Chapter Text
“What are you doing here?” Trinity asked you. She’d taken you from Whitaker once it was certain you weren’t in any critical danger. She was looking the laceration on your scalp over. It was just below the hairline, long enough to need stitches, but it didn’t look like it was very deep overall. And your pupils reacted normally, so there probably wasn’t a concussion.
“Um, I think you’re looking at why,” you replied.
Trinity met your eyes and let a breath out through her nose. “I mean in Pittsburgh. Last I remember, you were staying in New York.”
“Right. I’m with the national tour for Phantom. Well, after this, I’ll need an understudy for tonight.” You sighed and shook your head.
Trinity’s lips parted for a moment. “Oh my god, that's awesome. Are you… the lead?” She didn't want to admit she'd forgotten the name of the main character in Phantom of the Opera.
“Yes, actually, I’m playing Christine. Well, I was, I'll definitely need the understudy tonight. And look at you, Doctor Santos. You… do have your doctorate, right?”
Trinity shrugged. “I do. Still in my second year of residency, so for now I’m working the ER.”
“Planning on still being a surgeon?” you probed.
“Maybe. I’m keeping my options open.” She pulled back. “Your scans came back good, you didn't fracture your skull and it doesn't look like you have a concussion, so I’ll go ahead and flush the wound with some saline and stitch you up.”
“Shit, I need stitches?” you asked. You frowned and winced as the motion pulled at your injury.
“Afraid so. How'd you fall anyway?” Trinity asked. She pulled on her gloves and prepared the saline and the sutures.
“The, uh, the catwalk ropes snapped while I was up there. It was about thirty feet up but we had some backup ropes stop it before it hit the ground. When it jolted, it sent me flying off and I hit my head on one of the backdrops.”
Trinity paused. “Aren't you afraid of heights?” she asked. She reached up to start irrigating the wound. “This might sting.”
You flushed a bit. “Yes. I don't spend that much time up on the catwalks, it's just for a few scenes.” You winced as the saline flowed into the wound and the salt water dripped down the side of your face. “It hasn't really been a problem before, at least during Phantom. Now, after this though…” Your eyes drifted away and Trinity could tell you were thinking about the fall again. Probably your worst nightmare.
Trinity placed a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, it's okay, you're okay. A couple of stitches is one of the best outcomes from it.”
You snapped back into the present moment and looked at her hand on your shoulder. She pulled it away and shifted awkwardly on her feet. A moment later, she remembered she was supposed to be stitching you up and prepared the sutures and the needle.
You didn’t respond. Instead you sat there, fidgeting with your dress. It was impossible to tell exactly what you were thinking, and Trinity tried her best to focus on the stitches and not your face, but she couldn't help but wander back to your last encounter.
“Uh, it's nice to see you again,” Trinity said when the silence grew to be too much to bear.
“Yeah,” you said. “I—”
Whatever you were going to say next froze in your throat as someone tore open the door. It was Mel, with an absolutely astonished expression. Mel, who wasn't supposed to be working today.
“No way,” she said. “Um. I am so sorry to interrupt, but… uh, hi, I'm Dr. King, I work here, and I was also at the show today, when I heard you left in an ambulance I realized you were close enough to here that you'd end up, uh, here. Glad to see you're—that you're okay. I'm sorry, is this a bad time to ask for a selfie…?”
Trinity stopped in her suturing and gave Mel a pointed glare. “Mel, you shouldn't be here, it's supposed to be your day off. She probably doesn't want to be hounded by fans after what happened.”
“It's okay,” you said. You gave Trinity a sideways glance, then returned your full attention to Mel. “Maybe when I'm a little more cleaned up?” You offered your gentle smile, one that made Trinity's chest clench and her hands shake ever so slightly. She shoved that feeling down and forced herself to calm down. Your stitches needed to be perfect.
Mel nodded. “Yes, sure, of course. Sorry, Trinity.” She offered you an apology too, then ducked away behind the closing door.
The silence returned, somehow more pointed than it had just been before the interruption. And Trinity didn't say a word, because she was sure that it was her fault.
~
Trinity decided to stay. She thought she'd hold off on dropping the class and just give it one more chance, until it was well past the drop date and she was well and truly stuck in it.
It was a cycle. Brave the class, then embarrass herself and stare at the paperwork for dropping the class, until she remembered you asking her to stick around, and then she distracted herself with the piles and piles of other homework she had.
She was sad you couldn't be her partner every time the professor had the class pair off. But even then, she felt like you were watching her anyway, even when you had a different partner or were sitting at the professor's desk doing paperwork. Trinity half-convinced herself she was making it all up, especially since you gave other students tips and tricks and that encouraging smile and nod. She was making herself out to be someone special when maybe you really didn't think of her as much as she wanted you to.
Even still, Trinity watched you rapturously when the professor had you demonstrate a technique or give an example of whatever she was asking the rest of the class to do. There was just something about how easily this all came to you. Sure, you've probably done all of this before, but you approached it with such earnestness that Trinity couldn't help but enjoy seeing you act.
