Chapter 4 : The Audition

Danilo’s Pov

I stood just offstage, heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape. The auditorium smelled faintly of dust and old velvet curtains, the kind of scent that clung to school theatre spaces like a ghost of performances past. The stage lights beamed down hot and unforgiving, making my palms slick with sweat as I clutched the crumpled sheet music in his hand.

I’d almost backed out—twice.

But here I was, standing in the wings of the school auditorium, waiting for my name to be called.

"Danilo Ramos," came the voice from the centre of the auditorium. Mrs. Harrison, the choir director and musical coordinator, looked up from behind her clipboard, smiling like she didn’t expect much. Oh, I am about to shock her.

A few students were scattered throughout the empty seats, waiting for their own auditions or watching with thinly veiled boredom.

I stepped out into the light.

The moment I took centre stage, the murmur in the audience shifted slightly. I spotted Julian Davenport slouched in the front row, one leg crossed over the other like he owned the place—which, in a way, he did. Julian was the reigning king of the drama club, with a carefully curated fanbase and a reputation for being both dramatic and dangerously petty. His brown hair was flawless, his nails painted in a subtle metallic shade, and his narrowed eyes locked onto mine with a glint of recognition.

I didn’t acknowledge him.

I focused on the piano instead, where the accompanist gave me a nod. I handed over my sheet music for “Maybe This time” from Cabaret and took a slow breath, steadying my voice—and the tremble that threatened to betray me.

Then I sang.

It wasn’t just good—it was captivating. My voice soared with emotion, each note carefully held, each lyric pulled from a place inside me. I rarely let anyone see. There was vulnerability, yes, but also fire—a quiet strength that made even the teachers at the judging table lower their pens and lean forward. The auditorium, which seconds ago buzzed with whispers and shuffling, was suddenly silent, save for my voice, belting each note with practised ease. I have sung this song more times than I cared to admit.

When I finished, the room stayed still for a beat too long.

Then someone clapped. Hesitant at first. Then louder. A few of the students actually stood, I heard someone gasp, “Damn…”

My chest heaved as I bowed slightly, stunned that my body hadn’t betrayed me, I haven't sang to a crowd such as this before. For the first time in weeks, maybe longer, I felt something like… pride."

Then Julian stood up.

“That was cute,” he said with a sharp smile. “For a newbie.”

My stomach dropped.

There it was—the backhanded compliment.

“You’re not bad for someone who wasn’t even in the club last year, or ever,” Julian continued, walking closer, his voice loud enough for the panel and other students to hear. “But I’d be careful if I were you. This stage isn’t just about hitting the notes. It’s about knowing where your place is.”

I met his eyes for the first time. “Funny. I thought it was about talent.”

A few gasps from the back of the auditorium. Someone whispered, “Oops.”

Julian’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a flash of something darker in his eyes. “We’ll see how far that gets you.”

I stepped off the stage with my heart still thudding in my chest—but now, pumping with adrenaline. As I passed Julian, our shoulders brushed, the tension between us sparking like live wire.

Behind him, Mrs. Harrison called, “Thank you, Danilo Ramos. That was… impressive.”

Julian’s eyes flicked toward the judges’ table, then back to me. For the first time, his smirk faltered just a little.

I walked toward the exit, my body buzzing with a heady mixture of fear and satisfaction. I didn’t know if I was going to land the lead role—but one thing was certain.

I had made my mark.

And Julian Davenport, the drama king knew it.