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François wasn’t entirely prepared for what to expect with the new role.
He’d worked on plenty of different projects throughout the course of his career, but this was definitely a genre he hadn’t considered ever being an option. When he was young and closeted, there was no way he’d have willingly accepted something like this. He’d have been too afraid of being found out. Too afraid his career would be over before it really began.
Now that he was older and fully out of the closet, with a couple decades of projects behind him, he wasn’t all that worried about how he’d be perceived for taking this particular role. Honestly, it still was pretty fucking amazing that a gay romance novel had been adapted into a television script, and even more amazing that Jacob was the one slated to bring it to the screen.
How could he turn down the opportunity?
He’d loved the script Jacob had sent him–had read it through in one sitting. By the time he’d gotten to the scene at the end of what Jacob said would be episode five, he’d been a blubbering, tearful mess. He really hoped that he’d be able to do it justice, to make people feel what he felt inside while reading it.
He didn’t know much about the rest of the book series beyond the script that Jacob sent him. He knew there was more than one novel, and there was a previous book about his character, but he was holding off on reading it because he didn’t want to go too far off base from the characters Jacob had adapted.
He had bigger worries anyway, since he had no fucking idea how to ice skate, which was pretty ironic, given that this was a mother-fucking hockey romance and he was playing the Captain of a team.
Jacob had told him not to worry, that the two other leads didn’t know how to skate either. Both of them were young, at least fifteen years François’ junior, and only one of them was from Canada. The other was from somewhere in the US, he thought Jacob had said Texas.
Definitely not a lot of ice skating going on around there.
He thought it was pretty hysterical that Jacob had managed to cast the only two Canadian actors who didn’t already know how to skate, along with an American who had probably never even seen ice, for roles that were all about hockey.
Go figure. That was pretty on par for Jacob, honestly.
But, since all three of them were newbies at skating and needed extra practice, Jacob had set up training time with professionals before the show even started filming. The three of them were going to room together, practice together, and he didn’t know what else… bond apparently.
The guy who was set to play his love interest didn’t need to know how to skate, so François wouldn’t officially meet him until the first day of filming, but in the meantime, he had a month to try and not kill himself on the ice with his costars.
He thought maybe he could manage that.
He’d asked Jacob about what to expect when meeting his two new roommates and Jacob had just smirked, patted him on the back, and told him to prepare himself. He wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly, but knowing Jacob, he was a little wary of that smirk. He supposed the extra training, apart from actually being needed, was Jacob’s way to get François out of his own head.
The lead up to this summer had been pretty fucking emotionally brutal, and he needed the respite from his own thoughts. Watching his four-year relationship end with more of a whimper than a bang had been a kind of slow-bleed that had left him feeling drained and empty. He’d really tried, they both had, but the thing between them had run its course and there was nothing either of them could do to fix it.
So, really, spending a month with two complete strangers learning something that could potentially permanently maim him seemed pretty in keeping with the rest of his life lately.
All he knew from Jacob’s brief synopsis was that the Canadian kid was kind-of a chaotic menace, and the kid from Texas was a bit of an enigma, but the two of them together were basically like trying to harness a live Tasmanian Devil.
François wasn’t sure how to handle that kind of dynamic, but he really didn’t have a choice. He wanted the role, and the role required skating. Ergo, he needed to actually learn something he’d actively avoided his whole life. He needed to learn how to be a team player in a team sport, with two kids who would end up just making him feel old, and oh god, what had he gotten himself into?
It was too late now, though. He’d be meeting the one from Texas at LAX… apparently he was also living in LA, and then they’d meet up with the other kid when they got to Canada. He supposed the five hour flight would give him a chance to feel out at least one of his roommates before they wound up being stuck in an apartment together, and for that he was grateful.
However, by the time the Uber finally dropped him at arrivals, François was irritable, tired, and too fucking hot. The California heat was particularly intense this year, even in March, and he wasn’t looking forward to being stuck in a plane for the rest of the day, especially after sweating it out in LA traffic for the last hour and a half. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to be the best company, and he already pitied the poor guy who was going to be stuck sitting next to him all the way to Canada.
He made his way through security and to his gate, grateful he had at least an hour before boarding. He could go to the sky lounge, get a cold drink and some food, and try to decompress a little. For some reason, his nerves were really getting the better of him.
Once he grabbed a drink and snacks, he plopped heavily into a chair and closed his eyes. He just needed to relax for a minute. Maybe that would fix things and get his head back on straight.
“François Arnaud?”
The voice was soft, almost reverent, with an accurate pronunciation he hadn’t heard since he was young.
He opened his eyes and blinked, trying to make sense of the picture presented in front of him.
A man stood there, broad shouldered and strangely beautiful, almost like a statue in a museum, with bright eyes that sat somewhere in the middle between blue and green. He had curly, dark blonde hair that stood out in unruly tufts under his ball cap, and he was wearing a ratty tee shirt and nice jeans. It was such a weird juxtiposition that François didn’t know how to respond. Instead, he just nodded dumbly.
The man grinned and held out his hand. “Connor Storrie. Jacob said we’d be taking the same flight.”
