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They were in the middle of rehearsing the first scene for their next play when Chris started to feel warmer than he had been feeling during the first day of Cornley’s heatwave. He brushed it off at first, because he’d spent most of the day running around the sweaty rehearsal space in Cornley as the numbers on the thermometer slowly climbed towards thirty. Trevor had managed to dig out a wobbly fan from storage around lunchtime which was now whining to itself in the corner, barely casting a breath of relief throughout the room.
Trevor was now sat at the trestle table in the room, frowning down at his laptop, presumably still scrolling through eBay as he had been for most of the day, on the search for second hand props. Annie, he and Jonathan had spent the majority of the morning sorting through the boxes of old props to find anything they could reuse for the upcoming show.
Dennis and Max had disappeared to the corner shop on the tea break, returning with enough ice lollies for everyone. The lemon and lime Calippo now sat uncomfortably in Chris’ stomach as he tried to read his next line, sweaty palms sticking to the script he had clutched in his hands.
It was just Chris, Vanessa and Jonathan in the space as they walked through their lines while Chris tried to figure out the blocking for the first scene of Act I.
The rest of the cast were either already packing up, pouring over their scripts, highlighters in hand, or in Annie and Dennis’ case, doing the washing up in the small kitchen from that day.
‘Chris?’
The edges of his vision were closing in on him so that all he could see was the concerned face of Vanessa looming large as the rehearsal room faded into the background. He reached an uncoordinated hand out towards her to try and catch himself as he suddenly felt like he was falling but all his fingers met was air. There was a buzzing noise that was growing in intensity before he heard his name being called a second time, as if he was underwater.
‘Chris!’
Everything was black for a moment. There was a complete absence of noise and light before it all came rushing back. He couldn’t tell if he’d been out a matter of seconds, or if it had been much longer.
‘Chris?’
Chris let out a low groan in response to his name being called. He found it near impossible to form words at the moment. Everything felt jumbled in his throbbing head as he tried to take in what had happened.
‘What happened?’
‘I-I- I don’t- He was fine- He just… dropped.’
The voices sounded far away, muffled through a heavy fog, like someone had wrapped him up in a duvet.
‘Get Annie!’ He could hear muffled sounds of feet running as he struggled to open his eyes. His limbs felt like lead as shapes whirled around him, dark shadows encroaching as he felt a hand on his forearm.
‘And the first aid kit!’
‘Chris?’ He could feel a hand on his cheek, clammy but comforting, so he turned towards it, his eyes fluttering open to take in the fuzzy face of a concerned looking Trevor. He tried to look past Trevor as he heard running footsteps again, but the edges were still fuzzy, like his point of view had been filmed in vignette, so he closed his eyes again.
‘What the fuck happened?’
‘He just went down like a sack of spuds.’
‘Chris, can you hear me?’ He felt hands on his shoulders, shaking slightly and he groaned in response, opening his eyes again to take in the fuzzy shape of Annie leaning over him now.
‘Can you tell me where you are?’
‘Rehearsal,’ he managed to whisper between dry lips. Annie made a humming noise, seemingly satisfied for the moment. He both simultaneous wished they would stop fussing over him and he could find the strength to pull himself to his feet and escape the concerned looks, while also hoping that the hands holding him never let go, providing an anchor in the stormy sea he seemed to suddenly be sailing.
‘Jonathan, can you get me a chair?’ Chris felt his legs being lifted up, the scraping sound of a chair being moved before his ankles were resting against the hard edge of a plastic chair.
‘Does anything hurt?’
‘Head.’ He wished he could be more articulate than one word answers, but he was struggling to keep everything straight in his head as the world seemed to spin around him. He felt a bit like the time when he was fourteen and he’d gone to the fair that was in town, riding on the teacups as Scott Green spun them way too fast. He’d managed to stumble off the ride before embarrassing himself by vomiting everywhere. He could hear the laughter ringing in his ears.
Fingers started moving through his hair, feeling for lumps and bumps, presumably checking he hadn’t done himself any damage. He let his eyes close again, but that just increased the feeling of dizziness. His eyes slid open for a moment before they were screwed shut in pain as Annie pressed against the left side of his temple, where he was pretty sure he’d collided with the floor.
