Not just misty-eyed, but openly, silently, tears slipping down his cheeks.
Something tightens in my chest. A lump rises in my throat, and when I speak, my voice comes out softer than I expect.
“Oh, Remi… Come here, come on…”
My voice cracks a little, but I don’t care.
I reach out and wrap my arms around his neck, the hug a bit clumsy, but real.
He pulls me instantly, burying his face in my shoulder.
I feel him sigh into my hair, his chin resting lightly on me as his arms hold me close.
His chest rises and falls against mine, slow and heavy, until, gradually, he begins to calm. Only then do I pull back slightly to meet his eyes.
“Better?” I ask softly.
His face is flushed, his eyes still puffy, and he gives me one of his smiles, not the confident, charming kind he flashes so easily, but a smaller, shyer one.
The kind that slips out when he forgets to guard himself.
And somehow, it makes him even more attractive.
Strangely, I feel this sudden, overwhelming urge to protect him. I’ve never felt that with anyone before, and it completely throws me off balance.
These feelings I’m starting to have for him…
I know I don’t have any right to feel them.
“Sorry, Seb… I didn’t expect the play to hit me like that…”
He looks mortified, and before he starts spiralling, I jump in, trying to lighten the mood.
“Well… to be fair, it didn’t just hit you. Look around.”
I tilt my head toward the rest of the audience.
Nearly everyone’s wiping their eyes or sniffling into tissues.
If nothing else, he’s in excellent company.
As soon as he realizes it, our eyes meet, and we both burst out laughing, loud enough to earn a few disapproving glances from those around us.
But the tension has broken, and as the well-deserved curtain call ends, we begin making our way out.
For a second, I worry that after such an emotional evening, Remi might want to call it a night and head home. But he surprises me again: he grabs my hand, keeping me close as we move through the crowd, and I catch a glimpse of his usual confidence returning to his face.
“Come on, Seb,” he says. “I’ve got an idea for dinner. You like Indian food?”
“I love it.”
“Perfect. There’s a curry house nearby with the best chicken tikka in all of London. Tourists haven’t found it yet, so it’s pretty quiet…”
“Lead the way. I’m right behind you!”
I don’t mind one bit letting him take the reins again.
As we walk side by side, I feel myself relax, letting the buzz of the evening settle into something warm and steady.
