Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kevin:  Hey, I know it’s been a minute.

Kevin:  Were you serious when you said you’d consider coming to my wedding?

It was Gabin who read the texts. Not by choice, really. They showed up as notifications on the home screen of Tobias’s phone while his boyfriend was in the shower. Gabin was still in bed, usually opting to shower at night, after a long day of classes and rehearsals. So, there he sat in bed, a cup of coffee in his hand and a review of Piece 3 on the laptop in front of him. It was mostly positive, having the obligatory statement that nothing would top Whatever This Is. That was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, mostly because Geneviève made Tobias promise to never go on stage like that again, even if it did wonders for Le Ballet National’s winter revenue. 

“It was wonderful,” she had said. “It was captivating. It was incredibly unprofessional, and you will never do something like that again.”

Tobias always kept his phone’s brightness all the way up. He didn’t always, but since he and Gabin began dating (really since he missed the photo shoot), Tobias made an effort to pay more attention to his phone. Part of that meant making sure the brightness was always at maximum, and the other was keeping his ringer on 24/7. Tobias was not that popular of a guy. He didn’t have social media, so notifications were really only texts and calls, like this.

Tobias’s phone was charging on the nightstand closest to the wall, on the side he likes to sleep. Gabin was on the other side, reading through the review. When the first text came through, Gabin ignored it. When the second one came in about a minute later, Gabin began to think it could be important. To him, people didn’t double-text unless it was urgent. He certainly didn’t. So, when Tobias’s phone pinged for the second time in under two minutes, he leaned over to see who it might be. His face dropped a little when he saw who it was from.

Gabin first learned about Kevin, Tobias’s boyfriend before him, the morning after their first night together. It had taken about a month and a half for them to get there. He knew Tobias didn’t like being touched when he didn’t want to, and Gabin did his best to respect that. He’d always ask, whether that be verbally or simply a questioning glance, before initiating any sort of touch, even something as simple as hand holding. So, when Tobias said he wanted to have sex with him, Gabin made sure he did everything to keep Tobias comfortable. It was a wonderful, though somewhat awkward, time. 

That next morning, Tobias opened up a bit about his efforts to be a “better partner.” Gabin was a bit confused, saying he had been a great boyfriend so far. With a sigh, Tobias elaborated. He talked about Kevin, his previous partner. They were technically together for only about 5 months, despite Tobias’s mind thinking they were still together during that year they didn’t talk. But they were only close for the first 2 or so months. Then Kevin started taking on more flights, and Tobias focused more on his choreography. Tobias began traveling for his own work, so their relationship became calls, texts, and mindless sex when they were in New York at the same time.

“I didn’t put in that much effort,” Tobias told Gabin with a distant look in his eyes. “I didn’t want to. I don’t think he wanted to, either.” He then looked at the dancer, and his gaze softened, as did his tone. “I want to, with you. I have this bubbling feeling that makes me want to try harder. Try to be better. You deserve the best I can give you.”

In Gabin’s mind, Kevin was the worst partner in that situation. He found out about Tobias’s flightiness early into knowing him (the missed photo shoot), so Gabin understood that he might have to be a little pushy if he needed to get Tobias’s attention for something important. It wasn’t often, but Gabin sometimes called Tobias multiple times, just to remind him to pick up groceries or that they had a dinner reservation that night. But Kevin? He didn’t make an effort to reach out to Tobias after he went quiet during his trip to Tokyo, or after he got back to New York. Or in the year before Tobias reached out to him to officially break up with him. 

Tobias had begun falling for someone else, and he did the responsible thing by making sure he and Kevin were not together anymore. Kevin simply moved on without any closure with Tobias. Gabin loathed him for it.

For the next ten minutes, Gabin stewed in his thoughts. He thought about the rock in his bag, sitting on the floor by the front door. He wanted to teleport to New York and throw it through his window, like how people thought he did with that reporter. Who did this man think he was, texting his ex out of the blue like this? He didn’t have the right.

“You look pissed.”

Gabin jumped a little as his head snapped to his right. Tobias was standing just outside the bathroom door with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair and chest still damp. Gabin took a second to appreciate the specimen in front of him. Tobias was stunning, with abs better than his own and defined, but not bulky, muscles. It warmed his mind and heart, giving him the ability to go into this conversation more calmly.

Gabin took a breath and nodded towards his boyfriend’s phone. “Kevin texted you.”

Tobias’s eyebrows furrowed. “Kevin? Why is Kevin texting me?”

