A Midsummer Night's Dream
a/n: hi so this is my first ever fic...sorry if it sucks LOL i gen haven't written anything since like gcse time so there might be grammar errors that i didn't spot. ignore that... :P i am aiming for this to be a little series so if it does suck i am sorry whoopsie but there will prob be more parts. i re-read it a few times and changed a few things but if i read it anymore i will never post it. and i had fun writing so i want to post! if anyone out there actually reads this pls lmk your thoughts or if you have any feedback/suggestions!!! lets be friends!!! also had to mention taytos. i love crisps too much sorry not sorry.
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teen!anthony boyle x fem!reader
2.2k words
Most of the girls you know had been delighted to find out that 10 boys would be transferring over from the nearby boys school, the first boys to ever attend at the strictly all-girls school. They were very much looking forward to all the attention and flirting that was about to replace maths and science revision. You on the other hand, werenât really looking forward to it. It would mean lots of high-pitched giggles and shrieks, falling out over boys, and many silly choices, so you kept to yourself and your small friend group.Â
It had been a few months since they started, and safe to say you were indeed right. The drama in school was at an all-time extreme high, 2,000 girls to 10 boys was realistically never going to end well. You stayed away from that drama, by attending the actual drama class. There was only one boy that had chosen to do drama, Anthony. He was probably the least troublesome of the 10 lads that had joined, but you thought it was still a good idea to keep your distance.Â
Today was a gloomy day, the grey clouds outside looming closer and closer, rain was surely imminent. Fiddling with your pencil, you watched a PE class outside. It had rained yesterday, they traipsed about in the mud, shoes slipping about, the teacher blowing a whistle and trying to get the class in order like they were a pack of misbehaving dogs. Safe to say you were happy to be in the warm drama classroom. âSo, as part of the curriculum we have to do a Shakespeare play. And as weâve done some work on it already, Iâve chosen ours to be A Midsummer Nightâs Dream.â The drama teacher, Miss Murphy, says enthusiastically. âYou should all be familiar with it, so no excuses.â
A few people groaned. Some smiled, you included. Shakespeare wasnât all bad, especially this one. Miss Murphyâs voice lulled on in the background, as you doodled in your notebook. This was one of your favourite Shakespeare plays, and it was going to be interesting finally having a boy to play the male roles. No more drawing on fake beards with an eyebrow pencil. Although, you werenât sure if Anthony could grow a beard either. He would have to do.Â
âAuditions will begin next week. Please keep an eye out for the sign-up sheet!â brought you back to consciousness, and you closed your notebook, packing your things neatly into your bag. A contrast to Anthonyâs âshoving everything in will be fineâ method. You cringed at the sound of paper in his bag getting crumpled, likely the chemistry homework from first period.Â
âWhatâs that frown for Hermia?â Anthony says, nudging you as you both got up, ready to head out. It was lunch now, and he would undoubtedly be going off to cause trouble with his friends.
Youâre not quite paying attention, and mumble a âWhat?â
âYouâre going to audition for Hermia, right?â
âOh, yeah. Well, I think so. Her stories the most interesting I think, and sheâs really inspiring, the way she rebels against her father and runs away- wait, howâd you know I want to play her?â You ramble on to him, as you sling your backpack over a shoulder, and walk out the class with him. Itâs nice to think heâs asking about you. Youâve never normally exchanged more than a few words, and now you were doing a play together.Â
âI could see you writing notesâ he says, shamelessly.Â
âAh grand, nice to know you can copy me from your deskâ you say, as you think about what else he mightâve caught from your notebook. He mightâve seen that you annotated the play in pink gel pen, love hearts around certain lines, or drew sad faces next to others.
He snorts. âIâd never dream of it. Iâm clever enough as it is, donât need to cheatâ
âClever and humble?â
âAye, exactlyâ
You roll your eyes, with a little smile. âWho are you gonna audition for?â You say curiously. Picturing him as Puck makes you laugh in your head, a smirk working over your lips, and then he says âLysanderâ. He was being dead serious, but he could tell you thought he was joking. After all, Hermia and Lysander are lovers in the okay.
