Limerence (Famous Young Things): Chapter 41

3 months later – Opening Night “

can think of one way to make you relax,” Nico says, smirking. He glances at the small bathroom. “We’ll lock the door, I’ll go to my knees and suck all those nerves right out through your dick.”

I groan with want. He’s not wrong, it would relax me. Plus, I want him—I always do—but we’ve got exactly twelve minutes until curtain up and I’m sure it would take me most of that to get out of this fucking costume. He’s leaning leisurely by the door, one foot pressed against the wall behind him as he scrolls his phone. He looks entirely too relaxed for opening night of a show he’s the lead in, that we’re both the lead in. It’s freaking me the fuck out.

I get out of my chair and cross the room to where he is, twisting the lock on the dressing room door as I press my body into him. His own costume is more of a short toga-style one-piece, rich cream against the latte tone of his skin. His legs are in flesh-coloured tights and sandals made of brown silk. My Patroclus in the flesh. I lean my head up to capture his mouth in a deep kiss, rough at first before I transition into something tender and soft.

“What if I fuck up?” I ask against his lips.

“You won’t,” he whispers against my mouth, dark eyes closed in bliss. “You could do this role in your sleep. Actually, you do—I’ve got the bruise on my calf to prove it.”

“What if the reviews are terrible and people hate the show?” He’s chasing my mouth with his lips now, capturing it with a soft kiss before he says, “That’s Ben and Julien’s problem. No one will blame you for that.”

I make a noise of disagreement and turn my head so he can kiss the side of my neck “I won’t let them,” he growls softly.

My chest warms. He wouldn’t, I know that.

My big, beautiful protector. My fucking rock.

The board may have been the ones who voted me back in, but Nico was the one who’d gotten me here, to this moment, to opening night. It was him who’d gotten me up every morning at 4:45am with a kiss—sometimes more— a protein shake, and the words: Let’s do this, princess.

And we had.

We’d done it, together. And now we were about to stream the first queer ballet by one of the major ballet companies to 43 countries and a sold-out theatre of over two thousand people. People that included my father, Miranda, and Christian. He’d flown in from Washington for this. Just to support me. By contrast, my father was here because it would look terrible if he wasn’t. We hadn’t spoken since the day he hit me, and I had no intention of changing that. There’s a knock on the door.

“Ten minutes until curtain!”

I pull back. “So, about this Italy trip.”

“It’s booked, all done. I told you not to worry about it.” He kisses the tip of my nose.

“And your dad?”

He glances at a point over my head. “Do we really have to do this now? I have to go meet my death in like nine and a half minutes.” He pulls my body tight against his so that our crotches rub together. “Can we do this instead?”

I put some distance between us. “No, we can’t go out there hard, you nutcase. Plus, I’m trying to take my mind off what I need to go do for the next two and a half hours.”

“It’s still on the itinerary, yeah. I’m not going to back out, I promise.”

I didn’t think he would. He was excited about me meeting his sister, about coming out to her, but his father was something else. I wasn’t pushing him to do it, and if his dad was anything like mine then I’d be happy to never meet the guy. But I knew this was important to him. He wanted no more secrets with his family. He was going to tell them everything, and I would be by his side when he did it.

I run my finger down the exposed part of his glittering chest. “Okay, okay.”

“And we’ll do the other thing at the aftershow, yes?”

That had been the deal. Get to opening night and then tell the rest of the cast we were together. I suspect many of them already know; anyone who was paying attention at least. Ben knew, but he wasn’t about to announce it, not least since he wasn’t over the moon about it. Things were still not quite back to how they used to be between us, but my behaviour had been exemplary since March and he was warming to me again, I could feel it.

Tonight, I wouldn’t let him down.

“Yeah, after. Like we planned.” I nod.

The plan was to walk in hand in hand to applause and then kiss each other’s faces off. We’d both agreed it was the simplest way to announce it.

“Okay, let’s do this then,” he says, stepping back from me. The loss of his body heat is always unpleasant, but this time it comes with a stir of nerves. I have to walk onto the stage and watch him die again. It’s a beautiful opening, but it always unsettles me. Over the months we’d become two men falling in love, we’d also become a pair of ill-fated soulmates torn apart in this world only to meet in the next.