“Something about a wedding.”

“Oh… yeah, he said that was coming up when I last saw him.”

Gabin closed the laptop and set it aside, leaning forward. “He wants you to go to his wedding? With the guy he basically cheated on you with?”

Tobias walked over and picked up his phone, reading the texts. “He didn’t really cheat on me. I was just unaware we were over. But, yeah, same guy. When I broke up with him, he said I could come. I didn’t really say no.”

“You aren’t the type of person to want to go to a social event like that. Not without being forced. You don’t even like dressing up.”

“I didn’t really say yes, either.” Tobias set his phone back on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, facing Gabin. “I know it’s weird. If I wanted to go, I’d have to go back to New York, when I’m supposed to be here. I’ve already gotten in trouble for that.”

“I remember,” Gabin replied teasingly. 

Tobias elected to ignore it. Or missed the insinuation completely. “I would need to request a couple days off. I would need to find an outfit that’s actually comfortable while still looking nice enough for a fancy wedding. And, no matter what, I wouldn’t go without you. And I do not plan on asking you. So, guess that’s the answer. I’m not going.”

As Tobias began to text Kevin back, an idea came to Gabin’s mind. He placed a hand on Tobias’s arm, guiding him to put his phone down. A sly smile formed on his face.

“I could go.”

Tobias laughed under his breath. “Gabin, I know your feelings on the guy. I would never ask you to face someone you don’t like, especially at an event like that. It’s best if I just stay here.”

“Mon chou, listen. No, I don’t like him. Not from what you’ve told me. But you have grown so much since you dated him. You’re so confident, so generous. You are the perfect boyfriend to me. So, why not we go and show him how you’ve changed? Your… glow up, as Americans say.”

Tobias looked past Gabin for a minute, considering it. It was a beautiful look. It was similar to the one he wore while choreographing, but less stressed. In general, Tobias had been less stressed since they got together. Gabin likes to think that was specifically his influence, but maybe Tobias is just with someone he likes now.

His boyfriend looked back at him and asked, “So, we would be going to be petty?”

“Oui. Also, I’ve never been to America. It could be nice to go, a nice break from dance. You wouldn’t have to go back to your company while there, since it’s for personal reasons. Besides, I’m already thinking of an outfit that will make me look so much hotter than him. Show him you’ve dated up.”

“You could go in your sweaty dance shorts and they’d see I’m dating up,” Tobias said. Despite his usual blunt tone, Tobias was great at flirting. He always knew how to make Gabin blush. 

Gabin leaned over, his breath grazing over Tobias’s lips. He brushes his hand over Tobias’s hair, recently cut much shorter. “Well, with my impeccable sense of fashion and your sexy new haircut, we will be the hottest couple there. Even hotter than the couple.”

Tobias leaned in to kiss him briefly. Through low lids and long lashes, Tobias said, “We really shouldn’t upstage the grooms.”

“It won’t be hard to.”

They kissed again, and then Tobias got up and pulled off his towel. Gabin got a brief look before Tobias pulled on his underwear. “Get dressed. You have company class in 45 minutes.”

That afternoon, before they began their biweekly one-on-one rehearsal, Tobias showed Gabin a set of texts exchanged between him and Kevin.

Tobias:  I wasn’t then, but I am now. I can go.

Kevin:  Great! I’ll make sure to get your Paris address and send you an invitation. 

Kevin:  I’m glad you’re coming. It’ll be nice to see you again.

Tobias:  Make sure there is a spot to mark a plus one on the invitation.

Kevin:  You’re bringing a plus one?

Kevin:  Is it that guy from that video?

Tobias:  His name is Gabin. And yes, him.

Kevin:  Okay. Thanks for letting me know.

Kevin:  You should get an actual invitation soon. 

Kevin:  I’ll see you in June, then.

Gabin smirked. “He’s seen the video?”

“Millions of people have seen the video,” Tobias said plainly. “But he has a taste of who you are, and how much you mean to me.”

“This wedding is going to be more fun than I thought.”

Tobias rolled his eyes a little and moved to the front of the room. “Let’s get to work.”

Gabin smiled as he turned around to get into his beginning position, ready to dance for his beautiful choreographer.

