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“Alright everyone, that’s a wrap!” Fab exclaims, holding his clipboard and a megaphone that’s always been more show and tell than anything in each hand.
People are watching the rehearsals from the seats all the way in the back of the theatre, and he knows there’s eyes on him. He can feel them burning on the back of his neck even if he hasn’t looked yet.
He knows who’s watching, in any case.
Crossing the stage to get to his brother, Fab will very much joke around – he's the flirty type after all, as Gideon so often enjoys pointing out. He'll comment something about Wendy’s new charm bracelet, he’ll tug Marlene’s collar so it stands straight with a wink and he’ll ruffle Benjy’s hair with some offhand compliment.
They're all used to it. It's just the way Fab operates – always close, always looking at someone, ready to send a kiss or poke his tongue out in someone’s way. Most find it funny. Others think it’s annoying.
Not like he cares about their opinions, though.
There's few people he cares about enough in order to take their opinions at face value. One of them, although he’d never say it out loud, is his lovely teeny tiny twin brother Gideon, who is currently flipping him the bird while walking away all grumble-y.
What? It's not Fabian’s fault that Gid’s girlfriend found embarassing childhood stories so funny! He just had to share, isn’t that right?
Oh, and... yeah, there’s a few other people.
He watches everyone trickle out. Their audience also thins, though slower – a few teachers come to congratulate them on their progress in putting Romeo and Juliet together; Sprout brought a few parents earlier to show off what they’d be signing their precious little children into if they chose theatre, and goodness do they have many questions.
But nonetheless, this is Fab’s job, and he’ll do it regardless of these inconveniences that... keep piling up... and up... like a mountain of complaints on an imaginary director’s desk he’s growing deeply bored of...
Even Marls leaves at some point, along with Lottie and a few other who straggled behind for various reasons.
The theatre is blissfully quiet and empty now – just as Fab wishes it could always be, not only post-rehearsals.
He makes his way to the middle of the stage and looks out over the rows of seats in Hogwarts’ quasi-amphitheatre. You can’t see it from here but he must be-
A stair creaking announces him of his target and he feels a slower, honey-tasting smile stretch over his lips. His heart beats a little faster and he runs a hand through his soft ginger hair – gods above, it’s getting long enough for a haircut – while quietly scolding himself.
It's both the most vitalising and humbling experience possible, waiting on the stage for Frank to finally descend, when it’s just the two of them. From his spot on the stage, Fab wouldn’t usually be able to look him straight in the eye if the lights were on.
But now, when everything in all closed down and there’s nothing distracting him, he can take everything in – Frank's shaggy black waves, his crimson jumper, the faint smattering of freckles across his neck and that one downright tempting mole just under his left eye. The helix piercing he got last month because of a dare, the washed out black baggy jeans and matching beaten up converse. The bag slung over one shoulder, from where both a tie and his boxing gloves hang from. His always slightly mischievous look, as if you both know he hasn’t and couldn’t have done anything wrong but he still likes teasing you. Well, now, teasing Fab specifically as he walks slowly, letting his eyes rake over his boyfriend and sending a sly smile his way.
Gosh, he’s so perfect.
By the time Frank is standing right in front of the amphitheater, they’re both smiling that same fox-like grin, Frank leaning forward and resting his forearms on the edge of the stage.
“Well, hello there, beautiful” he says, head tilted slightly and eyes running up and down, taking in Fab’s stage costume – a billowy shirt and fitted black pants “do you come here often?”
Fabian shrugs as unaffected as he can, face molded into indifference but the corners of his lips twitching. Holding his hands behind his back, he steps forward until he’s watching Frank from above.
“Hello there too and, no, I’m just passing by” he replies, casting a downward glance at his boyfriend.
Frank reaches out, wrapping his fingers gently around Fab’s ankle and he takes it as a sign to sit down. He does so, feet hanging off of the ledge from the knee down and Frank taking a step back to give him enough space to get comfortable, ankle still held loose in his grip.
