The auditions had spanned three days, and now, on the final day, the select few who had made the cut were gathered in the theater club room. The atmosphere was thick with suspense, whispers, and murmurs filling the space as students speculated about their roles.

Mizuki sat across the room, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his blazer. As the Theater Club President, he was just as in the dark as the others. His usual calm demeanor was replaced by nervous energy. What part did he get? What part did Nakano? The thought of Nakano playing opposite him was both thrilling and terrifying.

The door creaked open, and a hush fell over the room as Iwamoto entered, flanked by the other judges, Harada and Ohara. Each carried a stack of papers, their expressions giving nothing away. They moved to the front of the room, placing their papers on the table before them.

Iwamoto looked up, her eyes scanning the room, meeting each student’s gaze. “Thank you all for coming,” she began, her voice cutting through the silence. “We’ve spent the past few days carefully considering everyone’s performances, and I have to say, we were truly impressed. But before we reveal the cast, I want to commend all of you for your hard work and dedication. No matter the outcome, you should all be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

Mizuki’s heart pounded in his chest. He could barely focus on Iwamoto’s words, his mind too preoccupied with the impending announcement. His eyes darted to the door as it slid open once more. Nakano rushed in, still slightly out of breath from basketball practice, his hair damp with sweat. “Sorry I’m late!” he called out, bowing apologetically before slipping into the nearest seat, which happened to be directly opposite Mizuki.

Nakano flashed an apologetic smile at Mizuki, who quickly averted his gaze, his face heating up. Iwamoto cleared her throat, regaining everyone’s attention. “Now, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for.”

She began to shuffle through the papers, heightening the tension in the room. Mizuki’s pulse quickened with each passing second, his eyes locked on Iwamoto as she finally found the list she was looking for.

“First, the role of the Princess…” Iwamoto paused, her eyes flicking up to meet Mizuki’s for a brief moment before she continued, “goes to Mizuki Kimiko.”

A collective murmur ran through the room. Mizuki’s breath caught in his throat, his heart leaping at the announcement. He barely had time to process the news before Iwamoto moved on.

“And the role of the Prince…” she continued, scanning the room, “goes to Nakano Haruki.”

A hushed gasp filled the room. Mizuki’s head snapped up, his eyes widening in disbelief. Nakano? His heart skipped a beat. He quickly glanced at Nakano, who seemed equally surprised, though a smile slowly spread across his face. He turned to Mizuki, his eyes locking onto his, and in that brief moment, something unspoken passed between them.

Iwamoto continued reading off a few of the main character roles. “Congratulations to everyone,” Iwamoto said, breaking the spell. “There are more roles to announce, but before we continue, there’s something important we need to discuss.”

The room fell silent again, all eyes on Iwamoto as she took a deep breath. “As you all know, our play is based on *The Princess and the Frog.* However, given the unique casting we have, the judges and I have been considering a twist. We’re thinking of adding a BL—boys’ love—spin to the story.”

A ripple of surprise and excitement swept through the room. Mizuki’s heart pounded even harder, and he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. A BL twist? With Nakano as the Prince? His mind reeled at the thought.

“Of course, this is just a suggestion,” Iwamoto continued, “and we want to make sure everyone involved is comfortable with it. We don’t want to push anyone into something they’re not okay with, so we’ll give you some time to think it over.”

Mizuki couldn’t bring himself to look at Nakano, though he could feel Nakano’s eyes on him. He was too overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions he couldn’t quite sort out. What would Nakano think of this?

On the other hand, Nakano sat quietly, his smile fading as he processed the news. He was confused, unsure of how to feel. He had never thought about being in a BL play before, especially not with Mizuki. His mind was a jumble of thoughts, none of them making much sense. But one thing was clear—he needed time to figure out what this all meant for him. Did he really not mind the idea? What does Mizuki think of this? Wait, what will his friends think of this?

As the judges continued to discuss the play, the room buzzed with excitement and nervous energy. But for Mizuki and Nakano, everything else faded into the background as they both sat, lost in their thoughts, unsure of what to feel.

The tension in the room was palpable as Iwamoto finished reading off the last of the names. The students, still reeling from the announcement of the potential BL twist, exchanged uncertain glances as they absorbed the information. Iwamoto cleared her throat to gather their attention one last time.

“You all have a week to think this over,” she said, her voice firm but encouraging. “If you’re in, tick off your name on the list outside the door. If not, leave it blank, and we’ll recast your role. Take the time you need to make the right decision for you.”

With that, she gathered her papers, signaling the end of the meeting. The students began to shuffle out of the room, most of them murmuring to each other about the twist, but Mizuki remained rooted to his seat. His mind was spinning, unable to process everything that had happened. He wasn’t sure what to think or feel, and the idea of facing Nakano was overwhelming.

As the others filed out, Mizuki quietly stood and slipped out of the room, hoping to make a quick escape before anyone could catch up with him. His heart was heavy, his mind filled with doubts. But just as he was about to reach the end of the hallway, he heard footsteps rushing after him.

“Prez!” Nakano’s voice echoed down the corridor, stopping him in his tracks.

Mizuki froze, his back still turned to Nakano. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his emotions a jumble of confusion and embarrassment. “Y-y-you don’t have to do it,” he said softly, not daring to turn around. “They can recast the role if you’re uncomfortable. I didn’t know they were going to change it up like this. I’m fine with it, but you don’t have to be.”

