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There is something special about floating in the air, free and graceful and that much closer to the sky. It’s just a few seconds before gravity pulls him back down, but those ephemeral moments where Zay is flying, arms extended in a delicate arch, or spinning like he’s orbiting around a glimmering star are magical. Even the determined push off the ground is sacred, that his body is so lucky to be able to defy the oppressive weight of gravity, to be unencumbered. The fall back down to the ground is a reminder that his hubris has bounds, but then again, the wonderfully terrible sensation that forms in his stomach as he careens down is beautiful too. No control, and yet he lands on his feet and continues moving.
There is something entirely different, but infinitely more special, about flying and then falling into Charlie Gardner’s arms.
Zay spins, once, twice, then Charlie’s hands are there on his waist, his chest against Zay’s back. One hand moves up across his right arm, achingly slow as his fingertips drag against his bare skin. Hands loosely together, Charlie holds them outstretched as they move across the floor, one, two, three, spin, five, six, seven, eight.
They look like quite the pair in the mirror, bodies strong yet sweetly moving together and as always perfectly in sync. There’s a smile playing on Zay’s lips and an intense focus on Charlie’s own face. Yet, he looks more at ease than he has all week, comfortably in his element. He keeps looking at Zay with those green eyes, and there’s something in them, an emotional intimacy, that makes Zay’s stomach flood with warmth. Though it’s not very professional, Zay sticks his tongue out after they spin again, knowing Charlie’s looking at their reflection too, and he can’t help but laugh, shaking his head before they continue to move along with the orchestral strings.
Charlie’s hands slip off Zay’s waist, which is a shame, but they have more of the dance to finish. Next, they jump in the air, hands over their heads in an ‘O.’ Zay circles around Charlie in wide sweeping steps, Charlie moving in the opposite direction and coming closer until they hold each other’s forearms and Charlie is in the air too, just tethered to the ground by Zay’s touch. Zay loves the feeling of leaping in the air, but he also loves seeing how it makes others feel. Charlie in particular, (though doesn’t he love everything about Charlie in particular?) that rare moment where his face is completely relaxed and unrestrained. He knows that it’s liberating, and he cherishes the fact that Charlie gets that feeling too, however fleeting it is.
The violins crescendo as Charlie sweeps Zay up, lifting him up to his hip as one hand rests over his ribcage. With perfectly poised limbs they make a circle as they spin, once, twice. Released from his hold, Zay pique turns away, Charlie following suit a four-count after, creating a ripple effect.
As the symphony slows into a saccharinely simple ending, Charlie gracefully lowers to the floor in an effortless lunge, one knee up as the other rests on the wooden floor. Zay puts his hands on Charlie’s shoulders, lifting one leg straight and upwards, the other en pointe. Their faces inch closer, and the way Charlie tilts his chin up is achingly tender and entirely unfair. Charlie’s looking up at him with wide reverent pupils, their chests heaving as they hold their final pose. Even though it’s just them in their studio, he feels the same high as when he’s on stage with thundering applause.
He feels like he’s in the air.
He feels love.
They hold their pose a little too long after the piece finishes, the music starting up again on a loop from Charlie’s laptop. Zay’s leg muscles start to burn a bit from the strain, but he can’t seem to move, not when Charlie’s hand gently grips Zay’s arm, not when he has the opportunity to look freely at his boyfriend within the school walls. Charlie’s eyes drift down to Zay’s lips and then back up to his gaze.
“Your leg’s gonna fall off if you keep it like that any longer.”
Zay smirks. “I’m usually the one who has to stop us.”
“Usually your toes aren’t being smushed by gravity,” Charlie points out, “Though I admit it’s nice to be in your position.”
“And what position is that?” Zay asks, voice lilting as he flirts.
A mischievous grin spreads across Charlie’s face. Oh, Zay is so gonna regret asking that. “Looking up at me.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Zay scoffs.
Finally, the pleas of his muscles win out and Zay lowers his leg slowly, Charlie supporting him as he returns to standing like a normal person. Then, Charlie flops fully to the ground, lying on his back. After turning off the music and the irritating fluorescent lights, Zay joins him, albeit more gracefully.