“Isn’t that just a shame?” he adds, getting close again and placing each of his hands on Fab’s knees, thumb dragging a circle into the side of his left leg.
“Such a shame” Fan mimics, not breaking eye contact. He fails though, especially when Frank smiles that earnest smile that can bring people (Fabian being people) to their knees.
So, really, you can’t blame Fab for sighing, leaning forward, catching Frank’s face in a firm grip and placing a long, soft kiss on his mouth. When he draws back, Frank almost chases after his lips but stops at the last second, cheeks flushed and eyes a little lost.
“Hi baby” Fabian greets, letting his forehead drop against Frank’s and waiting a moment for him to catch his breath. When he does, he flicks his eyes upward, chuckling a bit.
“Hi there” he finally replies, the words quiet on his tongue “wanna get out of ‘ere?”
Fab sighs and gently raises his hands, toying with the hair at the nape of Frank’s neck, curling the messy strands around his fingers multiple times over.
“I’d much rather do that, love, don’t get me wrong” he begins “but I’ve still got to finish cleaning up backstage-“
“I’ll help” Frank replies, running his hand up and down Fab’s calves in an attempt at easing the tension that’s been gathering there all afternoon.
“No, it’s fine, you’ve already waited enough-“ Fab tries but he’s interrupted. Again.
“No no no, you are taking a break” Frank lifts a hand, gesturing to Fab “I’m going to clean up” he points to himself “and then we’ll get out of ‘ere, how does that sound?”
It sounds very, very tempting to Fabian’s ears and soul. Though he doesn’t talk much about it, leading the theatre team has taken a toll on him in the last few months, especially with A levels approaching and Gid knocking some sense into him about how he should figure out what piece he’ll direct the team through as his last, and then mum and dad pestering him about moving into his own space this summer before uni and-
“Ian? You in there?” Frank asks, breaking Fabian out of his daze with the nickname and then smiling “I lost you for a sec, didn’t I?”
“Sorry, I’m just tired, I suppose” he tries to shrug it off but it sounds tense even to his own ears.
Frank hums for a moment, one hand still pressing pleasant circles into Fab’s thigh, the other pulling his phone out of his pocket. He juts a hip out and rests it against Fab’s knee, leaning into him absentmindedly.
After a minute of texting (which Fab gladly ignores thanks to the continuous motion in his leg) Frank finally pockets his phone, turning back to Fab and palnting both hands on his thighs, leaning forward into his space until he’s between Fab’s knees, noses almost touching.
“Here is the plan” he begins in a gentle, quiet voice “I had someone who owed me something and they’re coming to the back in ‘bout half an hour to clear up in your stead. You and I are going somewhere nice so you can relax, got it?”
Fab nods absentmindedly, distracted a little by the proximity.
He can’t really remember how this all started... no, a actually, he can. They’d grown up in the same area of town, sometimes hanging out alongside the usual gaggle of boys in their neighborhood. Gideon had actually been much closer to Frank for quite a few years while Fabian preferred spending time with Hestia and her bunch.
It shouldn’t have happened, really, the time they first kissed. Gid and the others had went downtown to get some more booze for New Year’s a year for a bit, leaving Fab to handle some cocktails he had wanted to prepare for the night. Frank turned up late and ended up helping him out – well, help was a very generous word. He mostly ate the strawberries and lemon slices just to “taste them out”, sitting on the counter and swinging his legs like a kid while Fab concentrated on figuring out recipes when already half-drunk (especially when Frank kept absentmindedly pouring them both vodka shots).
Neither boy was out of the closet at the time. Heck, Fab didn’t even know he liked boys. He was rather alright with his own friends and he didn’t feel attracted to them, right? He had always been the flirty kind, after all, so nothing should’ve changed, right..?
