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When Tobias pulls away, Gabin is shocked back into the moment by the loss of his warmth. By the loss of his hands and his mouth, and the fuzzy feeling Gabin got in his chest as they kissed. The applause is thunderous, but all his tired mind can register is Tobias' smile before he slinks back into the curtains.
The curtain goes down, and Gabin is moved around somehow just in time for the curtain to go up again. They bow, several times, and the entire time Gabin is giddy. He smiles wide; in the back of his mind he realizes this has been the most important performance of his career thus far, but all he can really think about was the weight of Tobias' hands on his waist.
Gabin gets caught up in a whirlwind the moment the curtain goes down again. People are taking photos, shaking hands, bowing, and shouting all sorts of congratulations. The costumer whisks him back to the dressing room and leaves him in just his dance belt and shoes.
The other dancers are already packing up, but Gabin is still moving in a daze. He puts on a shirt, some sweatpants, and packs his bag on autopilot. Did that really just happen? Did Tobias Bell really just kiss him on stage, in front of hundreds of people?
Gabin downs a bottle of water, and all but runs out of the dressing room. He's a man on a mission, on the hunt for this enigmatic man that has wormed his way into Gabin's heart.
But he doesn't find Tobias. Not anywhere onstage, in the audience, in the dressing rooms. Gabin is frozen, standing on the empty stage after searching what felt like the entire theater. Would Tobias really just leave him like that?
The choreographer must have left the theater so quickly for Gabin not to even catch sight of him. Was tonight not as important to him as it was to Gabin? Gabin's chest tightens. He knows he can come on a little strong sometimes, but did he really read this all wrong?
He hopes not. Whatever has been going on between him and Tobias is special, and it's been a long time coming.
The plaza outside the theater is a mess: bottles and plastic wrappers strewn around. There's a straggler though, someone is still sitting on the wet ground looking up at the big screen as if the performance hasn't ended.
"Gabin!" the straggler calls. Of course it would be Genevieve. Gabin sighs, exhausted from the show and his inner emotional turmoil. "Congratulations. That was amazing!"
"Did you see Tobias leave?" Gabin asks bluntly, too tired to make small talk about his performance.
Genevieve smiles at him for a moment, looking a little crazy in the eyes. "Oh! Yes," she snaps back when the words register. "He told me to tell you that he had to go feed his goldfish." She nods, face suddenly serious like she's just delivered a piece of top-secret information.
" Merci, " he replies. Genevieve has gone back to watching the screen, still on a loop of clothing commercials. Gabin backs away slowly, not wanting to startle his boss who seems to have lost a few screws—or whatever the Americans say.
On the bus home, Gabin opens and closes his phone every other minute. No texts, no calls. His thumb hesitates over Tobias' contact, but he reins himself in and stuffs his phone at the bottom of his bag. Tobias doesn't even text him when their rehearsal schedules change, why would he text him now?
When he gets home, Gabin kicks off his boots and makes a beeline for his bed. The combination of the physical exhaustion and emotional stress means he blacks out the moment his head hits his pillow.
Six hours later Gabin falls out of bed when his phone starts blaring. Shuffling around on the ground he manages to turn off the alarm, then shuts off his phone entirely for good measure. He lays back down on the dark wood floor for a minute, before realizing he's caked in dried sweat and a little bit of makeup, and still wearing the clothes he showed up to rehearsal in yesterday.
After a lukewarm shower and a mug of overly sweet coffee Gabin fishes out his phone from the pile of clothes on the floor. There's a message in the company chat that class is pushed back to 10, a missed spam call, and a text from Tobias.
Genevieve said I should text you.
Text him? Genevieve? Did Gabin wake up in a different dimension?
Why should you text me?
The reply comes quick.
She said you were upset that I left early last night.
A pause. Three dots appear, then dissapear.
I had to feed my fish.
I wasn't upset.
It's mostly true. There's a longer pause this time.
Okay.
See you after class. We have to clean the transitions after the third phrase.
Gabin's head is spinning. He pours himself another mug of coffee then puts a thumbs-up on the message. Were his assumptions last night wrong then too? What was going on?
He scrolls up their message chain. Tobias never even replied to his texts from the last two months. The last message from him was a singular "Are you still sick?" that Gabin never even replied to, because by the time Tobias realized Gabin was ever sick he was already feeling better and came into rehearsal the same day.
