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Assistant: Title: Is love a tender thing?
        Author: Anonymous undefined 
        Chapter: 1/2 
        Summary: Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,Too rude, too boisterous, and pr@cks like a thorn.
After weeks of public flirting and intense sexual tension, Kit and Taheen finally gave in to their passion and spent a wild night together. How will it affect their friendship and working relationship? And will they ever be anything more?
        Contents: Chapter 1
    

    


  

  
  
    
    
  
    CHAPTER 1: Kit 
  

  December 2024
 As we join hands like we do every time we exit the theatre, Rachel gets that teasing look about her and tries to bite back a grin, but it’s spreading on her tiny face like wildfire. “What?” I whisper, although I’m pretty sure I know what she’s going to say.  Nothing, she’ll say and then I’ll have to wheedle it out of her. She’s older than me, but she feels a bit like a little sister sometimes.  She shrugs innocently and shakes her head. My eyes roll into my skull of their own accord.  “C’mon,” I say, not really in the mood to play this game, but I’m feeling a bit exposed, hating how transparent I’ve apparently become. It’s like all my years of acting get chucked into the bin when it’s time for me to hide my feelings — for him. “Please just spit it out.”  “Nothing,” she says and then smirks, “just you and Taheen.”  Obviously, I knew that’s where this was going, but I pretend to be oblivious.  She doesn't actually know,  I tell myself. She suspects something happened after he and I went off on our own and then didn’t come out with everyone else last night. Or maybe she’s noticed how awkward I’ve been around him all day, and she’s hoping that I’ll break and confess.  “What about us?” I lower my voice as I can feel his presence behind me. He’s a few paces away though and engrossed in a conversation with Gian and Jasai. I peek a glance at him and try to keep a neutral face as the warmth of his infectious smile washes over me. He’s laughing at something Gian is saying and throws his head back. The movement gives me flashbacks to last night. "Us?”  Rachel echoes my word choice and I groan. “Has he finally made an honest man out of you then?” I shake my head at her. “We’re just friends, Rach. Nothing happened.” She gives me a look that says she knows I’m full of sh@t, but then we’re being guided towards stagedoor and I’m enclosed in a semi-square of fans holding out playbills and posters for us to sign. The security does a great job of making it less chaotic than it could be, and I make my way through greeting people and trying my best to sign everything being handed to me. It’s mostly R+J playbills, which is to be expected, but several fans have brought along Heartstopper posters or copies of the books for me to sign. A few have even brought their self-made fanart, which is always so cool to see, some of them are really good. I would say I can’t draw for sh@t, but then again my drawing of Joe was pretty f@ck@ng spot-on I think, and I did that in less than five minutes.  A few weeks ago, someone gifted me stickers they’d made of me and Taheen with the caption “bro just kiss me”. I’d laughed it off then, stuffing them in my pocket to show him later and knowing he’d also get a kick out of them. It’s been a running joke that literally everyone can tell that Taheen and I have insane chemistry, with people even suggesting that he should’ve been cast as Juliet (no offense to Rachel, of course). I leaned into the joke and pretended like it didn’t bother me that my crush on him was bleeding into the production and that everyone was getting a front row seat to me being down bad while Taheen always kept me at a friendly arm’s length. For the past few months, I pretty much resigned myself to the idea that our banter and flirting, while a ton of fun, was never actually going to go anywhere.  Until last night. Taheen and I had quickly gravitated to each other as the two British guys in the production. From the start, we got on like a house on fire, but those flames ignited into something entirely different, and I found myself constantly seeking his warmth like a home far away from home. The sexual attraction was instant for me when we met at the start of rehearsals. Sue me, okay, I have a type and he checks all my boxes when it comes to looks. Then it didn’t help that he was also incredibly talented, witty, brilliant, and just brimming with a confident energy that can somehow calm me and set my nerves alight at once. Also, he’s like eight years older than me which is the perfect age for me; not too old where it feels kind of creepy, but enough where it feels like he might be able to teach me a thing or two.  