âWhat?â You say, with a raised eyebrow, hands fiddling with the loose threads inside your blazer pockets. A nervous habit you were glad he couldnât see.Â
âYeah, I think heâs cool. Brave and all. I like the love story between him and Hermia. Fate and that kind of stuffâ. It makes you guffaw. ââThat kind of stuff?â You call perhaps the greatest love story ever, âfate and that kind of stuffâ? Christ. Weâre doomedâ you tut, looking over at him and the cheeky smile heâs plastered on his face.
Wiggling his eyebrows, he aims to wind you up a little more. âI didnât know you were such a puristâ, he teases, whilst pulling his phone out. He was half pretending to be busy, so he could avoid looking at you. The little back and forth youâve started up has made his cheeks a little pink. He catches a little huff from you. âI am not a purist. Iâm just appreciative of one of the best plays ever written. Youâre not even listening!â, you state, as he taps on his phone.Â
Heâs about to respond when he sees his friends up ahead, and bounds over to them, loudly chatting about something. It hurts a little, that heâd leave your conversation so quickly. Did he not want to be seen with you? It gets pushed to the back of your mind as you reach your locker, shove some books in, and take out your lunch. Nothing fancy. A cheese sandwich on thick fluffy white bread, a banana, and a bag of crisps. Taytos salt and vinegar, always.Â
Despite the grey clouds, and breeze in the air, your feet carried you outside to the usual lunch spot. A few other groups of friends have braved the field too, ignoring the rain that was probably coming in soon. There was a big beech tree in the left corner of the field, that you and your two close friends had claimed as âyoursâ. It was dry under the tree, making it the perfect place for lunch even on a day like this. They had sat down before you, and the conversation starts to filter in as you get closer. Paige is sat with a mountain of chips from the canteen, listening to Orla complain about the lack of pizza.Â
âI mean if they know everyone wants pizza on a Friday, why donât they order more in? Itâs ridiculous- I know that lunch lady has some in the back sheâs stealing for her own lunch. Itâs starvation. I could report it.â Orla declares, her passion for the pizza making you giggle before you had reached them.
âOrla, itâs not really stealing if sheâs the lunch lady. Sheâs having them for her own lunchâ Paige reminds her, as you sit by them in a half circle, slinging your bag to the floor. Orla lays on hers, staring up at the dark sky. She sighs. âI guess so. But I think sheâs doing it on purpose against me. I have reason to suspect it.âÂ
âWhat, the reason being that you jumped in front of her in the line for the bus that one time 4 months ago?â You mumble, smirking to yourself at the memory. She had called Orla a "blind eejit" and clearly, Orla had never lived it down. âI donât even think she saw your face, the pizza thing isnât personalâ âYeah, but she heard my voice!â she explained, sighing, clutching her stomach like the only thing that could cure this was a slice of crappy, soggy canteen pizza, that had been sitting on the side all day. Paige jumps in, mouth full of chips. âYou realise you sound like most of the people in Belfast? She doesnât remember your voiceâ. You nod. âThe pizzas not even that niceâ, she adds, and you nod again, with more force.
Across the field Anthony and his friends are playing a loud game of football, enjoying the added thrill of slipping in the mud. Just as you were eyeing up the mud tracing up the bottoms of his trousers, a goal gets scored and they all cheer far too loudly, it makes you grimace.
You catch Orla mumbling âpricksâ, under her breath. You donât think Anthony is as bad as his friends, but here, playing football in the mud, you agree with her.
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There are only have 2 more lessons after lunch. English and Spanish. The day goes on pretty fast, and it does indeed rain. After Spanish, you make your way up to the drama block, to scribble your name into the sign-up sheet for the play. Anthonyâs already got his name on there, you roll your eyes as it sits at the very top of the list in obnoxious bold black marker. After your name is written down, you head to the lockers, to get rid of your books for the day and grab your raincoat.
