Chapter 9: Theatrics and Thorns

Hannah sat motionless on the floor, her back resting against the cool wall of the Theater Club's practice room. Her gaze was fixed in an unfocused stare, eyes tracing the cracks in the wall as if they held the answers to the whirlwind of thoughts clouding her mind. The bustling noise of the club around her seemed distant, a faint hum that couldn't reach her. Her thoughts, heavy and tangled, gnawed at her in silence, refusing to be silenced.

Naomi, overseeing the others, couldn't help but notice something off. Hannah was always quiet, but this stillness felt different—like her body was there, but her mind had wandered miles away.

Lately, Hannah had been spending her afternoons here, observing the Theater Club from the sidelines. Naomi was always immersed in club activities, and since Hannah didn't belong to any club herself, she had plenty of time to spare. But something had shifted in Hannah ever since that day. It was as though she wasn't fully there anymore.

Naomi, growing concerned, made her way over to Hannah's spot on the floor, sitting down beside her. She watched her for a moment, but Hannah remained unfazed, her gaze still distant.

"What are you thinking about?" Naomi asked softly, her voice gentle, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile stillness that surrounded Hannah.

Hannah blinked slowly, her eyes momentarily meeting Naomi's before quickly drifting away again. "Just... things I need to work on," she murmured, her voice flat, betraying nothing.

Naomi studied her in silence. They'd known each other for years, but there was always an air of mystery about Hannah. Her thoughts were often hidden behind walls that even Naomi couldn't break. But it wasn't like Hannah had ever had trouble reading her. And that frustrated her more than she'd admit.

"What things?" Naomi pressed, the concern in her voice slipping out despite her best efforts to sound casual.

"I don't know... my head hurts just thinking about it," Hannah replied, exhaling slowly, as if the weight of her thoughts were too much to carry. She leaned slightly on Naomi's shoulder, a small, almost imperceptible smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "It's just... a lot."

Naomi felt the weight settle on her own shoulders—not from the way Hannah leaned on her, but from the unbearable uncertainty of not knowing how to help her best friend. Something was wrong. That much was undeniable.

The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating, until Naomi broke it with a soft sigh.

"You know... you can just tell me if something's wrong," she said quietly. Her words were slow, careful. "I'm always here."

Hannah didn't immediately respond, but Naomi caught the soft curve of her lips—a smile that felt too heavy to be a smile at all. Slowly, Hannah lifted her head, her eyes meeting Naomi's with quiet gratitude.

"Thanks," she whispered. "I'll tell you about it... soon."

Naomi returned the smile, the weight on her shoulders lightening just a fraction, but the concern still lingered.

The noise from the rest of the room suddenly grew louder, pulling both girls' attention. Naomi stood up, her hand resting briefly on Hannah's shoulder as she made her way toward the commotion.

"What's going on?" she asked, her eyes scanning the frustrated faces of her clubmates.

"It's just... Esther keeps messing up her lines! Even her acting's off," one member complained, frustration dripping from her voice.

Naomi's stomach churned with a rising wave of worry. The club couldn't afford this kind of drama, not now, with the showcase looming.

"Okay, okay. Let's calm down. Not everyone's perfect yet, remember?" Naomi said, trying to maintain her usual calm demeanor. "And Esther's still new. We should be patient."

But one of the other members wasn't hearing it. "The showcase is next month! We're running out of time!"

"She's right!" another added.

"We can't afford to be dragged down by—"

"Hey—calm down, calm down!" Naomi interjected, cutting them off before the argument could escalate any further. "Let's keep it together."

Despite her efforts, tensions remained high, and the argument only grew louder, the group's frustration taking over. But amid the clamor, Hannah stood up, her movements slow but deliberate, as if she was gathering every ounce of strength to break through the noise.

"What's the problem here?" Her voice, soft yet commanding, sliced through the chaos. The room quieted instantly, eyes turning toward Esther, though no one spoke her name aloud. The collective gaze was enough.

Hannah understood immediately what was happening.

She made her way over to Esther's side, the room following her with wary eyes. "What exactly are you struggling with? The lines? Or the acting?"

Esther, caught off guard, blinked in surprise. She had expected Hannah to be cold, to brush her off with a sharp remark. But instead, there was nothing but quiet understanding.

"Well? Do you want help or not?" Hannah asked, her tone firm but not unkind.

Esther hesitated for a moment, then, as if the weight of the world had lifted from her shoulders, she nodded and handed over her script.

"I... I'm having trouble acting like a guy. And memorizing these lines..." Esther admitted, her voice small, vulnerable.

Hannah glanced down at the script, her brow furrowing as she read the name. Fiyero...

"Wait—Wicked?" Hannah asked, lifting her gaze from the script to the group. "You guys are doing Wicked?"

The others nodded eagerly, waiting for her reaction.

"Hm... bold choice," Hannah mused with a sly smile, her eyes twinkling. "Were you trying to show off what the club's about?"

"Yup! We're still looking for more members too!" one of the members chimed in with a grin.

Hannah nodded thoughtfully. Then, her lips curled into a teasing smile. "Your character's kind of a narcissist. Maybe that's why you're having trouble," she said with a playful smirk. "But don't worry—I'll help you."

Esther relaxed visibly, a wave of relief washing over her. She smiled gratefully, her nerves beginning to ease.