Chapter Text

The official invitation came in the mail about two weeks later. It was a lot thicker than Gabin anticipated, but it ended up having five parts. The first was the invitation itself, cordially extending an invitation to Tobias to the wedding of Kevin Monroe and Lucas Taylor. The date was set for the first Saturday of June at a Catholic church in Brooklyn—Tobias’s face when he read that tightened. Neither he nor Gabin was all that religious and had a general uneasy feeling about it. But, as Tobias explained, Kevin was decently Catholic. The kind that was generally accepting of everyone, but still participated in an organization that had its reservations about people who were “different.”

On the back of the invitation was a picture of the couple in question. Gabin asked which one was Kevin, and Tobias silently pointed to the one with short, curly brown hair and dark eyes. The other man, Lucas, was a dirty blonde with a fuzzy buzz cut. Gabin noticed Tobias running a hand through his own hair, which was drastically different from when they met. The sides were shaven, and the top only long enough to be brushed forward a little. He was comparing it to Lucas’s, wondering if it looked as boring or plain. Gabin grabbed Tobias’s hand and kissed his knuckles lightly, then his temple.

The massive change occurred a little over a month ago. Tobias and Gabin were cuddling in bed, listening to a podcast about famous ballet dancers throughout history. That particular episode was about Misty Copeland, the first Black principal ballet dancer at the American Ballet Theatre. Tobias had met her a few times, but never had the chance to choreograph her. He was too young, he had explained to Gabin, not experienced enough to tell someone like her what to do. By the time he garnered a name for himself, she had begun stepping back from ABT a little to focus on other opportunities. 

Tobias had been stroking Gabin’s hair, tangling his long fingers through the curls. Gabin had his head on his boyfriend’s chest, tapping his fingers a little anytime music came on during the episode, whether that be in transition, during ads, or when they were referencing certain performances. It was a peaceful evening after a day of stressful rehearsals. 

Tobias leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Gabin’s head, then said, “I’m thinking about cutting my hair.”

Gabin looked up, his chin still on his boyfriend’s chest, with a curious look. “I thought you liked your hair. Easy to style, long enough to hide whatever emotions you don’t want others to see.”

“That’s true.” Tobias shrugged a little. “But I’m trying to unlearn some of that stuff. I don’t like being so closed off, especially with you. Besides, the ends of my face and ears are starting to get uncomfortable. It’s bothering me. And they sometimes get stuck under my headphones. And I haven’t been able to find a suitable replacement for my normal shampoo, so having it short will help with that feeling.”

Gabin reached up and ran a hand through Tobias’s soft hair. He didn’t understand the choreographer’s issue with French shampoo and thought the one he was using was good. It smelled like lavender and thyme, a perfect balance of soft and strong. And it made his hair look and feel healthy. Tobias said he preferred more subtle, less earthy scents and said this one made his hair feel drier than normal. 

“When was the last time you cut your hair?” Gabin asked.

“I’ve had this style since I was 16.”

Gabin sighed, still running his hand through his boyfriend’s hair. “Tobias, don’t feel like you have to change a style you’re so attached to. And don’t try to make excuses.”

“I’m not making excuses, Gabin. I’ve been thinking about cutting it for a couple of weeks. I just wanted to run it by you before I committed. Also, I need barber recommendations. Who do you see?”

Gabin could only chuckle. He crawled up a little to peck Tobias’s lips. They spent the next hour looking at inspo photos online and booking an appointment with Gabin’s usual stylist, Hugo (not a barber, Gabin had said. His hair is too precious for a simple barber.) for four days later. 

The day of the cut, Gabin sat in the empty chair next to Tobias, holding his hand as Hugo began shaving the sides. Hugo didn’t speak English, so Tobias used the trip as an opportunity to practice his French, which he had been picking up on in the months he’s lived in Paris. He would look to his boyfriend with pleading eyes when he needed help translating or replying. But he did an overall good job. He was able to keep a few conversations before asking Gabin to reply for him. 

At the end of the visit, Tobias ran a hand over his refreshed short hair with a small smile on his face. That was all Gabin needed to see to know Tobias loved it. He looked like a new man, someone ready to take on the world in his way. It was the exact opposite Tobias had while making the same motion while looking at the wedding invitation.

“It’s not the same,” Gabin said in a quiet voice, taking the picture out of Tobias’s hand and placing it on the table. “Tu es tellement plus belle.”

“Merci,” Tobias replied. “Tu es infiniment plus sexy que Kevin.”

“Je sais.”

The next piece of paper was one of the two papers that needed to be mailed back to the couple. This one was the actual RSVP. Tobias picked up a pen and checked off the “yes” box, then the one confirming his plus one. He then wrote Gabin’s name in the line under the box. He put it in the small envelope (that was inside the original envelope). 