François stared at him for a second, oddly gut-punched. That smile was like looking into the sun. Then he registered what the other man had actually said.
“Jacob?” he repeated. “Are you one of my costars who can’t skate either?”
Connor grinned again, still holding out his hand. “Yep, guilty as charged. Really look forward to learning and working with you, though. I’m a big fan.”
“Do you know French?”
Connor’s smile dimmed slightly and François mentally kicked himself. His only excuse was that he was tired and grumpy and he never could filter the random thoughts pinging through his head when he got like this.
“Sorry, ignore me,” he added.
Connor shook his head. “No, why’d you ask that? Genuinely curious.”
“My name. I haven’t heard it correctly pronounced in years.”
Connor’s bright grin returned with a vengeance. “Je parle français, et c'est dommage, car votre nom est magnifique.”
François stared at him, trying to make sense of this person in front of him. In his tired state, the only thing that blared in his brain was a giant, red warning light and the repeated mantra of, “Oh, you are so fucked. So fucked. So absolutely fucked.”
Now he understood why Jacob had smirked.
Fucking hell.
***
The plane ride was a special kind of hell for François. Connor had been excitedly chattering for a while about the script, working with him, working with Jacob, how thrilled he was about getting the part, about the other lead they’d be meeting in Hamilton and how they’d already gotten to be good friends over the phone.
Normally, François wasn’t big on a lot of small talk, but he found himself falling into the rhythm of listening to someone else do all the work in a conversation. He’d hummed, nodded, answered with one or two words, and was very proud of himself for not zoning out. That was a huge win on a day like today.
“Sorry, I’m probably talking too much.”
François jolted and opened his eyes, turning his head to look at Connor.
“What?”
Connor offered him an apologetic smile, the brightness of the grin in the lounge no longer visible. “I’ve been talking at you for ages. You’re probably over it.”
François shook his head. “No. Sorry, it’s just been a long day, and sometimes I get… I don’t know, overwhelmed, I guess. It may look like I’m not present, but I am. I’ve been listening. I like listening to you talk. It’s helped. To settle me, I think.”
The grin reappeared, and François felt like he’d been graced with some kind of gift.
“Okay, good. That’s good. Normally I don’t always talk this much, but I’m not a great flyer. I always get a little nervous, and this is a long flight, so I guess I just want to stay out of my head as much as possible. But, if you’re tired and need to sleep, I can let you do that, too. I can find something else to do.”
“Do you like music?” François heard himself ask, then closed his eyes briefly in embarrassment. What a dumb question. Didn’t most people like music?
Connor’s grin amped up a notch and François felt it in his solar plexus, like a sharp, painful punch.
“I do like music, a lot. I create it in my spare time, when I can. Write songs, I mean. Well, more like beats. Kind-of Eastern European techno vibes. I used to deejay for my friends.”
Of course he did.
Now François’ idea seemed pretty silly in retrospect. He nodded, feeling his face heat up. He was probably bright red right now.
“That’s… cool.”
Connor’s smile turned a little embarrassed. “You probably don’t care about that, though. Why did you ask me about music?”
“I uh, well.. If you’re cool enough to make your own music, you’ll probably think this is dumb, but I could share some playlists I’ve made on Spotify? See if you like any of them? Sometimes when I want to get out of my own head I’ll listen to things I don’t normally listen to. It helps. Me, at least. It helps me. To not overthink.”
God, what was wrong with him? He sounded like it was his first day on earth trying to form words.
Connor watched him for a second, clearly thrilled, despite how awkward François was being. He pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and poked around on the screen. He handed it over, and François saw that Spotify had been pulled up.
“Please, I’d love that. Share whatever you’d like, I’ll listen.”
François nodded. “Can I just add you as a friend on here? Most of my playlists are public for my friends. You can poke around and see what you might want to listen to.”
“Uh, yeah! Are you kidding? I’d love that. I have some playlists that I’ve been working on, too. You’re welcome to listen to whatever I have.”
François glanced up, surprised, and laughed softly. “Eastern European techno?”
Connor’s ears turned pink. “Maybe more than that,” he answered with a giggle. “My musical taste is all over the place.”
“So is mine, but probably more Millennial than you’re used to. You may think it’s corny.”
“Corny,” Connor repeated, scoffing. “François Arnaud wants to share playlists with me and he thinks I’ll think they’re corny. Are you kidding me? I feel like I’m in some kind of fever dream right now.”
François snorted, but finished adding him as a friend and handed the phone back. “There, don’t hold anything you might hear on there against me. Are you really not going to be offended if I take a little nap?”
Connor was already pulling out headphones from his backpack in front of him. “No! Please, get some sleep! I’ll stay busy listening to whatever makes you tick.”
“Well, I don’t know about that, but it may be what keeps me sane sometimes.”
“Even better,” Connor answered with a wink and a grin.
François closed his eyes and saw that damn flashing warning light again, but he drifted off before he could do anything about it.
***
He jolted awake as the plane touched down onto the runway, the force of it propelling him forward in his seat. An arm caught him across his chest and pushed him back, and François stared at it in confusion before remembering where he was.
