His voice shook, but not from nerves. I could tell by the way his mouth hung open. The way his eyes shone. He was excited. Drawn to the stage. To the home he’d left behind long ago, now returning to it like the prodigal son.
“Turns out Dylan has a contact at the theatre.” I watched as he took a tentative step out past the wings, like he was half expecting the floor to vanish beneath him. “They owed him a favour, so... here we are.”
Iggy spun around, and once again his eyes filled. This time, I didn’t panic. Unlike before, I knew I hadn’t fucked up.
No. I’d given him a gift, expecting nothing in return.
All I wanted was for him to step onto a stage again. It wouldn’t be like before. Not in front of a packed house. It wouldn’t ever be like that again. But he could have this. Could stand where he belonged, centre stage, just for tonight.
“Dance for me.”
He blinked, my words pulling him out of whatever spell he’d been under. “What?”
I joined him on the stage, but instead of moving towards the centre, I veered for the stairs at the side. His eyes followed me as I descended and walked along the front row. Past seat after seat. Until I lowered myself into the one directly in the middle.
“Dance for me,” I repeated, settling back.
I crossed one leg over the other, resting my elbows on the armrests, and looked up at him expectantly.
“I...” He trailed off, gaze dropping to the floor. “I can’t.”
“Yes you can.”
His hands curled into fists at his sides, tension suddenlyradiating off him in waves. A small part of me wondered if I was pushing too far. If I was about to ruin a perfect night. But Iggy needed this. He needed to know he wasn’t broken. Time and time again, he’d done everything he could to convince me that I was fine. That I could still love the things I loved, even if they didn’t look the way I’d imagined.
Now it was my turn.
“You can, Iggy.”
“No.” He snapped his head up, eyes flashing. “I can’t. It won’t be perfect, Bodhi. I can’t dance like them.”
“I don’t want you to dance like them.”
He sucked in a sharp breath and stumbled back a step. His shoulders dropped from where they’d been drawn tight around his ears, and I felt my own chest loosen as I watched the first cracks appear in his defences.
“I want you to dance likeyou.”
The sound that tore from his chest was raw. A heart-wrenching sob. Then another. And another. Iggy collapsed to his knees at centre stage, eyes locked on me. His only witness. An audience of one. The walls he’d built around his first love, the thing he thought he’d lost forever, crumbled all at once.
And for what I suspected was the first time, he let himself grieve.
He buried his face in his hands and sobbed, the sound echoing through the empty theatre, rising into the rafters. His body shook as years of pain finally poured out of him. Pain he’d carried far too long. Pain that had weighed him down until all he had left was exhaustion.
I didn’t know what had ended his dream. I didn’t need to. I just knew whatever it was had hurt. Not only his body, but everything else too.
He needed to let it go.
“Remember what I told you, Iggy,” I said when his cries softened.
They’d dwindled into broken whimpers, and every instinct screamed at me to climb the stage and hold him. But this wasn’t the moment for that. He needed to know he could rise on his own. That he didn’t need a crutch. That he could still stand tall on his own.
Slowly, he lifted his head. His makeup was ruined now. Mascara streaked down his cheeks, eyeshadow smeared. And somehow, he’d never looked more beautiful.
“It doesn’t have to be perfect,” I said softly, holding his gaze. “To be beautiful.”
He exhaled, releasing the last of the tension from his body. Placing his hands on the ground, he pushed himself to his feet and straightened. His eyes were rimmed red, still damp, but he looked calm. Almost tranquil.
“Okay,” he whispered, voice rough from crying. “Okay.”
