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“It’s a school thing, dude.”

Bren made a noise that seemed to imply that wouldn’t have been an issue in Glenbridge, and A.J. had to wonder what school he was remembering.

“There’ll be booze at after-cast,” Yu said.

From the look he caught on Nat’s face, he wasn’t the only one dreading the fact that Morgan was bound to be there too. She’d made a couple of clumsy attempts at pretending like the scene in the changing room hadn’t happened, with poor results. A.J. could only hope she’d be smart enough not to try again after Nat had a couple of drinks in her.

“Go save us seats while we turn back into humans, OK?” Nat asked, wiping a trickle of orange and black sweat from her forehead.

Yu saluted and left Nat beaming at A.J. and Bren.

“I need to get out of this thing,” she grunted.

She turned for the doors, throwing up her hand in a casual wave. “Stay out of the fly gallery, you two.”

A.J. rolled his eyes, though the tips of his ears turned so red the darkened stage must have lit up. They closed the distance between them as the last of their castmates funneled towards the changing rooms.

Bren arriving on the first day of school; Bren standing in the spot where he once daydreamed and played as a child; countless hours spent on stage, learning to make music together. The weight of it all drew something out of A.J. that made him wipe his face with the back of his hand.

“Happy tears?” Bren asked, a note of concern buried in his smile.

A.J. flexed his feet against the scuffed floor. The last note he’d sung had been the last notes he would ever sing on this stage. But he’d done it with the best friends he could ever ask for. And then there was the wonder of a boy standing next to him.

“Sappy tears,” he said, wiping his face again.

Bren pulled him close and A.J.’s head found its spot at the base of his neck. He hiccupped a laugh and buried his face into Bren’s warmth.

“Thank you for loving me enough to put on spandex.”

Heat flushed through him as Bren’s hands slid down his spine and pulled him in.

“Any time, Robolad.”

They stood there in the soft darkness for a while, his head cradled in Bren’s warmth. The scent of his sweat-dampened skin mingling with three years of happy memories beneath the now-darkened stage lights.

If they didn’t pull apart now, they were going to be in trouble.

“Pizza?”

For the first time since A.J. had known him, Bren growled his disapproval at the idea of food.

“People will notice if we’re not there,” A.J. said as Bren’s hands moved lower.

“Let ’em notice.”

“Bren.”

His protest was lost as Bren covered his throat in kisses, and his fingers dove into the roil of Bren’s gingery waves. The stage was dark now, and everyone else would be downstairs. It was just the two of them, pulled so close their heartbeats were inseparable.

Their costumes were so thin.

“OK,” A.J. said, pulling back, his chest heaving. “We need to get out of these things.”

Bren raised an eyebrow, his hands climbing in slow motion to reach the zipper at the base of A.J.’s neck.

“In the dressing room.” He caught the twinkle in Bren’s eye and added, “In separate stalls.”

Bren opened his mouth to grumble but his stomach beat him to it.