57 - jim morrison ²

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For canispeaktomarge ! This request was, by far, one of my favorite things to write. So buckle yourselves in and enjoy the ride!
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The only thing you liked about theater was the fact that you'd get to see Jim every other day. You weren't that skilled at memorizing lines or projecting your voice to reach the back of the room, but you did study the way his fingers curled when he spoke and the resonating intonation of Jim's words.

Maybe as you chose Theater Arts II after barely squeaking by the previous year, your motivations were purely directed towards seeing Jim often. All of your friends were keenly aware of this and teased you relentlessly on it. Before long, yours became one of the most notorious crushes in the school. Little Y/N going after weirdo Jim.

Oftentimes, you never took school gossip seriously. But this piece of incriminating drama had the potential to reroute itself directly into Jim's lap and expose you for all your deep, dirty feelings. The idea was nearly too much to bear. Before long, you loathed going to theater, too afraid of what could've been leaked in your absence.

As you made your way to fourth period theater, some such nagging, worried thoughts swam about in your brain. Had anyone said something to Jim yet? What if they had and he didn't want to speak to you again?

To be honest, Jim never said more than three words to you in one sitting, but those were words near and dear to your heart. You couldn't imagine being starved of Jim entirely! Imagining him picking a seat far, far away from you just to avoid your cloying feelings was too heavy a thought to entertain.

Tentatively you stepped into the classroom a few minutes early. The chairs were only a quarter of the way full with a few good students already nose-first in their books. You didn't see Jim yet and you weren't sure if that was a bad thing or not.

Deciding to bet on Jim not hearing the rumors for today, you picked your usual spot towards the middle of the classroom, leaving a few empty chairs on either side of you as an open invitation just in case. You nervously pulled out your own textbook, pretending not to focus on the door each time a student passed through.

Jim ended up being late, as he always was. Mrs. Anagram didn't spend much time lecturing Jim on his tardiness, she simply directed him to a seat. You sat up straighter, trying to act as though you just noticed Jim and weren't thinking about him for the past ten minutes (or two years.)

Just your luck, Jim plopped down in a spot right next to yours. You grinned over at him, getting a lukewarm response. It wasn't totally uncharacteristic, and you forced yourself not to take it to heart. Jim was just Jim. It didn't mean that you were beneath him to speak, as most kids thought. Sometimes, Jim just didn't need to speak.

"Okay class," Mrs. Anagram said with a clap of her bejeweled hands. "Today we're going to start on our annual production of Shakespearean plays!"

There was a muted reception, some students much more excited than others.

Once Mrs. Anagram got everyone calmed down, she continued. "I know you all must be thinking Romeo and Juliet. This time, I've planned something different."

A devious smile graced her drawn features and she began a few excited laps around the classroom to explain the play. Mrs. Anagram dropped a couple key figures and some lines and allowed the class themselves to guess what play they would be performing.

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