“Fuck,” he groaned, glancing over at Connor. “I totally slept the whole time, I’m so sorry.”
Connor grinned and shook his head. “No, it’s fine. You clearly needed it. I’ve just been vibing, listening to tunes.”
“Oh god, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me, sharing that with you. You probably think I’m so lame right now.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “Please. Fascinating, maybe, but definitely not lame.”
They stared at each other a second, and François didn’t know what to say. He felt like maybe he was tiptoeing on a potentially dangerous line, and he’d need to unpack whatever the fuck was happening with him. Later, though. Definitely later.
Connor opened his mouth, starting to say something, but the intercom pinged on, and the sound of the Captain’s announcements interrupted whatever he’d been about to say.
Connor offered him a chagrined smile and a shrug, and they both listened in silence as the plane taxied down the runway.
***
The drive to the shared apartment was filled with a weird, buzzy tension, and François wasn’t sure what to make of it, or even what exactly it was. Well, that was a lie. He knew what it was on his part, at least–an absolutely, unequivocally, pointless attraction to a kid he just met who was way too young for him.
And way out of his league.
He didn’t do this sort of thing. Most of his past relationships were long-term friendships before they turned into anything more. A quiet calm between friends that eventually settled into something meaningful and romantic. He’d never been one for acting on quick attraction or transactional fucks… he just wasn’t built that way. He had no idea what was happening to him right now, but whatever it was, it was out of the realm of possibility. It also crossed way too many lines he refused to cross.
What he needed to do was to call Jacob whenever he got a spare minute alone. He dreaded how much his friend was going to give him shit about this.
He really hoped it didn’t jeopardize his role in the show.
“So, music,” Connor said, breaking the silence.
François glanced over quickly, then back at the road. He was the only one with a valid Canadian driver’s licence, and even though Connor could drive in Canada, he wasn’t comfortable with it yet. François had rented the car because Jacob had joked that the show was paid for by pocket lint and dreams, so there wasn’t a budget for much beyond necessities. François certainly wasn’t going to ask Connor to split the cost, so he pulled out his own credit card and paid. All of that to say, it meant he was the one stuck driving them to Hamilton while Connor stared out the passenger window at the landscape zooming by.
“What about it?” he answered.
Connor laughed. “I had a lot of time to catch up on your playlists on the flight.”
François groaned. “I really am so sorry. I didn’t mean to pass out on you.”
“Nah, man, it’s okay. You were right, anyway.”
“About what?”
“About how listening to things you don’t know can help you get out of your head. It did. For me, I mean. I didn’t think about flying, which is pretty unusual for me when I'm on a plane hurtling across the world at a million miles an hour.”
“Well, I’m glad it helped. I hoped you didn’t hate the song selection too much.”
“No, I loved it. I mean, some songs were questionable,” he teased, laughing. “But, most I really dug. I saved a bunch. I was also thinking….” his words trailed off.
“Thinking what?”
“Maybe we could do a shared playlist? Start off fresh and add songs that we find interesting? That way we always have something to talk about?”
There was that flashing warning light again, this time accompanied with a big, blaring alarm.
“Uhh….” François answered, unsure of what to say.
“Nevermind, that’s probably stupid,” Connor spit out, his words running together. “You probably think I’m ridiculous.”
“No,” François interjected. “Of course I don’t think that. It’s a cool idea, actually. I kind of love it. Let’s do it.”
Fuck, what are you doing? This is a bad idea.
“Are you sure?” Connor asked, his tone hesitant.
“Absolutely.”
You fucking idiot, you’re so screwed.
“Great! This will be so much fun!” Connor gushed.
François glanced over and nearly crashed the car.
The weight of that grin was going to fucking flatten him one day, he just knew it.
***
Jacob was right. Trying to harness the energy of both Connor and the other lead, Hudson, was like trying to herd a Tasmanian Devil. It was clear the two were already friends, a bond forged through whatever technology Gen Z used to communicate these days, and François never felt as old as he did watching the two of them zoom around the apartment, inspecting everything that had been placed there by whatever realtor had furnished it.
“Uh, I guess I’ll leave you guys to it and just head to my room,” François interrupted, feeling awkwardly out of sorts. Also, maybe a little jealous of the easy comradery he was witnessing.
It was never that easy for him when meeting someone for the first time. If he’d not fallen asleep on the plane, maybe he could have gotten to know Connor a bit better during the flight time, but no… he had to go and pass out like an idiot.
Connor stopped moving and whirled around to face him. “What? No! Stay out here and hang with us! We’ll calm down, right?” He elbowed Hudson and shot him a look that François couldn’t decipher.
Hudson watched Connor for a second, then turned to François, grinning. “Yeah man, stay out here. We can watch movies or something.”
“Are you sure? You probably have better things to do than hang out with me,” François protested.
Connor shook his head, blond curls tumbling around his head, especially now that they’d been freed from the hat. “I–WE–want to hang out with you. Right, Hudson?”
“Yep,” Hudson agreed good-naturedly. He picked up a remote and tossed it to François. “Your choice.”
François snorted. “Yeah, you’ll regret that. I tend to put on really old movies, or French ones. Sometimes, if you’re very lucky, really old French ones.”
