Chapter Text
“No.”
“… I haven’t even said anything yet.”
A beady eye narrows, glaring viciously. “Erwin, you ask me at the beginning of every year, and every year, the answer is no.”
“Levi,” Erwin says warningly, a tone at which the shorter male quirks an incredulous eyebrow at. “It’s senior year, and you won’t even consider it?”
Levi snorts and leans back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head as he flicks his gaze up at the digital clock above the door—7:56, it reads, and he frowns at the thought of spending the next four minutes having this damn conversation until first period starts. He taps his barbell against the back of his teeth, trying to pick out the answer that will be most likely to get Erwin to drop the subject. “It’s only Monday.”
“Auditions are Wednesday,” Erwin counters, a knowing glimmer in his eye. “And if I waited until Tuesday to ask you, you could easily come up with something to be ‘busy’ with the next day.”
“Like hanging myself in the janitor’s closet.”
“Levi.”
He rolls his eyes and tilts the chair forward, its front legs slamming back down on the floor; Levi ignores the way the other students milling about the classroom shoot him looks at the sudden noise. “Why do you want me to say yes so badly?”
Erwin gaze is meaningful, but he humors Levi and begins to tick off the reasons on his fingers. “It’s our last year to get involved, it’s one more thing you can put on your college application, me and Hanji will be really glad if you do, and—take a moment to wrap your head around the concept—it’s fun.”
“Ha-ha,” Levi deadpans, propping up his chin on one hand and rubbing at a pencil smudge on the corner of his desk with the other. “Still don’t have a good enough reason to say yes.”
Erwin runs his fingers through neatly parted blonde hair and smiles pleasantly, but his eyes are calculating; Levi feels a prickle of apprehension zinging up his spine, and he tenses. He knows that look. That was the look that Erwin only got when he had an absolute trump card, and Levi fucking hated that stupid look. He opens his mouth to blurt out something—anything to keep his friend from speaking, but Erwin’s words are already out before he gets in another breath.
“It’s Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog this year.”
Levi freezes. ‘You son-of-a-bitch.’
Erwin smiles even wider at the interested glint in his eyes. “That’s one of your favorites, isn’t it?”
“… I hate you.”
“I take it that’s a yes?”
“Shut up.”
Erwin chuckles and shoots him a cheerful, “See you there, then,” just as the bell rings and he turns around to face the front of the room as the teacher begins to take attendance. Levi growls and slumps down in his chair, alternating the direction of his dark scowl between the back of his friend’s head and the smudge on his desk that he hadn’t been able to wipe off.
‘Note to self: get new friends.’
~~~
‘Why did I ever agree to this?’ Levi thinks, stopping in the doorway to the auditorium. He only has half a second to entertain the thought of turning and dashing out before anyone he knows spots him, but the idea is moot the second that there’s a very familiar, very obnoxious squeal and someone plows right into him.
“You’re actually doing it! You’re gonna try out for the musical; oh, I knew this was the year we’d get you here! The second I found out it was Dr. Horrible, I thought to myself, ‘Yep, that’s definitely Levi’s thing!’”
“Hanji, so help me God, if you don’t get the hell off me right now,” he grunts, feeling his ribs creaking at the sheer strength of her hug. He huffs out an annoyed breath when she finally lets go and steps back. “What are you even doing here? You’re on crew every year.”
Hanji pushes her glasses up her nose and flashes him a bright grin and a peace sign, chirping, “I’m here to encourage anyone who doesn’t make the cast to join crew.” She nudges an elbow into his side and continues, “That means you, but I bet you’ll get a part for something.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” he grumbles, setting down his backpack by an empty seat and trudging forward to the stage where all the other hopefuls had gathered for this year’s fall musical audition. “I’m only here because Erwin’s an asshole.”
She makes a reprimanding sound low in her throat and pats him on the back. “Oh don’t lie; you know you’re definitely in. I’ve gotta go sit with the adults, but break a leg!”
‘If I thought it would get me out of doing this, I definitely would,’ Levi thinks, hopping up onto the edge of the stage and pointedly ignoring the stares directed his way from both the students and the adults in charge of the production. He gives Erwin the finger as discreetly as he can—which was to say, not at all—and snatches up the pen and paper held out to him in offering.