But he had a girlfriend at the time, so I had to let go of those fantasies. Besides, I had zero reason to believe that he was anything other than straight. I mean, he was quite flirty. Actors flirt with everyone though, especially in theatre, it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. So, I flirted in return but tried to keep my feelings in check. Or maybe it was me who usually initiated the flirting. Certainly wouldn’t be the first time I shamelessly flirted with a straight guy.  But then a group of us had gone out for dinner after rehearsals one day, and he casually dropped in conversation that Leonardo DiCaprio in Romeo + Juliet had been his bisexual awakening. I think I had done my best to not look surprised or ridiculously pleased by this information.   Relax. He has a girlfriend, I told myself. Not like that had ever stopped me from wanting and imagining and always finding myself sitting next to him and turning up the charm around him.  “Ugh, BASIC!” Gabby had said to him regarding his childhood celeb crush.  “Leo’s so cringe now,” Rachel added. Taheen just laughed and shrugged, his arm casually draped on the booth behind us, emanating heat on my shoulders as I tried to casually lean back into it. “In my defence,” Taheen said to the girls, “I was about 11 years old when I saw it. Also, he was really hot.” His gaze met mine, as it often did when we were in group settings, a spark of something mischievous behind his eyes. “Kit agrees with me. Right, babe?”  Babe? I liked that. I threw him a cheeky smile and squinted. “Didn’t that movie come out in the 1900s? Sorry, darling, that was before my time.” “F@ck off,” he’d said, but he couldn’t help but smile as he shook his head at me. “It came out the year I was born, so obviously I didn’t watch it until many years later. You really haven’t seen it?” I smirked. “Of course I’ve seen it.”  I had actually watched it recently. In preparation for my role, I’d been watching as many depictions of Romeo as I could, studying what others brought to the character, honing in on how I could make it my own while still holding true to Shakespeare’s vision.  “Then you know what I mean about ‘90s Leo.” I shrugged. “I wouldn’t kick him out of bed, but…” I leaned forward on my seat but slanted my body towards him, and propped my right arm up on the table, creating a barrier between us and everyone else — and if the move showed off my biceps a bit, then that was just a bonus. I nervously bit my lower lip and looked into his eyes, deep brown like fertile earth. He leaned towards me like he knew I was about to tell him a dangerous secret. The chatter of the group continued around us, but we may as well have been on different planes of existence. Here, it was only me and him.  “Honestly,” I continued in a whisper, I let my eyes traverse his lips before coming back to meet his gaze. Then I had gently tugged at a strand of his curls, freeing it from behind his ear. “I like my men with dark features.” His eyes widened, his right brow arching up like a question mark. “Yeah?” he breathed out.  “Yeah,” I watched as his tongue parted his lips just slightly, his fingers flexed on his thighs and curled inward like he was holding himself back… from what? I prayed I would find out. His eyebrows furrowed and he opened his mouth as if to say something, before thinking better of it. Maybe it was a weird f@ck@ng thought to have, but I liked to see him like this. His typically easy smile dropped as his lips trembled. He’d always been so nonchalant and carefree, his flirting was bold but friendly, and I could never be certain that he wasn’t just like that with everyone else. But as he shyly looked up at me, and our gazes locked for an infinite moment, it was like I could hear the thoughts he wasn’t letting himself speak aloud. I knew what that look meant. He was affected. He wanted me. Then I did something really bold and maybe a bit stupid — definitely very selfish of me, knowing he was in a relationship.  I leaned into him, wrapping my left arm around his shoulder and threading my fingers through the curls on the back of his head, tracing the goosebumps of his neck with my thumb. Then I put my lips to his ear and whispered, “If I ever get you in my bed, I’ll never want to let you leave.” I felt him tense, and I backed away, mumbling an apology. He excused himself to the bathroom, and I chided myself for being an idiot. When he came back, he sat across from me and integrated himself into the larger group discussion, smiling and laughing as if nothing had happened. But his eyes avoided me for the rest of the night, and I felt like I’d royally f@ck@d up. The next day, he was back to normal with me. I wanted to apologise again, but I got the sense that he wanted to pretend it didn’t happen. He was graciously giving me an out, so I took it. Then, a week later, I found out through Gian that Taheen had broken up with his girlfriend. I won’t pretend that a tiny part of me didn’t burn with hope that the break-up had something to do with me and that now Taheen was free to confess that he wanted me just as bad. Free to open himself up to me and let me take him apart inch by inch.  