Shakespeare one shots

Must have been the wind

A certain someone (cough cough) got me into Alec Benjamin, and holy shit, can he tell stories. I've got like four one shot plans because of his songs.

This particular one hit close to my headcanon for how Ophelia and Horatio met. Let me explain a little, though.

Polonius had been offered a job at Elsinore. He managed to find transportation for two, so he ended up taking Laertes and plans to send for Ophelia once he's got the money for it. He left her with a caretaker in the meantime. I just kinda prefer to her as "the caretaker" because I can't be bothered to give her a real name.

The beans are around twelve or thirteen in this.

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~ Ophelia's PoV ~

I screamed as the caretaker my father hired threw me to the floor by my hair. I tumbled backwards into a small table, tipping and shattering the vase that had previously been standing peacefully on it.

"Quiet, little bitch," she leaned down to hiss in my ear. I whimpered.

She slunk away and returned a minute later with a broom and dustpan.

"And clean up your damn mess. You're such a stupid klutz, breaking your father's vase like that! Can't you do anything right? God, he should be ashamed of you. His little girl on her knees cleaning up broken glass like a fucking serva-"

We both froze as a series of quiet knocks echoed through the apartment. She hauled me to my feet and quickly zipped up my sweater to my chin to hide the various scratches and cuts beneath it.

"If you say a word, you're dead," she muttered before pushing me in the direction of the door. "And don't let them see inside!"

I took a fortifying breath, wiped away any signs of tears, and plastered on the most convincing smile I had.

I opened the door.

~ Horatio' PoV (weird backwards time thing) ~

It's interesting how even a very muffled noise can make a person jump out of their skin.

I sent an apprehensive look to my mother, who nodded. I darted out the door, took the elevator, and located the apartment above mine, all the while wondering what might make a person scream like that.

My left brain was saying it was a movie they had on too loud. My right was saying they'd just discovered a Coraline-style bedlam doll.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

A girl about my age peeked timidly out of the tiny crack between the door and the frame.

"Hey, u-um, did you hear that scream a moment ago?" I asked in my usual two decibels.

She looked terrified, and I immediately felt bad despite probably not having caused it.

"I think your ears are playing tricks on you," she squeaked. She glanced behind her for a split second and turned back to me. "Thanks for caring, sir that's nice of you, but I have to go back in!"

The girl shut the door, my protests on the edge of my tongue. I let out a small "hey!" in indignation.

Through the door, I heard her talking.

"Wish I could tell you about the noise, but I didn't hear a thing..."

She trailed off, and I heard angry whispers. I was about to barge in when she spoke up again.

"It must have been the wind!"

Followed by a muffled smack, a suppressed yelp, and the sound of a small weight hitting a carpeted floor.

I trudged back to my mother in the kitchen, worried and confused. She gave me a sympathetic look as I curled up on the floor.

"Do you think something's wrong?" She asked gently.

"I just can't shake the feeling..."

She paused her cooking to come sit cross-legged, facing me. I lifted my head from my hands.

"I didn't want to intrude, and I don't have all the facts, but I can't-"

My head dropped again. She placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"But you can't bear the thought of just leaving her?" She guessed. I nodded.

"I need to help her, Mom."

"I've got an idea."

~ Ophelia's PoV ~

I opened the door.

A boy who looked to be about my age sheepishly shuffled his foot on the carpet of the hallway. I made sure to keep the door barely open.

"Hey u-um, did you hear that scream a moment ago?" He stuttered.

"I think your ears are playing tricks on you." I said as my brain switched to improv mode. Thank God for theater class.

I glanced over my shoulder at my caretaker, who was giving me a hard stare. I truly did believe I was dead if I slipped up.

"Thanks for caring, sir that's nice of you, but I have to go back in!"

I shut the door and closed my eyes as tight as I could. I heard him exclaim something, but my thoughts were directed elsewhere as I felt a hand on the back of my neck. An unmistakable "keep talking."

"Wish I could tell you about the noise, bit I didn't hear a thing..." I whimpered.

"Jesus Christ, idiot, give him an excuse!" My caretaker whisper-shouted. My mind reeled and I went to what my father always said about bumps in the night.

"It must have been the wind!"

Which I immediately regretted.

A force met my cheek and I used everything in me not to make any noise as I tumbled back onto the carpet for the second time this hour.

As they always did in moments like these, when the world became too painful and I just wanted to dissapear, my thoughts wandered to my family. Was Laertes improving in his fencing? Was my father more financially stable?

Would I see them soon?

~ Time skeep ~

I opened my eyes groggily to the feeling of paper on my arm.

A letter sat there, neatly addressed to "The girl upstairs" in shabby cursive. I hadn't even opened it before my caretaker yelled from the other room.

"That was in front of the door earlier. Almost tripped me, damn thing. No responding!"

I rolled my eyes, something I never dared to do to her face, and carefully opened the letter.

Not cursive, thank God, but still sloppy, similar to my handwriting. I smiled at that in and of itself.

And then I read the words.

"Promise I'm not playing tricks on you! You're always welcome to come in, and you could stay here for an hour or two if you ever need a friend. We can talk about the noise when you're ready. Until then, we'll say it must have been the wind.

Sincerely, the boy in the apartment below yours."

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Eh, shitty ending, but it's fine. I'm tired.

This book might be updating a little slower now, because I'm also writing a Coraline book. Go check it out if you like the movie or the book! The second chapter will be overflowing with Shakespeare!

Good morrow, faeries. May it always really be the wind.