“Fill it out completely,” Erwin tells him with a pointed look that clearly translates to, ‘Don’t be an ass.’
Levi smirks in response and plops down near the stage’s edge, quickly scanning the sheet and scribbling in the requested information. ‘Name. Year. Schedule…’ He frowns down at the last question on the paper. ‘Why did you decide to audition for the show?’ Levi gives it a moment of consideration before shrugging and deciding to answer honestly. After Erwin collects his sheet, he quietly scans the crowd that has gathered in the theater for auditions.
It is a small group, admittedly, but Levi assumes that is probably partly because the show wasn’t a well-known classic like ‘Grease’ or ‘Chicago’—which automatically meant less interest in trying out—and partly because anyone who did know the show would also know how small the cast was. He recognizes more than a few of the people that are there, though; while it was true he had actively avoided getting involved in most theater-like activities for the majority of his high school career, he had seen every show the theater department had put on since his freshman year, mainly because of Hanji—a long-time crew member—and Erwin—a long-time actor. Since the three of them spent the majority of their time together, Levi had often found himself tagging along to weekend rehearsals at Erwin’s house just because he couldn’t be bothered to say no and find something else to do, and it had become somewhat of a running joke in the program. Erwin and Hanji actually weren’t the only ones who’d tried to get him involved, but everyone else had simply learned to stop asking.
Because he at least recognizes who the ‘veterans’ are, it is easy for him to zero in on the new crowd, clustered right in the middle of everything, looking an interesting combination of nervously out-of-place and eager in an almost puppy-like way. They are all wide-eyed and excited, but Levi’s sharp gaze fixes on one unfamiliar face in particular.
Average would have been an acceptable way to describe the brunette boy, if it hadn’t been for his round, intensely expressive eyes; Levi is certain that the kid is a freshman he’s never seen before, because it would be impossible to forget an almost unnaturally bright, unique shade of green—he’d bet money that even Crayola hadn’t produced that ridiculous color yet. He's practically vibrating with energy, bouncing on his knees the way he is and chatting animatedly with a little blonde guy—another freshman, no doubt—who looked terrified to be there. He watches Bright-Eyes clap a hand down on his friend’s shoulder and couldn’t have heard his laughter any clearer than if it’d been right in his ear.
Everyone’s attention is pulled to the front of the auditorium by a booming, “Alright, listen up! For those of you who are new to this, my name is Keith Shadis, and I will be directing this year’s fall production of Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog.” He eyes the crowd of students almost menacingly, his gaze only just lingering the slightest bit longer on the overeager freshman than anyone else. “Raise your hand if you don’t know the show,” he commands gruffly, and Levi barely suppresses a snort of amusement when a sophomore named Sasha Braus is the first to shoot her hand into the air. Director Shadis shoots her a withering look.
“Braus!”
“Yes sir?”
“What did I say last year about food on the stage?”
“Um…” She looks down at the half-eaten bag of chips in her lap. “Not allowed unless it’s for a show.”
“Care to explain why you’re eating, then?”
She blinks and gives him a look of confusion before responding in an almost patronizing tone, “… Are you asking me why people eat things in general?”
Levi is the only one who outright laughs at the thunderous expression on Shadis’ face, while Erwin suddenly descends into a not-entirely believable coughing fit and the rest of the theater vets look away from the scene, muffling snickers. The freshmen look absolutely terrified, eyes darting back and forth between the oblivious girl and the fuming director.
“It’s only been five minutes and you’re already getting on my last nerve, Braus,” Shadis growls, ignoring the chuckles his statement earns. “For everyone without a clue, the basic plot of the show is this: Dr. Horrible, the titular character, is an aspiring supervillain who is trying to get admitted to the Evil League of Evil. At the same time, he is trying to connect with the girl of his dreams, Penny, who happens to have fallen for Dr. Horrible’s nemesis, Captain Hammer. It’s a small, unique show, but we’ve all agreed that it’s a good fit for this year’s production. And by we—” He jerks a thumb at the other faculty members seated behind him. “I mean the rest of the adults involved in the program. Introduce yourselves to the newbies.”
“Mike Zakarius, you kids can call me Mr. Z,” the sandy-haired man says with a wave. “For those of you who don’t know, I’m in charge of the crew here. This student,” he continues, gesturing to Hanji, “is the stage manager for this year.”
