Snippets [boyxboy and girlxgirl shorts]

France, Baby!

Rating: F for They're in FRANCE!

Pairing: Gay dudes

Based off of: God I love men who do ballet...

Other notes: It's less of a short story and more of an unfinished exposition to a longer story, but I never got any farther with it, so I hope y'all enjoy anyways!

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 I placed my hand on the doorknob and began to shake it furiously. I was practically panting, having sprinted all the way from the subway. In the rain. With only a piece of newspaper to cover my head.

I felt like Janet in the Rocky Horror Picture Show, but this was no cult classic. The only "show" I was in was Carmen at the Théâtre du Châtelet. In Paris, for crying out loud! And I was 20 minutes late, so I couldn't get in.

It felt as if the rain was picking up. Isn't rain in Paris supposed to pass quickly? That's what all of the rainstorms had been like in the months since my arrival. And here we were, 3 weeks from opening night, and I was late for the first time in my life. I began to shiver. I couldn't bring myself to give up and simply go back to my apartment; the rehearsal was 5 hours long. I had barely missed any of it, really.

But the door was locked. Perhaps I should start knocking? I almost giggled at the thought, but as the rain quickened, and my clothes began to stick to my body, I did just that, frantically rapping against the wood.

I felt ridiculous, and completely unprofessional. It wasn't like me at all to be late, I had never been late before (despite the fact that I only played an extra), but my train was delayed. Even the most punctual have to bow down on occasion to shitty luck.

Just as I was about to give up and resign myself to waiting for a smoke break to take someone outside (smokers? In an opera? Trust me, I was just as disgusted) to open the door for me, I heard a clicking noise.

An unlocking noise. And sure enough, the door swung open. I let out a relieved "merci" and stepped inside. The quiet of the hallway was a stark contrast from the constant noise of the rain and cars outside. I took a deep breath, already trying to come up with a reason for my tardiness.

I turned to thank whoever had let me in. It was an Asian guy on the crew. I'd seen him around before, but in that moment, he looked about as close to an angel as anyone I'd ever seen. He spoke before I could say a word. "Intéressant, vous êtes celui qui n'est jamais en retard."

I blanked. I couldn't understand a word he'd said. "P-Pardon, mon français est mauvais..."

He gave me a sympathetic look, and continued the conversation in perfect English. "I said that it was interesting that you came knocking at the back door. You're the one who's never late."

I scratched my head nervously, and smiled. "Well, a delayed subway seems to have robbed me of that title." I quickly tried to think of some physical gesture to show my appreciation, but all I could come up with was a handshake, and that would be too awkward. I settled for a sincere smile. "Thank you. I mean it. I would've been out there in the rain until lunch if it weren't for you."

He grinned back at me. "No you wouldn't have. It would've stopped raining by then."

Before I could reply, he was gone with a nod, disappearing backstage. I felt the kind of warmth in my chest you can only get from a bonding moment with a stranger. I vacantly realized that I hadn't gotten his name, and I felt like an idiot. Perhaps I could ask someone later.

I dumped my wet newspaper in the trash and set out for my dressing room at a brisk pace. When I opened the door, I was flooded with a wave of relief. Everyone was still in there.