“If they got subtitles, I’m fine,” Hudson answered, shrugging,
Connor was watching François, really studying him, and he felt a little like a bug under a microscope. Then Connor grinned and said, “I don’t need subtitles, but okay. Do your worst. Teach us.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Connor answered, not letting Hudson respond. “Sit down and choose something. We’ll go and procure snacks.”
He grabbed Hudson’s arm and yanked him towards the kitchen.
François carefully sat on the couch and stared at the black screen of the television, listening to the two of them giggle in the kitchen.
He really had no idea what he had gotten himself into, but he supposed there was no going back now.
Sighing, he turned on the television and started to search for something French to watch.
***
He woke up with a start, sitting up in bed and blinking at the shadow in the now open doorway, his heart beating hard in his chest.
“Shit, sorry,” the shadow whispered. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just, we need to leave for the rink in a few minutes and you were still asleep, so… I got voluntold to wake you.”
It took François a minute to realize the shadow was Connor, and once he did, he flopped back down and covered his eyes with his arm. “Fuck. I think I just died and came back to life.”
“Can I turn on the light?” Connor asked.
“Sure.” He kept his arm over his eyes to block out the glare. It was too fucking early to be awake. “Please tell me there’s coffee made.”
“They didn’t give us a coffee maker, if you can believe that. We’ll have to hit a shop on the way to the rink.” Connor’s voice sounded a bit high-pitched and breathless, so François pulled back his arm and sat up.
“You okay?”
Connor was staring at him strangely, his gaze pinging from his face to his chest, then back to his face. His cheeks turned pink and he blinked a few times before pointing back down the hallway. “Yeah. I’m just gonna… go. I’ll let you get ready, but hurry up. Huddy’s already called an Uber.”
“We have a car? Why would he call an Uber?”
“I have no idea. I told him there was a car!”
Before François could answer, Connor was gone, shutting the door firmly behind him.
François blinked at it for a second, confused, before rolling out of bed and getting ready as fast as possible.
He eventually made it out to the living room and found Connor pacing, looking annoyed.
“What’s up? Is the Uber here yet?”
“Here and gone,” Connor answered. “With Hudson.”
“What?” François asked, genuinely confused.
“He left without us. He said you could drive me and he’d get things set up for us at the rink.”
“Uh, okay?”
“I’m so sorry, I should have gone with him, huh?”
“I think if I’d come out here and both of you were gone, I’d have just crawled back into bed, filled with shame and horror at being ghosted by my much younger roommates.”
“Not THAT much younger,” Connor protested, his tone vehement.
“Sure.”
“No, I mean it. It’s not that big of a difference!”
François didn’t know why it mattered so much to him, but he just smiled and shrugged. “Okay. So, I guess we should go? Do we have time to get coffee? Please?”
Connor grinned at him, the sunshine taking over his face. “I don’t do anything without espresso, baby.”
François knew he didn’t mean anything by the wording, he did, but his stomach still swooped anyway.
***
After an hour on the ice, he remembered why he hated team sports growing up. His ankles also reminded him why he hated skating. Even worse, their trainers decided to have them hit the weights in the gym, and another two hours later François was pretty sure he was going to die.
He collapsed on the floor and stared up at the ceiling, breathing hard. After a few moments, Connor stood above him, staring down with what could only be described as horrified concern.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” François answered, embarrassed. “I just haven’t done that in a while.”
“Exercised? Because there’s no way. Your body is like… yeah, there’s no way you haven’t exercised in a while.”
“I run,” François objected. “Like a lot. I’ve done marathons. I just don’t generally do a lot of weights if I can help it. And I definitely don’t ice skate.” He sat up. “Wait, what was that about my body?”
Connor flushed red and looked everywhere but at François. “Nevermind. Forget I said anything. Do you want to maybe run together sometime? In the mornings?”
“Sure, that sounds like fun.”
“Great,” Connor gushed. “I’m just going to hit the showers. Do you need any help getting up?”
“Fuck off,” François deadpanned.
Connor giggled and headed for the showers. After a few minutes, François pushed himself up and followed. He rounded the corner and nearly swallowed his tongue.
Dear god, that was an ass.
Maybe the best ass he’d ever seen. Like, ever.
In his entire life.
François backed up and quickly turned to head for the locker room. He’d just shower at home. There was no way he could be in the same vicinity as Connor right now without giving his stupid attraction away in the most embarrassing way possible.
“Not showering?” Hudson asked, pulling on a shirt and drying his hair.
“Uh, no. I’m wiped. I’ll just grab one at home. Are you driving back with us, or do you want to spend your hard-earned money on an Uber again?”
Hudson watched him for a second, clearly not buying what he was trying to sell. “I’ll probably ride back with you guys, if that’s okay, but I’m gonna skip movie night tonight. I gotta call my girl.”
“Oh, ok. That’s fine. Connor might want to skip it too, then.”
Hudson laughed and shot him a look that François couldn’t decipher. “Not likely.” He walked past him and patted his shoulder. “See you in the parking lot, buddy.”