Nakano stopped a few feet behind him, his breath slightly ragged from running after Mizuki. He stood there, uncertain of what to say, feeling the weight of Mizuki’s words. 

Mizuki continued, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “You must find the thought of kissing another guy in a play gross.… I mean, I get it. It's my last year to be casted in our school's play, so I'll do it....Y-you should...you should just quit the idea now before it gets too complicated.”

Nakano felt a pang of guilt hearing Mizuki’s words. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke. “You’re wrong, Prez” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “I… I don’t know how I feel about it. The thought didn’t bother me when Iwamoto said it, but I’m not sure why I can’t just jump to an immediate ‘yes’ either.”

Mizuki’s breath hitched, but he still didn’t turn around. Nakano’s words were unexpected, and they left him feeling more confused than before. “So, you’re not weirded out?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Nakano shook his head, even though Mizuki couldn’t see him. “No, I don’t think I am. It’s just… all new to me, you know? I’ve never thought about doing a BL play before. I guess it’s just something I need to wrap my head around. Iwamoto said we have a week, so… I’ll spend some time thinking about it.”

The hallway was silent for a moment, the only sound being the distant chatter of other students further down the corridor. Finally, Mizuki asked the question that had been nagging at him since Nakano called out his name. “Then… why did you rush after me?”

Nakano felt his face flush, a warmth spreading across his cheeks as he tried to find the right words. “You just… seemed really bothered,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “And I wanted you to know that… that I…”

He trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence. His mind raced, searching for something—anything—that could convey what he was feeling. But the words wouldn’t come. He looked at Mizuki’s back, still turned away, and took a deep breath.

He's never been so tongue-tied before or lost for words. “I just wanted you to know that I’ll think about it,” Nakano said finally. “And while I’m doing that… why don’t we hang out? Get to know each other better. Maybe… maybe that’ll help me make a decision.”

Mizuki’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected that. Slowly, he turned to face Nakano, his eyes wide with surprise. “You… want to hang out? With me?”

Nakano nodded, trying to hide his nervousness behind a lopsided smile. “Yeah. I mean, If we’re going to be working together a lot for the play, We might as well get to know each other better."

Mizuki felt a strange warmth spread through his chest. He gave Nakano a small, tentative smile. “Okay… yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

Nakano’s smile widened, a sense of relief washing over him. “Great. So, um… maybe after school tomorrow? We could grab a bite or something.”

Mizuki nodded, feeling the tension slowly easing from his shoulders. “Sure. That sounds nice.”

As they stood there, the awkwardness between them began to dissipate, replaced by a budding connection that neither of them fully understood yet. But in that moment, they both felt something shift—something that could change everything.

“See you tomorrow, then, Prez” Nakano said, giving Mizuki a reassuring nod before turning to leave.

Mizuki watched him go, his heart still pounding in his chest. He couldn’t quite grasp what had just happened, but he knew one thing for sure—this week was going to be more complicated than he had ever imagined.

Mizuki's heart pounded in his chest as he walked back to the theater club room, wrestling with his emotions. The hallways were empty now, the echoes of excited chatter fading into silence. He clenched his fists, trying to steady his breathing, but the frustration bubbling inside him was impossible to ignore.

With a sharp inhale, he slid the door open and stepped into the room. The judges were still there, huddled around a table, discussing the details of the play. Iwamoto looked up immediately, her expression shifting from surprise to something more guarded as she saw the look on Mizuki's face.

"Mizuki…" she started, her voice wavering slightly. “I know we changed it last minute, but after your performance, we couldn’t imagine anyone else in the role. You were… perfect.”

Mizuki stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowing slightly. His usually calm demeanor was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word—just stared at them with an intensity that made the room feel smaller, more suffocating.

“And… Kuroda Sayaka came in second behind you,” Iwamoto added quickly, her voice faltering as she tried to justify their decision. She began to stutter, realizing how weak her reasoning sounded in the face of Mizuki’s anger. “We just… we thought it was best for the play. We didn’t mean to—”

Mizuki slid the door shut with a loud *click,* the sound echoing in the tense silence of the room. He walked forward slowly, his footsteps deliberate, each one louder than the last. His eyes never left Iwamoto’s as he approached the table, the intensity in his gaze unwavering.

The other judges exchanged nervous glances, unsure of what to expect. The air in the room was thick with tension, the kind that made it hard to breathe.

Mizuki finally stopped in front of them, his voice low and controlled, but with an edge that made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for excuses. “You didn’t think to ask me first? To tell me what you were planning?”

Iwamoto swallowed hard, guilt washing over her. “Mizuki, we didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to what?” Mizuki cut in, his tone sharp as a blade. “Didn’t mean to blindside me? Didn’t mean to put me in a position where I had no choice but to accept?”

Iwamoto flinched, her confidence faltering. “We just wanted to make the best decision for the play…”

Mizuki leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper, but the anger in his tone was unmistakable. “This isn’t just about the play. This is about respect. You should have come to me first. You should have given me a choice.”

The room fell silent, the weight of Mizuki’s words hanging heavy in the air. Iwamoto looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

“We thought you’d be perfect for the role…” she said weakly, but even she knew it wasn’t enough.

Mizuki stared at her for a long moment, then straightened up, his expression hardening. “Next time, don’t make decisions for me. You may have cast me as the princess, but don’t forget who’s the president of this club.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving the judges in stunned silence. The door slid shut behind him with a decisive *thud,* the sound echoing through the now-empty room.