Suffice to say, this was odd. But Gabin has other things to worry about, like the fact that he's basically forgotten all the choreography from last night. He's usually quick with choreography, but it seems everything that happened after the performance erased all the steps from his memory.
He finishes his coffee and packs up his bag. He might as well get to the theater early and ask around for a recording of last night's performance.
Gabin manages to find someone with a recording of the performance, airdropped into his phone right before class. After the class, Gabin is stuffing things into his bag when there's a commotion by the door of the rehearsal hall. Next thing he knows, a tall figure with floppy brown hair and bright blue headphones is looming over him.
"Hi." Tobias greets. His tone is unusually soft, missing all the tension he tends to carry around. Gabin starts wondering if something is wrong, then immediately starts wondering when he got so familiar with the tones of Tobias' moods. "What are your plans for lunch?"
Lunch? Tobias has never asked him to a meal before. Every time they've shared a meal was because Gabin spotted him alone in some café and bullied his way to his table. Gabin sits there for a moment, a little dumbfounded. There are several members of the company hanging around, obviously trying to listen in, but right now there's nothing in Gabin's mind except absolute confusion.
When he takes too long to answer, Tobias' nose wrinkles. The tightness returns to his voice. "Are you not planning to eat? That's really not good for you, you know. You have to keep your energy up because there's a lot to do for rehearsal later. I texted you about those transitions in the third phrase, but I'm also a little on the fence about all those developpes at the start. They feel a little unbalanced especially when—"
" Tobias, " Gabin all but shouts. There are people watching, and Gabin feels a little shy all of a sudden. Without thinking, he takes Tobias' hand and leads them out to the hall.
They make it to the door of the locker room before Gabin realizes what he's done and lets go of Tobias.
"Are you really not going to eat?" Tobias tries again, the soft tone back. Gabin is seriously starting to think he's been transported to an alternate dimension.
"Euh. I have some apples in my bag," Gabin starts. Tobias mutters something then takes Gabin's hand. What the fuck is going on today?
Tobias drags the dancer to the elevator, and they end up in the theater cafeteria. And they have lunch. And it's nice.
Tobias spends the whole time going through performance notes between bites of potato— and you need to do less turns on that pull in, I don't like how it fits in the music ; then Molly keeps kicking in this weird way so I need to ask if something's wrong with her knee ; I really liked that jeté towards the end but we have to fix that landing . . .
Gabin tries to keep up, chimes in when he can— yes I agree; we don't have a Molly in the company; no, the landing is perfect the problem is the arabesque after . . . And despite the fact Tobias had never invited him to lunch before . . . last night, Gabin tries to convince himself this isn't a date. Clearly this is a—what's the word? A working lunch.
His conclusions from last night must be correct then, if Tobias still won't talk about anything outside of work. Honestly, Gabin doesn't know how it ever could have worked between them anyway. Sure, he loves the way Tobias' hair flies around when he's choreographing, and sure Tobias has basically never worked with anyone else in this company but him, but realistically he knows nothing about Tobias.
He doesn't know Tobias' favorite pastries, what kind of beer he likes, or even if he actually has a goldfish. So Gabin makes a decision: the months of fantasies will remain that—fantasies.
"Gabin? Gabin?" Tobias says. "I've called your name like five times now. Do you want dessert?"
"Euh? Oh? Non, merci. I need to, er—watch my sugar," Gabin replies.
Tobias shrugs, then pulls out a pastry from his bag. It's not even a pastry from the cafeteria, but one from a café outside the theater. "Suit yourself."
Just then, Gabin's phone buzzes on the table. A text from Genevieve: Where the fuck are you? He's confused for a moment, then notices the time. Oh, shit.
"Tobias, we are late for rehearsal," Gabin spits out, hurriedly starting to pack up his tray.
Tobias glances at his watch. "You don't have to rush. I'm running the rehearsal so they can't do anything until I get there."
Gabin sighs. He can't believe this man kissed him on stage. He can't believe he wants this man to kiss him again.
" Oui, but there are dancers waiting for us!"
Tobias just shrugs again, and chews on his pastry while Gabin returns their trays to the counter.
The pair is exactly 46 minutes late, which Tobias kindly lets everyone in the studio know.
"Hi everybody! We're only 46 minutes late." Tobias announces to the room full of bored, and slightly agitated, dancers. Then he sits down at the red piano and puts on his headphones. Gabin follows in and drops his bag, a little sheepish. The other dancers watch him as Tobias settles. Tristan raises an eyebrow from across the studio.