I never wanted to lose Nico. Not in this life or the next.

I love him, I trust him, and my life is immeasurably better with him in it. I just need to find the right time to fucking tell him that. I’m hoping he already knows.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he says, appraising me. “Your eyes… the gold. It’s stunning.”

Nico is the only person on Earth capable of making me feel anything close to shyness. It’s like a superpower he doesn’t even know he has.

“You look fucking terrible,” I lie, badly. His hair is curled and sleek and dark. Eyes rimmed in liner and skin glittering gold.

He grins and bends his head to kiss me one last time. “Okay, see you out there, princess.” When he reaches behind him to unlock the door, his eyes go from lust-filled to tender. “You’ve got this.”

Because I’ve got you.

“I know.” I nod. “See you out there.”



Behind the curtain, the sound of the crowd is a murmur, the sea before a storm. He’s next to me in the half-light of the wings, watching me raptly.

Nico.

Patroclus.

He smiles—eyes and mouth fond.

It’s hard to imagine there was a time when that smile burned with anything else—though recently I’ve spent a lot of time replaying our teenage years. He’d never been cruel or hateful. That had been me. Always me. He’d been going through unimaginable treatment at the hands of someone who was supposed to nurture him, and still he’d been kind to me. I’d made him my enemy without any real cause, I’d felt him like a shadow, but really, he’d been more of a watchful angel.

But I’ve also realised that this rivalry is part of our story, it’s part of who we are and who we’ve become. We wouldn’t be the dancers we were, or the men we were, without each other. That meant so much. He was woven around my life in ballet, and these months, rehearsals bleeding into late nights and early mornings, we’d slowly, wordlessly, woven around each other’s lives outside, too. Knocked right through the walls I’d built against those false notions of competition. He’d seen the cracks in my armour I’d been so desperate to convince him didn’t exist, and still he watched me with awe and surprise. He took everything I was, everything I thought I was, and showed me how easy it was to be with me. We were a team now. A pair. And everything was easier to carry when he was next to me.

Now, I can’t imagine a world without him. Without us in it.

But for this opening number, I’d have to.

“Ready?” he says, his voice low and steady, though his hand trembles as it brushes mine. He doesn’t look at the others adjusting their costumes around us. Just me. Always me.

I nod because I can’t speak. Not now with this crushing weight in my chest that’s half terror, half love. My whole life has been leading to this moment—this performance, yes, but more than that, us. Marcus’s overture swells. The lights fade. He steps onto the stage first, and I follow, as I always have.

The audience inhales as one when they see us. Two figures, rivals off stage, opposing and entwined as lovers and soulmates here tonight on this stage. His movements are fluid, graceful as water, while mine are sharp, heavy, purposeful. We circle each other, not yet touching.

Achilles and Patroclus.

Felix and Nico.

Two hours pass in a blur of costumes, dances, interviews for the online stream, and Greek tragedy. I feel alight with adrenaline, that delicious buzz of motion all around that I’d somehow forgotten was part of the live performance. Fuck, I’ve missed this. How had I ever thought I could live without it? I’d die if I couldn’t do this, I know that now. Nico had been right; this is who I am. What I was made for.

The final dance is my favourite; a reprise of the opening, but with added elements including a couple of lifts. I’d never dropped Nico again after that one disastrous day in rehearsal, but I’m nervous every time we do it. It’s a gorgeously choreographed section, one Nico and I had helped create. Which is probably why it’s my favourite. He squeezes my hand reassuringly before we step onto the stage for the final time tonight.

The music changes, softening, and I reach for him. His hand meets mine as we step into the first lift, his body rising easily in my arms. I can feel his heartbeat—wild and alive—through the thin fabric of his tunic. He looks down at me and I see Nico beneath the mask of Patroclus, his dark eyes burning with something that feels too raw for the stage.

When I set him down, we stay close, barely an inch between us. He leans in, his breath ghosting against my ear as we move together, every step a whisper of unspoken words.

I love you. I need you. Don’t leave me.

