oh darling, you enchant me. {mitchie}

[HARRISON KINGLY]

It was not everyday that the quarterback of Winchester's football team went to a dance recital. In fact, as Harrison Kingly walked through the entrance of the theater, gaze flickering around in a kind of nervous curiosity, he realized that he'd never even been in the building before this moment (this was a fact that he decided he would probably not share with Mitchie; he didn't want him to think he was uncultured or anything). He looked down at the flier they'd given him when he'd paid his three dollars to get in, loitering in the aisle until someone told him huffily to "take a seat, sir".

He shuffled into one of the seats towards the front, reading through the pamphlet, raising his eyebrows a little when he realized that the performance was in the genre of hip hop. He had been expecting something along the lines of ballet - he'd seen the leotards before, he'd just assumed.

He settled down, looking around excitedly when the lights went down and the curtains on the stage drew back. Harrison sat straight up in his seat as the dancers came on stage, grinning to himself when he spotted (immediately, of course) Mitchie towards the front. They probably put him there 'cause he was the best.

It didn't take long for Harrison personally to realize that he'd totally been right; the second Mitchie started moving, he was captivated. As a football player, Harrison was more used to laughing at dancers than respecting them, but as an athlete he couldn't deny the fact that Mitchie was good.

A little too good at times, honestly (oh, goodness, those hips, Harrison couldn't look away but he had to distract himself with mental pictures of his grandmother naked to keep the situation under his immediate control).

By the time the recital ended, Harry was very obviously dumbstruck. He sat in his seat, mouth open a little, eyes huge. He grinned a little when Mitchie took his bow, and clapped loudly, hooting a few times despite the looks of disapproval he got from the people sitting around him.

He hopped up from his seat, intent on going around to the back so he'd be there when Mitchie got out.
I mean, he had to congratulate him on a good show, right?
And anyway, he had to let Mitchie know he'd come, just like he'd promised he would.

[MITCHELL PRESSLEY]

Mitchie had never thought that he'd get into hip hop so easily. All the hip-shaking, quick-stepping movements were a far cry from the more traditional dance he was used to. He'd picked it up quite quickly, though, finding that doing routines to Beyonce could be just as fun as listening to her albums were. Now he couldn't put her album on without putting some of those moves he'd learned to use.

He'd been talking about the recital for the class for the last month, with more enthusiasm as it continued to near and he continued to get a better grip of the hip-hop genre. The day was finally here, though, and Mitchie was a ball of nervous energy, hopping around backstage as everyone was still getting ready.

"Child, calm yourself." His dance coach was calling over from where she was busy curling one of the girls' hair, shaking her head and smiling. Mitchie only grinned back, twirling lightly over to the costumes again, plucking his off the rack.

He was barely able to get on the cool nike kicks he'd purchased just for this occasion before the stage manager was calling five minutes to curtain. Mitchie picked his pace up immediately, lacing the shoes like no one's business and hopping up out of the chair he'd been set up in. Giving a few anxious hugs to the girls, he rocked back and forth on his feet listening to the auditorium fill up, wondering who, out of the people he'd invited, would show up.

That thought went out of his head, though, when the opening music began to play and his mind focused solely on carrying him out onto stage and moving him along to the beat of Thinking About You. Every move felt better than the last, and Mitchie honestly didn't want the performance to end. He could've spent his life there moving to that one simple beat. But the songs came and went and he reluctantly, yet proudly took his bow onstage, smiling from ear to ear.

Once he'd given the girls his final hugs he changed back out of his costume and packed the nike shoes away in the plastic bag he'd brought them in. Blowing a kiss to his girls he turned to head out so he could greet his audience see if anyone had come. He hadn't stepped two feet out from backstage when he spotted Harrison standing nearby. His face immediately lit up, taking a few quick steps over to the boy standing up on his tip toes so he could throw his arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

"You made it!" He chimed, stepping back again to grin up at the boy. "How'd you like it? I thought it'd be more interesting for you than a ballet recital." He was saying itching to hear what Harry thought about it.

[HARRISON KINGLY]

Harry stood in the hall by the door marked "BACKSTAGE", bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, biting the inside of his lip to keep from grinning like a dumbass. He couldn't really help it; he was embarrassingly excited to see Mitchie, to prove to the boy that he wasn't just a dumb jock, that he could attend cultured dance recitals and be cool and shit like that.

And also he just wanted to see his face up close; he only really got to see Mitchie a few times a week, and that was for tutoring. Aside from the occasional moments they saw each other around campus, this would be the first time they'd talk outside of tutoring. And Harry was a little psyched about it.

