theopaints

[theopaints]

JORDAN FISHER as CHRISTIAN in MOULIN ROUGE!

[theopaints]

TEXTING: TEDDY

Théo: happy bday :D have the best day omg

Théo: made you something for your birthday hope its okay and you dont hate it haha but just in case me and el went splits on something else too lol :)

[theopaints]

Keeley was real fiery, and not even because she had red hair. She reminded him of Elodie like that in a way, which he thought was kinda cool. They were both braver than him, actually. More fun and way smarter and wicked good at standing up for themselves as well as him. Théo had never been good at fighting his own battles, he was sort of a coward that way. It made him seem a little stupid, standing there and watching as Keeley fought his battles, this small, weak man that couldn’t even speak up for himself while his 5 foot 3 friend had to step in and do his dirty work for him. She must think he was a total loser. He would bet any money that Lando would agree if he heard about what happened here. 

When she questioned his statement, Théo frowned, searching for an answer. How did you respond to something like that in a way that was honest but didn’t make you sound like a total freaking loser? He figured there probably was no way, considering he was a total freaking loser. 

Shit. 

“Oh, um... I dunno. I guess, maybe, like... It’s not like, your job to stick up for me and stuff...” he flushed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

He smiled sheepishly at her, fumbling for a way to switch up the conversation and steer it away from their encounter with the rude guy. He wasn’t sure Keeley would appreciate him trauma dumping about just how much of a big, stupid loser he was with no friends and no redeemable qualities. She didn’t need to hear about the kids who’d picked on him back at home, or how the best friend he’d ever had was his sister, even though she’d always been surrounded by bright and exciting people who adored her. It was a little pathetic. 

He watched in awe as she called out after the stranger again, a reluctant laugh bubbling in the back of his throat. Keeley was so cool, man. She was brave and unashamed and seemed to fit just right in her skin, perfect and whole, like the Universe had gotten it’s act together with the intention of getting it just right with her. 

He was a little thrown by her next line of question, scarcely aware that he’d reacted to the shove outwardly. Obviously, he’d been slightly taken aback by the man’s lack of manners, but honestly it was nothing he wasn’t used to. He’d spent most of his life being kicked around like a soccer ball, so this wasn’t new to him. But he had been in pain, if only due to the stranger colliding with already bruised skin, the remnants of an injury his dad had given him. 

“What? Oh, no, like... I’m totally fine. I just have, ya know, a bruise...” he said, dumbly. 

He winced at his fairly pathetic assertion, a blush steadily rising up the length of his neck. Keeley was gonna think he was the human personification of a peach. 

“Not, like, from the shove. Just an old bruise. It’s, like, almost totally gone!” 

It didn’t take long before Théo realised where Keeley had disappeared to. Soon enough, there was a flash of white-blonde hair in the corner of her eye and she half-glanced his way to see the worried look on his face and the way he immediately tried to placate the other man.

She kind of knew that Théo wasn’t much of a confrontational person. He was definitely the shyer of the two Moreaus, but Keeley thought that was what happened when you had siblings, especially when you were a twin. It made sense that one was loud and brash, which Elodie covered remarkably well, and one was sweet and shy, like Théo. Keeley was an only child, so it wasn’t like she had any evidence for her theory past her two friends, but she did think she was onto something.

Were Elodie here, Keeley knew that the other girl would waste no time in defending her brother. She wasn’t, however. It was just Keeley, and Keeley didn’t mind manning the helm for this one. Mainly because she was, quite frankly, pissed off that someone thought they could just shove Théo around.

Keeley swung her head around to boggle her eyes at Théo, red hair whipping her face as she did so. Brushing it out of her eyes, she firmly shook her head.

“It was not your fault,” she told Théo. “You were just standing there. What, we’re not allowed to stand in museums now, huh? Huh?”