But watching Frank with that eye-squinting smile and strong arms and wild, messy dark hair and eyes dark blue like an ocean and-
Alright, he might’ve been a bit attracted to Frank for quite some time, but internalised homophobia is one heck of an obstacle when you’re trying to understand shit about yourself.
He can’t remember it too well, but one of them made a joke at some point and they were falling all over each other, gasping with laughter for one second. The one after, Fab had slipped, tumbling to the floor and grabbing onto Frank’s arm on the way down, bringing them both in a pile on the kitchen tiles.
Though that only intensified their laughter, after a moment they realized their position. Frank sprawled halfway across Fab, knee slung over his hip and limbs intertwined like thread. Fab had felt his heart pound out of his chest when, instead of backing and howling even louder in laughter like he expected him to, Frank simply tilted his head, studying Fabian’s lips with half-closed eyes as if he was considering something.
“May I?”
Fab doesn’t remember much after, except a punched-out “yes”, closing his eyes and feeling a pair of unfairly soft lips against his own, and rough, callous fingertips gently playing with his hair and-
They didn’t talk about it after, but in the morning they found each other in the kitchen. Alone. Again.
Safe to say, that wasn’t the first nor the last time they found themselves in such… compromising stances, to say the least.
"Got it, love?" Franks asks again, lifting an eyebrow.
Fabian shrugs, though he finds himself worrying his lip between his teeth and Frank exhales gently, looking him in the eyes.
"Fab. Let me do something for my man, alright?" the endearment goes straight through Fabian's defences, leaving him flounding for something to hold onto, because-
Actually, he doesn't have to. Frank has done a nice thing for him, so why not enjoy it?
As he mumbles another little “yes, babe” to present-Frank, who picks him up effortlessly, he can’t help but berate himself for that time he and this boy, whose name he can’t help but smile when he hears, were nothing more than friends with benefits over that one summer, when he was figuring everything out and scared and worried he was being too much and also not enough.
He remembers Frank being there although Fab didn’t let him. Waiting outside school with an umbrella and that damned smile when it rained although Fab kept saying they were nothing more than friends. Holding him as he broke down when his mother called drunk and spewed a bunch of insults after hearing some rumor about one of her sons having a new girl hanging off his arm every week (that was about Gid and not true), and holding him again as he fell asleep at his house and in his bed that night, gently combing through his hair as he made Fab somehow feel safer and more at ease than he had in years.
He wraps his legs around Frank’s middle, leaning back a fraction and studying his face. Noticing his stare, Frank just smiles, pleased.
“Admiring your boyfriend, hm?” he teases.
Fab can’t help but swat lightly at him as Frank laughs, that lovely, lovely sound doing all sorts of somersaults in his tummy.
It had taken a breakdown, a mild intervention from Gid and a night spent over where Frank did nothing but kiss him senseless and whisper in his ear over and over just how gorgeous and ethereal and lovely and unbelievable he was for Fabian to finally admit that they had something more than whatever their summer fling was.
And now, thankfully, they’re here.
With Frank laughing and then yelping when Fab grabs his hair in revenge, almost falling off and stumbling and laughing and Frank trying to kiss him and being unable to stop trying to “swallow his laugh” and Fab being able to stare into his boy’s eyes and know that, though it’s hard to face life right now, he’ll be alright with Frank next to him.
They’ll move in together at the end of the year. They joke about it, but Gid had once told Fab that Frank had always wanted to have him own little family, a safe haven in his far off dreams - what he never had with his emotionally distant mum, cold dad and no siblings. And if it was any other partner Fab had ever had that wished for those things, he’d be running away, heading for the hills.
But if it’s Frank, he’s somehow never scared.
He’s a bit excited, actually. That terrifies him more than anything, but it’s also… liberating.
So yes. Maybe he’s allowed a little break to go downtown and eat spicy food and complain about stupid teachers stupid parents with his boyfriend and drive around with Frank’s hand on his knee and songs belting out from the radio while heading home.
Yeah. Maybe he’s allowed a little break.