Jason still showed up to our next Shakespeare Soc rehearsal the following week.

I didn’t think he would. I had messaged him to apologise again, to try and explain, even though I was shit at articulating any of my thoughts and feelings.

He’d read it but didn’t reply.

I spent most of my lectures that week zoned out, not taking enough notes, wondering how I was going to salvage our friendship out of the chaos I’d created. Jason liked me romantically. I’d taken advantage of that to figure out my sexual identity, despite knowing I didn’t like him like that in return. Selfish. I was so selfish.

He looked exhausted when he rolled up to our rehearsal in full rowing club kit, a heavy rucksack hanging off his shoulder. His teddy jacket was absent. I was so used to him wearing it that he seemed sort of vulnerable without it.

He walked straight past me, without looking at me, mouth clamped shut, and sat down next to Pip, who was going over today’s scene.

Sunil arrived moments later. He was wearing checked trousers with a black shearling jacket and a beanie.

He took one look at Jason and said, ‘You look exhausted.’

Jason grunted. ‘Rowing.’

‘Oh, yes. How are the six a.m. practices?’

‘Freezing and wet.’

‘You could quit,’ said Pip. She seemed a little hopeful at the prospect.

Jason shook his head. ‘Nah, I do enjoy it. I’ve made a lot of friends there.’ He shot a quick glance at me. ‘It’s just been a lot.’

I turned away. There was no way to make this better.

In true Jason tradition, he was assigned the role of a stern older man. This time it was Duke Orsino from Twelfth Night, another of Shakespeare’s romcoms.

The premise of Twelfth Night is a big, messy love triangle. Viola is shipwrecked in the land of Illyria and, since she has no money, disguises herself as a boy called Cesario so that she can get a job as a servant to Duke Orsino. The duke is in love with a noble lady of Illyria, Olivia, so he sends Viola to express his love for her. Unfortunately, instead of accepting the duke’s feelings, Olivia falls in love with Viola, who is disguised as Cesario, a guy. And, doubly unfortunate, Viola falls in love with the duke. It’s not technically gay, but let’s be real: this play is very, very gay.

Sunil had already volunteered to be Viola, saying, ‘Just give me all of the roles that mess around with gender, please.’

Pip and I huddled next to each other against the wall with my coat over our legs. It was freezing cold in our giant rehearsal room today.

‘You two run through the scene,’ said Rooney. ‘I need to go and get some tea or I will actually die.’

She’d had another of her nights out last night.

‘Get me a coffee!’ shouted Pip as Rooney went to leave.

‘I would literally rather stomp on a nail!’ Rooney shouted back, and I was interested to see that this made Pip laugh instead of her usual gritted-teeth annoyance.

Jason and Sunil were amazing. Jason was well-practised, having done a lot of Shakespeare before, and Sunil was equally good, despite the fact that the only acting he’d done was a minor role in a school production of Wicked. Jason was all, ‘Once more, Cesario,’ and Sunil was all, ‘But if she cannot love you, sir,’ and, overall, it was a very successful run-through.

I sat and watched, and it almost took me out of my head, making me forget about everything that had happened in the past couple of months. I could just live in the world of Viola and Orsino for a while.

‘I am all the daughters of my father’s house,’ said Sunil. One of the final lines of the scene. ‘And all the brothers too.’ He glanced up at me and Pip with a smile, momentarily breaking character. ‘That’s such a good line. New Twitter bio.’

Sunil really seemed to be enjoying being in the production. Maybe more than any of us, to be honest. He and Jason went off to work on the scene on their own, and with nothing to do, I stayed sitting against the wall, knees tucked up to my chin waiting for Rooney to come back from her tea run.

‘Georgia?’

I looked up at the voice to find Pip scooting over to me, her open copy of Twelfth Night in one hand.

‘I had an idea,’ she said. ‘About what you could do in the play.’

I was really, really not in the mood to actually do any acting today. I wasn’t sure I could act as well as I’d thought, anyway.

‘OK,’ I said.

