A/n: This was written for @Spectkylar. Hope ya like it!
(Y/n's POV)
I used to be a part of Shakespeare's troupe. He always had me play the male lead. It was nice for a while until it started to wear on me. Will was quite a demanding man. Hours upon hours of practicing, plus script memorization, and private practices. Also, God forbid you mess up a word, or try to adlib. He would rip you to shreds, trust me, I tried once.
After a few years of this, I quit, walked out on him on the evening of one of his biggest shows.
That was great and all, leaving him gasping like a fish out of water, but the drawback was, now I had no job. With no job, that meant no money, and no money meant no place to live. So I decided to see if I could find work with other troupes.
No one wanted to hire me though. Yes, I was once Shakesphere's leading man, but I also quit on him with no notice. No one wanted to hire such a "volatile" actor. If only they knew why I quit, life would be much easier. It's "Shakesphere is so great" this, and "Shakesphere is a man ahead of his time." that.
One day I was walking from theater to theater seeing if anyone had any kind of work when I heard a man singing. I got closer and he was singing about how much he hates Shakespeare. I was overjoyed to find just one person who hated the man as much as I did. I rushed over to meet him as soon as he finished singing.
"Hello, mister. I heard you singing about how much you hated Shakespeare. I hate him too, you know." I said.
"Really? Why do you hate him?" He asked, obviously as surprised as I was to find another lother of William.
"Well, I used to be in his troupe but he was just so demanding. I couldn't take it anymore, and I quit," I admitted, looking down a little bit.
"You quit? I've never met anyone who quit his troupe! They all were fired or 'laid-off'." He said.
I nodded. "I was his leading man, and one day, I had enough so I just left."
"Wait! You are the guy who walked out on his opening night?" He said, a huge smile appearing on his face.
I nodded again.
"Well, hello! My name is Nick Bottom and I am a writer too. I was actually hoping to find you around here somewhere. Would you like to be a part of my troupe? We could always use an actor as talented as you."
"Yeah, I would love to. You are the only person who has been willing to hire me anyway. Everyone else is afraid I might walk out on them too." I said. "Oh right. My name is (Y/n) (Y/l/n)." I held out my hand and he shook it zealously.
The next day was my first day practicing for the "musical" called "Omelet." I was skeptical, but they, a job is a job right?
I was assigned to be one of the many dancing eggs. It was fun, and I didn't really have any line so I actually got to sleep at night.
After a few weeks of practicing, I noticed myself spending a lot of time with Nick outside of practices. He let me stay at his place with his brother and him while I got back on my feet. I would also go around town with him, like to the markets and such, just to help out. And Nick never seemed to mind so it was a good situation.
Then one night, while I was reading through the script at his desk, he woke up. I didn't even notice he was behind me until he put his hand on my shoulder.
"What are you doing?" He asked, looking down at the papers.
"Just reading through my parts," I said and looked up at him.
"What are those little scribbles?"
"Oh, those are my annotations. Just how to say stuff and notes about words I could add."
"Can I see them?" I guess, but they really are just notes. I said, worried he would yell at me for making adjustments to his script.
After a few minutes of reading and flipping through the script he looked up at me and smiled.
"Can I borrow this? I want to talk to Nigle about it and see if we can add some of these in." He said.
"Really, you think so?" I asked, surprised he liked my ideas.
"I do think so. And thank you for the use of your script love."
We both stopped, and kind of looked at each other after he said that.
"I-I'm sorry I said that. I didn't mean to." He said, standing up and walking back to his bed.
I grabbed his arm gently.
"Nick, it's okay. I thought it was sweet." I said with a smile.
He started to shake a little with nervous energy, so I let go of his arm.
"If you thought that was sweet then you should read this." He said and walked back to his bed. He pulled out a small notebook, like his brother's.
"Now I know I don't write as good as Nigel does, but I try sometimes." He handed me the notebook and I read the short poem inside.
"Ah, sunflower, weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun;
Seeking after that sweetest golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done;
Where the youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves, and aspire
Where my sunflower wished to go!"
I smiled and looked up from the page.
"It's about you, you know," Nick said a sheepish smile shone on his face.
"I do not have such a way with words," I admitted. "So instead I will just say, I love you."
We both sat and stared at one another for a moment before our silence was broken.
"What are you two doingggg? You are gonna waste candle lighttt." Nigel said, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
Nick then got up and went back to his bed. I blew out the candle and laid down on my own. Nothing had to be said, but we both knew that tomorrow we would wake up a little less alone.
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A/n: #18! This is 100%, not my poem. It was written by a man named William Blake. I just didn't write my own because poetry is not my specialty. Hope you enjoyed it anyway.