's hair. And although the action could've been seen as an act of endearment, it came off—wrong.

Just. Ominous.

And to the audience who viewed the interaction from the velvet seats, they realized one thing—Terrance Hunton was perfect for the role.

"I will get rid of him whether you like it or not."