Our pas de deux is the heart of the ballet, the moment where Achilles and Patroclus are nothing but two souls bound by tragic fate and unspoken love. We dance as if the world is ending and, in a way, it is, because everything I need is on this stage. Nothing beyond it exists.

It’s Nico and it’s ballet: that is my world.

My hands slide down his arms and he folds into me, his body arching backward as I support him. The audience gasps and I wonder if they can feel it too—the love, the devotion, raw and real between us. I lift him again, higher this time, holding him above me as if I can keep him there, out of reach of the gods and their cruelty, but the music shifts, discordant and dark, and he slips from my grasp to land on his knees. He looks up at me, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and I know this is the moment. The break. The fall.

We stagger apart, the space between us stretching wide as the Aegean Sea, and the audience disappears. It’s just him and me, caught in this ancient tragedy we’re retelling. I want to run to him, to hold him, to stop what’s coming, but my feet won’t move.

He collapses, his body crumpling like paper, and my chest shatters. Achilles’ grief becomes mine, and I fall to my knees beside him, cradling his head, whispering his name—Nico, Nico, Nico—as if it will bring him back. The final note fades. Silence. The curtain falls but I don’t let him go. I can’t. Not yet.

When he opens his eyes, he gives me a huge, lopsided smile. “You did it.” He grins. “You fucking did it, beautiful.”

I close my eyes, press my forehead to his, and breathe him in, the smell of sweat and rosin and something indefinably him flooding my nose.

“We did it,” I say.

He pulls me tight against him, arms as strong and sure as they always are, while behind the curtain, the crowd roars their applause.



Miranda comes to the dressing room alone, make-up smudged and eyes glittering with pride. “Darling, that was…” She presses her hand to her heart and, choked up, says, “Absolutely magnificent. You were utterly divine.” She looks at Nico. “You both were, truly. I have no words.”

“Thank you, Miranda.” I put my arms around her, and she squeezes me tightly. “And thank you for coming, it means a lot.”

She nods, wiping a tear from her eye. “I’m so sorry about everything with your father, Felix, I really am. I don’t understand him at all.” I don’t want to talk about him. Not tonight. Not at all.

“Yeah, same. But you don’t have to apologise for him, Miranda, he’s a grown man, so please, don’t.”

“Of course, darling, of course.” She touches a hand to my sweating cheek. “If you ever need anything, please call me. I care very much about you being alright.”

I smile, gratefully. “I appreciate that. I promise I will.”

She leaves, and the second we’re alone again, Nico shoves me against the wall and kisses me stupid. “I want to take you home, strip you naked, and eat your ass until the sun comes up.”

“Christ, we really need to get you a sandwich or something,” I chuckle against his mouth. There’s another knock on the door and Nico bites back a curse and moves away from me to start undressing. Ben pokes his head in this time, smiling at us both as he enters, and closing the door behind him. He’s carrying a huge bouquet of pink, white, and pale grey roses. “I thought a single bouquet was economical and well, rather symbolic.” He gives us a knowing look as he holds them out. Nico gestures at me to take them.

“They’re gorgeous, Ben. Thanks.”

“I hope you both know that what you did out there tonight was… simply spectacular. I’ve never seen anything quite like it, and that’s a testament to everyone involved, but especially to you both, so, thank you. It was better than I ever imagined it could be.”

“Thanks for trusting us with it,” says Nico. He’s half undressed, his chest licked with sweat, and his hair a chaotic, tantalising mess. I want to ride him into next week. I blink and focus on Ben.

“Yeah, it was an honour and a privilege to bring this story to life. Thank you.”

Ben gives me a sentimental smile. He looks at Nico. “Could you let me have a word with Felix privately?”

“Uh, sure. How about I go shower with the radio on. Loud.”

“Thanks,” says Ben.

When the radio starts up behind the closed bathroom door, Ben takes a seat at Nico’s dressing table. I sit down at mine. There are a few awkward moments of silence—Ben and I hadn’t spent any time alone since my misconduct meeting the day I came back. When the conditions of my return were laid out in writing. (Full apology to the entire company, including Charlie—the hardest thing I’ve ever done, I assure you—half pay for the next three months, and an agreement to attend a course in anger management. This was my final and last chance, as in, if I was even a minute late to class again, then I was out. For good.)