François stared after him, unsure of what to make of that confusing conversation.
“Hey,” a soft voice interrupted from behind him.
François turned and his stomach swooped again. Connor had a towel slung low on his waist, his chest bare, which somehow managed to give his ass a run for its money. Seriously, what did they put in the water in Texas because François did not look like that at 25. Hell, he didn’t look like that now.
“Hi,” he answered, his voice coming out a bit breathless.
“You didn’t shower?”
“No, I’ll just do it at home.”
Connor watched him, cocking his head. “Are you okay? You seem a bit off.”
“Just been a long day.”
“Oh, ok. We don’t have to do movie night if you’re too tired. Hudson said he’s going to bail.”
“I know, he told me. Do you want to bail?”
“No! But, I’d understand if you’re too tired to hang out with me.”
“I’m not. If you want, I can find another French movie and turn off the subtitles this time.”
Connor grinned at him, and François felt like he’d won the lottery, or something.
“That sounds perfect!”
***
Later, after the movie wound down, Connor turned toward him. “Can I tell you something potentially embarrassing?”
“Sure?”
“Um, when we start filming, I’m probably going to speak with Ilya’s accent. Like all the time on set. Even when I’m not on camera.”
“So, like method?”
Connor shook his head. “No, I don’t buy into that. I’ll still be Connor. Just with added Russian.”
François laughed and Connor smiled at him.
“So, you don’t think I’m weird?”
“Well, I didn’t say that,” François teased. “But, I’m not going to ever judge you for doing whatever you need to do to feel comfortable with a part.”
Connor’s smile grew bigger and he snuggled further down into the cushions. “Good.”
“Can I get a sneak peak?”
“What?”
“Of the accent. Can you show me what you’ll sound like?” François asked.
“Yeah? You really want to hear?”
François nodded and Connor sat back up, turning to face him. He cleared his throat and did something that made his face change completely. Gone was the sweet expression Connor normally wore, and in his place was a stern looking Slavic man.
“Hello,” he said in a remarkably convincing Russian accent. “My name is Ilya Rozanov. You must be Scott Hunter. I have heard many things about you as I have grown up. Since I was very small and you were already playing in the big leagues. Because you are old.”
“Ouch,” François said, laughing. “Hit an old man while he’s down, why don’t you?”
Connor laughed, his expression and accent back to normal. “I was getting into the role. I don’t think that about you.”
“Sure you don’t,” François teased.
“Hey, I don’t!” Connor objected, his smile turning into a frown. “You’re kind-of the perfect age.”
Well, there were the warning sirens again, but François ignored them. “I am?”
Connor nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Oh.”
Yeah, he was going to need to call Jacob eventually.
“So, did you like it?” Connor asked shyly.
“It was fucking perfect. You’re going to kill it.”
The smile he was awarded was the brightest one François had seen yet.
***
“Hey buddy, how’s it going?” Jacob asked. “How’s skating coming along? Break a hip yet?”
“You could have warned me.”
There was a long pause. “About what, exactly?”
“You know what.”
Jacob laughed. “Got it that bad already, huh?”
“For fuck’s sake, Jacob! How am I supposed to concentrate on anything? This is so unprofessional of me. I’m too old, and he’s young and just starting out, and… maybe I should just step back from this show and have you find someone else for my part.”
“What?! Hold your horses. Why would I want to do that?”
“I just said why!”
“Okay, has Connor complained or acted like he doesn’t want to be around you?”
“No, and that’s the problem! It’s pretty much the exact opposite. When we’re not training, he wants to hang out all the time! We’re even doing movie nights. Hudson bailed on us tonight, so we just watched old French movies and talked for awhile, and fuck… he’s kind of perfect. Why does he have to be so young?”
“He’s not that young.”
“He is as far as I’m concerned. I’ve never actually dated anyone younger than me, We’ve always been near the same age. Honestly, this is making me feel like a creep.”
“You’re not a creep. And, I’ll ask again, has he acted like he’s uncomfortable around you?”
François paused, then rubbed at his eyes. “No,” he admitted. “But, he also doesn’t know what I’ve been thinking about him.”
Jacob snorted. “That’s probably true, because I’m willing to bet if he did, you wouldn’t be on the phone with me right now, you’d be too busy with him.”
“Jacob!”
“Well, it’s true,” Jacob answered, laughing hard. “Look, I talked to him extensively before I hired him. He’s chaotic and funny, but he’s also very smart and driven, and pretty much an old soul inside that little cherub face. He’s also an incredible actor. Just wait ‘til you see him in action.”
“I kind-of already have. I mean, not fully, but he did his Ilya voice for me, and it was like he became a different person for a second.’
“Yep, it’s crazy impressive.”
“Ugh, but that’s not the point!”
“What’s the point?”
“You know what the point is!!”
“Ok, you need to chill out. Do you like being around him?”
“Yes!” François yelled.
“Okay, and does he like being around you?”
“I-I think so?”
“Ok, so I don’t see a problem.”
François sat back on his bed. “Y-You don’t? But, it’s your show!”
