Chapter 2: 2. The Audition

Shiro

The room is starkly white and unfurnished, except for a tripod with a camera and a long table where Romelle takes place beside two guys I don’t recognize. One seems vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him. It’s not likely we’ve met, plus I don’t have time to ponder it because Romelle hands me a script. She gives me a thorough once over and then turns to her companions.

“Mister…”

“Shirogane, but I go by Shiro,” I supply dutifully.

“Mister Shirogane didn’t originally come to audition, but wouldn’t he be excellent for the Black Paladin? I mean, look at the jaw. The hair. Fans would go crazy over him.” 

Is this how a piece of meat feels? A muscle in the aforementioned drool-worthy jaw twinges, and I rub my hand along the edge, fingers catching on the stubble dusting my skin. If I knew I’d end up at a freaking Hollywood audition, I’d have at least taken a swipe at it. 

“What’s he doing here if he’s not auditioning, Romelle? Wasting our time? Are you?” the vaguely familiar guy asks.The hood of his red hoodie is drawn deep into his face, obscuring his features. 

“I just came to support a friend.”

“How novel,” he says in a bored tone.

Heat creeps up my neck. Thanks, stranger-I’ve-seen-somewhere, I already know I don’t belong. No need to remind me.

“Just give him a chance, Keith. We haven’t found anyone suitable to play Ryou, and Mister Shirogane would be perfect.” 

“Shiro,” I correct her. 

“What?”

“It’s what everyone calls me. Not Mister Shirogane.” That sounds too close to Lieutenant Shirogane, and I hate that brief crackle of excitement and shame that runs along my spine whenever I hear it.

“Okay, Shiro,” Keith says, and my mind finally catches up. This must be the guy Lance showed me on his phone before I got dragged into this… whatever this is. “Show us what you’ve got.” 

Romelle directs a little smile at me, trying to ease the tension that rolls off me in waves. “Do you mind if we tape this? It’s a standard procedure for every audition.”

“Sure.”

She runs the lines with me, and it’s fun, despite my lack of experience. For a moment, I get to forget about everything. About my messed up career, my aching shoulder, my crumbling relationship. The scene is over way too soon, and I blink in surprise when Romelle collects the script back from me.

“This was fun. Thanks for having me.” Time to head out and joke about the whole experience with Lance when we grab our post-audition drink. 

“Wait a moment, mister… Shiro,” says the guy I assume for no good reason is the director.

“Ryou, the character you’re auditioning for, has a lot of scenes with the lead, Akira, played by Keith here. Usually, we save this for the callbacks, but given this, eh, non-standard situation… I’d like to see your chemistry. Keith, what do you think?”

Keith tosses his hood back, and his eyes rake over me. The beautiful color isn’t visible in the dim light of the room, but the shrewd assessment is unmistakable. He’s cataloging my every weakness, every stray thought put on display, stripped of every protective layer. An urge to hunch in on myself, to hide my broken soul from that penetrating gaze, barrels through me.

“Why not? There’s not much to lose,” he says and saunters over. I notice he doesn’t need to read from the script, already having the part memorized. The photo Lance had found didn’t do him justice. In reality, he’s even more gorgeous. Smaller than me—most people are, though—but built like a dancer, with broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. There’s a liquid grace to his movements that makes him hypnotizing to watch. Then the extraordinary eyes bore into me again, and oh yeah, he’s trouble. My stomach bottoms out, and a tremble runs through me. What was I thinking, pretending to be an actor? I’m a nobody. A failure. A broken guy with a military career in tatters.

Keith must have noticed my bout of nerves because even though his eyes are still fixed on me, they lose the sharp quality, and he flashes me a soft smile. His lips barely lift, but it’s incredible how such a hint of a movement sends my heart tumbling along my ribcage.

“Any time you’re ready, Shiro.”

“Yeah. Sure.” I shuffle the papers in my hands.

“Hey. There’s no need to be nervous. I know Romelle roped you into this, but just… don’t overthink it. You were doing great before. Better than many ‘professionals,’ that’s for sure.”

