In the two weeks between that rehearsal and the Bailey Ball, we had three more rehearsals, during which we completely surpassed Rooney’s aim of getting one scene done. We got all three done – Much Ado About Nothing with Pip and Rooney, Twelfth Night with Jason, Sunil and me, and Romeo and Juliet with Jason and Rooney, having decided that I wasn’t the best choice for Juliet. We even had time for the pizza night we’d promised Sunil. He and Jason seemed to be fast friends, getting immersed in a discussion about musicals they’d seen, and Rooney and Pip managed to make it through a whole movie without making a single snide comment to each other. At one point, they were even sitting with their shoulders pressed together, amiably sharing a packet of tortilla chips.

Despite everything that was happening behind the scenes, it was coming together. We were actually making a production.

Thank God I had that to hang on to. Without it, I would have probably just stayed in bed for two weeks, because figuring out my sexuality had unearthed a new kind of self-hatred I hadn’t been ready for. I’d thought figuring that out was supposed to make you feel proud, or something. Clearly not.

Something was up with Rooney too. Something had changed in her after that night we’d walked in to find her crying. She’d stopped going out in the evenings, instead spending them watching YouTube videos or TV shows, or just sleeping. I’d got used to the clacking of her frantic typing next to me in our English lectures, but it had stopped, and I often caught her just sitting very still, staring into the distance, not listening to the lecturers at all.

Sometimes she seemed fine. Sometimes she was ‘normal’ Rooney, directing the play with an iron fist, being the shiniest person in the room, chatting to twelve different people at dinnertime in the college cafeteria. She was at her best when Pip was around – exchanging banter and jokes with her, lighting up in a way she didn’t with anyone else – but even with her, I sometimes noticed Rooney turn away, put physical distance between them, like she didn’t want Pip to even see her. Like she was scared what would happen if they got too close.

I could have checked if she was OK, but I was too wrapped up in my own feelings, and she didn’t check if I was OK either, because she was too wrapped up in hers. I didn’t blame her, and I hoped she didn’t blame me.

We were just two roommates dealing with things that were difficult to talk about.