They proceed to take off their pointe shoes and start their cooldown stretches. The dying sunlight filters in through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the exterior wall, casting a glow on them that makes Zay feel light and ethereal. Zay’s really only putting extra effort into his stretches because Charlie is watching him with a scrutinizing stare. (He’d be annoyed if he didn’t know Charlie was just concerned and wanted him to be safe and healthy—he’s sure Charlie’s even more on edge because Zay held that pose for too long).
Technically they could’ve gone through the routine at least one more time, but they already did it twice, and they really shouldn’t be in here when the sun is starting to set. It’s way past the time they reserved the studio for. Plus, Charlie’s parents don’t like him to be out late, and Charlie himself doesn’t like to miss family dinners either. And, also, like, Zay has a family of his own. Lately they’ve been finding themselves carving out the end of a late after-school rehearsal to just enjoy each other’s company. School’s been in session for a little over a month, and even though they weren’t exactly free and open during the summer, their time together has been significantly lessened. Any moment they can find to be together is one they take. Maybe it’s not the most productive use of time as Triple A students or prospective dancers, but even Zay with his focused drive finds lazing around with his boyfriend to be absolutely worth it.
Zay lifts up the hem of his muscle tank, using the fabric to collect some of the sweat off his face. Not very glamorous, but the reality of being a dancer. He catches Charlie’s eyes trail down before quickly returning to stretching his legs, and Zay smiles to himself, pleased at the effect he has.
“Thanks for helping me practice,” Charlie says, resolutely avoiding looking at Zay by facing the back wall of their studio. He reaches his arms up towards the ceiling, and Zay lets himself appreciate his defined arms as the muscles stretch. He’d still stare even if Charlie was looking at him, probably enjoy the flustered reaction, but this is nice too. “I know it’s sort of a waste when you’re not gonna be the one performing it with me, so I really appreciate it.”
“It’s not a waste when I get to dance with you. Especially something you choreographed. Seriously, it’s great Charlie. The elegance, the passion and tension… I mean, we looked good, but I felt good doing it.”
Charlie blushes, hiding his smile behind his shoulder as he looks back at Zay. “Thanks. Good, I’m glad you liked it. That means a lot. It’s… well I dunno, I’ve really only done a few super simple pieces, quick little numbers for everyone to do. But this was… nice. I liked trying something more complicated. And it felt good to draw from somewhere deeper than just a curtain call number Angela forgot to choreograph.”
Zay holds back his comment about Angela’s trouble giving adequate and equal attention to everything—the playing favorites, the auditions, the whirlwind romance with Mr. Shawn of all people. He knows other people are sad, but frankly he’s glad to have a new performing arts teacher this year.
He’s more focused on how he’s pretty sure Charlie drew inspiration for the piece from their relationship.
“You got an eye for this stuff. You know, if you step out of your comfort zone and actually let yourself be in the spotlight, I bet you could help choreograph some more of the A classes’ performances, or even a number for the musical this year,” Zay suggests. It’s a long shot, but he wants to plant the idea in Charlie’s head anyways. Charlie would never even let himself think of it as something in the realm of possibility.
Charlie shakes his head. “I think this assignment has me stepping out of my comfort zone enough. Besides, I’m better at following than leading anyways.”
Honestly, Zay doesn’t think that’s true. Sure, Charlie is good at taking instruction—especially compared to more stubborn and self-important students like Maya or Farkle, or even to a lesser extent Isadora, who’s proving to possess more of a diva mentality than himself. But Zay’s seen how Charlie will teach other students choreo during studio time or in the wings during dress rehearsal. He likes to help people, and he’s patient. Shit, Zay’s been on the other side of Charlie’s help, when he tutored him. Or even the advice Charlie has, a sort of guidance you wouldn’t expect, like his suggestion for Zay’s Kossal audition. That, plus his own great talent of course, helped land a spot in the program. Helped him reconsider his place, his strengths, and see himself in a different light. Plus, Charlie has a diplomacy to him, and kindness that allows everyone to get along with him. (Sure, no one knows Charlie like Zay knows him, but they still like him and know he’s a good person). Maybe he doesn’t have the authoritative confidence to command a room, but he doesn’t need that. Charlie would be a great leader, is one already, and could be more if he only let himself be more.