“Hi, I’m Hanji Zoe! I’m here to say that if you don’t get cast in the show, you should still be involved by joining crew! We have a lot of fun, but we also work really hard, so it’s definitely not a place for slackers!”
“I can smell weakness,” Mr. Z says humorlessly, but his eyes are warm and there are several amused snorts from the others.
A thin woman with close-cropped blonde hair speaks next. “I’m Ms. Nanaba, and I’m in charge of the costumes and makeup; if set crew’s not for you, I could always use more people who understand the importance of foundation and color coordination. And of course, making sure the actors don’t look ugly as hell while they’re melting under stage lights,” she says cheerfully before nodding to the next woman.
“I’m Ms. Brzenska, and I’ll be the music director for this show.” Her tone is completely no-nonsense, and a few of the kids shift uncomfortably when she falls silent and fixes them with a blank stare, clearly not intending to say anything more.
A balding man with several laugh lines on his weathered face chuckles and flutters his fingers at her. “So serious, Rico—you’ll scare them off,” he chastises her, earning a frown and a heavy eye-roll. He smiles kindly at the students and says, “Well, I’m last but certainly not least; Dot Pixis. I’ll be choreographing the show.”
“Now,” Director Shadis booms, and everyone’s eyes snap straight back to him; the freshman even sit up a little straighter. “Before we begin, I’m going to tell you something very important right now. The way we work here at the Shiganshina High Theater Program is different, but successful. We don’t cast based on looks, we cast based on talent. Anyone can play any part, as long as you’ve got the drive and the ability. There are no favorites here, so if you think that playing up the kind of behavior that you assume we want to see will get you a ‘better’ part, you can get the hell out of this place right now and don’t even think about coming back.”
The air is stiff with silence, and Levi sees Bright-Eyes tremble out of the corner of his eye. He grimaces. ‘Is the kid scared?’
The quiet stretches for a moment longer before Shadis nods in approval and continues gruffly, “Good. We don’t have time for uncommitted little shits here.”
Levi listens with only half an ear when Shadis begins to explain how the audition process will go, trudging forward when they are all split into groups and directed to their first station. Levi finds himself put together with Erwin—whether this is good or bad, he hasn’t yet decided—Sasha, Petra Ral, a kind girl in his AP English class as well as a theatre vet, and Bright-Eyes, whose name has completely escaped him, and he can’t be bothered to ask. They trek through the now-empty halls, following Ms. Brzenska to the music room where they will be assessed on their vocal skills.
Levi has heard Erwin—a smooth, low tenor/baritone—and Sasha—a mezzo-soprano with a decent range—sing often in past shows. The last time he'd heard Petra sing was in the musical during their sophomore year, but her clear, bell-like soprano is just as lovely as he remembers, and he mouths, ‘Nice job.’ She beams at the praise and gives him a thumbs-up.
Ms. Brzenska scrutinizes him when it’s turn to step forward. “So you finally gave in?” He keeps his expression disinterested and doesn’t respond. She shakes her head and places her fingers over the keys of the piano. “On an ‘ah,’” she tells him before beginning to play up. He follows easily, into the falsetto without pushing. She takes him up to an F sharp before stopping and scrawling a note on the sheet with his information. “On ‘yah,’” she instructs before beginning to play once more, and they get to a low G before she stops again and waves him back.
Levi turns and nearly collides with Bright-Eyes, who has suddenly gotten up close and personal with the most wide-eyed and marveling look on his face. Levi scowls. “What?”
“That was—“
“Jaeger,” Ms. Brzenska snaps, “I don’t have all day.”
“S-Sorry, ma’am!” the boy yelps, and Levi turns the name over in his mind while he watches him step towards the piano. ‘Jaeger.’ He frowns. ‘Weird name for a weird kid,’ he thinks, but he still finds himself watching closely as those practically luminescent eyes narrow in fierce determination and his stance shifts so he can take a proper breath.
Levi isn’t sure what he expected, but it definitely wasn’t the pure, light sound that ended up coming out of the kid’s mouth. ‘The fuck?’ is his barely-registered thought as the sincere, earnest tones ring out in the room. Ms. Brzenska’s brows climb with the notes as Jaeger rises past tenor and well into the alto range before his voice cracks, and he blushes furiously and sputters an apology that she ignores to immediately begin testing how low he can go.