He then moved to the paper asking about dietary restrictions. There was a list of common ones, and Tobias checked off nuts (for Gabin) and shellfish (for himself). He double checked the list, asked Gabin if he had any other allergies that he didn’t know about, then put that paper in the same envelope as the RSVP. The address was already printed on the front, so he handed it to Gabin to seal. Gabin laughed under his breath, knowing that Tobias did not trust possible bacteria on an envelope, and licked and closed it. 

The last paper had details about the wedding itself. Gabin picked it up and burst out laughing.

“What?” Tobias asked, taking the paper out of his boyfriend’s hand. “It’s just the dress code and restrictions on bag sizes. Though it is weird they aren’t allowing anything bigger than a clutch.”

“It’s all black!” Gabin said through his laughs. “I thought we were going to a wedding, not a funeral.”

Tobias shrugged and set the paper back down on the table, next to the invitation. “At least it will be easy to style. And you look great in all black.”

Gabin sat down in a chair at the table and calmed down a bit. “Alright, alright. That is very true. But it is semi-formal. Which means we need to go shopping before the trip.”

“I hate shopping.”

Gabin grabbed Tobias’s hand and swung it a little. “I will find you an amazing outfit that will make you look stunning while feeling comfortable, mon cher. Don’t you trust me?”

Tobias sighed and smiled. “With my life.”

Gabin furrowed his eyebrows. He hadn’t heard Tobias say something like that before. “En fait? ”

“Oui .”

Over the next few days, they did what they could to prepare for their trip. They sent the RSVP back that day on their way to dinner. They requested the Thursday and Friday before the wedding off with Geneviève, who was a little reluctant with them missing days so close to the end of the season, but signed off on it. Their flights were booked (first class, since they had better food options and Tobias could sleep in a decently comfortable seat) during some downtime they had in rehearsal. It wasn’t really downtime, but Gabin’s ankle was flaring up, and Tobias insisted they take a break before running the dance again. They decided to make the most out of the time they would usually spend working.

May was hectic, mostly for Gabin. He had been given the role of Tybalt in the National’s first cast of their spring production of Romeo and Juliet at the beginning of April. Tobias spent that time beginning to choreograph his second-to-final piece for the National, picking who he wanted in it (other than Gabin), the music, and the general staging. Three nights a week for three weeks, Tobias watched Gabin perform for full house after full house. He was an inspired Tybalt, and Tobias could see his boyfriend’s career blossoming in the next few seasons. Gabin could feel the same thing in his bones.

They didn’t talk about what could happen in the next season. They weren’t ready. Tobias’s contract was with MBT, not the National. He was only in Paris because of the swap. They both knew Tobias would have to move back to New York permanently at the end of July, leaving Gabin in Paris. Gabin had thought of ways to make their relationship stay strong, like planned visits on both ends, consistent calls, things like that. But Kevin’s upcoming wedding made him think about how that relationship failed. They could not communicate when they were apart, and that led to them being unable to communicate when together. The idea of that happening here made Gabin’s stomach drop. 

Their honeymoon phase would come to an end, and their relationship would be put to the test. 

Romeo and Juliet closed on the second-to-last Friday of May. Once Gabin and Tobias made it back to the latter’s apartment at around midnight, Gabin promised his boyfriend they would go shopping for the wedding the next day. Just in the afternoon, after he had slept for 10 hours.

And that’s what they did. Gabin took Tobias to his favorite boutique, where he got a lot of his nicer clothes. He knew the owner, a small woman named Agnes, and told her their situation. She pulled a few options in their respective sizes and spent the next hour and a half helping them. Tobias didn’t try on the first round of clothes, simply feeling the material and saying they were “trop rugueux” or “pas fait pour ma morphologie.” (Gabin was incredibly impressed with Tobias’s French. He never needed his help when talking to Agnes.) Gabin had his outfit for the wedding picked out and paid for a whole thirty minutes before Tobias did, but the thoroughness ended up benign worth it. 

Tobias picked a long-sleeved cotton shirt with a loose-fitting turtleneck (“it’s soft, but not tight. It feels comforting), high-waisted black slacks, and a black blazer with a slight plaid pattern sewn in. When he came out of the dressing room wearing it, Gabin’s jaw dropped. He said, aloud, “You are the fucking sexiest being on this God-forsaken planet.” Agnes didn’t react. She couldn’t understand English.

