#wtscprompt2

Feet set on the table, Garret leaned back in his chair, straightening his knife on a sharpening stone. The only light in the room had been from his lamp, and the digital clock he'd eye every once and awhile.

Today had gone very different in his head. He had imagined he'd spend it with Belle. A New Years kiss was important after all. He had thought, by now, he would have wore her down. He hardly imagined spending new years alone, just enough beer to take off the edge but not enough to make him leave. He didn't want to go out and do something stupid. Because he knew if he did, the first thing he'd do is find Gold.

Setting the stone aside, Garret pressed the tip of the blade to his thumb, twisting it a little. A painless prick told him it was sharp enough, wiping the blood on his pants without any real care. Strangely, he had often imagined his blade to be a sword, he had planned to kill the beast with it. It was easier living the fantasy when he was Gold as a beast, and not a man. Sometimes he had to wonder if he even was.

But he couldn't think like that. Not anymore. Because if he starting thinking about the beast, he started thinking about the beauty. And if he started thinking about her, he'd never stop. It was a vicious cycle he'd found himself in often, and this year he wouldn't do it to himself. In honesty, Garret wasn't so think as to believe Belle wanted him. He was simply.. hopeful that she could grow to do so. That he could change her mind. He didn't understand why she didn't, just that she didn't. What about him was to repelling to her?

Sliding the knife back into its holster, Garret closed his eyes, chastising himself. He was thinking about it again. Taking a swig of his beer, he reopened his eyes, glancing to the clock. 23:59..

It was decided. Belle would be last year. She was holding him back, and he needed someone new. Belle obviously wasn't worth his time. Well.. not necessarily, but it made it easier on him if he pinned the blame on her. 

No.. this year, Garret would find someone else. Someone.. suited for him. Belle was the past. And the future? Garret didn't know that yet. But he'd find someone, he'd be sure of it.

The clock ticked over, and Garret gave a shaky sigh. Giving up wasn't easy, especially when he never lost. Picking up his phone, he started to dial a number. Half way through, he paused. Why was he writing to her? Abril. She was probably asleep, and didn't need to be disturbed by a 'Happy New Year' from a drunk.

Another performance of the panto was over, and the audience were leaving. The tattooed figure watched them leave, but they couldn't see him. Simply because he had been helping backstage and had went up to the rafters when he wasn't needed anymore. From where he sat, he could see everything. A bird's eye view, really. And how he loved it. Perhaps it was the thrill of the height added with the view, but it reminded Jack of what he was supposed to do. What he wanted to do.

He wanted to make magic.

That sort of magic that the actor has, bringing the audience with them to another time, another place... And to do so with little effort? Oh how he wanted that. He knew he had the potential, he had shown it before. But it was just.... Proving it. Once and for all.

...

"Mommy? Can we come back tomorrow?"

"We'll see, dear."

Two voices caught his ear, and Jack lay horizontally against the rafter to see who was talking. It looked like a family still lingered. They looked happy... And that made Jack think of his family back home. He had only spoken to them briefly over a Skype call, which had him covering his tattoos and had them 5 hours ahead. It had been a long time since he had been at home, but it was too expensive to hop on a plane, especially with his limited funds.

Perhaps it was a mistake pinning his life to a dream. He rolled slightly, so that his legs were still hanging over the rafter, but his back was on the ground, as though he simply lay down from where he had been sitting.  It was a thought that had crossed his mind a lot. But... What could he do? He was here, wasn't he? If he hadn't left, he might still be at home, working day-to-day in a shop somewhere.

But... That was what he was doing right now...? Jack chuckled to himself. Seems he hadn't eluded fate after all. Little can be done about that, apparently. Same situation, different location.

"Uhm... Jack?" A voice called up, snapping the man from his thoughts. He clambered back onto the rafter and crawled over to the ladder, where he saw a familiar red-head. "You're needed down here... Crew meeting?" And then young Sally hurried off. Jack started down the ladder, a little smile on his face. But back home, he hadn't been welcomed as warmly as he had been here, and that was before he got the tattoos. He had actually managed to make a few friends, and he had been putting them second to his dreams....