When Mitchie finally emerged, he brightened visibly (like a puppy), and grinned, shrugging his shoulders as the other trotted over. "Yeah," he said, a little embarrassed but immensely pleased. He returned the hug, stomping on the desire to pick Mitchie up and twirl him around or something gay like that, and then shoved his hands into the pockets of his letterman.

"It was awesome," he replied honestly. "You're really good, better than most of the girls. I guess the leotards must be worth it if you're that good at it." He smiled crookedly, rubbing the back of his neck.

[MITCHELL PRESSLEY]

Mitchie didn't know who he'd expected to come to the show, but he knew Harrison wasn't his first guess. It wasn't that they weren't friends. It was just more of the fact the boy didn't usually like to make that fact known. Mitchie figured the other was safe enough in the theater. None of the jerks from the football team that Harry liked to hang around would be caught dead in there.

He found himself extremely glad to see Harrison outside of tutoring. They hardly got to talk about anything other than Calculus. This was partly because the two didn't have much to share in common. Except for, well, one thing... But Mitchie decided to leave that alone. At least for now. He was content just to beam up at the other as Harrison commented generously on the performance.

"Oh, Harrison, that's too sweet of you." He blushed a bit, especially at the mention of that leotard Harrison had caught sight of back at his dorm. He wasn't sure why it made such a difference because everyone else who entered his dorm saw the article lying in all kinds of places. But it was just... It was just Harry.

Leading Harry off from backstage he started heading towards the exit, pushing through some of the crowd that was filtering out, making sure he had a good grip on Harry's arm to keep them from separating. Once outside, he pulled his scarf tighter around his neck, glancing up to Harrison again, smiling lightly to himself,

"Surprised you could make it. What with your busy schedule, being the big man on campus you are." Mitchie teased lightly, nudging Harry in the side.

[HARRISON KINGLY]

Harry shrugged again in his awkwardly pleased sort of way, smiling crooked and scuffing the bottom of his shoe lightly against the floor. He really needed to work on hiding his feelings; he was acting like a lovestruck thirteen year old girl right now. So not hetero.

But he didn't currently mind all that much because it was just the two of them, and Mitchie looked freakin' excited to see him, which was awesome and unexpected and left Harrison with gay ass butterflies in his gut.

He followed Mitchie out, shrugging his shoulders up against the cold and watching the smaller boy bundle himself up. He grinned. "Yeah, yeah," he said. "You're lucky I could pencil you in between: class - " He held up one finger. "And practice." Another finger. "It's a miracle I can find time." He slid his hand back into his pocket and glanced around the parking lot. "So uh - " He cleared his throat.

"What're you doin' right now?"

No homo.
Maybealittle.

[MITCHELL PRESSLEY]

Mitchie bit into his lip quietly, watching Harrison list out the things he had to balance into his schedule along with Mitchie's performance. Only two things. Mitchie'd expected more, for some reason, although he wasn't sure what. It wasn't like Harry would be out with tons of chicks- not that he couldn't be if he wanted to...

"Well, however little trouble it really took, I still really appreciate you coming." He nodded up to Harry honestly, brushing a hair or two off his forehead. "We'll have to figure out that extra credit at some point." Mitchie grinned, not sure where the two were headed as they walked, but he knew he didn't want to say goodbye to Harry yet and head back to sit alone his dorm.

Shrugging a bit in thought he glanced back up to Harry, tilting his head to get a better look at him,

"I don't know. I don't have anywhere in particular to be right now, so if you don't either maybe we could just...talk a while. If you want." Mitchie added the last part quickly, not wanting to sound too...needy or...clingy maybe.

[HARRISON KINGLY]

Harry was a popular guy; I mean, it was sort of unavoidable, considering his place on the team and the fact that he'd been scouted more than once to be an underwear model (and refused both times because oh god would his dad flip if he heard about that). But as far as the amount of time he actually spent socializing with people... it was pretty much limited to the weekends. The guys on the team dragged him out on week nights sometimes, but they mostly understood that he was a man who enjoyed the simpler things in life. Playing Modern Warfare and eating mac 'n cheese was just as much of a good time as going out and getting hammered or surrounding himself with beautiful - and more often than that, willing - college girls.

...Scratch that, it was usually a better time.

He laughed a little, half pleased and half embarrassed. "Well, I said I'd come," he said, nudging the other boy with his elbow a little. "And I figured I gave you enough crap about the leotards that I should at least come and see what it was all about."

Harry tried not to let on how eager he was to stay and talk a while - it felt good to be away from the team, to feel safe and normal in his own skin - but he did nod vigorously at the suggestion. "Yeah, that's cool, I mean, I don't gotta' be anywhere or anything," he replied. He nodded over to a bench situated by the edge of the parking lot. "Wanna sit?"

