Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Theatre professionals are supposed to be extremely superstitious.

The Scottish play. No whistling backstage. Break a leg. Leaving a seat unoccupied. Graveyard flowers. Bad dress rehearsal means good opening night. Black clothes rule.

There are too many of these unspoken rules to ensure good luck, and Lucas adheres to them all.

It’s not that he necessarily believes in them, but… why risk it?

He also knows that no matter what, things will always go wrong. And most of the time, it’s Lucas’ job to fix them. So far, the only problem they’re facing is finding a lead actor, and Lucas is getting nervous. The first table read is planned in two days, and they are on a rushed time schedule as is. Lucas has, of course, already made some backup rehearsal programs in case they have to start without the main actor, but he really hopes it won’t come to that. He takes a sip from his coffee to steady his nerves. Strong and as black as his stage manager’s outfit, that how he likes it. Maybe he should add an extra scoop of beans to the next pot, though. Seems like it’s not cutting through as it should.

Caffeine jitters aside, Lucas is really enjoying this production. It’s a relatively modest one, in a small but lovely theatre. It means they’re chronically underbudgeted and as such understaffed, but Lucas doesn’t mind pitching in where he can. The play they are putting up is something new, by an up-and-coming playwright who manages to raise important current topics in a way that’s funny, emotionally evocative and on point. She’s a genius with language and structure, and Lucas loves the play. The author is also savvy enough to know that once the script is in the hands of a director and a cast, it’s really not her baby anymore. She’s given them more or less free reign, unlike some other people Lucas worked with, who haunted the rehearsals and complained loudly about every artistic choice that was made, including even the length of the pauses written into the script.

Lucas likes most people involved, too. He has worked with the director, Imane Bakhellal, before. She can be demanding, but she knows what she’s doing, and actually expects respect for the stage manager from the rest of the cast and crew, so that’s a big reason why Lucas has agreed to work with her again. Her assistant, Daphné, is bubbly and organized. Sometimes she looks like a deer in the headlights when the stress of getting a play staged catches up with her, but she has a sharp mind and a work ethic Lucas admires. Most of the rest of the people involved are new to Lucas, except for Yann, who Lucas has worked with in a couple of plays before, and actually hung out with occasionally, and of course Manon, who has been one of Lucas’ few friends since high school and had actually inspired his career choice in no small way. It had been a pleasant surprise when she had been cast as one of the lead actresses.

So that leaves the elusive main actor. Lucas has read the script often enough during his preparations – making copies for the call script, preparing the scene breaks, listing the props, checking the lines of each character per scene to get to a working rehearsal schedule – to know the male lead needs to carry the whole play. He needs to be able to perform a range of emotions with subtlety and finesse. He has a few challenging monologues, but also some delicate love scenes, so they need somebody who can command the stage on his own, but also knows how to share the spotlight with others. Lucas understands why Imane is being picky, although with every passing day he sits in the back row watching auditions, he despairs more.

However, today, they might strike gold.

Because today, Eliott Demaury is supposed to audition.

Lucas hasn’t ever worked with Demaury before, but he has heard of him, of course. His name has circulated in the industry for a while, but the huge success of his King Lear last year cemented his fame with the general public too. His looks don’t hurt either, with teenage girls suddenly flocking to the theatre, and magazines putting him all over their covers.

Lucas saw Demaury first in a small role in a modernized staging of Medea, a few years ago, and has been following him ever since. As a professional in the theatre world, he appreciates Demaury’s talent. Eliott Demaury brings emotions to life effortlessly, and has a real connection to the audience. On a less professional note, as a… well, hot-blooded gay man, Lucas appreciates Eliott’s attractive features, slender waist, strong arms, crooked smirk and striking eyes probably even more than his talent.

When Daphné calls for “Eliott Demaury”, Lucas sits up a bit straighter. He is prepared to be blinded by the trademark megawatt smile of his crush. Lucas expects a confident, self-assured man, ready to claim his stake. Instead, in walks a boyish figure, almost hunched, in jeans and sneakers, with messy hair and what looks like paint stains on his hands.

It is hopelessly cute, to be honest.

It turns out Imane knows him, and she squeals when he waves at her – very much out of character for the cool, collected, calm professional Lucas knows her to be. And of course, with his talent, Eliott aces the audition and wows everybody watching. Manon and Tiffany, who are going to play the main female characters, are asked on stage to test a few scenes with Eliott, and the chemistry just sparks. Of course, with Manon, Lucas doesn’t expect anything less. Manon is just that sweet and caring, not to mention she’s an awesome actress. But Eliott also seems to have no problem charming Tiffany. Lucas doesn’t really like the blonde girl. She is pretty young, hasn’t really done anything of this calibre before, but she talks like she has won a Molière at least. Lucas has decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, for now, especially after seeing her act opposite Eliott. He thinks it is more that Eliott allowed her to shine than her own merits, but whatever the reason, Eliott will be good for the production, and that is what matters most.

What is completely inconsequential, is how Lucas’ heart flutters when Eliott is offered the part. It is just the excitement about finally having a complete cast, and has nothing to do with the fact that he’s had a tiny crush on Eliott Demaury since that first time he saw him perform. Obviously.

***

Two weeks into rehearsals, the production is still going remarkably smoothly. Lucas has experience enough however to know it won’t stay like this. Any day now, something big will explode. The longer they go on without major hitches, the more nervous he gets. So he checks, doublechecks, triplechecks, and checks once again. He has started making two copies of all the paperwork, and three of his call script, certain as he is that some calamity will befall them at any point now.

All this superstitious double and triple work is just adding to his workload, obviously, and so he is running on even less sleep and even more coffee than during any other production. At this point, the barista basically just pumps espresso shots in a large cup and tries to keep the judgement from her eyes. At least in the theatre, it is Lucas himself who makes the coffee, so he just keeps adding more and more beans and making more and more pots. He has three thermoses in the call booth, and usually at least one in his kit too, for those occasions he is needed backstage or front of the house for longer periods of time and can’t make it back to the booth in time for his fix.

He blames it on tiredness when he almost, almost leaves a mirror on stage. Another superstition Lucas doesn’t believe in, of course, but hey, better safe than sorry.

He doesn’t blame it on being distracted by Eliott softly calling good night. Or on the delicious blush that had appeared on Eliott’s peachy cheeks when Lucas had told Eliott he was glad to be working with him. And definitely not on his daydreaming about Eliott’s soft voice during the table read, and his shy, almost wistful smile at Lucas when Lucas had handed him his script and their fingers had brushed just slightly.

***

Lucas has gotten in the habit of slipping into the theatre during his breaks, sipping his coffee from a seat in the back row, watching the rehearsals. Eliott definitely deserves all the accolades and buzz, as far as Lucas is concerned. He seems to pick up every nuance Imane wants to see in his performance, and as Lucas already suspected, he is incredibly aware of what the rest of the cast needs to make their job easier. He moves naturally and still keeps the blocking open to the public, never obscuring anybody else, never turning his back to the audience. He shows emotion with his voice, his eyes, his whole body, without overacting, and even after the fifteenth repetition, he still manages to make it sound fresh. Lucas knows, as does everybody, that Eliott started acting relatively late, but he is a natural. He makes thoughtful suggestions, has a deep insight into his character’s motivations, and asks questions that highlight connections nobody else had made before.

And what draws Lucas even more to the golden boy of theatre, is that he seems genuinely so nice. He is on time, signs in, cleans up his dressing room without Lucas having to nag about it. He brought pastries for the whole company one day, just because they were rehearsing for the sixth day in a row and he thought they could use a pick-me-up. Lucas overheard him offering to somebody to practice their lines with them during one of his breaks, and more often than not he is studying the script whenever he has a moment. Manon let it slip that he offers advice freely to anybody who asks, almost tutoring some of the junior cast members.

So yeah. Lucas is well aware that he could easily be fucked. A great actor, a considerate colleague, a kind man, and gorgeous to boot? Yeah. Lucas knows he needs to be careful. But still, he spends his breaks watching Eliott, telling himself it’s purely professional. And if he gets tears in his eyes when Eliott portrays a particular moving monologue, surely that is just testimony to Eliott’s talent.

The only problem is that Lucas isn’t sure Eliott likes Lucas a lot. Sure, he is always polite, and perfectly nice, but whereas he has developed an elaborate fist bump greeting with Arthur, regularly goes out for lunch with Manon, and laughs loudly, head in his neck, about silly memes with Yann, he doesn’t do any of these things with Lucas. He just smiles that timid smile, and talks with a soft voice, as if he doesn’t want to impose.

It is literally Lucas’ job to be imposed on. He needs to know about anything that might become a problem as it happens. Preferably sooner. He is used to calls of “Oy, Lucas! Issue backstage!” or “Sorry, Lucas, no time for a break, front of house needs you NOW!” or “Lu! Get off your ass and go solve the problem with the fly system!”. He is not used to short, stammered, cut-off greetings like “Oh, uhm, hi, Lu-Lucas, sorry, I’ll just leave you to –” or “Uhm, Lucas, do you know when I need to be here tomorrow? Or – wait, no, uh, I’ll just go find my call sheet, it’s fine, thanks.” followed by a hasty exit of the speaker. Especially if said speaker is a lead actor who’s just overflowing with talent.

Lucas tries not to mind.

And during pizza night with Manon, when she raves about how funny and smart Eliott is, and how much fun to hang out with backstage, he tries even harder.

***

“Hey, uh, Lucas? Do you have a minute?”

Lucas really doesn’t have a minute. But he recognizes the soft voice, and, well. He has always been a glutton for punishment and pretty boys.

