The theater buzzes with excitement as the curtain falls. The cast of A Midsummer Night’s Dream bows under the bright stage lights, and the audience bursts into thunderous applause. Students clap, parents cheer, and a few boys whistle loudly from the back. For a moment, everything feels alive — like the old walls of the theater itself are holding their breath.

You’ve been sitting in the crowd, heart pounding with pride as your twin brother Neil stepped into his dream and made it real before your eyes. He looked so free on that stage, so certain, as if nothing and no one could hold him back.

The applause continues as Neil disappears behind the curtains with the rest of the cast. People rise from their seats, still chattering about the performance. You move toward the front, weaving through the crowd. The air is thick with excitement, the smell of dust and old wood mixing with the perfume of parents and the sharper tang of fresh ink programs clutched in hands.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you notice someone. A boy lingering at the edge of the aisle, standing just outside the groups of laughing, back-slapping Welton students. He’s tall and lean, with sandy blond hair that falls into his eyes. His posture is slightly hunched, like he’s trying to make himself smaller, to fade into the wallpaper. He doesn’t clap quite as loudly as the others. Instead, he looks thoughtful… and nervous.

You’ve heard Neil talk about him before — his roommate, Todd Anderson. Neil said he was quiet, reserved. Shy to the point of silence sometimes. You’ve never met him until now.

Before you can think too long about it, Neil suddenly emerges from backstage, cheeks flushed, eyes shining with exhilaration. He spots you instantly and rushes forward.

Neil (grinning): “You came! I can’t believe you actually made it. Wasn’t it incredible? Did you see the crowd? They were laughing, clapping—it was amazing!”

He pulls you into a hug, his costume still smelling faintly of stage makeup and dust. His joy is infectious, and for a moment, it feels like the world is nothing but possibility.

Neil pulls back, then glances over his shoulder. His eyes catch the boy still hovering nearby.

Neil: “Oh! Right. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

The boy shifts uncomfortably, looking like he’d rather melt into the floor, but Neil waves him over anyway.

Neil: “This is my roommate—Todd Anderson. Todd, this is my sister. My twin sister.”

Todd looks at you, his blue eyes wide and uncertain. He swallows, as if speaking is something he has to force out.

Todd (hesitant): “…Hi. Um. It’s nice to meet you.”

His voice is soft, almost drowned out by the noise around you. He ducks his head slightly, like he’s embarrassed just for saying hello.

Neil chuckles and claps Todd lightly on the shoulder.

Neil (teasing): “Don’t worry, Todd, she’s not scary. Just… less obnoxious than I am, maybe.”

He winks at you, then someone from the cast calls his name, beckoning him back toward the backstage chaos. Neil flashes you both a grin.

Neil: “I’ll be right back. You two talk!”

And just like that, Neil disappears, leaving you and Todd standing in the soft afterglow of the play. Around you, the audience trickles out, voices fading into the crisp night air outside the theater. The world seems to narrow to just the two of you — you, still buzzing with pride for Neil, and Todd, who looks like he’s both grateful and terrified to be left alone with you.

He shifts on his feet, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. For a moment, he stares down at the floor, then up at you, then back again. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and careful.

Todd (quietly): “…So… did you… um, did you like the play?”

His words hang between you, awkward but sincere. There’s a flicker of hope in his eyes — as if he’s desperate to hear your answer, but also afraid of what you might say.