The baby project: every teenager's nightmare come to life, a specter haunting the halls of high school. Caleb couldn't recall if any school had ever handed out fake babies to students, but he sure had his share of nightmares about it growing up. And now, facing the real thing, he wasn't exactly thrilled about his partner either.

Their differences were stark. Caleb loved coconut; his partner didn't. He preferred the shadows; they loved the spotlight. But the biggest bone of contention was their taste in music. Caleb could drift off to sleep with Insane Clown Posse, Black Sabbath, and Skagos playing. The screams of the vocalists and the heavy riffs were a lullaby to him, though he knew this wasn't exactly common.

"The baby hates Ben Platt, we've been over this," Caleb remarked dully, inspecting his nails while his partner tried to calm the robotic infant with their personal playlist. Caleb was convinced the thing was malfunctioning, but he needed the grade.

But did he need it enough to endure Chicago? Heathers? Falsettos? No way. "Just play some Florence, and it'll shut up," he grumbled, massaging his temples. His aversion to musicals was deep-seated; maybe it was the lack of clarity between reality and performance. Did they really leap onto tables in High School Musical, or was it just clever cinematics? He didn't know and didn't care. Metal was straightforward, without the pretense of romantic plotlines or pretending to be trees.

"God, I'd smash that robot if I were it. End its misery before it starts liking Evan Hansen. Pathetic," he muttered, picking at the remnants of his chipped nail polish.