“Sure,” he mumbles distractedly, as he stands up to check what Eliott needs, wiping his dusty hands on his pants. He really needs to mop the stage again before he continues taping. He mentally adds it to his endless to-do list, and remembers something about somebody saying they were on their last roll of tape too. He should check with Basile if they have brought in some more yet, because otherwise he will have to go check who can be missed to go get some before the stores close. The taping really cannot wait until tomorrow, Imane has been harrumphing about the blocking being off all day. Maybe he should see if he can quickly get Yann and Alexia into a meeting, see if anything else is needed from the store before he pulls somebody… And then, when he’s backstage anyway, he can go check if the new props he mentioned in yesterday’s rehearsal report are being sourced already. Maybe he should also see if he can find Emma about the reception for opening night. He grabs his kit – shit, he really needs to upgrade to something with wheels, the thing seems to be getting heavier every day – and hurriedly starts making his way towards the storage room.

“Uh, Lucas?”

He spins on his heels, startled by the call. Who is here?

“Eliott?” Lucas wonders what Eliott is doing here, when he should be in… let’s see… costume fitting, right? Right. “What are you doing here?”

Eliott laughs, and for a horrible moment, Lucas feels like he’s being ridiculed. It’s the first time he sees Eliott laugh from this close – that is to say, not from the other side of the room, hunched over a phone with Yann, and immediately excusing himself when Lucas comes over – and he barely resists the urge to check if his zip is open, but Eliott’s laughter is bright and open. Actually, if he’s being frank, Lucas might not care if Eliott found something to mock about Lucas every day, if it would mean listening to Eliott laugh like this.

All too soon, however, Eliott composes himself, though his grey eyes still sparkle and there are crinkly lines around them.

“I was just wondering if I could borrow a pencil,” he then says, wringing his hands. “I realize I’m totally stupid to not bring one, and I know it’s not your job to provide me with anything –”

He is right about that, of course, and Lucas has definitely snapped those words at cast members more than once, but this time, he’s already rummaging in his kit, where he has stuffed away more stationery than the average primary school has at hand.

“– and I’m so sorry to interrupt you while you’re working, I know you have enough on your mind already, but –”

“Don’t worry,” Lucas cuts him off, holding two of his treasured mechanical pencils out. “I don’t mind helping you out.”

He doesn’t, even though it pains him slightly to let go of those pencils. Past experience teaches he never sees “borrowed” items again, and these are his favourite brand – sturdy, with a good eraser and a mechanic that makes almost no sound, and leads that don’t break too easily. But then Eliott smiles at him, and who cares about pencils after that.

“Thanks, Lucas.” Eliott carefully puts the pencils in his pocket. He smiles at Lucas, his bashful smile. It’s growing on Lucas. Well, it’d better, since Lucas is the only one who seems to receive it, because Eliott has no problems having normal conversations with everybody else. Lucas sighs.

“I’ll get them back to you.”

Lucas waves his hands dismissingly, making a mental note to buy more pencils. Ah, wait a minute, if he slips out quickly during his coffee break, he can pick up tape too…

Eliott stands for a moment, looking at Lucas, and for a brief moment Lucas has the crazy idea that Eliott might have had another reason to come seek Lucas out, but then Emma comes looking for Lucas about some issue with the comped tickets for the cast and crew. At the same time, somebody from the costume shop – Lucas doesn’t immediately remember their name, but the pincushion on their wrist and the tape measure around their neck are hints enough – frantically shouts for Eliott that his fitting session was fifteen minutes ago and if he could please make his way to the atelier, and the moment shatters.

Lucas doesn’t get a chance to go to the shop during his break, because he has to calm Tiffany, who feels the costume Alexia’s team has made for her doesn’t “showcase her assets” sufficiently, and then there is an issue with the rehearsal schedule, and after that the has to deal with an issue where the rigging of the lights prevents a critical set prop to be situated correctly on the stage.

A normal day in the life of a stage manager, in short.

It’s after ten when Lucas finally finishes taping the stage – thank god somebody had gone and gotten more tape – and he still has to complete today’s rehearsal report before he can go to bed, but he has gotten into the habit of typing most of it out on his phone while he waits for the bus.

He goes to grab today’s check-in list from the message board, and he notices a big envelope bearing his name. He takes it down and stashes it in his kit to check later – he has three minutes to catch a bus or be forced to wait another half hour.

As he sends out the report to everybody, he is beyond ready to tumble in bed – rehearsal starts at eight-thirty tomorrow and he really wants a chance to talk to Imane about the rain machine she wants for the third act. He puts his script back in his kit, and that’s when he sees the envelope. It can probably wait until tomorrow, and he really is too tired to deal with anything else tonight, and he almost manages to close his bag. But with a sigh he opens it back up. He probably won’t sleep if he doesn’t know what possible emergency he needs to defuse in the morning.

What greets him, however, is not a possible calamity, but rather his own pencils. As Lucas’ heart skips a beat at Eliott actually returning them, a piece of torn paper falls to the floor. Lucas prays it didn’t come from Eliott’s script as he folds it open. Lucas, he reads, I searched for you everywhere to get these back to you, but I couldn’t find you. Thanks again for saving my ass. See you tomorrow. Eliott.

As his head hits the pillow, Lucas remembers the charged atmosphere between them that morning, and he is very, very sorry he missed Eliott. For a minute, he wishes Eliott had kept the pencils until he could return them in person. Eliott’s small smile follows him into his dreams.

***

With opening night getting closer, Lucas doesn’t have much time anymore for quiet coffee breaks in the back room. He crossed Eliott a couple of days ago, Eliott on his way to change costumes and Lucas hurrying towards the call booth where Basile was waiting for him for a meeting about the sound effects for the first act. Lucas had smiled widely, tossed out a quick “Thanks for returning my pencils”, and had almost, almost stopped dead in his tracks when Eliott grinned shyly back at him, sunshine personified. But he hadn’t, and if he had been a bit loopy during the first few minutes of Basile explaining the problems with the sound, nobody needed to know.

Nothing still has gone majorly wrong yet. Lucas did contemplate keeping three copies of all the paperwork, but the weight of his kit had convinced him otherwise. That, and Lucas tries to be environmentally conscious, even though his job consists largely of creating paperwork.

Right now, he is doing just that, after Tiffany informed him – this morning! – she can’t make it tomorrow because of a medical appointment. Lucas still doesn’t really like her, and he had definitely tried to give her some grief for not keeping better track of her agenda when she was hired and asked about when not to call her. She’d played it down, didn’t seem to care a lot about inconveniencing a bunch of other people with a last-minute change to the schedule. Lucas thinks he managed to adapt the planning in a way that still allows all the scenes enough rehearsal time, doesn’t double-book any of the actors, and leaves enough room in Imane’s and Daphné’s agenda for production meetings and check-ins with management and the playwright. He’s just checking one last time he’s not calling anybody on a time they declared to be unavailable, when somebody knocks softly on the doorframe of the call booth. Lucas usually leaves the door open, because nobody is ever deterred by a closed door anyway. A knock is a pleasant surprise.

He swivels around on his battered chair. Eliott is leaning in the door opening, looking good enough to eat in his street clothes. His jeans could be painted on him, except for the rips and frays. Lucas tries not to give him too obvious of a once-over, but he’s not sure he succeeds. His throat is dry when he tries to speak, and he covers it up with a small cough and a quick sip of his coffee – cold, by now.

“Hi, Eliott,” he croaks. “Did you need me for something?”

Like for some heavy petting on top of the soundboard, his treacherous mind supplies, but luckily, his parched tongue is not up for saying that out loud.

“Yeah, if I’m not interrupting at least…”

He smiles another soft, shy smile, and Lucas laughs. Everyone in the theatre world knew that you were always interrupting the stage manager, but also that every stage manager thrives on being interrupted anyway.

“I can spare a few minutes,” Lucas says, teasing just a bit. “What’s up?”

“I, uh, I cut myself. I was trying to cut some sandwiches for my lunch in the breakroom, and, well.”

He holds up his hand, where blood trickles from a shallow wound. It doesn’t look too bad.

“I was hoping you had a band-aid.”

Naturally, Lucas does. Band-aids fall into the essential stage manager kit contents category, just like tissues, phone chargers, safety pins, hair ties, and breath mints. Technically, of course, everybody should bring their own, but stage manager kits are like Mary Poppins’ bag. Everything you could ever need is in there.

“There’s a stocked first aid kit right there in the breakroom,” he says, but he is already rummaging through his kit for the bright red pouch that contains medical supplies.

“Oh.”

Eliott sounds a bit taken aback, and guilty.

“I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have disturbed you, then…”

Lucas triumphantly holds up a few band-aids.

“No big deal. Here, do you need help putting it on? Let’s disinfect it first…”

He grabs the disinfectant wipes, and holds his hand out for Eliott to put his in it. Eliott obeys dutifully, and for a moment Lucas forgets what he is supposed to do. It feels like sparks are crackling through the dry, cold air in the booth. He quickly shakes his head, to dispel the fog, and carefully dips the wound with a wipe. Eliott hisses, and Lucas apologizes, wide-eyed.

“No, don’t worry,” Eliott replies through clenched teeth. “My own fault for being clumsy.”

“All done with that,” Lucas says gently, his fingers caressing Eliott’s wrist in consolation. “Just the band-aid left.”

Eliott chuckles a bit breathlessly.

“Idriss always says I am not to be allowed near any kitchen equipment or stove, ever, but that’s more because he doesn’t like my cooking, not because I’m a safety hazard.”

Lucas laughs, carefully positioning the band-aid. It feels like a loss when Eliott pulls back his hand.

“Who is Idriss?”, he asks, feigning nonchalance. Is it a friend, a roommate… or something more? Eliott is notoriously shy about his private life, never answering outright to any questions in interviews. It only feeds the speculation, of course, and the gossip magazines are spinning theory after theory.

“Ah, uh, Idriss is –”

Eliott seems hesitant, and Lucas feels sorry for putting him on the spot.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he quickly interrupts. “Sorry for asking.”

“No problem,” Eliott answers. “Idriss is my best friend since high school. He, uh, he is Imane’s brother actually.”

The news surprises Lucas.

“So you know Imane pretty well, then?”