Anthony is a few lockers down, shoving things into his space. He mustâve noticed you, because you hear a âYou sign up yet?â. There was almost a hint of nerves in his voice, which you picked up on. But surely he wasnât nervous to talk to you, right? It was probably something else. It had to be.
Although surprised he was talking to you outside of class, you give a polite nod, not looking up from putting your books away. âYeah, just did. Your name almost took up two boxes by the way.â, he chuckled proudly.
âHey, Iâve got to make it known Iâm dedicated!â He says, holding his hands up. âAnyway, Murphy says she might have me playing a few roles, being the only boy.âÂ
Yeah, heâd love that, you think to yourself. All the attention on him. The two of you walked outside, stopping momentarily under a little ledge, not wanting to brave the rain just yet. âWell, Iâll see you tomorrow.â You notice the little disappointed look on his face, and realised he had actually wanted to continue talking about the play. A small part of you feels bad, but you know you have to get home. The rain was steadily getting heavier, and your walk home was long.
âAye, see you tomorrowâ, he says quietly, flashing you a little shy smile as you zipped your raincoat up. The hair from your braids peeking out from the hood, destined to get wet outside, and your cheeks pink from the change in temperatures. He thought you looked rather lovely like this. Sweet. And very normal. He watched you step out into the rain, and begin your walk home. Reluctantly he picked his bag up, and began walking the other way.Â
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Later that night, you spent a good hour scrolling on social media, as usual. You didnât follow Anthony, to be honest you didnât follow many people, but his Instagram was always recommended to you under âpeople you may knowâ. He had a fair chunk of followers, it was a little intimidating. His recent posts are as youâd expect, him and his friends hanging out, trying to look cool. You cringed at the vapes in their hands. He didnât have one though, which you liked. A lot of the pictures were the same, with the occasional one of him at a gig, or some shot of the city. You accidentally clicked on his story. âShitâ you whisper to no-one, heâd see that.Â
Canât wait to play LYSANDER in midsummer nightâs dream!! wonât be MID with me in it!! he had captioned over a picture of the flyer for the play.
Your nose wrinkles up as an annoyed frown etches over your face. Did he really just call the play mid? You half debate replying to his story, but not for long, because you tap the message box. Orla wouldâve told you to ânot be a pussy, heâs just a boyâ.
21:54 yourusername youâre acting very confident, auditions havenât even started
You tap send, and go into the chat, waiting to see if heâd read it. Annoyingly, he does, straight away. He was online.
21:54 antoboylee True. But whatâs wrong with a bit of confidence? Maybe Iâm just manifesting the role ;)
Manifesting, sure.
21:55 yourusername you know youâll get the role anyway. miss murphy needs you for the boy parts
You send, and sigh, cringing a bit, hoping he doesnât pick up on the accidental double entendre of your words.
21:55 antoboylee If Murphy wants me for my boy parts she can have them
It makes you laugh, which youâre sure heâd be delighted about. For a moment you tuck your phone into your fluffy hoodie and plod into the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed, rain still lashing against the window. Mid brushing your teeth your phone pings again.
22:00 antoboylee Sorry lol didnât mean it like that
His sincerity surprises you, he mustâve thought the slight break in your messaging meant you had been scared off. It makes you smile, that he cared a little. It felt nice that he did. Once the toothpaste foam in your mouth had been spat out, you picked up your phone again to reply.
22:02 yourusername donât be sorry, i set myself up there haha :)
The little smiley at the end of the message stared back at you as you waited for his reply. It seemed to be going well, you thought to yourself. It had you wondering why you cared even just a little bit for his words.
22:04 antoboylee Well Iâm looking forward to doing the play either way. I think weâd make a good team
You thought so too.