And then the first test was announced.
“You and an assigned partner will receive a two-person scene to act out from various Shakespeare plays, and then both of you will perform it on exam day, no need to memorize the script this time, but try not to have your nose buried in it the entire time. You will get a passing grade for showing up and extra points depending on the effort you put in your performance. Despite this being a group exam, you will be graded individually.” She waved a clipboard. “I'll pass this around, just put a checkmark next to your name so I know that you know who you'll be working with.”
Trinity finally got the clipboard and scanned for her name. It was at the bottom, and next to hers was yours with a checkmark. She stared at it for a few seconds, then looked up at where you were sitting at the professor's desk. You had an elbow propped on the desk and a finger on your temple and a pencil behind your ear and a pen in your other hand that was scribbling notes down. As if you sensed it, you looked up and locked eyes with Trinity. You looked half-surprised, and then you smiled and waved the hand with the pen as if to say, pass the clipboard.
Trinity's face ducked down and she scribbled a checkmark next to her name and handed the clipboard to the next student, who looked slightly annoyed.
After that, the professor handed out the scripts and then class ended. People started meeting with their partners and drifting out of the classroom. Trinity looked down at her script. It was a scene from Twelfth Night, between Olivia and Viola. Trinity only ever read Romeo and Juliet in high school and she did not enjoy it.
Trinity approached you at the professor's desk as you and her chatted about some other class.
“Ah, Trinity,” the professor said. “Just a minute, I'll let you two confer about the exam all you want.”
“Sure,” Trinity said as she rocked back and forth on her feet and waited awkwardly. She couldn't help but listen in, and learned that the auditions for the spring musical, Chicago, would be next week, and the professor was confirming that you were trying out for the lead role. Trinity had never heard of it before, but you looked excited to be auditioning.
“Alright, Trinity,” the professor said. “Please don't worry that you're paired up with my TA again, this isn't me punishing you by any means or thinking anything negative about your skills. You two have done well together in previous classes, so I want to see you shine. I really do see some potential in you, and she knows just how to bring it out of you. And look at it this way, now you know your partner won't flake on you or drag you down in any way.” She turned to you. “Anything else you need from me?”
You stood up and gathered your things. “Not unless you need anything from me, professor.”
“Just make sure those essays are in my office when you're done with them, and we're all squared away,” she replied. “Break a leg, the both of you.” She smiled and then waved towards the door.
“Come on,” you said, drifting around the desk and around Trinity. Your shoulder just lightly brushed hers as you passed by and headed for the door, “the breakdancing class has this room next, and they do not like waiting for us to clear out.”
Trinity followed you out, her heart thumping in her chest. She wasn't even sure why she was so nervous.
“So, she gave us Twelfth Night,” you said. “Have you read that one?”
“Nope,” Trinity replied. “I don't know anything about it.”
“I won't bore you with the entire synopsis, but our scene deals with Viola pretending to be a man, Cesario, who is trying to seduce Olivia on behalf of the duke.”
“Really?” Trinity asked. “Do Olivia and Viola end up falling in love?”
You laughed. “I’m sorry to say that it's a little more complicated than that, but some productions end up pursuing the idea of sexuality and gender a lot better than the source material. Either way, it’s genuinely a lot of fun to perform.” You came to a stop in the main hallway of the arts building. Trinity could hear a brass band practicing something in the distance, and people hurriedly passed them by. “Why don't you read through the script, choose whoever you'd rather perform as, and we'll schedule a time to rehearse?”
Trinity tightened her grip on the paper. “Sure,” she replied. “You sure you don't want to pick your favorite? It sounds like you've done this one before.”
“I'm not in your class,” you said with a chuckle, “so you get to pick. And yes, I've actually been both parts, so I don't mind either one.” You fished your phone out of your pocket and opened up the contacts list. “Put your number in, I'll text you.”
Trinity took the phone with slightly shaky fingers. She'd done this plenty of other times with other classmates, and yet she'd never been this nervous giving someone her number. When she handed it back, you quickly texted her. Trinity took out her own phone to read it.
Hi Trinity 🔺❤️
Trinity pressed her lips together. A second text with your name on it followed just as quickly.
She cleared her throat. “Uh, so, what word would you have picked for that name association thing?”
You brightened up. “I've done this so many times, it's honestly migrated so far from my actual name. So, at this point, it doesn't really make much sense, but my word is ‘sunshine,’” you replied.
“Honestly, I don't know how you got there from your name, but… it fits you,” Trinity said with a shrug. She wasn't sure if it was a trick of the light or if your cheeks got slightly redder.
“Well thank you,” you said. “I've got some auditions to rehearse for, but I'll see you around.”
“Bye, Sunshine,” Trinity said.
She listened to your laugh as you waved and headed down a separate hallway. And then she looked down at her phone and added in your contact, plus a sun emoji right next to it.