“And you two have exactly one tiny scene together in all six episodes. It’s not a problem. If you like him, and he likes you, then go ahead and see where it goes. I don’t have a problem with it, I promise. Besides, you need a little happiness in your life right now.”
“I think this might be more confusing than happy.”
“It’s been like two days since you guys met. Give it time,” Jacob answered. “Don’t push things away that might already be there for a reason. If you’re this messed up over him this quickly, I’m willing to bet he’s going to be important.”
François pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at it before taking a big breath and putting it back to his ear. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? If I spend time with him?”
“I’m more than okay with it. Honestly, I was hoping maybe you two would hit it off.”
“Wait, what? Why would you think we would?”
“He’s an old soul who loves languages, already speaks French, likes random music and old movies, and is into older men. I kind-of figured he’d be really in to you.”
“Why’d you think I’d be into him?”
Jacob laughed. “Have you looked at him?”
François bristled. “Hey! He’s more than just his looks!”
Jacob chuckled. “And that’s why you’re perfect for him.”
***
The next couple of weeks progressed the same way. Skating practice, working out, homemade dinners, and long movie nights. They’d also added early morning jogs to coffee shops before going back home to get ready for practice, just the two of them. Hudson wanted nothing to do with cardio that early in the morning, and for that François was more than a little grateful. He felt guilty for feeling that way, but he really did want as much alone time with Connor as he could get.
It was hard to have conversations when running, so they did the next best thing–the shared playlist. They both added songs that were meaningful to them in some way, and more often than not, François found himself adding songs with lyrics that said what he wished he could say out loud. He felt ridiculous and corny about adding them, but deep down, he hoped that Connor maybe would get the hint.
Even worse, he found himself obsessively dissecting the meaning of the songs Connor added, and that was really fucking with his head. It was definitely giving him something to fixate on and overthink, as if he didn’t do that enough already.
Filming would start soon, and Connor was already starting to focus on learning Russian with his dialect coach, so François knew he was going to see less and less of him as time went on. He was dreading that. Dreading it and also looking forward to it because he needed a break from the rabbit hole of an unrelenting crush he found himself falling down every day.
Because that’s what it was. A crush that he knew wasn’t going away any time soon, unless maybe absence made the heart NOT grow fonder. He was willing to test that theory. He needed to test that theory because he was pretty much losing his mind over the blond in the next bedroom over.
To make it worse, Connor was bulking up so fast and so easily, and his body was getting more and more insane. Meanwhile, François was just getting leaner. He’d never have the same kind of 8-pack as Connor, wasn’t sure if he wanted it, honestly, but man… he definitely appreciated it on Connor. Then he immediately felt guilty for thinking that way because what he said to Jacob was true… Connor was much more than his outward appearance.
He was so smart, thoughtful, funny, and sweet… the whole package, really. They could have the longest, most intense conversations about everything, and then turn around and joke about the silliest stuff. They regularly hung out with Hudson, went to bars and arcades with him, but more often than not, they tried to carve out as much alone time as they could to just talk.
Sometimes, especially lately, that seemed to be in each other’s rooms. Hudson liked to stay up way too late playing video games, so François and Connor would take refuge in one of their bedrooms to watch movies and have their long conversations… about everything, really. There didn’t seem to be any barriers to what they told each other, and that was weird for François. He definitely held back a lot from people normally, didn’t know exactly what he should or shouldn’t share, but he was having a hard time holding back with Connor.
So yeah, he needed the break. Filming and Connor’s dialect work was going to take a lot away from their time together, but that was probably necessary. François was honestly kind-of terrified of what would happen if they didn’t get a break from each other, and soon.
It had only been a couple weeks and he was already so, so unbelievably fucked over this guy.
***
“So, I miss our movie nights,” Connor admitted to François one morning they managed to find some time to go for a jog to the coffee shop. “I don’t like that we’ve been too busy to hang out.”
“We’re hanging out now,” François answered, his heart flipping hard in his chest at Connor’s confession.
“It’s not the same and you know it.” Connor said, then paused. “Can I ask you a question? If you don’t want to answer, you can tell me to go kick rocks, or something.”
“Of course you can. You can ask me anything, you know that.”
Connor stopped running and François slowed down to a stop, turning around and jogging back to him.
“What? Why’d you stop?” he asked.
“Can I?” Connor asked.
“Can you what?”
“Can I ask you anything?”
Connor was giving him a strange look that François couldn’t really decipher. “Yes.”
“Okay. How come you don’t stay and watch filming? I come watch your scenes, but once you’re done with them, you just pack up and go back to the apartment. You never stay and watch mine. Why?”
François winced and Connor caught it immediately. Unfortunately, despite being an actor, François was not the best about keeping his emotions off his face.
“I knew it! You are avoiding watching filming!” Connor cried, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked so fierce and annoyed, and at that moment, François wanted nothing more than to reach out, grab that fierce little face, and kiss him senseless. Instead, he took a step backward and shook his head, then nodded.
“Yes and no. I’m not avoiding, I’m just….”
“Just what? Is it that bad? Am I doing that bad?”
“What? No! I have seen some of your shoots, and Jacob has shown me a lot of the tapes. You’re fucking amazing, Connor! I’m so, so impressed. You are bodying that role. You’re going to take the world by storm once this show comes out.”