Maybe if they weren’t as close Zay wouldn’t voice this. He doesn’t really like to stick his nose into business that doesn’t concern him, oftentimes its better for everyone that way at this hell school. But they are. They’re closer than Zay ever thought they would be. Friends, collaborators, lovers. And he knows how much Charlie could benefit from someone saying they believe in him.
“I think you’re selling yourself short. You can do whatever you put your mind to—that’s how I think about it—”
“Yeah, but you’re Zay Babineaux and I’m—”
“Charlie Gardner,” Zay counters. “I’m just saying, it’s okay to try.”
Charlie bites his lip, obviously overwhelmed by the praise and encouragement. Zay decides not to push any further before he gets too flustered and bursts in flames like a sinner in church. (Though, he supposes that might not be a real thing anymore since Charlie still goes every Sunday). He thinks he made his point enough, and he doesn’t want to give Charlie an opportunity to find another way to look down on himself.
Zay switches his stretching to his other leg, enjoying the pleasant burn of his muscles. “Anyways, what you’ll have to be more concerned with is if Maya can follow you.”
“She’s a good dancer.”
“Sure, but she’s not good at taking orders. And she didn’t even bother to rehearse with you or help you out even though she demanded you partner with her.”
Not that Zay’s bitter or anything.
Every two weeks in their advanced dance class, a random person is chosen to choreograph and perform a piece based on a prompt or genre pulled from a jar. Zay got picked last month, and he had to choreograph a lyrical piece about isolation. (A little too close to home, but whatever. His piece was good). They have two weeks to work on it before performing—it’s meant to challenge the students and spur creativity. At least that’s what Harper said.
Charlie got chosen at the start of the week, given the prompt of a romantic pas de deux. This of course implies a partner, and although Charlie’s eyes stopped on Zay for just a moment, the dance is traditionally male and female. (And also, Charlie really would explode if they did a romantic ballet piece in front of everyone else). He looked to Riley, the natural choice given their friendship, except for the fact that they weren’t talking right now. Utilizing his hesitation, Maya basically demanded Charlie be her partner. She’s been antsy because she hadn’t been chosen yet and is eager to show off to Harper, who isn’t so swayed by favoritism as Angela. In fact, she had added her name a few more times to the jar the students are selected from, but Harper noticed and took them out. Most of the time Maya forgets Charlie exists, even makes comments about it, but her insatiable ambition and Charlie’s dancing skills seemed the perfect opportunity to her. And due to Maya’s imposing nature and Charlie’s people-pleasing one, Charlie nervously accepted her as his pas de deux partner.
Of course, all that said, Maya laughed off Charlie’s suggestion that they choreograph it together or start practicing early. As Charlie put it one lunch period they were in the costume loft (well, after Zay told him not to sugarcoat it and to say what she really said), “Oh, you naïve human form of wrinkled khakis. No. I’m busy doing other things—this is your assignment. We’ll rehearse the day before; I don’t need that much practice. And I know you have trouble delivering it, but make sure there’s some pizzaz, compris?”
When Zay heard that, he almost sent her a very lengthy text, but Charlie stopped him. It just annoys Zay how much people underestimate Charlie, and how much he lets them. Even more so because Maya forced him to dance with her. It’s a lucky opportunity, one he immediately took when Charlie hesitantly asked him to help him with the piece and to see if it was any good or not. How anyone could take it for granted is beyond him.
Again, not that Zay’s jealous or anything… Okay, fine, he is. Especially after experiencing the euphoria of dancing with Charlie. He doesn’t think Charlie will be quite as tender and longing when he dances with Maya, the brush of hands and the reassuring weight of Zay against his body. Him and Maya will be good, but they’ll never be as good, as right, as him and Zay. Not when they have a sort of intuition and chemistry with one another that allows for a harmonious freedom through their dance. Not when the steps his boyfriend created feel like coming home, like they were made for him, each turn and jump seeping into his skin and resting atop his heart.
