close enough to break - [MLM]

1 ~ first day

[ A/N - told yall I'd write yaoi]

The band room smells and sounds the same as it always does at Astoria High School. Old carpet, cold metal stands, and the sound of kids warming up their instruments.

Elliot notices it the second he walks in, before his brain has time to catch up. His body remembers every inch of this room, every sound, every note that's ever carried across the air between the rows of instruments.

First day of senior year. Last year in this room.

He heads straight to his seat without thinking. Far left edge of the clarinet section. Same spot as band camp. Same spot where he's always been able to see everything while staying mostly invisible.

And the same problem.

Theo is already there.

He sits at the edge of the flute section, just a few feet away, close enough that Elliot could reach out and touch his stand if he wanted to. Theo leans forward, elbows on his knees, flute resting lightly across his lap. He is talking to someone in front of him, laughing soft and easy, like nothing in the world could reach him. Like he is untouchable.

Elliot had met Theo at band camp this year. He's new, yet popular with everyone, and already known. He's what people would call a "hot nerd".  He moved from the southern part of the state. Ashland, he said. 

Elliot drops his backpack to the floor a little harder than he means to.

Theo glances up.

Their eyes meet.

It is not dramatic. No one else notices. But Elliot feels it in his chest. Theo's smile softens, just a little, like he is glad to see Elliot. Like that's allowed.

Elliot looks away first.

He sits down fast and opens his clarinet case. As the section leader, he always arrives a bit early. He makes sure the music is lined up, the stands are at the right height, chairs pushed back evenly. Control. Order. That is how he keeps the clarinet section running. That is how he keeps himself running.

He checks his reed twice, adjusts his ligature, taps the keys, tests the low notes. He tells himself it is just first day nerves. Nothing more.

He does not look to his left.

Theo shifts slightly in his chair. The sound is small, almost imperceptible, but Elliot hears it anyway. He always hears it.

"You ready for today?" Theo asks.

The voice is quiet. Not for the room. Just for Elliot.

Elliot nods once. "Yeah."

It comes out flat. He hates that it always does. He hates how small it sounds, how controlled, how unreadable. But it isn't enough to hide anything.

Theo hums softly, not offended. "Senior year feels fake."

Elliot swallows hard. His heart races, sudden. He tries to push the thought away. He let out a bitter laugh. "Everything feels fake," he says.

Theo laughs quietly. "That's one way to put it."

The room falls quiet around them. Not awkward. Just full.

More students start filing in. Chairs scrape, a trumpet mouthpiece drops, someone coughs. The band director claps her hands. The room fills with small noises, the kind that Elliot usually tunes out. Usually.

Today, he cannot.

When they tune, Theo's note cuts clean through the noise. Bright, clear, effortless. Elliot hates how easy it is to find, like his ears have been trained to pick him out.

He plays his part, low and steady. He should feel safe there. Should feel grounded. Instead, every note vibrates against his chest in a way that feels too close for comfort.

Theo shifts again, knee brushing Elliot's for half a second.

Elliot's heart races faster.

He freezes.

Theo freezes too.

"Sorry," Theo whispers.

"It's fine," Elliot says too fast.

Theo pulls his leg back, careful now. Faces forward. Does not look at Elliot again.

That should be a relief.

It's not.

They start the first piece. Something familiar. Something easy. Elliot knows it well. He should feel calm, should feel capable as section leader, should feel in control.

Instead, he feels trapped inside his own skin. Every breath feels too loud, every movement feels watched, even when no one is looking. He can feel Theo next to him without seeing him. The heat of him. The space he takes up. The space he leaves.

Elliot misses an entrance.

The director stops the band. "Clarinets," she says, tapping her stand. "Watch your count."

Elliot's face burns. His hands shake slightly as he adjusts his music. Not the music that's wrong. Him.

They start again. He plays it correctly this time, but his focus keeps slipping. Thoughts keep circling back to things he does not want to think about.

How Theo's hair curls even more in humid weather.
How his glasses rest on his nose.
How his jawline is so pronounced.
How long this has been happening since band camp and how much he has been pretending it is nothing.

It's not nothing.

The realization hits him hard in the middle of a long note. His heart races so fast it scares him. He almost drops the sound completely.

This is bad.

He does not get crushes. He doesn't let himself. Especially on guys. He has spent years building walls inside himself, keeping things neat and quiet and controlled. And now, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with a boy who barely speaks to him, everything feels louder than it should.

The piece ends. The room fills with chatter and movement.

Theo turns slightly, hesitating. "Hey," he says. "You okay? You seem tense."

Elliot grips his instrument tighter. Being section leader does not give him permission to melt like this.

"Yeah," he lies. "'m just tired."

Theo studies him for a second. Not in a pushy way. Just like he cares.

"Okay," Theo says softly. "If you need anything, I'm right here."

Something in Elliot snaps a little. He nods sharply and looks away.

Theo turns back to his music.

This is the day it starts, Elliot realizes.

The day pretending stops working.

The day his heart starts racing for reasons he doesn't want to name.

And he has no idea how he is supposed to survive a whole year sitting this close to the boy who makes him feel like this.