When they are done, Levi holds himself back from the group as they make their way to one of the gyms for the choreography station; Petra and Sasha are gushing over the boy, and Levi glances away from them to see Erwin watching him. He quirks a brow and asks, “What?”
Erwin smiles and prompts in an infuriatingly serene voice, “Well?”
“Tch. Well, what? So the newbie knows how to sing, big deal.”
Erwin laughs softly and remarks, “Technically, you’re a newbie, too. Here, anyways.”
Levi looks away silently, drawing the blinds over his eyes and ignoring the apologetic look that Erwin sends him. “Technically, I’m not anything, because I’m not part of the program. And I don’t care one way or another if I officially become part of it or not.”
Levi admits to himself that he is relieved when Erwin ignores his use of the word ‘officially’, deciding instead to leave him behind and join the rest of the group. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be at auditions, Levi acknowledges—if there’s anything that’s true about him, it’s that he will never do something unless he really wants to, on some level. ‘That’s the only stupid reason I said yes to this,’ he grouses, scowling. ‘Never should have watched Dr. Horrible with Erwin and Hanji that one time. Note to self: don’t let anyone know you like things. Liking things is stupid and gives people a way to exploit you because they know you want to do Dr. Horrible like nobody’s fucking business, and they were counting on that. Ugh. I hate them. I hate people.’
“Hey.”
Levi stops for two reasons; one, there’s suddenly an obnoxious freshman in his way, and two, said freshman has just addressed him in a—coming from him—surprisingly cold tone. Levi wipes his face of all expression. “What—” He pauses just long enough for it to be insulting. “—Jaeger?”
The kid almost looks upset. “Do you really not care about getting cast?”
Levi gives him a flat look and barely perceptible shrug. “I’m not gonna cry about it if I don’t, kid. It’s a small show; I don’t have any great expectations.”
Jaeger balls his hands into trembling fists; ahead, Sasha and Petra are staring curiously, and Erwin looks surprised—whether it’s at the freshman looking like he’s about to throw a punch or at Levi’s sincere answer, he’s not sure. “If you seriously don’t care about getting put in the show, then why are you here?” Jaeger snaps, and the air is suddenly thick with tension.
Levi’s brows draw down in an intimidating glower that, in all honesty, has sent greater people cowering. “What was that?” he murmurs dangerously.
He sees the brief flash of doubt in those bright eyes before it disappears and they harden in bullheaded determination as the kid carries on. “I said, if you don’t care about getting in the show, then why did you even bother coming to auditions? You’re wasting everyone’s time—”
The jarring clang of Levi slamming the younger boy into the ugly blue lockers rings out, and his voice cuts over the kid’s pained yelp. “Yeah? You’re the one sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong; mind your own fucking business, you stupid brat.”
“Levi, leave Eren alone,” Erwin calls sharply, and Levi unconsciously files away the name. ‘Eren.’
“Yeah, guys,” Petra laughs nervously, trying to diffuse the situation. “Come on. We need to get to Pixis or we’ll be holding up auditions, alright?”
Levi holds eye-contact with Eren for a few beats longer, just to watch him squirm, before he lets go of the boy’s shirt and turns away without another word. He falls into step beside Erwin, who gives him a faintly reproachful look and says, “You’ll scare him off.”
“Okay. Shitty kid like that isn’t going to do well in theater anyway if he goes around running his mouth off at everyone,” Levi retorts, just loud enough to be certain that Eren has heard. He strolls into the gym before the little hothead can pick up the confrontation again.
The dance portion goes well enough. Dot Pixis has been choreographing Shiganshina High’s shows for decades, ever since he retired from being a backup dancer for Ricky Martin; plenty of jokes have circulated in the program about how his former job had a very personal aspect to it, all of them perpetuated—and a few created—by Pixis himself. He takes the group through a light routine for Penny’s Song; the only thing noteworthy is when Sasha turns one time too many and tumbles to the ground, managing to latch onto Erwin and take him down with her. Levi almost cracks a smile.
The group heads back to the auditorium for the final station, and Levi rolls his eyes when Eren starts trailing behind so he can fall into step beside him. He’d meant what he said—no confrontational little snot ever does well in theatre. He tells him so in a voice low enough that Erwin won’t be able to hear it.