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So he can be nice, but it changes nothing, even if it’s good to know some stereotypes about celebrities aren’t true. And really, what do I have to lose?

“Let’s do this.”

Another tilt of that carved mouth, like a secret he’s hiding from the world, and goosebumps erupt on my skin in response. Now I’m doubting my sanity. One person shouldn’t hold such power me; that’s ridiculous. 

Okay, enough doubts. Eyes back on the script, we act out the scene. It shows a tense part about the guys crashing on a strange planet, with my character sustaining a grave injury from a weird beast, but same as before, it’s easy. Easier, really, because now I can read Keith’s expressions and use them as a baseline for my character. 

“If I don’t make it, I want you to be the leader,” I say, and it’s natural to act proud when I see the determined expression on Keith’s face. Even though it’s not in the script, I reach over and place my hand on his cheek, warm and smooth under my fingers, in a tender gesture.

“Stop saying things like that. You’re going to make it.”

“We both know my chances of survival with this wound are slim, and the team needs a leader.”

“The team has a leader.” Keith grabs my shoulders. Neither of us pays much attention to the script anymore. We’re lost in the scene, playing off each other’s reactions in a complicated dance where we find our way on pure instinct with no knowledge of the steps, but somehow, it works. 

“I’m not giving up on you, Ryou.” Keith presses his forehead against mine, going with the flow. The unique eyes are large with terror, yet there’s hope in the wry smirk he gives me as I stroke his face, and everything falls away. The people, the room, the whir of the camera. It’s just Keith and me, lost together on an alien planet, and longing twists through me. I want to stay frozen in the moment, forever trapped in the energy arcing between us.

“How many times will you need to save me before this is over?” I ask, voice husky with an odd tightness squeezing my throat.

“As many times as it takes.”

The scene ends.

A beat of silence, then the director and Romelle talk at once while Keith and I keep staring at each other, gazes locked in a silent battle. Or an embrace. The indigo of his eyes is the deep blue of the space where the ocean bleeds into the sky. I’ve never seen a color like that, and it wouldn’t take much to drown in it. A gasped-out breath, a flutter of an eyelid, and I’d be gone. My hand still splays across his cheekbone, and even though he does not lean away, the situation tips toward awkwardness, so I give a nervous laugh and pull back. 

Romelle clears her throat. 

“Okay, Shiro, let’s do the slate, and that’ll be all.” 

What the hell is a slate? I want to ask, but I don’t need to draw more attention to my inexperience. Of course, Keith, focus still trained on me, doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Slate is just stating your contact info, representation, height, weight, age, and the character you’re auditioning for on camera.”

“Yeah, um, thanks.” 

I rattle off the required information, saying I’m currently unrepresented, listing my measurements—a flashback to my Navy days—and then Romelle nods and cuts off the camera.

“Thanks, Shiro, we’ll be in touch.” Yeah, right? From what Lance told me, chances are, I’ll never hear from them again, which is fine. This was just a fun tryout, something to laugh over with my friends, not an actual attempt at launching an acting career. 

 Keith steps across the room and dives into a deep discussion with Romelle and the other guy, the director? Beats me. They keep sending me odd looks, and I’m unsure what’s next. Should I stay? Leave? Do a handstand? What’s the protocol?

“One more thing, mister… Shiro,” the director says. “Ryou is supposed to be gay. It’s being discussed at the moment, and it might not happen, but we like to cover all our bases. Would you be okay with playing a queer character?”

It takes a lot of effort not to laugh.

“That’s a role I play every day.” Three sets of stares zero in on me. “What I mean is, I’m gay. I have a boyfriend. A fiancé, actually.” Why do I always forget that part? Now that’s a question best left unanswered. What a weird day. When I agreed to tag along with Lance for emotional support, I didn’t imagine coming out to a room full of Hollywood people. Keith’s answer is a quirked brow accompanied by a tight-lipped smile. “Great! At least one actor in the cast would actually represent the LGBTQ+ community. Like Romelle said, we’ll be in touch.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks again.” I give an awkward wave, more of a spasm of a motion, and head for the exit, pretty sure my Hollywood career ends as soon as the door hits me on the way out.

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