“It’s fine,” Charlie says, pulling Zay out of his thoughts. “I’d rather not think about it right now anyways.”
Zay nods, finishing up his stretches. “You’re right. No diva bullshit during our time.”
“Yeah. Our time,” Charlie smiles, nodding along. “How to spend it?”
Zay laughs at Charlie’s attempt at coyness. “I wonder... I guess I could be shown some thanks for my assistance this afternoon.”
“I thought you said you didn’t need thanks,” Charlie quips.
“Well. Thanks for being the best boyfriend, then.”
Charlie blushes, but slides closer to Zay, his voice soft in the quiet of the studio. “And most modest too.”
“Mhm,” Zay hums as Charlie closes the space between them, pressing their lips together. Even though they had a brief costume loft escapade earlier in the day, it feels like it’s been too long since they kissed. It feels a little strange to kiss while they’re exhausted and sweaty and on the hard floor of their studio, and yet, completely right. How can it be wrong, when Charlie smiles against his lips and mumbles thank you against his skin?
They only kiss for a bit before stopping, instead wanting to just spend the rest of their time in each other’s presence. Their studio is the only one that has the large paned windows facing out to the streets, which is one of the main reasons why they like it so much, other than the great acoustics and it being tucked away in the corner of the floor. Even though the large skyscrapers take up most of the view, it’s one of Zay’s favorite places to look out at the city. The pair face the windows, Zay with his legs outstretched and leaning on the back of his hands, and Charlie resting his head on Zay’s lap as they look out on their world. Together they watch end of the sunset, blue being taken over by wispy brushstrokes of pink, orange, and purple, dimming into a wonderful twilight.
Almost automatically, Zay’s hands wander down to Charlie’s head, brushing through his hair absentmindedly. Charlie closes his eyes as he relaxes, his face burrowing deeper against Zay’s thigh.
Shit, between this and the dancing and the kissing and everything else, he’s really fallen for this boy, hasn’t he?
It’s not the first time he’s thought it. One of the first times it started to sink in was the night they went to the theatre together, the electricity that formed between them as they moved together for the first time in a different way. And then there was them confirming their relationship, how excited he was even though Charlie kind of went about it in the worst way possible. He felt love when he watched Charlie smile at the napkin, felt it when they kissed in his car before school.
There’s love in the rush of making out in the costume loft, in late night texts where Charlie surprisingly makes him laugh wildly at one in the morning. It creeps into their FaceTime calls, when Charlie listens intently to Zay’s stories or blushes at the slightest compliment. He even loves Sunday mornings, when Charlie texts him after mass and chats about the sermon if it’s interesting enough. It’s nice to talk about, to understand what’s important to Charlie, but even more moving is how Charlie used to barely reply on that day, too overwhelmed with guilt on the Lord’s Day.
Maybe that’s one of the things Zay loves most about Charlie. How even though it’s hard for him, even though some days are easier for him to be himself than others, he’s trying. That Charlie sees him as someone safe, a sacred shelter to care for and hold with the same passion rather than someone to use. He loves the way he feels under Charlie’s adoring gaze, the appreciation and companionship that he feels he sometimes lacks with others. But never with Charlie.
Zay loves that he’s the only one to see Charlie like this. Literally, in the sense of him being unguarded and pliant in his lap, but also the open passion he has for dance, the freedom in his movements. He loves that he gets to experience how surprisingly funny (albeit dorky) Charlie is, how he has his own brand of banter and flirting. How they tease each other but it’s never mean-spirited, that they know beneath the teasing they really like each other. He loves how Charlie, who’s hesitant about everything, never hesitates to tell Zay how amazing he is.