She directed the last part of her question to the red-faced man who seemed caught between being enraged by Keeley’s brazen nature and giving into Théo’s polite apology. Eventually, it seemed like he had decided on something that fell in between the two, drawing Keeley a glare and reducing her to nothing more than Théo’s girlfriend as he marched off.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, buddy!” Keeley called after him, carrying herself with the demeanour of a scrappy girl who’d grown up in the Bronx all her life, instead of her sad reality. She was nothing more than another little rich girl from Westchester County who’d grown up with money and dinner parties and flights to race tracks all over the world. 

But this guy didn’t need to know that. Plus, she had enough experience in fending off internet trolls on her streaming platform to have helped her develop tougher skin.

She scrunched her face up in displeasure at his retreating form. Still, as much as she’d channelled all the hatred she could muster into her glare, it softened a little when she realised that this guy thought she’d been dating Théo. Had she like, given off that energy?

Not important, she reminded herself, turning back to Théo who seemed to be in awe of the fact that she’d stuck up for him.

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, tilting her head to the side in wonder. She pondered the idea of Théo landing himself in situations that required intervention often. He didn’t seem like the guy who ever got himself into bother but, then again, he was so nice that the not-nice people of the world could see him as an easy target, someone to shove at in a museum just because they could.

“Hey, he didn’t hurt you, did he?” Keeley frowned all of a sudden. “Just… when he pushed by you, you kind of made like a yelping noise. Are you hurt?”

She peered at him worriedly. If Théo had been seriously injured by the guy, the ceramic section was about to heavily resemble Wrestlemania.

[theopaints]

@theomoreau: hey simon this is a really nice photo of you i think haha you look cool and your face is kinda funny in like a nice way not in a rude way obviously i hope that didnt sound rude or anything lol

↳INSTAGRAM: @poseimon uploaded a photo:

was taking photos for jenna’s birthday coming up and kit said the photographer needed a picture too. you can probably tell I wasn’t ready for it!

[theopaints]

@theomoreau liked this post.

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“I give you my heart,

a safe house.

I give you promises other than

milk, honey, liberty.

I assume you will always

be a free man with a dream.

In america.”

- Essex Hemphill

[theopaints]

@theomoreau: you look so happy and that makes me happy :) and keeley says fitz is neat so you must be having a blast

↳INSTAGRAM: @heyelena uploaded a photo:

eat the rich. unless they bring you back souvenirs from their zoom zoom tour!

[theopaints]

@theomoreau: aww wow cute :)

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RARE SIGHT: CALRISSIAN LET HIMSELF BE CUDDLED TODAY. CALRISSIAN NATION WE UP!!!!!!

[theopaints]

Where they fall in love. 

Théo’s head was spinning. Those weren’t the words he’d been planning to use, not by a long shot. Where they kiss, maybe. Where they get up to no good, even. He didn’t know how he’d intended to end that sentence, but love had never been a factor. In Théo’s world, boys didn’t fall in love. It wasn’t in their nature, his father insisted on telling him. Boys weren’t allowed to look at other boys with feelings anything less than platonic, it was disgusting, sinful even. 

Just last summer, on the way home from one of Théo’s games, right before his parents had announced that they were moving to New York, they’d crossed through the local park to walk back to the car. Elodie had stopped to tie her shoelace, the flick of the string against her naked ankle bothering her, Théo and their parents lapsing into an awkward silence. Just a few feet away from them had been a couple sitting on a bench, fingers intertwined as they’d chatted comfortably. They hadn’t been kissing, there’d been no real outward displays of affection past handholding. They hadn’t even been loud. And yet their father had exploded, his hand closing harshly around the fabric of Elodie’s tank top as he’d forced her upright, his twin sister stumbling as her half-tied shoelace unraveled at her feet. He’d roared at her to hurry up, insisting that they needed to get the fuck back to the car and away from these freaks. 