‘Sorry,’ Annie apologised, frowning down at him. He wanted to tell her it was fine, but he was too busy trying to stop the vision of her swimming in front of him as he swallowed the saliva that was pooling in his mouth.
‘Chris, do you feel dizzy?’
He swallowed down the nausea before answering. ‘Yes.’
‘Did you feel dizzy before you fainted?’
He made a humming noise rather than open his mouth again. He felt something pinch the back of his left hand.
‘How much have you drunk today?’
Probably not enough was the accurate answer for him to give, but what he said instead was, ‘An amount.’ This didn’t seem to satisfy Annie who made a huffing noise as she sat back on her heels for a moment.
‘Okay, I’m just going to check for any other injuries and then we’ll try sitting.’
While he felt Annie’s gloved hands pressing down the length of his limbs, looking for blood and broken bones, he felt someone else lifting his head momentarily to slide something soft underneath. He could see the sun glinting off of Trevor’s chain in the periphery of his vision.
An indeterminant amount of time passed where all Chris could think about was swallowing down the nausea and concentrating on how to stop the world from spinning before Annie was speaking again. ‘Right, you look less like the ghost of Jacob Marley now, so let’s try sitting you up.’
His feet were lifted from the chair before he felt hands on either side of him, clasping his forearms, another hand under his armpit as they pulled him slowly into a sitting position. He’d expected the entire society to be crowding round him, but instead they’d retreated slightly, looking at him in concern.
He looked away from them, suddenly very aware he was the centre of attention and what a spectacle he’d caused of himself.
‘Right, I think we’re done for today.’
Robert was clapping his hands together before throwing his arms out wide and trying to corral the rest of the society away. He managed to take Dennis, Max and Sandra with him, but Vanessa and Jonathan remained hovering. Jonathan was leaning on the back of the chair he’d clearly retrieved, and Vanessa was now looking round the room for something.
Annie pressed an ice pack to the side of Chris’ head where a lump was already forming. He flinched, but didn’t pull away from where he now realised he was resting against Trevor. He wasn’t sure for a moment whether Trevor was the one shaking with the effort of holding him, or whether it was Chris.
‘Here.’ Vanessa was holding out Chris’ water bottle towards him, which he tried to reach for, but Annie intercepted it. She held it to his lips and he automatically reached for it again, indignant at the fact that she was trying to do it for him, before he found he struggled to hold onto the bottle alone. His sweaty palm pressed round Annie’s smaller hand as he took small sips of cool water from his too full water bottle, considering he hadn’t refilled it today.
The minute the water touched his lips he realised how thirsty he was, like coming off stage at the end of a show under hot lights. Annie kept him from downing the whole bottle, which ended up being for the best, when the cool water hit his stomach and immediately wanted to bounce back.
‘Feel sick,’ Chris mumbled, taking a gulp to try and quell the sensation of his stomach turning over like a washing machine on the rinse cycle.
‘Shit!’
Vanessa and Jonathan both lunged for the box of props in the corner of the room at the same time, making a grab for the mixing bowl they’d found this morning. Vanessa got there first, shoving it into Chris’ lap just in time for him to start heaving. She turned away quickly, trying not to vomit herself, a hand going straight to her mouth.
‘You’re alright, mate.’ He felt a hand rubbing against his back as he spat in the mixing bowl, mortified that so many people were witness to his failings. Again.
‘Is he concussed?’
‘I don’t think he hit his head hard enough to be concussed. I think he’s maybe got heat exhaustion and is dehydrated.’ Annie was consulting her phone when Chris finished throwing up.
‘Isn’t that dangerous?’
‘Heat stroke is, but I don’t think we’re there yet.’ Annie looked up from the phone and offered Chris the water bottle again.
‘Small sips.’
Jonathan took the bowl from Chris’ lap and disappeared, while Annie continued to hold onto Chris’ water bottle, Chris taking small sips as instructed. He waited a moment after the first sip to see if it would stay put, and when it didn’t look like it was going to reappear he took another sip.
‘How you feeling?’