[MITCHELL PRESSLEY]

It was true. Harrison had given him crap about the leotard. A lot of people did, though. For some reason, when it had been Harrison, though, it made a lot more of a difference. Mitchie was used to brushing off stupid comments about him being involved in ballet, about how many scarves he owned- other "fag" related comments. It was a lot harder to brush it off when it was Harry, though. Why was that. He knew now that the comments weren't really hateful, more a mechanism to cope with unwanted feelings the other boy had. Even before he'd found this out, though, a rude comment from Harrison was a bona-fide day-ruiner.

Mitchie perked the slightest bit when Harrison agreed to stay and talk. Biting back the grin that wanted to break onto his face he glanced over to the bench nodding almost as vigorously as Harrison had.

The boy took a moment to glance around when he sat, as if Harrison's team mates were just going to appear out of thin air and ruin this. That thankfully didn't happen and Mitchie happily settled back on the bench, watching Harrison as the boy sat down next to him.

"So, how've you been?" Mitchie asked curiously. The question was a lot more weighted than it sounded, the undertone being that of 'how've you been handling the closet- what do I need to do to pull you out?'

[HARRISON KINGLY]

Harrison sat heavily, hunching slightly forward like he was ready to spring up again at any notice. He was nervous, admittedly, but in an excited sort of way; his foot bounced against the concrete beneath it and he looked over at Mitchie with a slow shy smile because he couldn't help it. Mitchie just sort of did things like that to him; turned him into more of an idiot than he already was, basically.

Ah, well.

He shrugged at the question, the honest smile turning a shade more plastic as he caught the subtext. He glanced away, embarrassed, recalling the drunken phone call and his stupid little... confession... rant... accusation.
Ugh.
He ran a hand through his hair, disturbed by the memory as any respectable heterosexual male would be.

"I've been okay." He settled on that; it was appropriately vague and answered none of Mitchie's unspoken questions. "I'm pretty sure we're gonna' win our next game, so..." He glanced over a the other boy as if to see if he had successfully diverted the situation or not. "So, y'know, that's good I guess."

He cleared his throat, inwardly berating himself for sounding like such an obvious dumb ass. Smart boys like Mitchie were not interested in stupid things like football games.

Harry just didn't know what else to talk about.

[MITCHELL PRESSLEY]

Mitchie watched Harrison's leg jump up and down in that nervous, thoughtful way it did, noticing it from some of their tutoring sessions as well. Whenever they got to the tougher sections, Harrison's leg liked to started bouncing.

Glancing back up into Harry's face as he began to answer the question, he saw the guarded way the boy smiled. He should've known it wouldn't be so easy to get anything out of him. It was a particularly tough subject to dwell on, especially when it could be avoided. But no it couldn't. Mitchie didn't want to force the thoughts on Harrison, he didn't want to force him to admit it all to himself at once and be okay with it just like that. He knew that was impossible, especially for a guy in Harrison's position.

Mitchie just wanted, ...he didn't know, to help him somehow. He wanted to help make things okay for Harrison. He just didn't know how.

"Okay." He repeated, nodding slowly, eyes settling cautiously on Harry's as if trying to find the real answers to his layered question. "I'm sure you guys will do great." Mitchie agreed, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He didn't want Harrison to feel so uncomfortable around him all the time.

"I, uhm, ...was wondering if you'd.. thought anymore about what you said on the phone that night..." He eased the conversation onto the path he was wanting to take it, not sure if it was too much to start with. Should he have gone more subtle?

[HARRISON KINGLY]

Harry found himself becoming less and less comfortable as the conversation progressed; his hands clenched into tight nervous fists in the safety of his coat pockets and his face hardened into a troubled frown which he directed towards the pavement (rather than Mitchie - never at Mitchie). This was honestly the last possible thing he wanted to talk about, especially with Mitchie. Not only did it involve an embarrassing attraction to the dancer in question but...

Mitchie had a boyfriend anyway, and somehow this one piece of information just kept circling through Harrison's head, seeping like poison into his thoughts and twisting them around into something ugly. And hurt.

He shrugged his shoulders sharply and there was a certain violence to the motion that wasn't usually present. He didn't look at Mitchie.
"No," he said abruptly. His lip curled a little over his top row of teeth; he wondered who it was he was really sneering at, Mitchie or himself.

"I was drunk that night," he added gruffly as an explanation. "It was stupid." Well, it certainly seemed stupid now.

At the time...
Well, he might have had a little hope but he realized the stupidity of that pretty fucking quickly.