Tobias didn’t get to see Gabin try on his outfit, so the latter tried it on back home. It was a silk button-up shirt, cuffed up to his elbows, showing some of his tattoos. He also chose slacks, but a little lower-waisted, and a belt. He was rambling about the shoes he planned on wearing, these leather boots with gold accents near the laces, and how he would style his hair, when Tobias took action on how he felt about Gabin’s outfit. It didn’t take long for those clothes to end up on the floor.

That Monday at company class, Gabin asked Mishi if he could borrow her sewing kit to fix a button on his new shirt. He did not reply when she asked what happened to it. 

Tobias and Gabin, as well as the rest of the cast of Piece 4, worked through the choreography of the new ballet quickly but accurately. In the week and a half they had before their flight, they got through about half of the piece, and Tobias had a list of critiques and fixes to get back to once they got back from New York (most of them would probably be irrelevant by then, since he changed his mind so often). 

They packed light. Tobias only packed his wedding outfit in a carry-on, considering he still had plenty of clothes and toiletries (that he actually liked) at his Manhattan apartment. Gabin checked a bag, with his wedding outfit, a few other pieces of clothing, his favorite toiletries, and a small steamer (“Do you have one?” “No, I’ve never needed one.”). 

They were sitting at the gate, waiting to board. Gabin had his head resting on Tobias’s shoulder, and Tobias had his headphones on. Gabin could hear the metal song a bit, but it didn’t bother him. He knew Tobias was nervous. For the flight, for the wedding, for returning to New York for the first time in months. Maybe even for the implication that, in a little under two months, he would be back in this position without Gabin. But Gabin didn’t want to think about that. That conversation was for later, definitely after this wedding.

Chapter Text

New York City was… something. Busier than Paris, and people were just as mean, but the atmosphere was unique. He feared for his life on the taxi ride to Tobias’s apartment on the opposite side of Manhattan from LaGuardia, and was not too fond of the price, either. Tobias said taxis are always expensive, and not to worry about it. 

“I would usually just take the subway,” Tobias explained in line to get a taxi. “But luggage on the train is annoying for everyone. And we don’t have to walk from the station to my building with it.”

“Says the man who took his suitcase to the theater.”

“I went straight from the airport to the theater. No time to go home.”

It surprised Gabin that someone like Tobias, who has sensory issues and hates loud noises (other than his metal music), lived in the middle of Manhattan, the busiest borough in New York. They weren’t too far from Lincoln Center, where MBT was located, which was the reason why he lived there, Gabin concluded on his own. But there were sounds everywhere. People talking, horns honking, random bike-drawn carriages blasting pop music. It was strange, and definitely not what Gabin pictured when he thought about where Tobias lived.

The apartment itself was only a little bigger than Tobias’s one in Paris. The bedroom and bathroom were separate from the open-concept living room and kitchen. When it came to decor, it was about the same, as in barely any. There were a few plants, which Gabin noticed were fake, and a few decorative images on the wall. The most unique was a poster with a still image of a pas de deux, with the text MBT Fall Season 2021 on the bottom corner.

“That was my first featured ballet,” Tobias said, noticing Gabin looking at it. “I had been at MBT since 2019, but COVID put a wrench in my growth there. A few choreographers left during that time, so when the theater opened back up, I was one of the only ones left. They let me choreograph a piece for the first part of the season. It’s one of the only pieces I’m truly proud of. That and Whatever This Is .”

Gabin smiled and nudged him a bit. “I need to get you a poster from that show. What should it be? All of us with the barres? My solo at the end? Us making out?”

“Not that last one. That’s too self-indulgent.”

“It was a joke, mon cher.”

“I know.”

Gabin shook his head and sat on the couch. “You still are terrible at sarcasm.”

“I’m working on it.” Tobias sat next to him. “We should take a nap. Help adjust to the time difference. Then I can take you to this Italian place nearby that I like for dinner.”

So they cuddled up on the couch and slept for a couple of hours. It was almost 6 PM when Gabin woke up, now with his head on Tobias’s lap. His boyfriend was wide awake, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey, do you want to see Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland at MBT tomorrow night? I’ve never seen a production of this, since it’s pretty new. First time MBT is doing it. Cheyenne Toussaint is playing the Queen of Hearts. The Mad Hatter taps.”

Gabin sat up and looked over to Tobias’s screen. They scrolled through some of the promotional photos. It was a unique ballet, but so was the story they both knew from the Disney movies. 

“Cheyenne and I don’t really get along,” Gabin said, though intrigued.