Connor dropped his hands from his chest and looked a little mollified. “Well, I don’t know about that, since no one outside of Canada is ever going to see it, but you really think I’m doing okay?”
“I think you’re doing incredible. I’m fucking so in awe of you.”
Connor’s cheeks turned pink. “Then why aren’t you staying to watch?”
François wanted to tell him the truth–that it was purely self preservation. Watching Connor live and breathe that character, watching him absolutely kill every line delivery with little to no retakes, whether it be English or Russian was one thing. It made François so proud he could scream.
But, seeing him half-to-fully-naked and making out with another man, even if that man was just Hudson, who was very much taken and François knew neither of them were interested in each other, was still too much for him to deal with. He had no right to be jealous, had nothing to even be jealous over, but he still was.
He certainly couldn’t tell Connor that, so he opted for a little, white lie. “I didn’t know if it would make you uncomfortable. Me being there when you’re shooting some of those scenes.”
Connor really turned red, but he shot François his huge, sunshine grin. “I mean, if you’ve seen all of me once….”
“But, I haven’t yet,” François answered without thinking. He then immediately wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
Connor’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. Then the grin was back, with a bit of an evil edge this time. “Yet?”
François shook his head. “Nope. Ignore that. Time to get coffee!” He turned and sprinted toward the shop.
He thought maybe he heard Connor giggling behind him.
***
Filming went by way too fast for François’ liking. Soon, it was already early June and he was filming his last scene–THE scene, the one that tied both the storylines together. He needed to hoist the giant replica Stanley Cup over his head, stare out into the stands and pretend there was a full crowd sitting there, and beckon Kip to come down to the ice. It should have been a no-brainer, but despite all the training he’d had before filming, he still was weirdly wobbly on skates.
He lifted the Cup, leaned backward too far, and went down hard. He instinctively reached behind him to catch himself. The Cup clattered onto the ice, and François had a split second to worry about breaking it before a sharp pain jolted up his arm. He looked down to see blood pooling everywhere, freezing to the ice, and a nice, inside view of all the muscles in his palm under his thumb.
“Well, fuck,” he murmured before the team descended on him with shouts of dismay.
A few minutes later, as he was getting bandaged up, a red-faced and visibly panicked Connor came barreling onto the ice. He slid over to where François was sitting and stared down in horror at the blood around him.
“What happened? Are you okay?!”
“Just a little cut,” François answered, his insides warming with something that felt a little like hope.
“How little?! This is a lot of blood!”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” François answered at the same time the paramediic said, “Well, it’s pretty deep. It’s going to need more than a few stitches.”
Connor paled and stared at François with worry. “Okay, do we take him to the hospital? You don’t do stitches on set, right?”
“I can,” the paramedic replied, “but I’d rather not. I want him to keep the mobility of his thumb. The cut went through the muscle. Not sure about the nerves.”
François shook his head. “No. Just tape it up for now. I can go to the hospital later. We need to finish the scene. Everyone is here and we’re almost done.”
Connor stared at him. “Are you sure? This is serious, François.”
“It’s a cut. I’ll be okay.” He stood up and smiled at the paramedic. “Thanks. I promise I’ll go get stitches after I finish up here.”
The medic stood and sighed, shaking his head. “Actors,” he muttered, heading off the ice.
Connor stared after him, then turned back to François. “Are you sure? You’re actually really hurt.”
“I can’t feel anything right now. I’m sure I’ll feel it later, but I just want to finish this. It’s my last scene.”
Connor bit his lip and stared down at his toes. “I know.” He jerked his head back up and stared François in the eyes, his expression fierce. “I’m going with you. To the hospital.”
François nodded. “Okay. You can do that. I’d like that.”
Connor’s expression calmed and he took a deep breath and looked around. They’d amassed quite a crowd of crew around them, watching the unintentional scene play out. “Okay. Yeah. I’m going to go sit out of frame now.”
He turned and made his way off the ice.
François locked eyes with Jacob. His friend shot him a big grin and raised his eyebrows suggestively. François felt his face head up, but he cleared his throat and glanced around. “Okay, I’m ready to go again if you all are.”
***
It took longer than he expected to be seen by the doctor at the hospital. They didn’t let anyone come back to the room with him, so he’d been sitting alone for hours before he finally got stitched up and sent on his way. He assumed everyone would already be gone, so he fully expected to have to call an Uber to get back to the apartment.
However, when he walked out into the lobby, he found Connor sitting on one of the hard, hospital chairs, his head propped on the wall next to him as he slept.
François’ heart slammed hard in his chest and he felt a weird mix of elation and fear. He slowly walked over and gently shook Connor’s shoulder.
Connor’s eyes flew open and he sat up with a start. “Oh! Are you done? Are you okay?” he asked breathlessly.
François nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Ten stitches and some pain pills. Good thing I don’t need to be up early tomorrow.” He frowned at Connor. “But you do. Why are you still here?”
“Doesn’t matter. I wasn’t going to leave you here, François!”
“I could have taken an Uber.”
