The sunlight was already creeping through the curtains when Flynn finally stirred awake. His head throbbed in protest, and he groaned, burying his face deeper into the pillow.
When he cracked one eye open, there was Dylan sitting on the edge of his bed, hair slightly messy, and an unmistakable grin on his face.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Dylan teased, his tone dripping with amusement.
Flynn groaned, rolling onto his back. "Don't start. I feel like I got hit by a bus."
Dylan chuckled. "That's what you get for trying to match my shots last night."
"Shut up," Flynn muttered, his voice raspy. "You were the one who kept handing me glasses. I couldn't say no without sounding boring."
"Ah, so it's my fault now?" Dylan leaned closer, smirking mischievously. "You didn't seem to complain when I told you I'd take care of you, though. Actually, you even said—"
Flynn immediately sat up, his eyes wide. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."
Dylan laughed, raising both hands in mock surrender. "Relax! I'm just joking. But honestly, you're kinda cute when you're drunk. You kept calling my name like you didn't want to let go."
Flynn's ears turned pink. "I did not! Stop making things up!"
"Okay, okay!" Dylan said, still laughing. "But you were clinging to me the whole way home. I almost tripped because of you."
Before Flynn could answer, Lucas called out from the kitchen. "Breakfast's ready!"
"Uncle saves you again," Dylan said with a grin.
By late afternoon, they were on their way to the theater hall, dressed casually but neat. The air buzzed with anticipation as they arrived. The line at the entrance was long — students from different departments and even a few visitors from other schools had come to watch.
"This is crazy," Flynn murmured, looking around at the crowd.
"Of course," Dylan said, adjusting his jacket. "It's the schools main event. Everyone's been talking about it all week."
Flynn leaned forward, eyes fixed on the stage. "Nathan must be nervous as hell right now."
Dylan glanced at him and smiled faintly. "Looks like that idiot's feeling confident. Just hope he doesn't make a mess."
---
The theater backstage buzzed with anticipation. Actors adjusted costumes, shuffled props, whispered lines to themselves, while the faint smell of makeup and paint mingled with the dust of the wooden stage. Nathan's heart pounded in his chest, but amidst the chaos, he forced himself to take deep, steadying breaths. He peeked through the curtain, and the sight of the packed hall made his stomach twist into butterflies. Every seat was taken, every gaze fixed toward the stage, and the tension of expectation made the air almost tangible.
Among the crowd, Nathan's eyes found two familiar figures: Dylan and Flynn, sitting near the front, side by side. The sight of them steadied his nerves more than he expected. Knowing they were watching, knowing they'd come out of their way to be there, gave him a quiet surge of confidence. Still, the pressure of performing for a mixed audience — some from other schools, some from his own — made his palms sweat. Don't mess this up, he thought. Just... breathe and let the lines flow.
As the curtain rose and the opening music swelled, Nathan stepped into the light. The words of Romeo came naturally, carrying the emotion and desperation he'd spent nights practicing. Each line was a heartbeat, each gesture a thread weaving the story for the audience. And all the while, he could feel Dylan and Flynn in the crowd, their reactions subtle but grounding him, reminding him that this wasn't just about the play — it was about being seen, about sharing something he cared about with people who mattered.
Meanwhile, Dylan's attention wavered between the stage and Flynn. Every movement Nathan made, every line he spoke, impressed him, but it was Flynn's quiet focus that captured Dylan's mind completely. The soft glow of the stage reflected in Flynn's eyes, and Dylan couldn't help but notice the way his face relaxed into an expression of awe and admiration. He looks... beautiful when he's fully into something, Dylan thought. And I can't stop staring.
Flynn, on the other hand, was captivated by Nathan's performance. He leaned forward, eyes sharp and unblinking, absorbing every word, every pause, every expression. But even as his attention rested on the stage, he was vaguely aware of Dylan beside him, and the subtle thrum in his chest when Dylan's hand brushed his or when Dylan adjusted his posture to lean closer. There was an unspoken tension, a quiet, simmering feeling neither wanted to acknowledge fully, but both were acutely aware of.