“Yeah, I mean, a bit. But that’s not why I got the role or anything, Imane is way too professional for that, and –”

Wait, what? Lucas cuts him off again.

“I wasn’t thinking that! It’s clear you are insanely talented and the best choice for the role. I haven’t seen all of the rehearsals yet,” – soon, though, Lucas would start sitting into rehearsals to complete his call script, and he was looking forward to seeing Eliott shine in the spotlight – “but what I saw is fucking amazing. You’re great, Eliott.”

Eliott’s smile is back on his face, and Lucas discovers he likes putting that smile there even more than the smile itself.

“Do you mean that?”

Lucas sees that Eliott is genuinely unsure, pleased by Lucas’ compliments, but having a hard time believing them. And that baffles Lucas.

“Uh, yeah? And don’t pretend you don’t know. How many prizes did you get for Lear again?”

“Not all that many,” Eliott mumbles, blushing, but also looking happy, proud.

“Enough, though,” Lucas grins. “You’re a huge talent, Eliott. You are good at your job, and that’s why you got this role.”

Eliott grins back fully now, his eyes shining.

“Thanks for the band-aid, Lucas,” he says, as he starts to walk away. “Oh, and, Lucas? You are very good at your job, too. I’m glad you’re working this production with me.” He throws a quick wink at Lucas over his shoulder.

Lucas is left staring speechless at Eliott’s retreating ass – in the painted-on jeans – for a full minute.

***

If he didn’t know better, Lucas would say Eliott was searching him out. He comes by to drop off the sign-in sheet one day, sits by Lucas in the back row one day drinking his coffee, climbs up to the call booth to ask about a tiny little thing in a rehearsal report – Lucas supposes he should be glad Eliott is at least reading the damn things, when so many actors think nothing written in there ever concerns them – he has had at least three discussions with Tiffany before about something that was clearly stated in the report – but still, it seems a bit strange for Eliott to come to talk to Lucas about it.

His shy grin is really growing on Lucas.

So is Lucas’ crush, but he valiantly ignores that.

Usually, their conversations go on for a few minutes after whatever it is that Eliott needed is resolved. They are still very much just people working together – talking about the weather, the production, the girl in props who brought cake for her birthday, the play that opened the other night to great reviews which they both want to go see as soon as possible. But sometimes they’re slipping into something else, something tentatively bordering friend territory, like when Eliott mentioned his parents living in Marseille, but coming over for opening night, or when Lucas dropped something about his ex who still hasn’t picked up his stuff – and Lucas still wonders if he imagined Eliott’s eyes opening slightly when he heard the male pronouns – or the polite, casually extended invitation to go see the new play together, then, maybe.

But Lucas knows Eliott is not seeking him out. Eliott is just being polite to a fault.

Lucas knows that, because on Monday, when Lucas goes over to Manon on their free night to hang out with Mika, Manon tells them that she thinks Eliott and Tiffany might be a thing. Apparently, they have been spending every possible moment in Eliott’s dressing room, ostensibly going over their lines, but when Tiffany entered the dressing room she and Manon shared, she’d dropped heavy hints that she and Eliott were engaged in other activities. At first, Lucas scoffs, remembering the disastrous rehearsal of the kiss scene between Eliott’s character and Tiffany’s earlier that morning. It had definitely not looked like they spent hours making out in a dressing room. But then he thinks about yesterday, when Eliott and Manon had rehearsed their kissing scene. That one had gone so perfectly smooth, so naturally, that Lucas reconsiders. Maybe Eliott and Tiffany were so heavy-handed because they were holding back on stage, because they were trying to hide their relationship. And then Lucas overhears Tiffany gossiping to Emma that she is wearing a green dress to opening night, because Eliott is apparently going to be in a green suit. And he sees her come out of Eliott’s dressing room at one point, looking flustered and her hair messy. And when Imane calls the whole cast to the stage to give a bunch of stern remarks before she sends them all home to rest for the last week of rehearsals, Tiffany presses very, very close to Eliott, her hand on his elbow as he stands stoically with crossed arms, listening attentively to Imane, and Tiffany whispers something in his ear and giggles – for which, to Lucas’ immeasurable pleasure, she is immediately called out by Imane – and then they leave the theatre simultaneously.

So Manon is probably right.

And as such, the idea that Eliott might be actively trying to hang out with Lucas is nonsense.

And what is also nonsense, is Manon’s careful look at Lucas, when she breaks the news. As if it changes anything for Lucas. As if Lucas thought he could have Eliott. As if Lucas had ever even entertained the thought. As if Lucas is in love with Eliott, or something.

Total nonsense.

Chapter Text

His dreams seem to entertain quite some thoughts about Eliott, however. Lucas wakes up bleary-eyed after a fitful night, in which Eliott sat next to Lucas, soft-spoken, smiling shyly, inviting Lucas to go to a play, or to come inside his dressing room – although not to dress, exactly. And not to run lines, exactly, either.

Lucas has no time to dream about Eliott. He needs to get to the theatre to open up, make coffee, ensure everything is ready to start the last week of rehearsals. On his way there, he passes a magazine stand, and with the press releases for the show gone out recently, attention for Eliott is high. One tabloid has him on the front cover, his face beaming a megawatt smile at Lucas – which, Lucas gets it, is hot as fuck, but that slow, shy smile Eliott seems to reserve for Lucas? That is bonemeltingly, pantsdroppingly, skinscorchingly sexy – and the blazing caption “Theatre’s Golden Boy: Dating His Charming Co-Star???”. Lucas almost chokes on his coffee.

He guesses it’s better than spilling his coffee all over his shirt, which he does when the bus has to brake unexpectedly. At least it doesn’t show on his stage manager’s black, but he hates the clammy feeling of his shirt. It looks like today is not going to be a good day, and he is full-on grumpy by the time he reaches the theatre.

As soon as he opens the door, somebody slips in. Probably somebody from the workshop, or one of Basile’s boys trying to get some more lights rigged before rehearsal starts. But when Lucas has dropped off his kit in the call booth, and goes to the breakroom to make coffee so he can replace the cup he spilled, Eliott is standing there, carefully measuring out beans.

Lucas only takes a minute to admire the view, before he speaks.

“Good morning.”

Eliott startles, and drops the measuring spoon. Beans spill all over the counter as he turns around, and a blush spreads over his perfectly symmetrical cheekbones.

“I see. Maybe your friend is right about not allowing you in the kitchen,” Lucas giggles, as Eliott stares helplessly at the mess.

Eliott’s head whips up, a retort ready on his lips, but then he starts giggling along, and Lucas hopes nobody else chooses this moment to come in, and sees them both bent over in mirth like teenage girls.

“C’mon, let me”, Lucas says, grabbing a rag to clean up the mess. “I don’t think making coffee is in your job description, anyway.”

Eliott moves dutifully aside, but his answer is pointed.

“Well, I know for a fact it is not in yours, and yet you’ve been doing it for the past three weeks.”

Lucas feels strangely warm at those words. It’s true, it is not in his job description, but much like he doesn’t have to bring bobby pins for distracted actors or spare change for the vending machines to placate high-maintenance divas, he picks up the slack nevertheless. It feels wonderful, however, to be noticed, to be seen, to be appreciated for all those things which are usually invisible. It just goes to show how nice Eliott is. The fact that it awakens a whole troupe of butterflies in Lucas’ stomach is just because it’s so great to be valued, that’s all there is to is.

Eliott is looking at him, a strange look in his pretty eyes.

Lucas realizes he hasn’t replied yet.

“Oh, don’t worry, just me being selfish. I have caffeine running through my veins, so it’s easiest if I make sure there’s a fresh supply at all times. Anyway, why are you here so early? Your call time is not until nine-thirty, isn’t it?”

Oops. Maybe he shouldn’t have let that slip. He hopes Eliott will just assume he is a highly competent stage manager who knows the call times of the whole cast by heart.

“Uhm, yeah,” Eliott says, not looking at Lucas. “I was hoping if I came in early, though, that maybe you’d have half an hour for me.”

Lucas comes in at seven because he cannot bring himself to get out of bed at five-thirty to be here at six-thirty, which is when he should be arriving to have enough time to do the myriad of things that needs to be done. Lucas does not have two minutes to spare to change into a dry shirt, let alone thirty for whatever Eliott wants.

But that is not what he says. What he says is, “Uh, sure. What for?”

“I, uh, have been getting shit from Daphné about my lines. She’s yelled at me yesterday, saying opening night is a week away, and I need to step up my game. So I was wondering, uh, if maybe… if you would want to… and if you don’t mind… running through them with me every morning? Like just half an hour or so. Or fifteen minutes, if you don’t have more time.”

Lucas is ready to say yes to whatever Eliott wants, but this hardly makes sense.

“Uh, yeah, sure, but wouldn’t it be better to practice lines with somebody from the cast? Like, Tiffany?”

Isn’t that what they are doing all the time in Eliott’s dressing room anyway?

Eliott flushes even redder and mumbles something about not really going very well. And oh, yeah. Lucas almost hits himself. They are not running lines in there. Obviously, they are so distracted they forget mundane things like learning their lines.

Lucas shrugs. He already said he would do it, so…

“Okay, sure. Your dressing room?”

Eliott seems a bit torn. Maybe he doesn’t want Lucas in there. Maybe he’s afraid Lucas will see a forgotten pair of Tiffany’s panties, or something.

“Or here, if you prefer.”

“Or the call booth?”, Eliott asks timidly.

Okay. The call booth is tiny and dark and cold, but if Eliott wants to run lines in the call booth, so be it.

But when they get there, and they’ve gone over a page or two – in which Eliott hasn’t made any mistakes whatsoever, Lucas notes – Eliott asks something about Lucas’ next production, and suddenly half an hour has gone, and the crew is starting to bang around with sets and lights, and Lucas really needs to go post the sign-in sheet and make sure the stage is swept and talk to Alexia about the last missing costumes and confer with Yann about the set switch between the first and the second act, and they haven’t rehearsed any more of Eliott’s lines.