But that didn’t happen. Our friendship was still full of the same flirty banter and tactile affection as it had always been. But every time, he would flash me his warm easy smile; the smile he wore like a greeting, an introduction. As much as I tried, it was like I couldn’t fluster him, couldn’t get him to look at me in that dark, affected way again. I nearly convinced myself I had imagined it. I had all but given up hope. And then last night happened.  “Kit!” a fan screams at me, when I start to walk away and almost miss their outstretched hand, asking for a signature. My name is being yelled at me from all angles, and I turn to watch Taheen sign a few playbills and think about the way my name sounded when it was his voice moaning in my ear.  F@ck. Let’s not think about that right now. I turn back and smile at the fan as they thank me profusely for stopping and explain that they flew here all the way from Germany just to see the show… to see me. I’ll never get used to hearing things like that.  Daniel and Jasai finish signing a few things and then do their rounds of goodbyes. Usually, most of the cast leaves within a few minutes, and Rachel and I stay a bit longer since there are more fans who are asking us for signatures. There’s no plans tonight to all go out after the show. Everyone’s just kind of doing their own thing. Normally, I’d be eager to just lie in bed and be with my own thoughts for a moment.  But tonight, I have no rush to get back to my lonely bed; an adjective I wouldn’t have used to describe it before I knew how it could feel to fall asleep with him in my arms. When I woke up this morning, shivering and reaching out for him, I found that he had slipped out without saying goodbye. No text. Nothing.  Now that I’ve felt his warmth, it’ll always feel several degrees colder without him, like the shock of stepping out into the frigid air after a scalding hot shower. I perhaps naively assumed I’d be spending my morning with him, but after the sour reveal of his unannounced departure, I numbly followed my routine like any other morning: make my bed, brush my teeth, work out and shower before breakfast. I think I needed the comfort of familiarity so I could pretend everything was fine… normal. I hoped it would stop my brain from spiralling; wondering what I did wrong, what he could be thinking, if I’d totally f@ck@d it somehow. But as I fluffed up my pillow and smoothed out the rumpled bed sheets, as I scraped my tongue with my toothbrush, as I pushed my arm muscles to their limit, and then washed the sweat away in the shower, I couldn’t help but feel like I was inadvertently scrubbing away all evidence that he had been here, that his hungry hands ravaged me bit by bit, that his molten mouth licked every morsel of skin while taking care not to leave any marks. Is that what he wants? To pretend it didn’t happen? We haven’t talked to each other properly today, just a rushed hello with everyone else at the theatre. It seemed like he was making a point of talking to everyone else but me, aside from the moments when we had to engage with each other during the show. The moments when he’s Benvolio, and I’m Romeo, and that’s it.  I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see him. He’s wearing that easy smile and pats my arm, casually saying, “I’m heading home.” “Oh okay,” I itch to pull him in closer or to ask him if he wants to meet up again tonight or tell him to text me at least. But I’m sure he can read the desperation in my eyes.  “See you tomorrow,” he says, and my heart thrashes against its cage.  He goes to walk away, but a fan yells out, “Taheen, can I get a picture of you and Kit?” “Of course,” he responds with a grin.  “You two are so cute!” the fan says. Taheen laughs and wraps his arm around me, then looks at me like he’s in love with me. Like he’s putting on a show.  Maybe he’s a better actor than I am.  My own laugh sounds much too forced in my ear. And when I look at him like I’m in love with him, I realise with a lump in my throat that I’m not acting at all.'
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