“You don’t get along with most people at the National.”

“Does your boss even know you’re back in New York?”

Tobias shook his head. “I’m not skipping rehearsals here for this wedding. Besides, we could just go as regular patrons. Buy tickets online, sit in the nosebleeds, drink overpriced wine in those stupid etched glasses.”

Gabin said nothing.

“Or I could take you to a Broadway show? There aren’t really any out right now I think you’d like. I’m assuming you’ve seen the proshot of Hamilton, it’s not better than that. Phantom closed a few years ago. Wicked is overrated. There is a decent production of Cabaret, but that’s too sad the night before a wedding. Besides, I thought a ballet would interest you more than a musical.”

The dancer contemplated it. Tobias had a point. He had never been a fan of musicals in general, but New York was known for that stuff. He had seen the recording of Hamilton when it came out during the pandemic. He had also seen the Wicked film, which he liked, and did not want the second movie spoiled for him before November. But he did love ballet, of course. And he had heard of this ballet, which was only about 15 years old. He had seen some clips from Australia and London, and the idea of a 21st-century ballet somewhat excited him. 

Besides, it seemed like Tobias wanted to see it. Maybe get some inspiration for his choreography.

Gabin nodded. “Buy tickets up in one of the balconies. We get there close enough the start and leave as soon as it’s over, so we don’t have to talk to anyone. And no going backstage to try rechoreograph something.”

“Understood. Buying tickets now.”

The Italian restaurant was really good. The bruschetta was amazing. They ate the best pizza Gabin had ever consumed. They split tiramisu, a dessert Gabin had never had. It had coffee, lady fingers, and mascarpone cheese. It was heavenly. 

The next day, they went to the Statue of Liberty (per Gabin’s request). It was his first time on the subway, which wasn’t that bad. There was a homeless person asking for change, but Tobias had his headphones on and Gabin pretended to sleep on his shoulder. They got off at Battery Park, boarded an extremely crowded boat, and sailed for about 10 minutes to Lady Liberty.

They left after 20 minutes.

“That was underwhelming,” Gabin said as they boarded the boat.

“It always is.” Tobias pointed to another small island with many buildings. “We could go to Ellis Island. It was the biggest immigration port until they closed it in the 50s. It’s just a museum, but there’s more to see than a giant copper statue and a small museum.”

So they got off at the next stop at Ellis Island. Gabin had to admit, this was much more interesting. It went through the process of immigrating to America, the different cultures that grew throughout the country, and had a free database to see if and when your family went through the process there. Tobias didn’t check,  said he didn’t have enough information, and his last name was too common. Gabin looked for his last name, just out of curiosity. He never knew of any ancestors who moved to America. There were quite a few people with the last name Roux, but no name he recognized. Probably very distantly related, but no one important.

They got lunch from a food truck at Battery Park, which was a lot better than he expected. It was a beautiful day out. They found a bench far away from the line to the boats and ate in a contented silence. 

“I have an idea,” Tobias said. “Tomorrow, if we want to say something we want no one else to hear, let’s just talk in French. No one there is going to know it. And I know you’ll have some snarky things to say, so just say them in French.”

Gabin took a bite of his veggie wrap and nodded. “I like it. Something between just the two of us. They’ll probably know we’re talking shit, but they won’t know what shit.”

“Exactly. Extra pettiness.”

They went back to Tobias’s apartment to get ready for the ballet that night. Gabin had to borrow an outfit from his boyfriend’s closet. It was a little big, but enough shirt-tucking and belt-adjusting made him look clean enough for the show. They were able to walk to the theater and got there only 15 minutes before curtain drop. They were in the first balcony and a few rows up, far enough away that no one from MBT would notice them, but close enough to study the choreography. 

It was an extremely unique show. Fun, colorful costumes and creative choreography. Tobias knew everyone on the stage, of course. Gabin would catch him smiling when someone did a particularly good job with a variation, or when a section of choreography spoke to him. 

They stayed in their seats during the first intermission, talking quietly, but exuberantly, about the show. At the second intermission, Gabin had to use the restroom. He got in a line outside the men’s room and waited, scrolling through his phone as the line slowly moved.

About 2 minutes into waiting, someone tapped on his shoulder. He turned around to face a much older man with a deceptively sweet face. It was unsettling.

“Ah, I thought that was you,” the man said in a heavy English accent. “Gabin Roux, of Le Ballet National, yes?”

Gabin nodded slowly. “Yes, that’s me. Have we met before?”