The word had echoed in the back of Théo’s mind, his heart pounding in his chest as his mother walked on silently, Elodie erupting into a fit of rage. She’d frantically apologised to the couple as they’d scurried away, a litany of justified curse words spilling from their lips, before rounding on their father. Théo had simply stared at the gravel path underfoot, stricken and afraid of what might happen when they returned home, of what he might do to Elodie or himself if they spoke out of turn. 

Théo was weak at the knees, unsteady on his feet as the man across from him surged forward to try and brace him against the bookshelf. He needed to get out of there. His chest seemed to be getting tighter by the second, his throat constricting as he gasped for air, the telltale signs of a panic attack making themselves apparent. 

“I don’t– We aren’t...” Théo found himself gasping, his voice catching on the lump forming in his throat. 

He shook his head, stupidly hoping the feeble motion might clear away the intrusive thoughts that had taken grip of him. He didn’t want to think about the boys in that park, nor his father and the endless array of bruises he’d gifted Théo with over the years. He couldn’t think of Lando and the way the other boy made his heart sink in his chest each time he talked about how pretty Cora was. He could only think about now and the humiliation that came with having a panic attack in such a public, open space. Even tucked away in the corner of the store, he still had an audience. What would happen if he broke down crying now, breathing laboured, hands trembling as he lost his grip on reality? 

He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t subject this stranger to the worst parts of him. 

Friends. That’s what the other man had said, moments before Théo had spiralled. He squeezed his eyes shut, dizzying and afraid. New York was a lonely place, he realised. Even with Lando here, with Keeley and Chess and Louis and Elodie. He dreamed of remote French towns, tucked away in the mountains where nobody knew his name, where nobody had dared to give him hope. 

“Are you gay?” Théo blurted out, eyes snapping open as the words ripped from the back of his throat, burning him as they did. 

"Not so much anymore." Jax admitted, sheepishly. "But when I was a little younger than you? Yeah. All the time."

A smile lit up his face as he thought back to the nights he'd spent in the room he shared with his oldest sister, duvet pulled over his head as he thumbed through paperbacks by torchlight. In all honesty, he'd much preferred glossy car magazines to reading real stories. But for a small time, between the pages of old novels were the only places he could meet people like himself. His closest companions, the ones who loved how he loved and felt how he felt, were penned by James Baldwin and Michael Cunningham. Of course, it had been the nineties, and the characters in those books hardly ever ended up happy. But he'd loved them nonetheless.

He passed the coffee cup from hand to hand, suddenly regretting having foregone the paper sleeve, and blushed as he regarded the boy. He didn't know why he'd admitted to enjoying queer fiction. It seemed utterly harmless - but from the way the kid gingerly held the paperback between two fingers to him referring to it as this stuff, he might as well have admitted to reading out and out gay porn.

So why had he said anything at all? He supposed it came down to him being a big old softy, and he couldn't stand seeing the way tears burned hot in the young man's eyes, or the shame that seemed to radiate off of him. Jax knew how that felt, and it one of the worst feelings in the world.

"Where they...?" Jax echoed, "What, fall in love, you mean?"

He offered the boy a tentative smile, hoping for the love of God he wasn't barking up the wrong tree. Everything seemed to be pointing in one direction - the barely concealed tears, the sports illustrated magazine, the way he couldn't so much as string a sentence together - or maybe he was just projecting onto this poor kid who seriously wanted to be left alone.

"Whoa, steady on there." he started, reaching out to clap a hand on the boy's shoulder, trying his best to help balance the blond as he veered backwards into the bookshelf, before promptly letting go. He looked so small, so sad - and Jax felt a pang of sympathy as he wondered just which boy had gone and broken his heart. He hoped beyond hopes it was a boy, the alternative just didn't bear thinking about.

Jax slid two fingers under the collar of Dale Earnhardt shirt - worn and stretched out from too many washes, but blazoned with the unmistakable number three across the back - and gave an anxious tug. He ought to let the kid go, scurry off into the deeper recesses of the bookshop and pretend he hadn't seen a thing. But he was reckoning with the deeper, moral part of himself, the Jax who'd wanted to be a rolemodel for scared, queer kids from all across the world. He'd wanted to climb into the seat of a Formula 1 car and be invincible, and make other people feel invincible too. Instead, he was deeper in the closet than ever.