So, this feels strange, and a little nerve-wracking. I’m not sure how to act with him in this new normal.

“You were magnificent tonight, Felix. The best you’ve ever danced, truly.”

“Thank you,” I say sincerely. “For trusting me, and for giving me a final chance.”

“Well, you have him to thank for that.” He gestures toward the bathroom.

“I couldn’t have done it without him,” I agree.

“And you wouldn’t be sitting here now if not for him.”

I frown at this. “Yes, I know.” But I don’t think I do, there’s a look on Ben’s face that tells me I’m missing something. Something big. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“He didn’t tell you?” When it’s clear I’ve no clue what he’s talking about he says, “Maybe you should ask Nico about that. I just wanted to tell you that I want us to start afresh; you’ve really put the work in since March and I’m proud of you.” The caring, affectionate way he says it causes something emotional to stir in my chest. Ben is old enough to be my father, and hearing those words from him makes me choke up a little.

“Then I’ll keep trying to make you proud.”

Ben lays a hand on my shoulder and smiles, then stands. When he’s at the door, I call his name.

“What should I ask him? Nico? You said to talk to him about it, but I don’t know what it is I’ve to ask him.”

The radio is still blaring in the bathroom. After some consideration, Ben says, “The day after I dismissed you, he came to see me. Put a very convincing argument about why this show needed you out front, no one else—he was right—and about why I should bring you back.”

“I thought the board voted? Christian said he’d put a strong case forward, that others did too.”

“Oh, he did, so did the duke, and a couple others. But the vote was a tie; it was Nico who swung it for you.” Ben gives me a soft smile. “Anyway, enjoy tonight—you’ve both earned it.”

“That fucker,” I say after Ben closes the door.

When Nico emerges from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his hips and dripping wet, all my righteous indignation evaporates. My entire body fills out with white-hot lust instead. But stronger than that, more powerful than that, is love. Pure, unadulterated, staggering love.

“What did he say? He giving you a raise?” he says, grabbing a second towel and scrubbing at his head with it.

“Why didn’t you tell me you went to see him? That you begged him to give me my spot back.”

His eyes flash with momentary panic and his hand stills. He says, “Because I didn’t.”

“Nico, he just told me—”

“I didn’t beg,” he says, coming to sit down where Ben had been. “If he told you I begged then he’s a liar. Is that what he said?”

“Well, no, he didn’t say ‘beg.’”

“Good, because that never happened.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Well, what did happen?”

He takes a very deep breath and blows it out through his lips. “It was a while ago, I honestly don’t remember all the details, princess.”

“Try.”

He gives me a very crafty look. “I just reminded him how great you were, how the company couldn’t afford to lose you, and how his show didn’t stand a chance unless you were lead.”

“What else?”

His gaze sharpens. “That I’d resign if he didn’t bring you back.”

I stand, speechless, and walk across the dressing room. Then I turn and walk back. “You let me think it was Christian,” I recount. “You let me think he’d convinced the board to let me back in, when it was you.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t know who it was that convinced them, Felix, and it didn’t matter. You were back in—that’s what mattered.”

I can only stare at him. This fucking man. This honourable, kind, considerate, loyal, perfect fucking man.

“How are you even real?”

“Sorry, I’m not following,” he says.

I drop to my knees in front of him. “I don’t know what I did in a previous life to deserve you, Nicoló Savini, fuck knows I haven’t done much right in this one, but I’m going to make sure that from here on out you know how fucking special you are. How much I need you in my life. How much better you make me as a man, as a dancer, as a fucking human. I’m going to make sure you know how much I love you every fucking day for as long as you’ll let me. Will you? Let me?”

Nico stares at me. There’s a droplet of water on the tip of his nose that I want to reach up and lick off with my tongue.

“You love me?” he asks, astonished.

I lick the tip of his nose first before planting my lips on his and kissing him deeply.

“Yes, I love you, and I fucking hate it.”

He gives me the most charming smile and leans in to kiss the tip of my nose. “Oh, I bet you do.” He chuckles. “I love you too, princess, I love you too. Now let’s go tell everyone we’ve ever met.”