“Sorry,” Eliott says, smiling softly. He doesn’t sound very apologetic. “Would you have time again tomorrow?”

And Lucas, sucker as he is, nods. Glutton for punishment and pretty boys, right?

***

True enough, Eliott shows up at seven again, trailing Lucas to the breakroom and smartly deciding to let Lucas make the coffee.

“You look good today,” Eliott says as Lucas presses the on-button.

Lucas looks down. He’s wearing his standard black, from his sneakers to his jeans and his ratty shirt and his hoodie. He knows his hair is probably sticking in a hundred directions at once and the bags under his eyes must have reached epic proportions, given they are less than a week from opening night.

He can’t be looking any better than all the other days he’s been working here.

And sure, he’s not ugly, he’ll admit that, but next to Eliott there’s really no way he is looking anything special either.

So he shrugs, and stands around awkwardly, waiting for the coffee to be ready.

“You go ahead,” Eliott says, when it becomes clear Lucas has no reply. “I’ll bring you a cup. As a thank you for running lines with me.”

“You’ll thank me by bringing the coffee I made myself?”, Lucas asks, trying to look at Eliott disapprovingly, before they burst out laughing.

“I’m just that great,” Eliott replies, leading them into another bout of laughter. By the time they’ve recovered, the coffee is done, and they both fill a mug. Eliott still insists to carry Lucas’, though, because Lucas already has to lug along his kit.

“Why do we need to run lines anyway?”, Lucas inquires when they’re climbing the stairs. “I haven’t written down any note for you yesterday.”

It’s true. After a full day of rehearsal, Lucas didn’t have any line notes for Eliott. It’s impressive. Even Manon had a few, and Lucas knows how meticulous she is about studying them. Tiffany on the other hand had a whole stack, which leads Lucas to assume there is indeed not a lot of practicing lines going on when she disappears into Eliott’s dressing room.

“Ah, yeah,” Eliott says, “but today we’re doing the second act. That’s where my troubles are.”

Lucas eyes him suspiciously, but Eliott innocently flips to the beginning of the second act in his script, so Lucas follows suit.

After a few pages, though, Eliott asks a question about all the post-its and marks in Lucas’ call script, which leads to more questions about his work. Before they know it, forty minutes have passed and somebody from Yann’s team comes up to ask if Lucas can spare a minute.

After that, Lucas’ standard hectic day just keeps going, and he has no chance to talk to Eliott again. Funnily enough, he doesn’t have to write any line notes for Eliott during the whole rehearsal of the second act.

***

They keep at it for the next few days. Eliott shows up right about when Lucas starts making the coffee, they climb up to the call booth and open their scripts, but honestly, it’s just a prop by now. They don’t even pretend to rehearse lines anymore. Eliott knows his lines either way. Instead, they talk about everything and nothing for as long as they can get away with it before somebody needs Lucas or it’s late enough for Lucas to have no choice but get on with his tasks.

And then it’s Monday, and they have their final free evening, because Wednesday is the dreaded tech rehearsal which will last as long as it lasts, but they all know the chances of getting out before midnight are small, and then Thursday is dress rehearsal, and Friday is opening night, which means the crew will not sleep at all Thursday.

So Lucas goes over to Manon, and they order take out because they need to rest and relax and move as little as possible, and they watch some old Friends reruns, and then Manon starts talking about Eliott.

“Eliott is doing great, don’t you think?”

Lucas hums.

“He’s just so easy to work with. His ideas are amazing and he has this unending creativity just spilling out. Did you know he’s a visual artist too? Sometimes he sketches while he’s waiting.”

Lucas didn’t know that, and he wants to. He wants to know everything about Eliott, and he greedily pockets away every little gem of information Manon shares.

“And he’s a proper gentleman. After the scene where we fight, he always makes a point of making sure I am fine. He even asked me to tell him if he accidentally hurts me, and I had to inform him he was gonna have to be a bit rougher or the audience would never believe his rage!”

Manon laughs, and Lucas smiles. It sounds so much like the shy, soft Eliott he got to know.

“The only thing I don’t understand is why he’s with Tiffany. She’s nothing like him. Ah, well,” she contemplates philosophically, “opposites attract, I suppose.”

She doesn’t notice Lucas’ smile dying swiftly, and to his eternal gratitude, she changes the subject after that.

***

“So. Tech rehearsal tomorrow.”

They are up in the booth again, slowly watching the theatre bursting to life. They don’t even have scripts open, even though Eliott still stubbornly insists he needs to practice his lines. He does not. Lucas hasn’t seen him stumble even once all week.

Eliott smiles.

“I know. I’m excited. I mean, not for the tech. Tech is boring as hell for actors. But just the fact that we’re close to opening night.”

Lucas hides his head between his hands, groaning.

“Oh my god, you actors are completely insane. Tech boring? It’s like, twenty-odd hours of utter concentration for me. Dry tech, tech, and then all the paperwork, and then making sure my call script is perfect for dress rehearsal… Ugh. I’d better bring extra coffee.”

Eliott laughs out loud at that. It still surprises Lucas, how his whole face opens up.

“You love it, admit it.”

That surprises Lucas too, that Eliott knows him well enough to see right through his complaints. He is right, of course. Lucas thrives on the stress and frenzy of tech rehearsal, dress rehearsal, and opening night. He loves running around making sure everything goes smoothly. His highest pride is when the whole cast and crew are relaxed and happy after opening, congratulating each other on pulling the whole thing off without a hitch, while Lucas is completely haggard from solving about a trillion issues before they can bother anybody.

“Busted, I guess,” he giggles at Eliott. He gets a smile back, and this time it’s almost… fond. Lucas’ eyes drop automatically to Eliott’s lips, for the briefest of moments, but when he whips them back up, a faint blush creeps over his cheeks in their wake. Eliott’s expression shifts subtly – to something warm, charged.

They stare at each other for a long beat, and then Eliott sighs.

“Lucas.”

Lucas replies breathlessly.

“Eliott?”

Since they didn’t even bother with scripts, they haven’t turned on the overhead light, and are sitting in the dim, cramped booth. Eliott’s eyes look very dark in the blue light. Lucas isn’t aware he opens his mouth, because he is hyperfocused on Eliott leaning forward. Their knees are already touching in the tiny space.

For a wild, wondrous second Lucas thinks Eliott is going to kiss him, but then a shrill voice from the stage pierces their bubble.

“Where is Lucas? There is no coffee in the breakroom, and the heater in my dressing room doesn’t work, and I need to make sure my name is spelled right in the program. Seriously, do I have to do everything myself here?”

Tiffany. Right. Well, there’s reason number one why Eliott was not about to kiss Lucas.

“Lucaaaaaas! Oh, fuck it! Where the hell is that stupid assistant?”

Lucas hates it when people don’t even have the decency to remember his job title. God, he might miss certain people in this production when it’s over, but Tiffany is not one of them.

“I’d better go see her,” he says, unconvinced and not very enthusiastic about the prospect.

“I’m sorry,” Eliott replies, and he looks almost guilty. Maybe he thinks Lucas will hold her behaviour against him, because the two are… dating, or whatever they are doing.

“Not your fault,” he says lightly, as he grabs his kit and climbs down. Coffee first, he thinks.

***

Tech rehearsal always lasts way too long. Which is why it is so important to start on time. Which is why Lucas calls the cast at half. Which is why Manon comes up to him panicking because she hasn’t seen Tiffany yet.

“Uhm…” Lucas hesitates. “Have you checked Eliott’s dressing room?”

Manon, half made up, in costume but on her fuzzy socks, nods.

“He hasn’t seen her either. Do you think she went out for something to eat? Or is she running late?”

Lucas hates to think she might be stupid enough to leave for lunch half an hour before tech is supposed to start, but the running late explanation holds no water either. She should have been here two hours ago.

He runs to the sign-in sheet in the breakroom, Manon at his heels.

There it is, black on white, Tiffany Prigent – spelled correctly, thank you – called at 11.30. No signature next to her name.

“She probably overslept or something,” Manon offers. The same idea has entered Lucas’ head, but there are a lot more expletives involved in his version, and maybe some reasons as to why she might be so tired, which absolutely do not involve graphic images of her and Eliott doing something that is distinctly not sleeping in a huge bed.

Because he is nothing if not professional, he ignores these images, refrains from uttering the expletives out loud, and has already grabbed his binder and is leafing through it to find Tiffany’s contact info.

The phone rings and rings, and turns to voicemail. Lucas hangs up and tries again. After the fourth try, he gives up.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t reach her. What now?”

Manon shrugs.

“No clue. Shit, I better get dressed though…”

And just like that, Lucas has no choice but to find Imane, and delaying the start of the tech rehearsal.

Imane is… not happy. To put it mildly.

“Listen, Lucas, we have to have the tech done today, or we might as well cancel opening night!”

Lucas agrees, but it isn’t like he can magic a blonde diva out of thin air. He has done his part of the job. To be honest, he might be a bit worried. He’s been trying Tiffany’s phone, but without avail. What if something happened to her? Maybe there has been an accident. Should he start calling hospitals, the police? Should they be making plans to get her understudy ready to take over? Lucas feels a bit nauseous at the thought. He paces the stage, while Imane is conferring furiously with Daphné, who has her phone in her hand, apparently also trying to reach Tiffany.

Eliott and Manon come up just as Lucas decides to start calling hospitals.

Eliott.

He might have an idea of how to reach Tiffany’s parents or friends or whatever.

“Eliott, do you know how we can reach Tiffany’s family? Have you heard from her?”

Eliott looks confused.

“No, I haven’t. Should I have? And I don’t know her family.”

Lucas’ face falls, and he bites his lip. Eliott is near him in an instant, hovering.

“Lucas? Are you okay?”