“Are you serious?” Eren asks, and Levi looks at him like he’s stupid. Eren huffs and clarifies, “I meant about not caring whether you’re in the show or not.”
Levi looks away and says simply, “Whatever happens, happens. They either cast me or they don’t.”
“Yeah, but you’re not even trying!” Eren bursts out, and the rest of the group gives them curious glances. They both fall silent for a bit, but Eren mutters, “If you were just planning on going through auditions looking bored and not even bothering to give one hundred percent, then what’s the point of even showing up?”
Levi narrows his eyes at him and replies evenly, “Being an elitist little shit and lecturing a senior just because they’re not being sloppily enthusiastic and forcing every single thing they do to the extreme just to get noticed isn’t going to be what gets you a part, kid. If you get a part.”
Eren blinks owlishly at him. “You’re a senior? You don’t look—never mind,” he cuts himself off abruptly at the warning look at Levi shoots him. His overall expression isn’t all that terrifying, really. But it’s the beady, heavy-lidded eyes that unnerve him, sharp and flinty underneath the fluorescent school lights. It might also be the piercings, two studs above the right brow. For whatever reason, Eren has always been nervous around people who have piercings that aren’t on their ears. He finds himself staring at Levi’s, though.
They are almost back at the auditorium when Eren decides to speak up again. “So, what shows have you done here?”
“Oh, this is Levi’s first time auditioning for a show,” Erwin answers cheerfully. Eren looks floored.
“We’ve all tried to get him to audition before,” Petra supplies. “Lots of people in theatre have, actually. He’s always been around because he’s best friends with Erwin and Hanji—the stage manager this year, remember? Anyway, this is the first time Erwin’s managed to convince him.”
Sasha bounces on the balls of her feet and chirps, “I’m super excited that got to be in the same group with him; I’ve already worked with Petra and Erwin in last year’s show, and now I get to try out with Levi. This is mega-cool.”
“You guys talk about him like he’s some sort of theater god, even though he’s never been in a show before,” Eren mutters.
“No, not a god. More like—our mascot…?” Sasha murmurs thoughtfully, and Petra giggles.
“God, it’s almost like I’m not right fucking here,” Levi grumbles, rolling his eyes when Erwin gives him that annoyingly pleasant smile as they push open the auditorium doors; that smile is specifically reserved for him, because it always has a double meaning. Right now, the meaning is, ‘Shut up and play nice.’
But as they all file up the steps and onto the stage, Eren steps in close and whispers challengingly, “I bet you’re not even that good.”
Levi whips his head around and his gaze immediately snaps to those big, round eyes, shining with an infectious energy that only comes from a true theater kid—jacked sky-high on the adrenaline of performance, one hundred and fifty percent willing to show everyone who can see exactly what he is able to do. Levi sees all of these things in Eren, and it’s enough for him to deliberately take the bait and mouth, “Oh yeah, brat?”
He wonders what kind of face he’d made when he’d done that, because Eren blinks, staring at him with that almost wondering look he’d had in the music room. The kid almost misses a step.
The group lines up, and Director Shadis—seated in between Nanaba, Mr. Z, and Hanji—shuffles through the papers that they’d filled out earlier. He calls out Erwin’s, Sasha’s, and Petra’s names with some variation of “Welcome back again,” but he pauses at Levi’s and stares down at the paper. “Levi… R—”
“Just Levi is fine,” he cuts in, frowning at the way Hanji suppresses a knowing giggle. “My last name’s weird, so.”
Shadis scrutinizes him for a bit and then says, “I know you.”
Levi nods and replies flatly, “Yeah. English class last year.”
Shadis raises a brow at him; clearly, that wasn’t what he’d been thinking of, but he doesn’t pursue the subject. He looks back down at the papers in his hand and says, “This is your first time trying out. You like Dr. Horrible that much?” After another brief nod from Levi, Shadis turns his intimidating gaze on Eren and says, “You. I’ve heard about you from your sister. Eren Jaeger, right?”
Eren laughs nervously and rubs a hand over the nape of his neck. “Ah, yeah. Mikasa’s actually part of the reason I decided to try out; she’s told me lots about the program here. But I also decided to do it, just because I really love theatre. Acting is what I want to do with my life.”