“No, we have not, but it is a pleasure.” The man took his hand and shook it without an invitation. “I have seen videos of you dancing. You are wonderful to watch.”

“Thank you, I think.” Gabin pulled his hand away and put both hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Ah, yes, introductions. I am Crispin Shamblee.”

Gabin recognized that name, and then his face, a little. He had been in a company class many months ago, which had confused him at the time. That very name had been attached not only to the front of the building they were currently standing in, but any press regarding the swap. Articles about oil spills and wars came to mind.

This was not a good man, and Gabin knew it.

“If I may ask, Gabin,” Crispin began, slowly. “Why are you in New York? As far as I am aware, you were not a part of negotiations with the swap.”

“I am not here to dance. I’m not breaking any rules by being here, I don’t think.”

“Well, you might not be.” Crispin pulled Gabin out of the bathroom line, then gestured to someone farther away to join them. A man with curly black hair and a nice suit came over with a worried face. “Jack, this is Gabin Roux of Le Ballet National. Have you heard of him?”

Jack looked at Gabin and tilted his head. “Maybe, but I am confused why Geneviève sent a random dancer to come watch our show. She could’ve come herself.”

“Geneviève did not send me. I’m not here for the swap. I’m here for a wedding that isn’t until tomorrow. Is it wrong for me to watch a show here while I’m in town?”

Crispin held a finger up, making Gabin take a step back. “No, you are fine. My question is, where is the one that isn’t? Where is that impulsive, eclectic choreographer who snogged you on stage?”

Gabin’s gripped fists in his pockets. What did this man know about Tobias? About him? About them? 

“Wait,” Jack said in a confused, but soft tone. He knew who Gabin was now. “Is Tobias here? Why is Tobias back in New York?”

“The question is, Jack,” came Tobias’s voice from behind the two older men, making them turn. Tobias walked over to Gabin, standing closely next to him. “Why are you grilling my boyfriend?”

Jack looked at Tobias. “You cut your hair.”

“I did.”

 “Why are you here? You’re supposed to be in Paris.”

“We’re going to a wedding tomorrow.”

“Okay, does Geneviève know you’re here, or did you pull a you?”

“She knows. She gave us permission.”

“Okay, why are you here, in the building, watching the ballet?”

“I’ve wanted to see this ballet for years. We were in town. We bought tickets.”

Crispin interrupted, “Not to be that guy, but what month is it?”

Tobias and Gabin shared a concerned look. The latter answered, “June.”

“Ah, yes, June. A wonderful month.” No one had any clue where the billionaire was going with this. “The beginning of summer, the tourists come in droves, and it is Pride Month. Happy Pride to both of you.”

“Thanks,” said Tobias at the same time Gabin replied, “Merci, I guess.”

“And,” Crispin continued. “It is the second-to-last month of the ballet season. Which means, before you know it, Tobias, you’ll be coming back to The City permanently. That will be nice, won’t it? Back home, no weird customs. Where the people actually like your ballets and not obsessed just because of the homosexual kiss that capped off that one back in December.”

Gabin made a step forward, but Tobias put his hand up to stop him. “People liked the piece before that. They liked it when they saw me make it. And the critics like my other pieces. Critics don’t care about gay people.”

“Well, maybe that’s true. But that doesn’t make a difference.” Crispin took a couple of steps forward, into Tobias’s space. “The swap is up at the end of the season. You’ll be back here, at MBT, doing what you were hired to do. And pretty boy, here? He will be in Paris, probably put in the back of ballets, back to minor roles. You two make a good duo, in dance, I mean. But once that is gone, you will be back to your normal routine on opposite sides of the world. Oh, and how will the personal side of things last? You know what they say about long-distance relationships.”

“Notre relation ne vous regarde pas! ” Gabin snapped.

“Bien sûr que oui,” responded Crispin. “Tobias is a central part of the swap. I have funded this entire thing from the beginning. You two would have never met if it weren’t for me. You should thank me.”

The two stared at him with anger burning in their eyes.

“Okay, okay, don’t thank me,” Crispin continued. “But you know I’m right. Especially about what comes next.”

A bell rang, indicating the third act was about to begin. No one moved immediately. 

“Crispin,” Jack said quietly. “Go back to your seat. Finish the show.”

The billionaire nodded, then did the same to Tobias and Gabin, before heading back into the theater. Jack stayed behind and looked at Gabin.