“Tiffany is missing. I’m worried something is wrong, and I don’t know how to reach her. She doesn’t answer her phone.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” Eliott says softly, quickly touching Lucas’ shoulder. It calms him, and he misses it when it’s gone, brief as it was.

“No problem.” He pulls up a list of nearby hospitals on his phone, and looks at the time. They are more than 30 minutes late for tech by now. Tiffany should have been here three hours ago.

Suddenly he feels sorry for his low thoughts about the woman. If she’s laying somewhere on the road bleeding out…

The cast is getting antsy, gathering on the stage, and when somebody asks what the hold-up is about, Imane curtly informs them Tiffany hasn’t arrived yet.

At that point, one of the cast girls with a smaller part, gasps. Imane narrows her eyes at the girl.

“Charlotte? Would you happen to know what is going on?”

The girl seems unsure. Lucas remembers seeing her with Tiffany a lot. Charlotte seemed to admire the other actress, and Tiffany seemed to enjoy the fawning.

“I never thought she would…”

“What?”, Lucas snaps, pale with worry.

“She – she told me last week there was a big audition today… For a huge production of Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf. She wants the role of Martha…”

Lucas scoffs. He should have known. Tiffany is not in mortal danger. She’s just being difficult. No, worse, downright disrespectful. And she can’t handle Martha. You have to be able to act, if you want to play Martha.

“I reminded her she had to be here for tech,” Charlotte continued, “but she said tech is useless. I never thought she’d actually… Or I would have said something…”

Lucas’ worry has morphed into boiling red rage in less than a minute.

“That fucking –” He catches himself just in time, when he sees Eliott looking upset. “Well, that’s that then. We’ll just have to wait until she decides to grace us with her appearance.”

He knows he’s being rude, but he’s had enough of Tifanny’s antics. He gets it, tech rehearsals are pretty boring for the actors, but just not showing up? She should be fired. But everybody knows firing one of the main actresses two days before opening is a huge hassle, and the understudies are never as well prepared as they should, especially with them being so short-staffed, and so Tiffany will probably get away with a slap to the wrist.

Lucas is fuming. Goddamn woman. How can Eliott even be involved with somebody like that?

Imane is just as angry, and she seems to take Lucas’ suggestion in the wrong way.

“My cast is being left hanging here, Lucas. I can’t ask them to stay overtime.”

“Your cast? The problem is with one of your cast! What about the crew? They haven’t had the luxury of rehearsing for weeks. They have today and tomorrow to get it right, and your cast can’t even be bothered to show up!”

They are standing almost nose to nose, both upset, angry, and worried about opening night.

Eliott suddenly steps in.

“Imane, it’ll be fine. I swear we’ll work it out. I can go talk to the cast… explain… asks them to stay a bit longer…”

Imane huffs, not convinced. Lucas appreciates Eliott’s effort, but he knows they can’t wait infinitely. Tech always runs late as is, even without extra issues. If they don’t start now, the crew will have to work through the night. He can’t ask that of them either.

“We’ll just have to do tech tomorrow instead of dress rehearsal. I’m sorry.”

Imane opens her mouth, no doubt to give another scathing remark, but Eliott hushes her. He turns to Lucas.

“Do you think that could work? Skipping dress rehearsal completely?”

Lucas doesn’t think it’ll work.

“No. Even if you guys can pull it off, the crew deserves a dress rehearsal to run through everything as it should be at least once. We’ll have to open on Saturday, instead of Friday. Tech tomorrow, dress on Friday.”

Nobody, absolutely nobody in this room wants to delay opening night. It would be a huge hassle with all the donors and press and comped tickets for opening night, the audience already sold out for Saturday, the bad publicity, the losses of revenue, union complaints, you name it. Eliott looks at Lucas, uncertainty all over his face. Lucas hates seeing him like this. He misses Eliott’s smile.

Then, Manon speaks up.

“Could we have somebody else stand in? Like, it’s tech. If somebody just blocks roughly like Tiffany does, and reads the lines from the script, would it be okay for the crew to get their stuff right?”

Lucas wants to dismiss it, but… maybe.

“I’ll talk to Yann, Basile, the lot. It would be best if we get somebody who’s about the same size, in Tiffany’s costumes and everything, for the light.”

He looks at Imane. Does she want to have Tiffany’s understudy do it, effectively triggering the whole system of cascading understudies, just to turn it all back to the original role division tomorrow? Imane calls Daphné again, and they whisper some more.

“Daphné stands in for Tiffany. Let’s start. We’ve lost enough time.”

She doesn’t even look at Lucas, taking her seat in the audience. Lucas sighs. He didn’t mean to make Imane angry at him. Nobody asked for this shit show. Well, nobody, except Tiffany. But what’s done is done and the show must go on, right?

“Okay, everybody,” he calls. “Everybody in position. We start in ten.”

He makes his way up to the call booth, and gets on with it.

It’s the worst tech in everybody’s life. Lucas is unfocused and misses calls, having to stop and go back to work out the timing. Imane is angry and stops way too often to give feedback on the acting, which makes the cast nervous and the crew prickly, because this is not supposed to be about the acting. Daphné is doing what she can, but all too often they have to make adjustments because somebody remembers Tiffany exits stage left, while Daphné just exited stage right and the following spot has now been placed to follow that path, and stuff like that.

At ten past ten, they are halfway through the last act. Everybody is downright cranky by now, and tired as hell, and they’ve been going over the same three lines for forty minutes, because there needs to be a looped sound effect of Manon dropping some spoons in a bowl, and the sound crew can’t get it right for some reason.

It’s at that point, when all Lucas’ coffee thermoses are empty and he is thinking about the hell of a rehearsal report he will have to write about today, that Daphné comes up.

“Lucas? I am so sorry, but I need a huge favour…”

Oh, well. Stage managers make the show run, right?

“What is it?”

He turns towards her, content to take his eyes off the stage for a few minutes. It doesn’t look like they’ll solve the spoon issue soon anyway.

It’s at that point he notices that Daphné is no longer in Tiffany’s costume, but in her street clothes.

“I’m so sorry, but I need to go. My sister called, there’s a problem with my dad, I just… I have to go. Imane knows, don’t worry. But there’s one scene with Tiffany left…”

Lucas knows. It is the scene where Tiffany’s character tries to seduce Eliott’s character, who is vulnerable because he believes the woman he loves, played by Manon, will never be his. Eliott is always wonderful in that scene, ranging from grief and sorrow to righteously rejecting Tiffany’s character to vulnerable loneliness, ending the scene sobbing and accepting the comfort she offers. Tiffany, of course, overdoes the whole thing, and Lucas could do without their kiss at the end of the scene, but he’ll still watch Eliott, mesmerized every time he sees it.

“Could you… could you do it?”

Lucas seems to have lost the train of the conversation somewhere while he was thinking about Eliott.

“Sorry? Can I do what?”

“Read Tiffany’s lines in the last scene. It’s not too hard, she doesn’t move around much, it’s just that somebody needs to feed Eliott the lines.”

“Fuck, Daphné… I’m calling cues, in case you hadn’t noticed…”

“Please, Lucas? Can’t Jo call this one scene? It’s not hard and it’s not even very long. I’ll owe you forever.”

Damn. Jo, Lucas’ assistant, would be eager to get to call an actual scene. She’s ready, too, Lucas knows. After all, he’s been training her for a while now.

“There’s no one else, Lucas. I know you didn’t ask for any of this either, and I swear I’ll make sure I’ll help you handle the fallout of this whole mess in every way I can, but I really need you to do this.”

Lucas’ mind races.

“Does Eliott know?”

And more importantly – what does Eliott think about it?

He doesn’t ask that out loud, but – it’s an emotional scene, and one he normally does with his girlfriend, or friend with benefit, or whatever Tiffany is to him.

“I mentioned it just now. He doesn’t seem to mind. Please?”

“I’m not putting on her costume.”

“You don’t have to. I already cleared it with Basile and he said the lights won’t be a problem.”

Obviously. Basile would swear murdering Lucas wasn’t a problem for Daphné.

Fuck. Looks like Lucas is going to play stand-in for Tiffany.

***

It’s strange, standing on the stage with his script in his hands, watching Eliott from the corner of his eye. Eliott is pacing, circling Lucas like a caged animal, the words and gestures coming naturally, and Lucas has trouble remembering Eliott is just acting.

They have never practiced this scene in their sessions in the call booth – okay, fine, they’ve never really practiced any scene – and Lucas keeps his eye on his script. He listens to Eliott speaking about loving someone else, and here too, Lucas keeps telling himself it’s a play. It seems a bit too real sometimes, Lucas sitting there, listening to Eliott talking about the woman he loves. At least in real life, Eliott has never made Lucas listen to poetical waxing about Tiffany.

Tiffany’s character doesn’t speak a lot in the scene. She has her own tragedy playing out, listening to the man she loves deeply, declaring he could never answer those feelings. Lucas has always felt the scene should be tackled with subtlety, nuance, not with the dramatics Tiffany brings to it. She is always making exaggerated, studied, pretentious gestures, her words overarticulated. Lucas isn’t trying to copy that. He just listens to Eliott, and feeds him Tiffany’s lines without any intonation.

The climax of the scene comes after Eliott’s character breaks down, and sobs about being alone, unloved forever.

It’s at that point where Tiffany’s character takes action, and Lucas looks at the script, following along carefully.

He sees in his blocking notes that Tiffany stands up at this point, and reaches her hands to touch Eliott’s face. Lucas does so, too. Eliott seems to startle, which surprises Lucas in turn. Maybe Eliott hadn’t considered Lucas would try to follow Tiffany’s blocking. He collects himself almost immediately though, only stumbling through his lines for a second.

“That is not true,” Lucas reads from the script. “You are not alone.”

Eliott gives his reply, walking away. Lucas follows as Tiffany always does.

“I promise you,” Lucas reads, and Eliott turns back to him. Lucas looks up from the script. “I know you will never be unloved, because I will always love you.”