He loves how their eyes meet across a room, how they seem to say everything they can’t in that moment. Loves how well they work together, how he feels when Charlie’s fingers brush against his skin, how kind he is, how easily he blushes and how he tries to hide his gorgeous smile but never can. Zay loves the softness and slight raspy quality of Charlie’s singing voice, how he smiles when he says Zay’s name. How he says each syllable of Isaiah like it’s holy scripture, the sweetest hymn. He loves his intelligence, his compassion, loves that moment when Charlie decides to give in to what he wants and deepens a kiss, the breathy sigh that escapes when they pull apart. Zay loves that Charlie thinks of him the same way.
Zay leapt and let himself fall, and now he’s in love with Charlie Gardner.
And it’s something he’s wanted to say for a little bit now. Which is sort of ridiculous, like maybe he should slow it down, but he knows how he feels. Zay’s always tried to operate with his gut and his heart, and he trusts them.
Sitting in the half-light, sprawled across the floor as Charlie sighs contentedly, Zay can’t help but say it.
“I love you,” he whispers, the words slipping out as his fingers trail softly down Charlie’s jawline.
Charlie’s lips turn upward into an easy smile, peaceful and sublime. Then, it seems that he realized the weight of the words Zay just said, and his eyes fly open. He removes his head from Zay’s lap, sitting up.
“Um.” Charlie blinks, almost a silhouette against the dusk sky outside. “What did you say?”
Zay could say, “Nothing.” Pass it off like Charlie had drifted into a half state of sleep like he tends to do when they spend a stretch of quiet time alone. That he had dreamt it—Zay knows from near incomprehensible texts in the morning that Charlie has strange and vivid dreams most nights. Or respond, “I love this view”, or anything that lets him pretend he didn’t say it.
But he did. And even though he was expecting to say it in some grand romantic moment of declaration, just like most of their major milestones have been dramatic and charged, it’s how he feels. In a way, it feels right to have said it in their space, in a moment of tranquility. Though what he feels is intense, sometimes it’s better to express it in a simple moment. That not everything is some earth-shattering revelation, but rather an effortless truth. Even though he may be a bit nervous how Charlie will react, that maybe he’ll shut down and freak out, Zay’s not gonna take it back.
Though he tries to nod confidently, Zay can’t help but break his composure and grin.
“I love you,” he repeats, not quiet this time but purposeful and passionate.
Charlie blinks again, his mouth parting open slightly in shock. He’s not really indicating whether it’s good shock or bad. Zay’s feeling a little like he did when he met Charlie at their diner at the end of summer. Will they stay together, or will it fall apart? He jumped, but is he gonna crash or stick the landing?
It takes a few moments for his words to settle with Charlie and for him to work out whatever he’s thinking. For how calm their surroundings are, Zay’s heart is racing.
Then, Charlie surges forward to kiss him, bringing Zay close by the back of his neck. It takes a second for him to return the kiss, caught off guard, but then they’re moving together in perfect coordination, Charlie leaning forward and sending both of them parallel to the ground. He kisses Zay deeply, a sort of fervor and intimacy that makes him dizzy, gives him that familiar soaring in his chest.
They pull apart, and Zay drops his hands onto both of Charlie’s thighs, which straddle his frame on the floor. Charlie’s beaming, an excited giggle escaping his lips. He takes Zay’s hands and intertwines their fingers, pressing a kiss on his knuckles.
Zay leans back up so he can kiss him again, untangling their fingers and wrapping his arms around the back of Charlie’s neck. There’s a way Charlie kisses him, each one with their own special meaning. He knows that this is Charlie’s way of saying that he cares about Zay too, a lot, though he can’t say it right now. That he felt the impact of every word, that this means a lot to him too, that he appreciates that Zay said it.
Zay presses his face into Charlie’s neck as they pull apart, leaving a light kiss against his pale skin.
“I…” Charlie starts, and Zay can feel Charlie’s throat swallow with nervousness against his cheek. “You…”
The words die out on Charlie’s tongue, but Zay doesn’t push, doesn’t make him fly when he’s not ready. Instead, they let a peaceful silence settle over them as they look out the window, moving so that they’re holding each other, Zay against Charlie’s chest. Another brief moment and special feeling Zay will chase forever, Charlie’s arms around him as the stars start to peek through the sky.