The adults all share a look, and Shadis intones, “Really, now?”
There is a bright flame of determination in his eyes, just as fierce as the next words he says. “It’s my dream. I don’t just want to do it to be famous; I want people to really love me, and be inspired by what they see. That’s what makes a great actor, and that’s what I want to be.”
Levi watches Eren out of the corner of his eye, a glimmer of interest in his gaze.
Director Shadis looks very much the same, brow furrowed in concentration as he glances back and forth between the energetic freshman and the quiet senior. “I have a question for both of you, since this is the first time you’re attempting to get involved. Assuming you both decided to try out because you want to be here—” This is directed more at Levi. “—then, would I be mistaken in assuming that, if cast, you would both perform any role you were placed in, giving one hundred and ten percent effort? Would you work yourself to the bone for the sake of the show? I meant what I said before; this isn’t the place for uncommitted little shits, and if you fit a role, then you’re cast in it. If I believe that you have the talent to play a damn head cheerleader and cast you as such, I expect you to be prepared to be so goddamn preppy, you give half the audience diabetes. If you’re not up for that challenge, then you can back out now, no harm done.”
There is a pregnant pause, and Eren is the first one to respond; he stands up straighter, eyes luminous and a fierce grin on his face. “I can do it,” he breathes, nodding enthusiastically.
Director Shadis gestures to the room at large and says, “Well here’s your chance to prove it, Jaeger.”
Levi completely misses the inquisitive look that the director gives him. Eren has turned to look at him, and the little monster has the haughtiest look on his face; his eyes narrow, throwing down another challenge that is both like the one Shadis has presented, and yet not. Levi knows what the kid is thinking, and it’s not, ‘You can’t do it.’
It’s, ‘You can’t do it like I can.’
Levi feels something spark within, and it tugs the corner of his mouth to quirk upwards in the very faintest of smirks. “I can handle anything you throw at me.”
He isn’t entirely sure who he’d meant to direct that to.
~~~
It’s past ten when Levi makes it home, shutting the front door as quietly as he can and trudging up to his room. Bone-tired as he is, he still manages to kick off his boots and lay them neatly by the door with his backpack before he collapses onto his bed. It’s never felt as comfy as it does now, after hours of intense socialization. Being honest with himself, Levi knows that he is not one to willingly throw himself into a conversation; he is much more content sitting off to the side and observing people instead. Then again, something that everyone—himself included—appreciates about theatre is the opportunity to be someone else, whether it’s for a five-minute improv, or a two hour show.
Feeling exhaustion weighing down his eyelids, he buries his face into the pillow with a quiet groan and admits that the Shiganshina High Theatre Program is everything that Erwin’s spent years convincing him it was.
‘Stupid fucking Erwin, being right. As usual. Asshole.’
He huffs and turns over onto his back, flicking his bangs away from his eyes and draping an arm across his forehead. He tries to calm his racing mind, but he knows he’s a goner; the program has sucked him in, finally, and a part of him secretly enjoys the uncertainty, the opportunity to wonder whose name he will see on the callback list tomorrow morning, and whose name he will see on the cast list the day after that. He spends at least another hour thinking back to who he’d seen today, pairing the new information with that of what he knows from past shows.
There are sure things, seniors like Erwin and Petra who have been in shows since freshman and sophomore year and have the reliable talent to be cast once again—and even some of the juniors who have shown the same consistency.
Then there are the probables—half of the juniors and most of the sophomores, but he can definitely see Sasha getting cast as something. As much as she drives the director batshit insane, her wild energy is something that few can match, and Levi knows that those kinds of people are key in performances.
That’s never been his own style, though.
He blinks away the thought as soon as it enters his head, more willing to think about the remaining people besides himself. The newbies, as Erwin had put it. Hanji had talked his ear off about the pleasant surprises when he’d given her a ride home—a girl with pigtails who was timid at first, but grew really absorbed in the scene when she’d gotten used to it. Promising. Same with the little blonde freshman—Armin something—who had been talking to Jaeger before auditions had begun.
‘Eren Jaeger.’
Levi nods off soon enough, but not before acknowledging that he knows in his gut that the kid’s name will definitely be on one, if not both, of those lists.