He is looking into Eliott’s eyes as he speaks the line. They are dark – Lucas still hasn’t decided on their colour – and they are fixed on Lucas. It’s just a line, he isn’t putting any emotion into it, but as he speaks the words –

As he speaks the words, suddenly he knows. He does love Eliott. It’s not just a crush, and it’s not that butterfly feeling of falling for somebody. No, Lucas is well past that stage. He loves Eliott.

It’s a lot. It’s exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. It’s freeing, but it’s also constricting. Loving Eliott is wonderful and exciting and amazing, but loving Eliott while Eliott loves somebody else is numbing and forlorn.

Still. It is what it is. Lucas loves Eliott.

He has forgotten where he is, what they are doing, when suddenly he feels Eliott’s mouth on his. Lucas’ hands fly up to Eliott’s face, he closes his eyes, and he drinks in the taste of Eliott, the smell of Eliott, the way Eliott’s skin moves under Lucas’ fingers. He opens his lips, and Eliott’s tongue darts in immediately, and Lucas tilts his head to allow Eliott better access.

It seems like they are the two only people in the world, until a voice shatters that illusion cruelly.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Everything comes crashing back. Lucas needs half a second to orient himself, figure out what is what. They are in the theatre, and Lucas is on stage because he had to stand in for Tiffany – Tiffany, who has finally decided to show up, Lucas notes, coming through the door looking like a fishmonger’s wife, her hands on her hips, her face ruddy, her mouth open – and Eliott just kissed Lucas because… Right. Because the script called for a kiss.

Fuck.

Eliott had kissed Lucas as a professional, because it was in the script, and Lucas came on to Eliott about as unprofessionally as it gets.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Lucas is still pressed up against Eliott. Eliott is still gaping at Lucas. Fuck. Maybe Lucas can get away by saying he doesn’t know actors don’t usually kiss for real. Would that be believable from somebody who’s been involved in theatre for over ten years?

Before he can figure out what to say to Eliott, though, Tiffany is shrieking again. She stalks up to the stage and pulls Lucas away. He stumbles under her force, almost falls. She stands in front of Eliott, looking at Lucas, anger distorting her usually pretty face.

“What the fuck? Why are you kissing my boyfriend?”

“Tiffany, I’m not –”

Lucas hears Eliott starting to say something, but he’s had it with Tiffany. First this bitch thinks she can just ignore everybody else’s time and effort by not bothering to show up to one of the most important days in the whole rehearsal process, so that other people have to do the job she is being paid for, and then she dares to manhandle Lucas? That’s it. The whole stressful day, his realization of being in love, that kiss, and Tiffany accusing him of trying to steal Eliott – it’s enough to make a man mad.

“What the fuck yourself, Tiffany! You think I’m standing here for my own pleasure? You think I want to kiss your fucking boyfriend? You think I want to be down here, instead of in the calling booth? Somebody had to fucking do your fucking job because you couldn’t even be bothered! Fuck you! I’m going up and we’re gonna fucking finish this rehearsal because unlike you, I actually care about this production! You fucking figure it out!”

For one moment, he thinks he sees pain and confusion on Eliott’s face, and for one moment, he feels guilty – but then he climbs up the stairs, stomping his feet. Okay, he kissed Eliott in an unprofessional manner, but fuck it, Eliott could have stopped at any time too. Eliott is the one with a girlfriend, not Lucas. And it’s not Lucas’ fault said girlfriend is such a fucking bitch.

And if Lucas makes the rest of the calls in a clipped, cold voice, and doesn’t congratulate the crew on a great tech, and types up the report so harshly he is afraid he might damage his keyboard, then that is because he is angry. It’s not because he is upset in the least. And if he is, it’s definitely not about Eliott.

Chapter Text

The atmosphere in the theatre is subdued, silent, when Lucas comes in the next day, bright and early. Or, well, early at least. He doesn’t feel very bright, but Lucas is a professional. He gathers the crew, most of whom are already present, taking care of the last hiccups that were found during tech, running checks, and making sure everything is set to go smoothly during this afternoon’s dress rehearsal, and thanks them for their patience and outstanding work during yesterday’s difficult circumstances. He apologizes for his outburst, even though it wasn’t against them, and assures them he was just tired, but he’s fine now and they will create the best show ever tomorrow at opening night. He then goes over the checklists, making sure somebody is assigned to every task, and sends them on their way. Yann grins and gives Lucas a quick hug, before disappearing, and Basile offers Lucas a coffee, to show there are no hard feelings. Alexia and Emma make a joke about having their good old Lucas back, and Lucas manages to crack a small smile.

He means most of it, and the crew seems not to hold anything against him. But if Lucas was exhausted yesterday, then today is a thousand times worse. Not only because he got to bed long after midnight, but also because, despite his fatigue, he didn’t sleep a wink, instead alternating between reliving the kiss with Eliott one minute and the next minute trying to come up with a way to act normal and casual with Eliott after that spectacle.

As it turns out, the chaos of yesterday has spilled into today, and Lucas doesn’t even get a chance to talk to Eliott. Eliott doesn’t seek him out, either, just a brief nod as Lucas hurries to the breakroom for a coffee refill. Eliott doesn’t smile, though, and Lucas feels a pang somewhere in his chest, but he has no time to ponder upon it.

Tiffany sails in as if nothing happened, right on time. The next time Lucas sees her, she is stepping out of a meeting with the production manager, the theatre director and Imane, with red-rimmed eyes and a lot less sass. It seems as though she gets to stay, though, which, frankly, puts Lucas in a bad mood all over again.

He manages to lock that up, too, and he knows the disaster that is dress rehearsal is not due to him. It is, however, his job to pick up the gazillions of things that need to be checked on or improved or repaired or adapted before tomorrow.

At least bad dress rehearsal means great opening night, right?

Superstition or not, Lucas stays late to iron out all wrinkles he possible can. So it’s after another very short night that he enters the theatre on Friday, ready for opening night. The normal nervous buzz lingers in the building, and Lucas feels it in his bones. It’s what he thrives on, what feeds him, what he loves about theatre and his job, but somehow, today, it’s not the warm blanket it usually is. He still dives into it, and it does lift his spirits, but through it all there’s a dull thrumming in his chest that prevents him from fully appreciating it.

Emma is in full force, finally, after weeks of anticipation. She is a powerhouse, making sure the front of house staff runs like a well-oiled finetuned machine. Alexia is relatively calm, on stand-by for costume snafus, but where Emma’s work is starting, her job is basically done. Yann and Basile have their crew in hand, and Lucas has his call script – and two copies – ready in the booth. The cast is slowly coming in, and Chloé is ready for them with her team to do hair and make-up. The dressing rooms are checked, the stage is swept, and there is a pot full of hot, strong coffee. All is as it should be, and Lucas tries to ignore the hollow feeling inside.

Opening night goes very well, which shouldn’t surprise Lucas, but after the past few days, it does. Imane makes a rousing speech right after warm-up, thanking everybody for their efforts, and she makes a point of saying that rehearsals are over now and whatever happened is water under the bridge, and now they’re all here to make sure the audience gets what they paid for. Lucas appreciates it, and it seems to work to get everybody in the right spirit.

The audience seems happy, if the applause is a reliable indicator, and so it’s with a satisfied feeling Lucas heads out to the foyer for the reception after the show.

Lucas’ mom hasn’t been able to make it this time, but Mika is always keen on supporting Lucas and Manon, and even keener on free alcohol, so he Lucas hangs out with him, both with a glass in their hand. Lucas has changed into his “dress blacks” – clean jeans and a button-down shirt – for the occasion, and while they wait for Manon to be showered, Mika chastises him for it.

“Really, kitten, why don’t you get some better clothes?”

Lucas scoffs. They’ve been bickering like this for ages.

“I’m a stage manager, Mika. I wear black.”

“I’m not even against the black. You do look kinda sexy in black.” Mika musters Lucas critically, and while sixteen-year-old Lucas would have been flustered and agitated, twenty-six-year-old Lucas doesn’t bat an eyelid. “But you have this kind of fancy occasions all the time. You should invest in some proper dress trousers, a shirt that fits…”

“If you don’t stop nagging, I’m getting my hoodie.”

Mika sadly shakes his head.

“Such a body, and you’re just hiding it away. You’re never gonna get a boyfriend like this.”

And that – kinda stings. Lucas’ eyes find Eliott, looking great in a green suit, standing with a few people – his parents, Lucas assumes, and maybe a sister? – by the bar.

“Who would I wanna impress here anyway? I don’t think there are any boyfriend candidates here, Mika.”

Mika is nothing if not shrewd, and he obviously noted the direction of Lucas’ gaze, and he cranks his head to the bar.

Lucas is saved by the bell, and the bell, in this case, is Manon.

“See, kitten? Manon made an effort! You look stunning, darling. And you were great on stage, too,” Mika says, as he kisses Manon on the cheek. She does look fantastic, in a long dress with a daring open back. She laughs and accepts a glass that Lucas had been holding for her.

“Thank you, Mika. It was a team effort – on stage, I mean, not getting dressed. What are you boys discussing here?”

“Lucas claims he doesn’t need to dress up because there’s no man he’d want to impress here. As if he can’t look good purely for himself.”

Mika is hoping Manon will join him in hassling Lucas about his wardrobe choices, but Manon has other ideas.

“No man he’d want to impress here? Are you sure about that?”

Mika coos when Manon pointedly looks at the bar.

“Oooooh! Kitten, are you hiding things from me?”

Lucas feels a blush creeping up.

“Shut up, Manon. Did you forget his girlfriend?”

Mika turns around now, and the three of them see Tiffany glide up to Eliott and his family. Her dress is dangerously short, and perilously low-cut, and her heels are hazardously high. A walking jeopardy, Lucas thinks bitterly, for more reasons than just her outfit.

They stand silently for a minute, sipping their drinks, watching Tiffany putting her hand on Eliott’s arm, being introduced to his parents, smiling beatifically.