" What happened to you two? " Mishi sidles up to him and asks in French. The younger dancer has taken to Gabin, for whatever reason, and he finds that she's quite enjoyable company.
Gabin shrugs. What did happen to them? " We just had lunch."
" Is that all? Are you boyfriends now? "
" I don't even know. We haven't talked about it. "
" Just you wait, I bet Tobias is an absolute romantic, " she giggles.
Gabin lets out a huff. If only that were true. They chat for a little more but eventually Mishi leaves him alone to let him warm up.
It takes another twenty minutes for rehearsal to actually start, during which time Gabin watches last night's recording thrice and marks the whole piece alone once. As usual, Tobias is right about every correction.
When Tobias finally looks up from whatever he was thinking about, all the dancers freeze.
"Okay, let's get started. Which of you is Molly?" Tobias finally says.
They rehearse for another two hours. It goes as well as it could but eventually Tobias has to let them go—grumbling the whole while—for a break before tonight's performance.
As the dancers file out, Gabin is pulled back by a light hand on his shoulder.
"I'll see you after company call," Tobias says softly and squeezes his bicep.
"Sure. Wish me luck?" Gabin replies.
Tobias takes his hand, and Gabin startles for a moment. When did he get so comfortable with this kind of intimacy? What has been going on today?
" Mérde. " Tobias says.
The dancers have an hour before call-time, but Gabin beelines for the theater itself. He drops his bag at the curtain then politely waits for the custodian to finish mopping the stage.
He waits for the floor to dry entirely, then runs the whole piece by himself twice. Tonight needs to be perfect. Tonight will be perfect, so Tobias would have to stay after the show and not run off the moment the curtain goes down.
Even if last night's events lead to nothing else, Tobias' departure had cut deeper than anything else. The choreographer had promised he'd never leave Gabin again. Gabin had promised he'd never let Tobias down, and he didn't. For once the dancer didn't fuck up something so monumentally important yet the one person he needed most just … left.
When Gabin finally gets dizzy from practicing his á la seconde turns, he makes his way to the dressing room to get ready.
On his dresser there's two protein bars and a paper bag, with a sticky note attached that looks like it was scribbled in a rush.
keep your energy up -t
Gabin smiles, a little giddy. He can't tell if the butterflies from his stomach are from the gift or the nerves. He scarfs down once protein bar and sets aside the other two gifts.
The company call is quick, mostly some quick reminders and one ominous warning about dressing room 8.
There's a familiar hand on his shoulder again. Warm, an echo of that afternoon. But this time when Gabin turns around Tobias' hand drifts to his waist.
The weight of it is jarring, and familiar all the while. In an instant Gabin knows it's a familiarity he wants to hold onto, for as long as he can.
"Tobias," Gabin huffs out, a little breathless. "We should talk."
Tobias' mood shifts ever so slightly. "Is something wrong? This is about the á la secondes, isn't it?"
"No, not at all."
Gabin drags them to a more isolated corner, behind one of the last curtains.
"Why did you leave so quickly last night?"
Tobias scrunches his eyebrows. "I told you, I had to feed my fish. The performance last night ended so late and by the time it finished it was about two hours past his dinnertime. I really don't want my fish to die, Gabin."
"Of course," Gabin huffs out a laugh. "So we are okay, then?"
"Okay? Why wouldn't we be okay?"
"You ran off, Tobias. I thought you left me again."
Toias shifts, his face looking pinched. Suddenly, he presses a soft kiss to Gabin's forehead. "I promised I wouldn't leave you again, didn't I? I usually try to keep the promises I make, it was just an unavoidable circumstance. My fish gets really irritating when I don't feed him on time."
Just as Gabin tries to reply, the theater's chimes come on. For the nth time in the last 12 hours, he's amazed at how this is the same man who kissed him in front of nearly a thousand people.
"Ah, that's me." He shakes out his legs, the familiar nerves of a performance coming back.
Tobias squeezes his hand again. "I'm thinking takeout for dinner?"
Gabin beams at him, gives a quick confirmation and runs onstage to his place. Feet on the X-mark, center stage where Tobias had placed him.
As the curtain goes up and the first notes play, his last thought is that he's really got to buy Tobias an automatic fish feeder.