Annie was looking at him with a mixture of concern and a steeliness that said if he lied to her there would be consequences. Since Chris didn’t think he could handle anymore consequences of his own actions, or inactions as the case may be, he felt the need to be honest in that moment.
‘Not great. But I don’t think I’m going to pass out again.’
‘Did it feel like you fainted?’
Chris rubbed a hand across his face and sighed. ‘Yeah.’
‘What do you mean “yeah”? Like a moment of dizziness, or did everything go black?’
‘Fuzzy, then black?’ Chris questioned, like he wasn’t quite sure himself what had happened.
Annie hummed again. He felt a small hand pressed against his knee, squeezing in sympathy and understanding of how big a deal it was that Chris had been honest about his own health. He saw the moment Annie looked past him to Trevor, and he wanted to turn his head to see what Trevor’s face was doing, but he was also very aware of how close he and Trevor currently were and didn’t think his stage manager would appreciate the smell of his breath currently.
‘I’m sorry for worrying everyone,’ Chris muttered, the heat of embarrassment bringing colour back into his cheeks.
‘That’s what you’re apologising for?’ Annie asked, looking incredulous. ‘Not letting us know you weren’t feeling well before you passed out? Or sitting down before you did?’
‘I-‘ Chris faltered, his throat tightening. ‘I didn’t think it was serious, I thought I could push through.’
‘You do know things won’t implode if you take a five-minute break.’
‘We were almost at the end of the scene,’ Chris protested.
‘Funny, I don’t remember “Chris faints dramatically and bangs his head” being in the stage directions,’ Annie responded sarcastically.
‘Touché,’ Chris mumbled under his breath as he tried to pull away from Trevor, taking another sip of water.
‘Do you want to try standing, or-‘ Annie asked, leaving the sentence hanging as she carefully watched Chris. He nodded, putting his water bottle down before trying to get his legs under him.
‘Hey, whoa, slowly, Chris!’ Annie protested, scrambling to her feet. Chris could feel Trevor hovering behind him as he pulled himself unsteadily to his feet, Annie reaching out to steady him as he wobbled. Chris could feel Annie watching him as he felt his limbs shaking with the effort of holding himself upright. He stood for a moment swaying, trying to decide whether or not he felt okay.
‘You okay?’ Annie asked as he felt Trevor’s hand on the small of his back, supporting him as Chris’ body decided for him that standing up so soon had been a terrible idea. He felt himself kneeling on the hard floor of the rehearsal room again as there was a distant ringing in his ears.
‘Chris?’ Trevor’s voice cut through the haze as he sunk sideways again, head pressing against the hardwood floor for a second time that day.
‘I’m alright,’ Chris mumbled. ‘Just dizzy.’
‘And yet you look like you’re auditioning for a role in a medical drama,’ Annie said, her tone both teasing and worried. ‘At least you’ve learned to lie down when you feel dizzy. You probably need something more than water as well before we try standing again.’
‘I’ll run to the shop,’ Trevor suggested.
‘I’m fine,’ Chris protested, but the floor was already vibrating underneath his cheek as Trevor clomped out of the room.
‘You know, for an actor, you’re a terrible liar.’ Annie was sitting cross legged in front of him as she shook a second ice pack before bashing it forcefully against her knee.
Chris attempted to glare at Annie, but it didn’t have quite the same gravitas from the floor of the rehearsal room.
‘You could use a little less “tragic hero” and try a bit more “self-care advocate”.’ She was laying the ice pack against the side of his head that had cracked off the floor earlier, holding it in place as she watched him closely.
‘Very funny,’ Chris muttered.
‘I’m not trying to be funny, Chris.’
Chris swallowed, avoiding Annie’s gaze as he pushed up from the floor.
‘Chris!’ Annie barked, even as he turned slightly so he was leaning against the wall of the rehearsal room, legs splayed out in front of him. He sat that way with his eyes closed for a moment, just breathing. He only opened his eyes when he felt the ice pack pressed to the side of his head again.
Annie was staring back at him, a look of concern on her face. He reached up to take over the job of holding the ice pack, squeezing Annie’s fingers before she let go.
‘Thank you,’ he said softly, not breaking eye contact. She nodded before she pulled herself to her feet.