“I did hear a rumour about tech, though,” Manon says thoughtfully.

Lucas whips his head to her. Manon hadn’t seen the kiss, since she’d been changing costumes in her dressing room.

“Yeah, well. Rumours are just that, and you should believe what you see with your own eyes. Like right now.”

His eyes plead with her not to hash things out. He doesn’t want to have to explain it to Mika. He doesn’t want to think of it, right now, while watching Eliott and Tiffany. Manon understands, and she changes the subject.

“Let’s go say hi to Yann and Basile. They’re just over there, come on.”

She leads them to a corner, mercifully far away from the bar, and Lucas manages to put all thoughts of Eliott aside for now. Okay, fine. Most thoughts of Eliott. Enough to be able to joke around with Yann, appreciate the weird mix of social ineptitude and sharp nuggets of wisdom that seem to make up Basile, and be grateful for Manon and Mika and their unconditional love.

As the evening grows later, more people gravitate towards their corner, and Lucas feels like they are forging some friendships beyond just working together. Arthur is cool and collected, but has a dry way of teasing that Lucas loves. Alexia is bubbly and funny beyond belief, and she has a way of making everybody feel welcome. Emma is dry, sharp as a tack, and takes no hostages, but she can take as good as she gives. Daphné joins them too, and when she’s not stressed, she is really sweet. Lucas gets why Basile has heart eyes when he looks at her. Chloé joins them after a while too, and seems to hit it off with Yann. Even Imane leaves her family for a bit and comes over to toast to a successful opening night.

At some point, after a few drinks, somebody remarks that they could start a company among them.

“Seriously, we have all we need! Manon and Arthur are the leading actors, Imane and Daphné direct, Lucas takes care of the stage management…”

“Me and Yann for the technical side,” Basile adds enthusiastically, and somebody else takes over.

“And Alexia and Chloé for the costumes and the hair and make-up…”

“Emma for the front of house…”

“And Mika to be fabulous,” Lucas finishes, and everybody laughs out loud.

“Cheers,” Mika yells, and they all raise their glass.

While they are discussing how they would name their company, getting more and more into it, suddenly somebody taps Lucas’ shoulder.

Slightly buzzed on champagne and the high from laughing with people who are fast becoming Lucas’ best friends, he turns, a wide smile on his face, his eyes sparkling.

Eliott is standing there, a strange expression on his face. He seems serious, and it sobers Lucas considerably.

“Hey, Lucas. Congrats on opening night,” he says, but he’s fidgeting, not really looking Lucas in the eye.

“Thanks,” he replies. “You too. You were great.”

Eliott nods absently.

“Thank you too. Uh, I was wondering, do you have a minute?”

Lucas feels the rest of the group fall silent behind him.

“Sure, I guess. Guys, I’m, uh, gonna get another drink,” he tosses out, confused and suddenly nervous.

He walks away, and he feels Eliott following him closely. They end up at the far end of the foyer, near the doors leading backstage.

Lucas wonders what is going on. He misses Eliott’s shy, easy smile.

“I wanted to apologize,” Eliott starts forcefully. “For, uh, tech.”

He blushes, and Lucas knows that ‘tech’ has become code for ‘that kiss’.

“I don’t know what came over me,” Eliott continues, his gaze fixed at some point right above Lucas’ left shoulder. Lucas has to tamp down the urge to turn around, to see what is so interesting on the blank wall behind him. “It should never have happened. Momentary lapse of reason, I guess.”

Well.

Lucas had known, of course, that Eliott wasn’t really kissing him. He has a girlfriend, after all. Still, hearing him spell it out like that… It hurts, and Lucas tries to ignore the hurt by channelling every iota of coldness he has in him.

“Right,” he snares. “Confused me with your girlfriend. Happens all the time.”

A grimace appears on Eliott’s pretty face, and for a moment, he looks Lucas dead in the eye.

“Tiffany is not my girlfriend.”

“Could have fooled me,” Lucas mumbles. “Could have fooled everybody, for that matter. Whatever the two of you were doing in your dressing room, I doubt practising lines had much to do with it. Girl still doesn’t know hers, even after opening night.”

Something twitches under Eliott’s eye, but Lucas is on a roll.

“Could’ve fooled the tabloids, too. You two are all over them. Good publicity for the show, I have to grant you that.”

“Lucas.” Eliott’s voice manages to sound at the same time as a plea and as a warning. “I am not dating Tiffany. I swear to you I am not.”

Lucas stops talking, unsure of what is going on. Why is it so important for Eliott to stress the point this vehemently? It isn’t Lucas’ business who Eliott does or doesn’t date.

“Okay, fine,” he retorts. “Not like I care, either way.”

It remains silent for a long beat. Then Eliott speaks, and it sounds… duller, somehow. Resigned.

“I understand. I won’t keep you, then.”

Before Lucas can leave, however, a pretty woman sidles up to Eliott, linking arms with him. It’s the same woman Lucas saw talking with Eliott and his parents earlier, he realizes.

“Eli! I was wondering where you had wandered to,” she says. She turns towards Lucas, smiling. “Hi! I’m Lucille.”

“My… best friend in the world,” Eliott supplies at Lucas’ curious look between them.

Lucille grins.

“We go way back, Eli and I. We tell each other everything.”

They look at each other with obvious affection, and suddenly, Eliott’s smile is back, his blinding megawatt smile, not the precious timid smile he uses – or well, used to use – for Lucas. He leans slightly towards Lucille. Lucas looks between them. It is clear they care deeply about each other, and they are very comfortable about touching. There is a lot of history there, and suddenly, a thought hits him. Maybe Eliott is so adamantly denying his involvement with Tiffany because he is in love with his best friend.

It makes sense, Lucas supposes. And this woman seems a lot less trouble than Tiffany, for some reason. She must be amazing, to be Eliott’s best friend. They’ll make a great pair, looking all beautiful together.

Lucas’ throat feels tight all of a sudden.

“Nice to meet you, Lucille,” he rasps. “I’d love to talk more, but, uh, I need to go. My friend is waving at me, he probably wants to leave,” – Not very likely, Mika leaving a party before it was over, but Eliott didn’t know that – “please excuse me. See you tomorrow, Eliott. Enjoy your evening, Lucille.”

Before either of them can react, he escapes to Mika and Manon, and feigns absolute exhaustion, and they take pity on him and take him home.

If Lucas has been tossing and turning in his bed the past two nights, worrying about a kiss, it has nothing on tonight. Now that it is clear Eliott thinks the whole debacle was, well, a debacle, something he regrets, something he wishes never happened, Lucas’ last bit of unfounded hope crumbles, and he cries himself to sleep.

***

Lucas has never been more thankful for a short run. The show is only on for four weeks, and every day is excruciating.

Eliott has somehow made it clear that he is not with Tiffany, and that, combined with the fact that a lot of people haven’t forgiven her for the mishap at tech, is enough to subdue her. She cuts out the shenanigans, arrives on time, and even seems to have realized she should really know her lines by now, because after the fourth show, Lucas realizes she’s not ad-libbing half of them anymore and he can actually rely on the script to call his cues instead of worrying whether she will skip three quarters of a page again.

It is a small mercy, as mercies go.

Lucas doesn’t talk to Eliott. Eliott doesn’t smile at Lucas. They greet each other with a nod, and that’s the end of their interactions.

If Lucas’ fingers glide longingly over Eliott’s neatly printed letters on the sign-in sheets, nobody needs to know.

The few times he does cross Eliott, the actor seems tired and grumpy. He’s not hanging out with the cast backstage anymore, instead remaining in his dressing room as long as possible. He even skips warm-up a few times, which raises a few eyebrows, but nobody dares call him out on it. On stage, he’s still as brilliant and genuine and natural as always, and Lucas adds some compliments to the cast in general or a few actors in specific to his performance reports – very carefully not praising Eliott more than the others. He even adds one for Tiffany, begrudgingly, one matinee show. He thinks she probably was tired and played more subtly because she didn’t have the energy for her usual buoyance, but at least now she can’t say he has purposefully left her out.

Halfway during the run, Imane contacts him. The theatre wants to put up The Glass Menagerie, and she wants to know if they can get more or less the same team together.

“I feel like we all worked well together,” she says, and Lucas knows this is high praise, coming from her. “It’ll almost be like having our own company, remember, as we discussed after opening night?”

So Lucas agrees. For a second, he thinks about making a condition about the cast, or more specifically one actor, but he bites his tongue. He’s a professional, and Eliott is a great actor, and if he wants to be part of the play, they’ll all profit from it.

He starts preparing for it, and spreads the word to Manon, Arthur, and some other cast members, informing them of audition dates.

He doesn’t inform Tiffany or Eliott, but whereas the former doesn’t cause him any pain, he feels extremely guilty about excluding the latter every time he watches him perform from high up in the booth.

But he doesn’t do anything about it. Imane said it would be like the company they had conjured up, and Eliott wasn’t a part of that. If she wants him to audition, she can talk to him herself.

And then, in a blink of an eye, they’ve got their last weekend. Tomorrow they close, and while Lucas will still have to supervise cleaning up and taking down the lights and putting up the props and costumes and make sure the production book gets handed in, basically, it’s over. It’s always a bit jarring, to say goodbye to a play, and oftentimes to the persons he’s worked with every day for the past months. The infamous black hole is real, for Lucas. This time it’s even more bittersweet. There are so many wonderful memories associated with this production, but there are also a few Lucas wishes he could forget. So many great people he met, and two he could have done without. Okay, fine, one. He doesn’t regret meeting Eliott. He just regrets falling in love with him.

During intermission of the penultimate show, Yann comes and finds Lucas backstage.

“Hey, Lucas, remember how we all went out for pita after closing night last time we worked together?”

Lucas does remember. It had been a spontaneous idea, to go out for food at 2 a.m., but it had been a great way to conclude things and say goodbye to everybody.

“Wanna see if people are interested in something like that tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Lucas agrees. “I’ll spread the word.”