Connor scowled at him. “No! Not acceptable. Of course I was going to wait for you. You’re hurt!”
François was exhausted. His hand was throbbing, he’d been up since five in the morning, and he hadn’t eaten in hours. The hospital had already given him some pain meds, so those combined with an empty stomach was the only excuse he could think of for what came out of his mouth next.
“Sweetheart, it’s just a cut. You need your sleep. You have to drive all the way to Muskoka tomorrow for the cottage scenes. You’re so close to being done, I don’t want you to burn out just because I managed to hurt myself.”
Connor went very, very still. His eyes widened and he stared at François with such an intense look that it startled François into realizing what he said. His cheeks went nuclear hot.
“I mean, uh….” He really had no idea how to follow that little snafu up.
“François?” Connor’s voice was very quiet and very soft. He looked both elated and terrified.
François knew the feeling. He shook his head. “No, we can talk about this after you’re done filming, okay? Once the show has wrapped. Then we’ll talk, I promise.”
“You swear?”
He nodded. “Yes, I swear. We have a lot to talk about, I think.”
Connor cleared his throat and his pretty eyes were suspiciously glassy. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s get you home, alright?”
François took a deep breath and accepted his fate. Honestly, he knew where all this was headed the minute he’d opened his eyes to see Connor standing in front of him at the airport over two months ago.
“Yeah, let’s go home.”
***
François was in a special kind of hell. He’d packed up his room, paced the apartment, and considered just heading back to LA early.
But, he’d promised Connor they’d talk once the show wrapped, and he was going to keep his promise. Plus, Jacob was throwing a wrap party he’d be expected to be at, and that was happening tomorrow.
Connor and Hudson had been gone for three days. François had sat with his thoughts in an empty apartment alone for three days and he thought he had fully gone insane. What the fuck was he thinking? There was no way Connor felt the same way about him. That conversation in the hospital had happened because they were both exhausted and Connor was emotional because he didn’t know how to let François down easy. That was the only possible, logical explanation for what had gone down.
There was no way Connor was on the same page as him. He was so far out of François’ league it wasn’t even funny. The conversation was probably going to be embarrassing and horrifying, and François would just fly back to LA tomorrow night and lick his wounds in private. It’s not like he wasn’t used to heartbreak.
This particular heartbreak might suck more than most, but he’d survive it. He had to.
But, whatever the conversation entailed, it was going to happen soon because the guys were due back in the next couple of hours.
Maybe he’d go for a run to get out of his head.
As always, he brought up their shared playlist. Over the course of the last couple of months, it had grown in size to a truly impressive mixture of all types of music. Some of the songs they discussed, some of them they teased each other about, and some sat so deep in François’ pit of love and hope that he was too afraid to dissect them much.
He was just heading out the door when he saw that a new song had been added by Connor within the last hour.
Unchained Melody.
François stumbled and sat down in the hallway by the front door, his legs giving out beneath him.
This song? It seemed unlikely that Connor had added it without realizing what it meant… what the lyrics signified. The timing of it all was too suspect.
He sat on the floor and listened to it in its entirety, breathing heavily while a little teary eyed on the carpet outside their apartment door. It was a good thing it was the middle of the day and their neighbors were all at work, or someone might have done a welfare check on him.
Once the song played through, he restarted it and listened to it again.
Once it finished, he fished out his phone and sent Connor a text.
So, this latest song…?
Connor wrote back almost immediately, repeating lyrics that François already had listened to twice.
I’ll be coming home, wait for me.
***
Connor came back alone two hours later.
François had been sitting on the couch, nerves so on edge that he felt like throwing up once Connor stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
“Where’s Hudson?” François asked, unsure of what to say.
“He’s headed to the bar with some of the crew and Benjamin. They said we can come by later, if we want. Huddy… uh… he said he wanted to give us space to ‘pull our heads out of our asses.’”
François barked out a laugh and covered his mouth.
Connor shot him a shy smile. “So, are you still up for talking?”
François nodded. “Tell me what you meant by the song.”
“I mean, I thought it was pretty self explanatory.”
François stood and walked over to where Connor was standing. Connor dropped his duffel bag on the ground and looked up at him.
“So, does it mean I’m not alone in this?” François asked, his heart hammering hard in his chest.
“If by this, you mean being hopelessly, completely, head over heels, then no. You are not alone in this.”
François closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt a tentative touch on his cheek, and when he opened his eyes, Connor was standing closer, his gaze pinging across François’ face.
“I missed you,” Connor said, his voice soft and quiet. “I thought about what to say to you the entire time I was there filming, and it was kind-of hard to concentrate on my lines.”
“I”m sorry,” François breathed out, staring at the color striations in Connor’s eyes. “Did you figure out what you wanted to say?”
Connor shook his head. “Nothing seemed enough to fully encapsulate everything I’ve been thinking and feeling. So, I figured I’d do something else instead.”
“What’s that?” François asked, his tone strangled. He thought maybe he might pass out. Connor was standing so close.
Connor offered him a small smile and stood on his tiptoes, closing the tiny distance between them.
Then his lips were on François’ and they didn’t worry about talking until much, much later.