‘There’s another character in Twelfth Night who has quite a big thematic role – the clown.’

I snorted. ‘You want me to be the clown?’

‘Well, that’s just what he’s called in the text. He’s more of a court jester.’ Pip pointed at the scene in question. The clown had some lines leading up to the scene that Jason and Sunil were currently working on. ‘I thought it might be really cool to have you do some of these bits before this Viola-Orsino scene.’

I read the lines, sceptical. ‘I don’t know.’ I glanced at her. ‘I … my acting’s been pretty shit lately.’

Pip frowned. ‘Dude. That’s not true. Those roles just … weren’t right for you. You’re not shit at anything.’

I didn’t reply.

‘How about you just give it a go? I promise I will be nothing but supportive. And I’ll throw something at Rooney if she says anything negative about you.’ As if to demonstrate, Pip pulled her boot off and held it aloft.

This made me laugh. ‘OK. Fine. I’ll try.’

‘I’m back!’ Rooney galloped into the room, somehow not spilling hot drinks everywhere. She slumped down next to me and Pip, putting her tea on the floor, and handing a coffee to Pip.

Pip stared at it. ‘Wait, you actually got me one?’

Rooney shrugged. ‘Yeah?’

Pip looked up at Rooney, genuine surprise, and something almost akin to fondness on her face. ‘Thanks.’

Rooney stared back, then seemed to have to wrench her head away. ‘So how’s the scene going? It’s only two weeks until the Bailey Ball, we need to get this one locked down before then.’

‘I had an idea,’ said Pip. ‘We could add in the clown.’

I half-expected Rooney to immediately protest this, but instead, she sat down next to Pip and leant towards her so she could read her copy of Twelfth Night. Pip made a face of moderate alarm, before relaxing, though not without very quickly adjusting her hair.

‘I think that’s a good idea,’ said Rooney.

‘Yeah?’ asked Pip.

‘Yeah. You do sometimes have good ideas.’

Pip grinned. ‘Sometimes?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘That means a lot.’ Pip nudged her. ‘Coming from you.’

And I swear to God Rooney went redder than I had ever seen her.

It’d been a long time since I’d stood on a stage alone. Well, it wasn’t technically a stage, but the way the other four were sitting in front of me, watching, while I was standing in front of them, had the same effect.

In Twelfth Night, the clown, whose name is actually Feste, shows up periodically to either provide some light comic relief, or to sing a song relevant to the themes of the story. Right before Jason and Sunil’s scene, Feste sings a song, ‘Come away, death’, about a man who dies, possibly of heartbreak because a woman doesn’t love him back, and he wants to be buried alone because he’s so sad. It’s basically just a fancy way of saying that unrequited love is pretty rough.

We all decided that I should recite it as a monologue rather than sing, which I was grateful about. But I was still nervous.

I could do this. I wanted to prove that I could do this.

‘Come away, come away, death,’ I began, and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

I can do this.

‘And in sad cypress let me be laid.’ I kept my voice soft. ‘Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid.’ And I read the rest of the song. And I felt all of it. I just felt … all of it. The mourning. The wistfulness. The fantasy of something that could never happen.

I’d never experienced unrequited love. I never would. And Feste, the clown, wasn’t even talking about himself – he was telling someone else’s story. But I felt it anyway.

‘Lay me, O, where sad true lover never find my grave, to weep there.’

There was a pause before I closed my book and looked up at my friends.

They were all staring at me, transfixed.

And then Pip just started clapping. ‘Fucking YES. Absolutely fucking yes. I’m a genius. You’re a genius. This play is going to be genius.’

Rooney joined in with the applause. So did Sunil. And I saw Jason very subtly wipe his eye.

‘That was OK?’ I asked, although that’s not really what I wanted to ask. Was I good? Will I be OK?

Everything in my life was upside down, but did I still have this? Did I still have one thing that brought me happiness?

‘More than OK,’ said Pip, smiling wide, and I thought, Yeah, OK. I hated myself right now for a lot of reasons, but at least I had this.