After the show, he talks to a bunch of people, and the idea gets a lot of support. Seems like a lot of people are interested in a casual hangout with the whole group, to finish the production on a high. Manon is in. Tiffany knows better than to accept.

He hesitates when he leaves their dressing room, but then he remembers he is a professional, and he knocks on Eliott’s door. Eliott calls him in, and Lucas enters.

“Hi,” he says. He’s weirdly nervous, and when he notes Eliott is freshly showered, his hair still damp and sticking in every direction, his shirt only half-buttoned, Lucas’ throat goes dry in an instant, and he swallows with some difficulty.

“Lucas!” Eliott sounds surprised, and for a fleeting moment, his shy smile is back. Lucas revels in it for as long as it lasts. But as soon as it appeared, it vanishes again, and Eliott’s face hardens slightly. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Lucas says, faltering a bit. “We, uh, well, a lot of us, we wanted to go out tomorrow after the show, you know, to celebrate the production has gone well, or something. I just wanted to ask if, uh, if you wanted to come along.”

Eliott doesn’t react immediately, just staring at Lucas.

“Some people asked if they could bring their partner, so feel free to invite somebody, I mean, if you want to, of course…”

He is rambling now, but Eliott is just standing there, not moving, looking at Lucas with that unnerving expression Lucas can’t decipher.

“Are you okay with me coming?” Eliott sounds unsure.

“Of course!” Lucas rushes to speak. “Yeah, of course.” He hates that he may have made Eliott uncomfortable. It’s not Eliott’s fault that everything went wrong at tech rehearsal, or that Lucas fell for him, or that he is into his best friend.

Eliott’s face lights up, and something that’s almost, almost a smile plays around his mouth.

“Then I’ll come. Thanks for inviting me, Lucas.”

Lucas feels very small at that. Has he been so caught up in being upset that Eliott thought he had to avoid Lucas? Shit. Maybe Lucas did behave a bit petty.

In his haste to make it up to Eliott, he suddenly remembers something else.

“Oh, and next Thursday there’s an audition for The Glass Menagerie. Lots of our current crew are gonna be working it, and Imane will direct, so maybe you want to check it out.”

The smile on Eliott’s face gets marginally bigger.

“Yeah, I heard from Imane…”

“But you haven’t signed up for the audition?”

“No, I – I didn’t know…” He stops himself, and then, finally, a real smile breaks through. “I will, though. Thanks for telling me.”

Happy to have gotten Eliott to smile, Lucas leaves.

It’s only later he wonders why Eliott thanked him for telling him, if he already knew. But it hardly matters.

***

Lucas is early at the theatre for closing night, before anybody else. He likes to say goodbye in his own way, by sitting in the booth with a cup of coffee, staring at the set, letting his mind wander freely.

This time, a lot of his memories centre on a certain lead actor. They don’t fill him with anxiousness anymore, as they used to do the past few weeks. The butterflies are back in full force, thinking about Eliott’s soft smile yesterday, about maybe working with him again soon. It’s okay that Eliott doesn’t reciprocate his feelings. Lucas will get over him, and in the meantime, he’ll be glad for a chance to be Eliott’s friend.

He’s woken from his daydreaming by footsteps on the stairs. He swivels around in his chair, ready to see who’s coming up, ready to get into stage manager mode and make sure the last performance goes swimmingly.

Eliott knocks on the open door, just like all the other times he’s come up here. It brings a smile on Lucas’ face, how unfailingly unassuming and respectful Eliott is.

“Can I come in?”

Lucas hums.

“Sure. What can I do for you? Don’t tell me you need help practising your lines,” he jokes.

Eliott smiles, but when answers, he is dead serious.

“I never needed your help running lines,” he admits. “I just wanted to spend time with you.”

Lucas suddenly feels like all the air has left his lungs. Eliott goes on determinedly.

“I wanted to apologize. I lied to you.”

Lucas tries to keep his answer light, but Eliott’s serious mood affects him more than he wants to, and he sounds sterner than he wants to when he replies.

“It wasn’t really a lie. I knew you didn’t need the practice.”

Eliott shakes his head.

“No, no, not about that. I mean – I mean about what I said… after opening. About – about you know what.”

Lucas blanches.

“I – I don’t understand what you mean.”

Eliott takes a deep breath.

“When I said I didn’t know why I kissed you. Or when I said it shouldn’t have happened. That was a lie. I wanted it to happen.”

Lucas can’t do anything but stammer out a few incoherent syllables. Eliott wanted that kiss to happen? But – how? Why?

“I just – Okay, I’m gonna be brutally honest here, but I – I kinda had a crush on you since I saw you when I auditioned. I saw you sitting in the audience, taking notes, looking so damn sexy in all that black, and you were all I could see.”

“But…”, Lucas sputters. But Tiffany – but Lucille – but… but what?

“But I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you. I shouldn’t have forced that kiss on you. I know you didn’t want it.”

Huh? That shocks Lucas enough to get his brain-mouth coordination working again.

“What? I did want it.”

Now it’s Eliott’s turn to be confused.

“You – you wanted it? But when – when Tiffany stormed in, you said – you said you didn’t want to kiss me.”

“What? I didn’t –” Oh. He did say that, didn’t he?

“I didn’t mean it like that… I was upset, because I just realized how I felt about you, and I was angry at her for accusing me of stealing her boyfriend…”

“In a way, you were, though.” Eliott sounds strange when he says it, and Lucas doesn’t comprehend. “Steal me from her, I mean. It was pretty clear what she wanted, but I kept refusing her. She came into my dressing room all the time with the flimsiest excuses, and I just… I didn’t see any other way to stop her than to tell her I had feelings for somebody else. And I think she figured out pretty fast who I meant. I was hardly subtle.”

“Subtle enough,” Lucas mutters, and Eliott smiles.

“Well, not for her. I think that’s why she always was so catty towards you, too.”

Lucas needs a moment to recalibrate.

“I always wondered why you would fall for her. But wait – what about Lucille?”

“What about her?”

“I thought maybe you had feelings for her.”

Eliott laughs, throwing his head in his neck.

“Me, feelings for Lucille? Where on earth did you get that idea?”

Lucas ponders. He can’t come up with anything concrete, though.

“I’m not sure… You just seemed so close, and comfortable around each other.”

Eliott smiles, and tentatively touches Lucas’ forearm.

“She’s like a sister to me. We grew up together, and she knows everything about me. I told her about you the night of the audition.” Lucas blushes at that, but he doesn’t interrupt, and Eliott continues. “Okay, in all honesty, there were a few months when we were fifteen, sixteen, something like that, when we thought we had feelings for each other. We quickly figured out we weren’t meant to be together like that, though. We’ve been each other’s wingman ever since.”

“Is that what she was doing on opening night?”

Eliott mulls it over.

“I doubt it,” he says honestly. “I mean, she knew how I felt about you, but after tech, I told her what happened and what you said. I think she was trying to rescue me, rather than trying to get me laid.”

They sit in silence for a while, watching the stage, adapting to this new reality.

Then Eliott speaks, very carefully.

“Lucas? You said – just now, you said that you were upset after that kiss because you had realized how you felt about me…”

He lets his words trail off. He looks so hopeful, so adorable, that Lucas almost laughs. Instead, he hums.

“I did.”

He is going for nonchalance, but the grin that splits his face gives him away. Eliott bursts out in laughter – happy, carefree laughter.

“So how do you feel about me, then?”

And that’s just it, isn’t it? Crunch time. Showtime, as they would say in the business.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispers. Total honesty. And when Eliott’s eyes go wide, Lucas figures, well, what the fuck, he’s going for broke. “And I did want to kiss you. I still want to kiss you.”

“That can be arranged,” Eliott whispers, as he leans in.

This kiss is even better. It lasts for minutes, as far as Lucas can tell, and they only come up for air when it becomes a matter of life and death.

“I love you too, in case that wasn’t clear,” Eliott says against Lucas’ shoulder.

“As you should,” Lucas grins. Well, better Eliott learns about Lucas’ tendencies to be cheeky as fuck immediately, and anyway, he rewards Lucas with another lingering kiss, so he must not mind very much.

But after that, people start showing up, and Lucas needs to go solve everybody’s issues, and Eliott needs to get in costume, and then they have a show to run, and if they both get by more or less on automatic pilot, nobody seems to notice.

And when the cast is bowing, taking in the applause, holding their bouquets, Eliott pointedly looks up to the call booth, and smiles. Lucas makes the final curtain call with a shaky voice, and Eliott’s smile is the last thing he sees before the gap closes.

Later, when they are walking to the pita place, they hang back a bit from the rest of the group, their fingers brushing. Eliott isn’t paying attention to where he’s going, looking more to Lucas than to the road. Lucas chides him, but Eliott is quick to cut him off.

“Hey, don’t give me crap. You got to look at me during the whole performance, and I was stuck on the stage, knowing you were up there, and not being able to admire you. You gotta let me make up for that.”

Lucas laughs, and playfully shoves Eliott’s shoulder, but when the rest disappears around the corner, he pushes up on his tippy toes and presses a quick kiss on Eliott’s lips.

They didn’t discuss whether they want to tell everybody yet, but Lucas doesn’t think they’ll have to. If his eyes are as full of stars as he thinks they are, everybody will figure it out in seconds.

Lucas doesn’t mind.

“You better stop doing that,” Eliott hisses. “Or we won’t make it to the restaurant because I’ll be too busy dragging you home to take those damn black jeans off of you.”

“I have been told I look sexy in black,” Lucas informs him solemnly.

“You won’t hear me disagree,” Eliott says. “Sexier out of black, I would bet, but I’m gonna thank whoever decided stage managers should be in black. Now hurry, or there won’t be any pita left.”

And Lucas knows there’s a reason behind all of the old theatre superstitions. So what if the reason for this one is just to get Eliott all hot and bothered? It’s about time that some of these old traditions start working in his favour, anyway.