Chapter Text
“I’m sorry, what’s your deal?” Anne asked, looking rather pissed, maybe a tad drunkenly, at the player sitting in front of her. They’d just finished one of the bigger numbers- one in which she noticed two of her husband’s players missing, one of whom was in front of her now.
Dromio S looked up at her, pulling their head from where it was between their knees. For once, their counterpart wasn’t with them. “What?”
“That number was fun.” Anne huffed, sitting down in front of Dromio, crossing her arms as soon as she was seated. Behind her, Lance and Angelique sang about their love affair, but grilling the player before her seemed a bit more interesting.
“It looked fun.” Dromio commented dryly, pulling their knees closer to their chest.
“So why’d you skip it?” She shot back.
“Because I didn’t want to be in it?” Their eye twitched, clearly annoyed.
Good, Anne thought, because she herself was beginning to be annoyed with the only two players who seemed to hate the idea of Juliet’s new life. “I won’t accept that. What’s your deal? You and your boyfriend-“
“He’s not my boyfriend!” Dromio S snapped, immediately recoiling as soon as their outburst concluded, face beet red from embarrassment.
Anne blinked. “Oh-kay… your brother, than?”
They shook their head.
“Okay, fine, your friend. You and your friend have been sulking ever since we started this, and I want to know why.”
Dromio scowled at her, and Anne steeled herself, holding the frown on her face as she stared intently at the actor. Finally, they huffed and leaned against the wall of the backstage, turning their head to the side to pretend to watch Hermia and Claudius practicing choreography. “My problem is that I memorized the entire Queen Mab monologue for the play, and you rewrote everything.”
Anne leaned back slightly, eyebrows furrowed together. “What?”
They turned back to her with a sigh. “It’s 43 lines long. I had to memorize it, me and E learned stage combat from Hermia, and we all worked so hard on it, just for you to come in and re-write it.” Dromio’s fingers dug into their elbows, scowl twitching into something almost mournful. “Me and E, we- you came in, re-wrote everything, and never asked- you- you brought us to Paris, and…”
Anne leaned forward, gently taking their hands to stop them from digging their fingernails into their skin. They panted, clearly fighting back tears, and Anne felt herself sober up. The Dromios- or Dromibros, as some of the others called them- had been pretty closed off and reserved since she’d met them. This new display of emotion was unfamiliar- something was wrong. “Take your time.” She implored gently.
They moved to rip their hands away, and Anne resisted without much effort. If she didn’t know any better, she’d guess that Dromio was being burned. They took a few deep breaths to pull themself together. “We walked all the way here to be part of William Shakespeare’s troupe.” They said softly. “We walked 376 kilometers to get here, and then we were given parts in his newest play, and it’s gone.”
Anne stayed quiet for a moment, ignoring Lance and Angelique’s number. “You’re upset because you don’t get to play your parts anymore?”
Dromio nodded, huffing out a laugh. “It’s silly.”
“And you walked- how many kilometers was it?”
“376.”
“376 kilometers. What, did you come here from France?” She joked. Dromio S nodded, serious, and Anne dropped her smile. “Is that why you’re- why you’re upset with us for taking you to Paris? Did something happen there?”
Dromio S pulled their hands away, and Anne knew instantly that she’d overstepped. They flashed her a grin, but still stood up. “You should go. The number’s about to end, and I’ve got to help E with something.” Their voice was hollowly cheerful.
Anne stood up to try and grab their wrist, but the player was quicker, recoiling as if they’d narrowly avoided a fire. “I’ll see you later, Anne.”
“Dromio-“ Anne began, but just like that, Dromio S was gone, and the number ended. She turned back to the stage, then to where Dromio S had been, and sighed, making a mental note that she had to not only change her dress, but try to address what that was.
~~
Dromio burst into a private closet, finally letting their hyperventilating breaths go, practically stumbling forward and against the wall. They could feel the wood scratch part of their face, but they didn’t mind. They only could wrap their arms around themself and try to get control of their breathing.
Easier said than done, they decided, as they clenched their eyes shut and moved to lock the closet door, for fear a fellow player would stumble upon their vulnerable moment and inturrupt.
“Anna.” A voice said beside them, and when they looked up, they were nine again, in the family’s house, staring up at their parents.