The Act of Theatre (MATTHEW PATEL X FEM READER)

Home Doesn't Feel Like Home

Warning(s)
Fighting
Language
Violence

You walk home, heading inside, and to your delight, your parents are arguing; again. You sneak past them and run up to your room, closing the door behind you. Home doesn't even feel like home anymore. You put your headphones on to drown out the sounds of their yelling. You put your volume all the way up, listening to s/n (song name), staring at the ceiling. Your phone buzzes, and it's Matthew. He sent you a follow request on instagram. You raise an eyebrow, clicking on his profile. Damn. It's private. You accept his request, and you send him a request, Matthew accepting it almost instantly. You keep your music on, clicking on his dm and texting him. "Yeah? Why'd u add me?" You text him curiously. There's three dots and he sends a reply. "Well the director said we needed to rehearse our lines as much as possible, so could I come over?" Your eyes widen at his message. He wants to come over. Your parents are creating the next world war downstairs and he wants to come over; to rehearse lines. You don't want to reject him, so you text him "sure" and send him your address, telling him to come through your window. He gets curious but doesn't ask questions, heading over to your place and climbing through your window. You put your headphones around your neck, pulling him inside, the automatic yells of your parents downstairs being heard by Matthew. "Is everything alright?" He asks, actually sounding concerned for your well-being. "Yeah. It happens every day. I'm used to it by now." You say bluntly, shrugging it off. He nods hesitantly, still concerned, but decided to shut up and change the subject. "So uh, what did you do with c/n in the dressing room?" He asks, fidgeting with his fingers. He saw? God damnit! "Oh- I- it's- we-" You stutter too much, so you shut your mouth, your face red with embarrassment. "You fucked him didn't you?" He asks, smirking. HOW DOES HE KNOW ALL OF THIS?! DID HE WATCH TOO?! "I- how did you know?" You ask, a sly grin on his face after you proved his assumption. "You're a slut, y/n. And I know c/n is your crush. Did he take care of you?" You don't feel offended by him calling you a slut, because nothing he says to you gets locked in your brain. "Eh.. not really." You say awkwardly, hating talking about this with him. "Ah, alright. Enough of that. Let's rehearse." Matthew says, grabbing his script, and reading lines off of his, saying them with emotion and drama. He's actually good. Like- really good. You haven't realized it yet, but now you did. "You're.. really good, Matthew." You comment quietly, a sly grin on his face. "Oh I know. No need to remind me." He waves you away, continuing his lines. You watch closely, the way he expresses himself, the emotion, passion, it's honestly breathtaking. Once he finishes, he sits down on the edge of your bed, crossing his arms. "Your turn, Juliet." You get up, holding your script, not knowing what to do after seeing him rehearse. "How did you do it?" You blurt out, looking over at him on your bed. "It's simple." He shrugs, smirking. "Just let out all of your pent up anger, grief, sadness, happiness, every emotion you're feeling into your acting. Act as if I'm not even here, and just go for it." He tells you, proud that you actually asked him for advice for the first time. "Okay, here goes nothing.." You start rehearsing your lines, doing exactly as Matthew said, putting all of your emotions into your acting, eventually dropping your script and improving, closing your eyes and really digging deep into your emotional scars. Matthew's jaw drops, his eyes widening. As soon as you finish, your eyes snap open, your arms dropping down to your sides. "Woah." You whisper to yourself. "That was incredible!" Matthew shouts, clapping. "Thanks for helping me. I appreciate it." You smile, patting his shoulder and flopping down in your bed, leaving Matthew disappointed; he was hoping for something more, at least a hug, or even a kiss. You groan into your pillow, kicking your feet as your parents yells intensify, the sound of glass breaking making you jolt up. "What was that?" Matthew asks. "I- I think you should go." You tell him, shoving him towards the window and opening your door, running downstairs. "Y/n?! What are you doing home?!" Your mother asks, a broken vase on the floor. "I live here mom!" You yell, clenching your fists. "Go back upstairs. We're just going to go to bed." Your mom says, forcing a smile and pushing her and your dad into the bedroom, closing the door. You sigh, going back up to your room and lying down, falling asleep. Home really doesn't feel like home anymore.