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Henry is ready to go home.
He's not going to complain because he's not the one about to play her first recital after her last one ended in a meltdown on stage, but on the tier list of places he'd like to be right now, weaving down the aisle in a crowded auditorium wouldn't rank highly if he wasn't in love with one of the performers. Ideally, he'd be at home laughing about music with said performer, trying to maximize the number of times he can kiss her without overwhelming her.
He shakes his head. Tonight is about Natalie and her performance—he knows she's been stressing about it for weeks now, ever since she signed up at the last minute to participate.
"It'll be fine," she'd laughed to herself, a hysterical edge to her voice. "It'll be great, even! I played my set for Dad and I only messed up once, and I don't even think he noticed!"
"Hey, think of it this way," he said, trying his best to sound reassuring, "even if you do mess up, it's the last day of school, so you won't have to face everyone afterwards. That's loads better than last time!"
In retrospect, maybe not his best work. She'd snorted in response, though, so he hopes it wasn't that bad.
He's about to pick a seat when his phone buzzes from Natalie: 'i forgot my water'
He glances around, trying to figure out the quickest way back to the concessions stand. 'i can get you a bottle,' he's already replying.
Henry slips back through the throng of people toward the back of the auditorium, patting down his pockets for his wallet. He finally locates it as he pushes through the double doors, but fumbles it on the ground in front of him as a body collides with his.
"Oh, sorry," the stranger says, bending down to grab Henry's wallet as Henry realizes in real time that the contents of his wallet—namely, not one, not two, but three different photos of Natalie—have fallen out. He freezes, hand hovering over one of them as Henry makes an apologetic noise.
"No, that was my bad," he laughs. "I'm just in a hurry to get Natalie—my girlfriend, she's performing, actually—water before it starts."
He moves to pick up his wallet himself but the stranger looks at him with wide brown eyes and whispers, "You're... Henry. You're Natalie's Henry." His gaze drops to the photos of Natalie on the floor. In the one closes to him, Natalie's caught mid-laugh, face half-covered by a hand raised to her mouth. The boy stares at it with furrowed brows, looking almost devastated.
Henry blinks at him. "You know Natalie?" he asks, trying to remember if he's ever seen this guy before. Something about him does seem vaguely familiar, though Henry might just be imagining it.
"Yeah," the boy says, a little hoarse. "I'm her brother."
Henry freezes, the statement ringing out between them like the last trailing note of a concert.
He can't help repeating back, "You're—"
"Gabe," he says. "Gabe Goodman."
Henry gapes at him a moment longer, a memory flashing in his mind of Natalie crying on his shoulder a few weeks ago, back when he'd asked her to play for him and she'd admitted she wasn't yet ready because playing made her think of her brother, Gabe.
"I'm going to sound crazy," she'd said, fiddling idly with his hand in her own, "but I need you to listen to the end."
Gabe fidgets with his hands in front of him now, saying, "I know it sounds crazy, but I swear it's true."
"I believe you," Henry admits. "I didn't—I don't think anyone else would know his—your name, otherwise."
Gabe gives a sad smile, picking up the photos of Natalie from the floor and handing them back to Henry slowly. "Yeah. same goes for my world," he says. He pauses, then glances around slowly, an almost desperate gleam in his eyes. "This—which world is this? Are you in mine or am I..."
Henry blinks at him, sliding the photos back into his wallet and putting it away. "Uh," he says dumbly, glancing around like he knows what he's looking for. "How could we tell?" he asks.
Gabe is pulling himself back to his feet in a rush, crossing the hall toward the trophy case across the hall. "If it's yours, there wouldn't be—" he visibly deflates as his gaze lands on an award from what must have been his sophomore year, a plaque with the names of the football team listed, including one Gabriel Goodman. “My world, then," he mutters.
"You must be good at football," Henry blurts out in an attempt to change the topic and make him feel better, only remembering a beat too late what Natalie said about him getting kicked off said team around the time they first met.
Henry winces. Again, not his best work, but in his defense, he wasn't expecting to talk to anyone but his girlfriend and the concessions stand manager tonight.
"It's fun," Gabe says, and his smile doesn't seem forced, but Henry's never going to claim to be an expert on reading the expressions of his girlfriend's not-dead brother from an alternate universe. "I wanted to play the moment I saw a game on TV. Stayed up practicing for try-outs in freshman year ‘til I almost passed out on the field. The team's basically the only reason I had friends that year, though, so I guess it was worth it."
"That's cool. I could never really get into sports," Henry admits, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "Pretty sure Natalie runs a faster mile than I do."
Gabe snorts. "Natalie could probably run a faster mile than both of us," he says. "She said she tried out for track and swim in freshman year but only did swim because it worked better with her piano practice schedule."
"I think she's mentioned that, yeah," Henry says with a laugh. "I think she could do every extracurricular if she had the time."
"I know," Gabe says in mock exasperation, a fond smile tugging at his mouth. "And still, she says she's not a genius. Drives me mad, honestly."
Henry replies, "She never believes me when I say it either."
"Which is why you have to say it," Gabe says, and Henry's not sure if he's giving Henry an instruction or remembering a conversation with Natalie.
Nevertheless, he nods and says, "I'll say it as many times as she needs to hear it to believe it."
Gabe grins at him, and Henry feels like he's passed some sort of test.
"I don't know if it counts since I'm, like, super dead in your world," Gabe says with a self-deprecating laugh, "but if you care about the approval of your girlfriend's brother, you've got it."
Henry lets out a startled laugh. "Thanks, man," he says. "That means a lot."
Gabe snorts. "God, no it doesn't," he says abruptly, seeming to surprise even himself. "I'm a sixteen-year-old mess. No one should ever work for my approval."
"It matters," Henry finds himself insisting without a second thought. "It matters because you two love each other, and that means your opinion's important."
There's a beat of silence as Gabe gapes at him, and Henry briefly questions if it's time to redirect the conversation when he replies, a little breathless, "Now that means a lot." He shakes his head. "Yeah. You’re right. Thanks."
"Just stating the obvious," he says with what he hopes is a casual shrug.
Gabe laughs. "You might not be good at sports, but you're good at that," he says. "I wish I could just—say things, sometimes. Would've gotten me a boyfriend a lot sooner."
"Oh," Henry says, vaguely remembering Natalie mentioning her frustration about Gabe dragging his feet on confessing, "are you together now?"
The grin Gabe gives him in response is downright starry-eyed, and Henry briefly wonders if that's what he looks like when he talks about Natalie. "Yeah," Gabe says. "Took a while, but we got there." Then, after a moment, he adds, "Could you—I don't know if it's weird, but could you tell Nat that?"
Henry is nodding before the request has even finished leaving Gabe's mouth. "I'll tell her anything you want," he promises. "I'll write it down so I don't forget it, even."
"Might be here a while, then," Gabe says, "assuming the weird universe shit lets you stick around that long, at least, but I've got a feeling it would."
He replies, "Natalie did say you were the one who knew all about the alternate universe stuff."
"Nah, I'm just winging it. Sixteen-year-old mess, remember?"
After a moment, Henry shrugs. "If you think I'll be here a while, I think Natalie'll appreciate this more than the water, anyway," Henry points out, "and she goes on last, anyway."
Gabe beams. "I'll walk you to the water station," he says, tugging on the string of his hoodie. "Anyway, could you tell her..."