“He was out of line. He had no right to approach you and get in your head like that.” He faced Tobias. “It is good to see you. I’m glad you came while you’re here.”

“It’s a good show,” Tobias said in a tone Gabin had never heard. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t truthful. He was sad, but also more, and he was trying to hide it. He wasn’t doing a good job at it.

“Do you want me to tell the dancers you saw it? It might be nice for them to know you saw them and liked it.”

Tobias shook his head. “No. We really didn’t want anyone to know you were here. Just wanted to see a good show. Do something other than sit around before the wedding tomorrow.”

“Well, other than what just happened, I hope it’s been a somewhat pleasant night. Now, I need to get back. Thank you both for coming. And Gabin…” Jack held out his hand, asking. “It is great to finally meet you. You really know how to bring Tobias’s pieces to life.”

Gabin shook his hand, but stayed quiet. They all shared one more nod, and Jack made his way back to backstage. Tobias and Gabin didn’t move.

After a minute or so, Tobias said in a small voice, “Pouvons-nous partir? ”

“Oui s'il vous plait. ”

So they didn’t stay for the third act. They walked back to Tobias’s apartment in silence. Gabin spent the time collecting his thoughts, knowing what they were going to have to talk about once they got back. It couldn’t wait any longer, thanks to that evil British man. 

When they got there, they didn’t talk immediately. They took off their jackets, shoes, and ties. They sat down on the couch together, a bit of space between them. Someone had to start, but neither wanted to.

Might as well start with who caused the tension.

“Putain Crispin Shamblee.” Gabin said under his breath, the sadness already beginning to rise in his chest.

“Yeah…” Tobias whispered. “Fuck him.”

Gabin shook his head, then put it in his hands. He couldn’t look at Tobias. “He’s right.”

“He is.”

A cry broke through Gabin’s throat. Tears began to fall down his cheeks. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Paris wasn’t meant to be a forever thing.”

“I know!” Gabin snapped, bringing his head up. He still couldn’t look at him. “I know this whole swap thing was supposed only to be a year. I know you were only supposed to come to Paris, choreograph a few pieces, and return to your normal life here in America. I didn’t expect to want to work with you. I didn’t expect us to become so close. I didn’t expect to fall in love with you!”

“I didn’t expect to fall in love with you, either, Gabin!”

That was what made Gabin turn his head. Tobias was facing him, too, eyes red and tears glistening against his beautiful face. They froze in their positions, facing each other on the couch, tears silently falling down their faces.

Tobias swallowed dryly, then took Gabin’s hands in his own. “Gabin, I love you. There is no denying that I do. And the very last thing I want to do is leave you behind. But… I have a contract. Here. With MBT. And it’s through the next two years. Even if I asked Jack to let me out of it, I don’t know if he would. Even with Cheyenne here this season, they’re going to have to give her back next month, too. And MBT might be back in the gutter. My pieces have always done well here. And maybe… maybe that dick’s right. Maybe the only reason my other pieces have garnered such big audiences is because they’re my pieces, and you’re my soloist. My étoile. And they’ve seen the video of us kissing, and they follow gay things because that’s what people do sometimes. But, I promise you, with my entire being, that I don’t want that. I do not want to leave you.”

Gabin couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe. Tobias’s words swirled around his brain, trying to piece them in the right order. Tobias loved him, truly loved him. He didn’t want to leave, but he probably would have to. There was almost no chance of him going back to Paris. Tobias would be stuck in New York, choreographing more unique, enthralling pieces, while Gabin would be stuck in Paris, falling back to being a part of a silent ensemble. But Tobias loved him.

So, he kissed him. Hard. He cupped Tobias’s face and held him in place as he kissed and kissed and kissed him. He felt hands on his face, wiping tears as Tobias kissed him back. Those hands moved to Gabin’s hair, tugging a little. Not in a sexual way, but with a sense of desire. A desire to stay right where they were, with each other, no one else around.

When they finally parted, mouths sore and tears beginning to dry, they rested their foreheads together. Their eyes remained closed.

“Je vous aime aussi,” Gabin said after a few minutes. “So much. With everything I have.”

“Let’s not be sad at the wedding tomorrow,” said Tobias. “We’re supposed to be better than them. We can’t be better than them if we’re all sad and shit.”

Gabin laughed and pulled away, opening his eyes. Tobias was smiling, too. Just enough to know that they didn’t need to talk any more about it that night. They could work out the details later. Right now, they had all they needed. Each other, in this room, with their love for one another pouring out of them like stars in the night sky.