Naomi, relieved as well, clapped her hands together with renewed energy. "Alright then! Let's start again! Hannah's got Esther covered, so let's focus, everyone. Best effort, alright?"

The club members cheered, their energy returning as the tension in the room dissipated.

---

Esther stood center stage, holding the script like it was a lifeline. She looked lost, her shoulders tense, her gaze flicking nervously to the floor.

"Relax your shoulders," Hannah's voice came from behind her. "Fiyero isn't nervous. He is the moment."

Esther blinked, clearly unsure. "How do I *be* the moment?"

"You own the space," Hannah instructed, stepping closer, her tone light but full of conviction. "Walk like the floor owes you money."

With that, she strutted across the stage with exaggerated confidence, drawing a few quiet giggles from the girls sitting behind their scripts. The room hummed with lighthearted energy.

Esther giggled too, trying to mimic the movement, but it came out more like a duck dodging Legos.

"No, no, not like you're stepping on broken dreams," Hannah said, gently guiding Esther's shoulders with her hands, turning her until her posture was aligned just so. The air in the room seemed to shift.

Soft gasps rippled through the audience. Hannah's touch had a strange weight to it, and the subtle intimacy of the moment didn't go unnoticed.

"Waahh, they're kinda cute…" someone whispered, barely containing their excitement.

"Are they rehearsing or rehearsing their wedding vows?" another teased, fanning herself dramatically.

Naomi, standing off to the side, stifled a grin. She leaned in to her fellow members, whispering with a wink, "Let them cook."

Hannah, completely oblivious to the growing tension in the room, leaned in close to Esther's ear. "Now, try your line again. Remember—cool, confident, like you don't even need to try."

Esther swallowed nervously but gave it her best shot: "It's not lying... it's looking at things differently."

"...Why do you sound like a polite vampire?" Hannah deadpanned, stepping back with a raised eyebrow.

Laughter bubbled up from the other girls, their voices light and teasing. Esther flushed with embarrassment, her hands quickly covering her face, but Hannah chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately.

"Don't worry," she said with a smirk, "You'll get there. Just channel your inner narcissist."

Esther peeked through her fingers, laughing. "How are you good at this?"

"Years of being emotionally repressed," Hannah quipped coolly, flipping her imaginary Fiyero hair.

The room erupted with laughter, Naomi nearly dropping her clipboard as she burst into giggles.

As the laughter died down, Esther, now a little more confident, tried the line again, this time with a slight smirk. She added a cocky tilt of her head, the shift in her delivery noticeable.

Hannah gave a faint smile, her amusement barely hidden. "Not bad. Now walk toward me. Hold eye contact."

Esther blinked, taken aback. "W-While saying the line?"

"Yeah," Hannah replied, her tone serious despite the playful undertone. "Fiyero doesn't just say things. He sells them."

Esther nodded, taking a deep breath as she stepped forward, trying to maintain eye contact. The moment stretched, the air thick with something unspoken between them.

It wasn't until the whispers began, soft and quick, that the tension truly settled in.

Hands were clasped over mouths, eyes wide with anticipation, as if watching a scene from a romance drama unfold.

Hannah's eyes flicked to the group, noticing their attention—every one of them had their eyes on her. The weight of their gazes settled heavily on her skin, making her feel suddenly exposed.

She told herself it was fine, just teasing. But something cracked. The way they all looked at her—expectant, curious, amused—sent her spiraling back into the memory she had buried.

Suddenly, she wasn't in the theater room anymore. She was back in that moment—the dream, the judgment. Naomi's hand in hers. Her grandfather's cold eyes.

The suffocating silence. The shame. The disgust that had never been voiced aloud, but had always been there.

Her chest tightened, and she felt the panic rise within her.

"Hannah?" Esther's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. "Did I... do something wrong?"

Hannah blinked rapidly, like someone waking up from a dream. Her posture shifted, not with the usual confidence, but with a sharp retreat.

"N-No, you're fine," she said, her voice suddenly unsteady, the composure slipping away. "Just... that's enough for now."

She stepped back quickly, distancing herself from Esther, as if the space between them could bury the shame clawing at her chest. Then the suddenly heat crawled on her skin not from embarrassment, but from the rush of memories flooding back with every whispered comment, every gaze.

She needed air.

"I—I'll go get water," she muttered, already walking toward the door without waiting for permission.

Naomi called out after her, but the words were swallowed by the growing distance between them.

"Hannah?" Naomi's voice, soft and full of concern, barely reached her ears.

But Hannah didn't respond.

She just kept walking.

And when she reached the door, her gaze was fixed on the floor. Until a shoe, a person, appeared in her path.

She froze.

Her gaze slowly shifted up. And her expression fell flat when she saw who it was.

Levi.

Levi, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in disappointment. His posture radiated betrayal.

And behind him, peeking like a mischievous raccoon, was Harin.

Hannah blinked, her mind struggling to process. What on earth?

She stared at them both, the confusion intensifying.

"Why are you two here?" she asked, her voice sharp, suspicion thickening her words.

Levi scoffed loudly—like a villain in a cheesy drama.

Hannah scoffed back, unamused by the dramatic flair.

It was silent for a second.

Just long enough for everyone to realize—

A fight might break out.

And it wasn't going to be pretty.