Chapter Text
slipped into character so effortlessly, remembering every line with an ease. Each word he spoke felt alive, rich with the spirit of the character. His stance matched the mood of every scene; his sly smile appeared between well-spoken lines like a secret.
Gus Porter had been chosen to oversee the school play — Peter Pan.
And though Gus was proud to have been voted for the role, out of the entire school, it took up far more of his time than he’d ever expected.
Time that Gus dearly wanted for himself.
Still, there was one thing that made it all worthwhile — the lead.
Whoever he was, he slipped into character so effortlessly, remembering every line with ease. Each word he spoke felt alive, rich with the spirit of the character. His stance matched the mood of every scene; his sly smile creeped between well-spoken lines like a secret.
And his eyes –that gorgeous, glinting brown- shone through his character and straight into Gus’s chest with every glance Gus dared to steal.
His hair was a warm shade of brown, gleaming even from the back of the hall. It fell neatly into a bowl cut, parted down the middle, with the faintest glimpse of a small horn peeking through. His eyes were deep brown and soft, comforting like hot cocoa on a brittle winter morning. He was slim —maybe too slim— though his baggy clothes disguised his frame. His profile was sharp and elegant, like a marble statue brought to life; his nose sculpted to perfection, every angle deliberate.
And Titan, was he hot.
“Augustus!”
Gus snapped out of his trance.
“Stop staring at the lead and actually do your work, for Titan’s sake.” Boscha grunted, shoving a clipboard and pen into his lap with no shortage of attitude. Heat rushed to Gus’s cheeks as he realized how long he’d been daydreaming.
“Ah- um... sorry,” he mumbled.
Boscha scoffed, turning away, but before she was out of earshot, she called over her shoulder, “She’s far too pretty for you anyway, Augustus.”
She?
No, that wasn’t right. She. Who? Oh— the other lead. Wendy. Of course.
Gus blinked, snapping his gaze away from Peter Pan and toward the girl standing beside him. Wendy’s actor had pale, almost white skin, with dark freckles scattered like stars across her face. Her hair was a soft shade of purple, and her honey-coloured eyes looked sharp enough to cut glass. She was pretty — Gus could admit that much — but it wasn’t her who had caught his eye.
“Gus?”
Willow waved a hand in front of his face. He didn’t react.
“Hellooo?” Luz slurred, twisting her head into Gus’s line of sight. She and Willow exchanged a quiet, puzzled glance.
“Gus!” Willow finally shouted, grabbing his shoulder.
He jerked back to reality, eyes wide and startled –like a deer caught in headlights.
Apparently, Boscha had once again made someone cry by calling them ‘too fat for their costume’, and Gus was urgently needed in the costume room. Comforting a crying classmate wasn’t exactly Gus’s idea of a good time, but helping others always brought him a small sense of peace –even if, this time, his thoughts kept wandering back to Boscha’s earlier comment.
Why had she assumed he’d been staring at the female lead?
Why did that thought make him uncomfortable?
Why, why, why?
*•⁘«⁐»⁘•*
Mattholomule stood on the stage during rehearsal, completely zoned out. He was bored to death and mostly just wanted it to end. At least it meant being away from home a little longer — maybe he could even pretend rehearsals ran late and delay going back.
“Tholomule, that’s your line,” Bria groaned.
“Obviously,” he huffed, clearing his throat. He struck a pose and started to recite his lines, “And now! You can-”
“Stop!” Eda’s voice cut through the air like a whip.
“I get that you might be nervous,” she began, and Matt immediately spluttered — him? Nervous? “But that’s the wrong line and this is the third time I’ve told you. Take five, honey.”
Mattholomule froze, heart pounding.
“What?” he squeaked, then quickly straightened, plastering on the confident smirk he’d thought he’d retired a year ago — the one he used to wear like armour. He hated how easily it slipped back into place.
“Fine,” he said louder, crossing his arms for good measure before stepping down off the stage. He caught Eda’s sigh as his shoes hit the last step. The floor seemed to sway beneath him. His breath hitched.
Not now, please not now…
His gaze landed on someone across the room — that dark-skinned boy who’d been watching him all rehearsal. He was leant against a wall, focused on the clipboard in his hand, absent-mindedly chewing the end of his pen. Matt wasn’t sure if the boy had actually been staring at him or if it was just paranoia, but either way, his stomach twisted.
Still, it was better than thinking about his panic. Maybe walking over to his ‘stalker’ would help distract him — even if his heart was beating too fast for comfort.
*•⁘«⁐»⁘•*
“Hey.”
The voice was low –too deep to be Willow or Luz, and not nearly snide enough to be Boscha. Gus looked up.
Oh. Oh. It was him.
“Uh- um… hi?” Gus stammered.
The boy chuckled softly. “I’m on break and had no idea what to do,” he said, leaning his shoulder against the wall beside Gus. “But I saw you here on your own and thought… maybe I’d join you?” His voice was confident, though Gus could detect a trace of hesitation beneath it.
“Oh! That’s fine!” Gus blurted out, maybe a little too quickly. His grin gave him away, but the lead didn’t seem to mind — his eyes warmed in response.
“Hi,” Gus added again, and immediately regretted it.
They both tried to stifle their laughter but failed miserably. It started with a snicker, then spilled into a full, easy laugh that melted the awkwardness between them.
As the laughter faded, the lead turned to him again. “Hi,” he repeated, voice soft and calm — and Gus thought he could listen to it forever.
Their conversation flowed effortlessly after that — about school, the play, the chaos of rehearsals. It felt oddly natural, like they’d been friends for years. Maybe even best friends.
But all too soon, Eda’s voice rang out from across the hall.
“Mattholomule! Break’s over!”
The boy straightened and smirked. “Seems I’m needed elsewhere,” he said, stepping away. “Talk to you soon, stalker.”
He bowed dramatically, earning a small snort from Gus, before waving and jogging off toward the stage.
Gus stared after him for a moment, then glanced down. His clipboard — the one he could’ve sworn he’d been holding — now rested on the floor beside him.
Mattholomule, he thought as he went to pick it up, so that’s his name.