‘Just stay there while the rest of us finish clearing up,’ she threatened as she packed up the first aid kit. It wasn’t like Chris wanted to argue. He knew he wasn’t in any condition to help right now. The dizziness hadn’t completely faded, and he didn’t want to risk making things worse by getting up too quickly. The thought of standing, of moving at all, still made his stomach churn.
He didn’t answer her, but instead just let his eyes drift closed again, leaning his head back against the wall with a sigh.
He heard Annie’s footsteps as she walked off to the kitchen to return the first aid kit, the sound of the door clicking softly behind her. The rehearsal room was quieter now, with only the faint sounds of the others moving around, a cool breeze buffeting over him as Sandra flashed him a smile before also disappearing.
‘Here,’ Trevor handed Chris a cold bottle of Lucozade before he sat down next to him on the floor of the rehearsal room, backs pressed against the cold brickwork as the rest of the society tidied up before that evening’s girl guide troupe meeting.
‘How you feeling?’
‘Like a prize idiot.’
‘Obviously, because you are. But apart from that.’
‘Bit better,’ Chris admitted. ‘Sort of.’
The fan that Sandra had moved next to Chris whirred past them, causing Chris’ hair to move off his sweaty forehead for a moment. The truth was he felt awful. His head hurt where it had collided with the floor, his stomach muscles ached from retching and he just wanted to lie down and sleep in that moment. He dropped the ice pack he’d been holding against his head into his lap to open the drink Trevor had been to the corner shop to get for him.
‘Sort of?’
‘Not really,’ Chris admitted, taking a small sip of his drink, glazed eyes watching as Max and Jonathon folded the trestle table legs up.
‘You still feeling dizzy and nauseous?’
‘A bit.’ Chris sighed. ‘I think I just need to go home and sleep it off.’
‘Once we’re done, I’ll give you a lift home.’
Usually Chris would protest, he always did when he was injured. He and Trevor would have their usual back and forth before Trevor lost his temper, and then Chris would too, but ultimately, they’d sit in stony silence in the car while Trevor either drove him home or to the hospital. For once, though, Chris didn’t have it in him to do the usual back and forth.
‘Thank you.’
Trevor turned to look at him sharply, a frown furrowing his features. He was even more surprised when Chris tipped sideways so that his head was leaning against Trevor’s shoulder.
‘Chris?’ he asked, a note of concern creeping into his voice. ‘You really okay?’
‘Tired,’ Chris murmured, his voice muffled against Trevor’s shirt. ‘Everything hurts.’
Trevor felt a rush of protectiveness as he shifted slightly to allow Chris to lean against him more comfortably. ‘Yeah, well you’re not invincible you know.’
They sat in silence for a moment, the noise of the rehearsal room faded into the background as they watched Max and Jonathan tidying props away, while Sandra and Vanessa folded all the costumes back into a tatty looking suitcase.
‘I didn’t mean to push so hard,’ Chris admitted quietly.
Trevor let a long breath out, trying to stop himself from being honest, but he realised he owed Chris that since he was currently being honest with him. ‘Well, you did, like you nearly always do. Just- can you maybe stop before you pass out next time?’
‘I’ll add it to the ”‘to do” list.’
‘Put it at the top, next to “give stage manager a pay rise”.’
Chris let out a rare chuckle, before it turned into a wince.
‘Finish that before you pass out on us again and then I’ll drive you home,’ Trevor indicated the bottle that Chris was clutching loosely in his lap. He righted himself, unscrewing the bottle cap and taking a long swig.
‘I’m sorry,’ Chris murmured before he could stop himself, though the words felt inadequate. He hated feeling like this—weak, helpless, a burden to the people around him. And he wasn’t even sure why he was apologising. Was it because he’d made a scene in front of everyone? Or because he had to be taken care of in the first place? Or maybe because he didn’t want to disappoint anyone, especially Trevor.
But Trevor didn’t let him linger in it. He shifted slightly, tilting his head to meet Chris’s gaze with that look that said it wasn’t a big deal. ‘You don’t need to apologise. You’re fine. It happens.’
It wasn’t the kind of response Chris had expected, but it was the kind he needed. No judgment. No expectation. Just Trevor, in his own way, telling Chris that it was okay.