As the story unfolded, Nathan poured himself into Romeo's passion, understanding more than ever the desperation of loving someone you shouldn't, of emotions spiraling beyond control.
Dylan's mind mirrored those same questions, but in a more personal sense: the play reminded him of what he felt for Flynn — dangerous, uncertain, potentially misunderstood. Every glance he stole at Flynn brought the same gnawing question to the forefront of his mind: If I told him now... would it be worth it? Would he feel the same? Or would this end like Romeo and Juliet, tragic and unspoken?
By the final scene, with Juliet lying still, the silence of the theater was almost oppressive. Then the applause broke through, explosive and overwhelming. Students, teachers, and visitors alike rose to their feet. Dylan leaned slightly back, his eyes still fixed on Flynn, who was clapping and beaming with admiration for Nathan's performance. And in that shared look, in the quiet connection amid the crowd's cheer, Dylan felt a fierce, protective impulse — an aching desire to finally express what had been simmering inside him for so long.
Flynn, still processing the play, caught Dylan's gaze for a fleeting moment and felt his own pulse quicken. The unspoken emotions hovering between them seemed heavier now, more impossible to ignore. And though neither spoke, both knew the question remained: When is the right time? And would anyone accept it if it came to light?
As Nathan took his final bow, the audience's applause cascading around them, Dylan felt a quiet, determined resolve building in his chest. He would wait for the right moment — but the longer he watched Flynn, the more urgent it became. Every heartbeat, every small smile, every soft expression of awe on Flynn's face made the thought impossible to push away: this feeling had to be acknowledged, somehow, some day.
After the curtain fell and the actors exited the stage, Dylan and Flynn hurried to meet Nathan backstage, eager to congratulate him. But Dylan's mind remained half on the play, half on Flynn, and the tension between wanting to act and wanting to wait grew with every step. He couldn't stop watching Flynn — couldn't stop imagining the words he wanted to say.
When Nathan finally emerged — sweaty, smiling, and glowing with relief — Flynn was the first to step forward.
"Hey! Congratulations! That was amazing!" Flynn said, genuinely beaming. "You totally owned the stage. Seriously, chills."
Nathan chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Thanks, Flynn. I thought I'd mess up a line, but... I just went with it."
Before Nathan could reply further, Dylan barged in, a mischievous smirk on his face. "Well, well, if it isn't the handsome idiot himself," he teased, nudging Nathan playfully. "Not bad, not bad at all. I mean, for an idiot, your Romeo was... tolerable. Pretty good, actually."
Nathan groaned, throwing his head back. "Ouch! Thanks... I think?"
Flynn's eyes widened, and he stepped closer to Dylan. "Hey! Don't be so harsh, Dylan. He just performed in front of everyone!"
Dylan waved him off casually. "Relax, I'm just giving credit where it's due."
Nathan laughed, shaking his head. "You're impossible, Dylan, but... thanks. Really. I appreciate it."
Flynn shot Dylan a glare. "See? That's why I said don't be harsh. Just... be nice for once."
Dylan leaned closer to Nathan, grinning. "Fine, fine. Handsome idiot, you did an awesome job. Romeo would've been proud."
Nathan chuckled again, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks, I'll take that. And thanks to both of you for coming. Means a lot."
Flynn smiled at Nathan. "No problem. Just make sure tomorrow you watch Jacob and me perform."
Nathan nodded eagerly. "Of course. Wouldn't miss it for the world."
As they left the theater, the night air was cool and quiet. The buzz from the crowd had faded, leaving only the hum of passing cars and the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet.
Flynn walked slightly ahead, hands in his pockets, while Dylan followed a step behind — his gaze never leaving him.
He wanted to say it.
He wanted to tell Flynn everything.
But as he watched the way Flynn laughed softly to himself, the way his shoulders moved with every step, Dylan couldn't bring himself to break the moment.
Some things were better left unsaid — at least for now.
Because maybe love didn't have to be confessed under the spotlight. Maybe it could wait... until the right time.
Still, as they disappeared into the night, Dylan's heart whispered the words he couldn't say aloud...
"Please don't let us end like Romeo and Juliet."