[/size]

[MITCHELL PRESSLEY]

Mitchie immediately felt as if he'd said the wrong thing. Maybe he should've just left it alone. It was Harrison's business not his. What right did he have prying into the poor guy's life? Harrison had been drunk, so it wasn't as if he'd actually purposely told Mitchie. He probably hadn't wanted him to know at all. Mitchie just felt a sort of responsibility to Harry. He'd been through this too years back, and maybe he could really help Harry...if the boy ever truly wanted that.

Eyes trailing across the parking lot silently as he listened to Harrison claim that the confession had been stupid, he frowned.

"It wasn't stupid, Harry. Feelings aren't stupid. They're important. And...and if you ignore them they can really start to become difficult to handle. You can't...you can't just push the truth away." He was rambling, eyes trying to find Harry's and hold them to get his point across.

"You might have been drunk, but it doesn't mean the feelings are any less valid. I'm not saying you have to tell anyone. I'm just saying that you should...try and face it." He said quietly, eyes moving down to his hands which he was fidgeting with in his lap.

Mitchie knew there was more from that night Harry had drunk-dialed him. He just didn't think it was as necessary to bring up...or appropriate given that he had a boyfriend. He really hoped that wasn't one of the reasons Harrison was shutting down on him.

[HARRISON KINGLY]

Harry squinted out across the parking lot, against the bright glowing glare of the sun as it began to dip slowly behind the jagged edges of the campus landscape. His face was tense, his jaw clenched tight and eyes half narrowed. A slow, frustrated anger was building slowly in his gut, churning guiltily at the gentle sincerity of Mitchell's words.

What did the little fairy know about it anyway?

"Shut up," he said suddenly, flatly. He raked his hand through his hair, immediately ashamed of the harsh words he'd just said, already dreading the ones that followed: "You don't know what you're talking about. It's not any of your business anyway." He looked Mitchell in the eye and he was angry. At himself, at Mitchell for being suddenly so fucking important to him, for fucking up his life and leaving him feeling like he'd been cut open, at the whole fucking world.

But mostly he was angry at himself because he just couldn't.

A shout from across the parking lot made him look up suddenly, startled for a brief moment out of his anger. A cold wave of panic flooded him as he saw three of his teammates make their way towards where he and Mitchie sat. Together. He sat up a little straighter, brown eyes flickering.

"Dude Harry what the hell are you doing over here?"
"At the fuckin' art center?"
"I'm surprised you even knew where it was."
"Who the fuck is this fag?"

Harry looked for a second like a deer in the headlights, his mouth opening a little before he glanced with slow dread at Mitchell. He stood like he was on autopilot, putting space between himself and the small dancer and saying dully, "He's my tutor."

"Gayyy."
"Looks like a fairy."
"Whatever, Harry, we're hitting the gym. You coming?" Three pairs of eyes on him, stupid and ignorant but they had such a terrible unquestionable influence over him. He nodded his head, mutely. He didn't say anything in defense of Mitchie. He didn't even look at him as he started to walk away a step or two behind his friends.

His friends.

He was so weak.

[MITCHELL PRESSLEY]

This tactic obviously wasn't work, but Mitchie didn't know how to veer away from the issue now. Harrison already seemed thoroughly pissed at him for bringing the matter to attention... but it was probably more than that too. Mitchie closed his mouth promptly when Harrison barked for him to shut up, swallowing the knot in his throat. "Okay, I know it's not the first thing you want to-" He tried again, shutting up again when Harrison spat the next comment at him.

Letting his eyes slip from Harry to his hands, he tried to think of any way to make this better. He wished he hadn't brought it up at all. They were getting along fine before, and then he had to go and bring up the last thing in the world Harry wanted to think about.

His eyes shot back up, this time searching across the parking lot when he heard the shout. His stomach immediately dropped as he realized it was the guys from the football team. No, God. Anyone but them.

Those boys were Mitchie's nightmare. The way they strutted around throwing around slurs at him like the fact he was gay was hilarious. It made him sick.

He turned his head back to look at Harrison again, fearing for what the boy's "friends" who think of him here with a fag. Wincing a bit at the first jab from the boys, he turned his eyes indignantly up to them, glaring them down. The glare weakened visibly when he heard Harry's flat reply.

He has to say that to them, Mitchie. They'd never accept the truth. He reminded himself, keeping his chin up, and biting into his bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

Watching Harry get up after them, he blinked intently. No, Mitchie. Don't you dare let these assholes see you cry. He urged, although his eyes continued to well up.

"S-see you for tutoring, then." He was able to choke out, voice breaking the slightest bit. Getting back up from the bench he started to head away from the boys, although his car was in the direction they were going. He'd come back for the car later, he just needed to find somewhere out of sight before people saw these nasty tears dripping down his cheeks.