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This year, Cleo's final year, they're performing Bugsy Malone.
It's just about as stupid as a musical can get. Sat backstage cleo is one of the only people brave enough to stand the heat, most of the ensemble cast had stepped outside for some much needed fresh air leaving just themself and a handful of other people waiting for their cue.
1920s flapper girl fans were scattered across the prop tables Cleo was in charge of organising and then making sure they stayed that way- which is easier said than done when it was closing night and hotter than hell. Not that they weren't all enjoying it, just that they were all running off nothing less than adrenaline and whatever could be scavenged from the corner shop by the school. Besides Cleo's done this before, some would say too many times, the whole 4 years of her school career, they've painted the stage for Christmas and then painted over it again in the summer had fashioned cloaks and swords and copious amounts of fake blood.
This was the first year she’d gone on stage, all because of one girl.
And here she came, Bugsy Malone himself or rather herself, played none other than Lizzie, former best friend and maybe even crush because who else would? Glowing even without stage lights in the darkness of a high school backstage, her smile as easy and charming as the character she played but not sly, something genuine lied beneath it the corners softening as she turned around to face cleo, giving ‘Blousey’ a reassuring nod and squeeze of the shoulder before nudging her on stage.
Cleo only had a small part, they were glad, the lights hurt their eyes but performing was better than they had thought plus it was something that allowed her to sit in non rehearsals just that much longer.
Blousey was played by a younger girl,they remembered as they watched her strut onto the stage leaving Cleo and Lizzie alone. On stage the final lines of dialogue died, the lights dimmed to a single spotlight and the audience hushed, leaving nothing but the sound of their own breath echoing in a space that just seemed to be getting smaller.
Lizzie breathed a sigh and turned around to face cleo, her pink hair slicked back into a bun hidden under a hat and cleo wondered what it would look like down- and then berated herself for thinking that because for the four years they’d been doing theatre for half of them they’d held a grudge but recently it had grown into back into something sweeter.
Opening chords struck and suddenly Lizzie was no longer running through her lines instead she was in front of her armed with a feather boa from the neatly organised props table hidden among sluperg guns and other things you'd need for a show about 1920’s mob gangs played by people under 18.
Looking up at her with doe eyes and that small smile that had slipped into something more mischievous, Cleo blinked when something white and fluffy was being wrapped around her neck and then even more shockingly, they were dancing.
Attempting to dance.
Neither of them knew where to put their hands, and they kept bashing into tables and boxes, almost tripping over in this broom cupboard backstage, all while Blousey lamented over her hopeless dreams and believing in her heart yet again.
Cleo supposed she was no different.
Cleo let her limbs relax slightly, let her face soften at the sight of closed eyelids and each dimple that marked flushed cheeks and every sweat soaked strand of hair that clung to her forehead like the way their arms clung to her shirt. Even in the dark, even with the feeling that burnt low in her stomach Cleo couldn't deny that she missed this.
A year ago, maybe two now they had sat like this. It had been much hotter and instead of suits and city streets they were in Athens and there were fairies and actors and brain dead lovers because they just had to do Shakespeare? Cleo didn't mind half as she made out that she did, not when Lizzie seemed so natural in her role as Puck pink hair loose at her shoulders and adorned with flowers that were now also in their own hair. She stood running through lines again and again as Cleo listened in with paint smeared hands clasped in hers rather than rolled into fists- which is how they usually were during rehearsals these days.
It had been a betrayal in a way, how they’d let themselves drift apart, how they’d found different people, their own promises forgotten. It was dramatic to say a part of her died. They'd probably look back at it and laugh, although they doubted it because even still the wound continued to sting.
They both twirled between boxes and stepped on each others feet as Lizzie lifted an arm above their head and gestered for her to spin only to be caught in that feather boa-
soon those eyelids fluttered open and closeing notes rang out the audience roared hear none of it over the beating of her heart feather boa left around her neck Lizzie was no more, Bugsy Malone was ducking below curtain and in between returning cast members as they all prepared for their final song.
Cleo watched on.
Maybe if Lizzie had moved on, maybe they could to.
The final scene of the final night of their final play cleo sat covered in splurge and still oh so sweaty, they picked themself up from the floor as did as for the third time in three days cleo had died, but this time as they pulled themself up to standing they were truly reborn rather than just revived.
As Cleo went to take their bow, some gang member no one important, rather than standing next to Blousey Cleo watched as Lizzie offered her hand to both of their surprise cleo took. Hand in hand under the stage lights Lizzie pink hair began to fall loosely around her shoulders, curtain began to close notes began to fade and the stage lights burnt ever bright, part of Cleo wished she did this sooner, but Lizzie squeezed her hand as tears streamed down her cheeks hardly visible against her smile.
"I missed you," it seemed like whisper amongst all chaos, the audiences chatter dispersing and the props table left to go as nature willed it to but to Cleo the words could move mountains.
"This show is so stupid," they responded. Then they did what they'd been waiting almost four years to do: kiss her.