"What's there to tell?" he shrugged, leaning over to retrieve the abandoned paperback. He tucked it under his arm, planning to try and rehome it later on - for Harlow's sake, if nothing else - and gave the kid a warm smile. "Besides, you're, y'know. Among friends."

Glancing past him, Jax reached out and plucked a paperback at random from the shelf, not sure as to what exactly was going to come loose. He glanced down at the bubblegum pink paperback, decorated cutely with two cartoon men and a vibrant font brandishing the title.

"Here's the book I was after." he stated, holding up Red, White & Royal Blue like a white flag.

[theopaints]

"Oh. I’m so–” Théo balked, realising his error before the words tumbled from his lips. 

Skater Angel had explicitly asked him not to apologise, and there he’d been about to do exactly that. It was like he couldn’t do anything right. If he didn’t apologise enough, his dad reminded him that he was ungrateful and undeserving of the roof over his head, food on the table, and everything else his parents had provided for the twins. If he apologised too much, he’d feel the sharp sting of a slap across his cheek, a reminder that he was weak and needed to man up. He wondered if the boy in front of him thought that, if he’d ever struck somebody on purpose, anger fizzing beneath his skin, instructing his hands to do harm. 

Now seemed as good a time as ever to leave. He’d made enough of a nuisance of himself, so he figured he should just turn around, grab Elodie, and beg her to either go home or find another park to skate in. Théo rarely asked Elodie for much, never wanting to make a fuss, but he always knew she’d deliver when he did. 

Before he could even dream of taking a step back, Skater Angel’s hand was closing around his wrist causing fireworks to erupt in Théo’s chest. He wondered what it would be like if the other boy moved his hand any lower, tangling their fingers together and swinging them sweetly between their bodies. But no. It wouldn’t do to think like that, to dream of something that was so off limits. The mere thought caused his cheeks to flush as he met the other boy’s eye, a shy smile on his lips. 

“Oh. Um... What about your friends?” Théo asked dumbly. 

He had no idea who the other people whizzing past on their boards were, nor what Skater Angel’s association with them was, but he simply assumed the other boy was constantly swarmed with friends and loved ones. Just once glance at him had told Théo enough: He was pretty, doe-eyed, and the exact kind of boy Elodie would’ve brought home if their parents weren’t so strict. Admittedly, he was also the exact kind of boy Théo had dreamed of bringing home, too. And so far, he seemed as nice as he did handsome. Who wouldn’t wanna be his friend? 

“Sure. Yeah, okay. I don’t want you, like, feeling bad or anything,” Théo admitted, deciding he’d much prefer he have his new scrapes tended to than ruin the boy’s day entirely. 

Clearing his throat, he feebly nodded at the other boy, relenting to his touch. Glancing over his shoulder, he shot a look of resignation in Elodie’s direction as he caught sight of his sister. Legs dangling over the edge of a ramp, elbows tucked against her thighs, she had her jaw propped up against her chin as she grinned stupidly in their direction. Aw, heck. He already knew he wasn’t gonna hear the end of this. 

“Oh. Like in the Star Wars?” Théo blinked, flushing an even deeper red. He’d never claimed to be especially smart, but even he understood how completely imbecilic he was sounding right about now. Extending his own arm out, the one not already encircled in Lando’s own, he accepted the handshake.  

There it was. 

A simple handshake, strictly platonic, and he was gone. A boy’s hand in his own, palms pressed together, fingers tightly wound around his own. His heart seemed to clench in his chest, the sensation of something so mundane sending him practically tachycardic. 

“I’m Théo,” he told Lando, his ambiguous accent wrapping sweetly around the pronunciation of his name. It was something that he’d noticed people getting wrong more and more since their move to New York. His heart seemed to stutter in his chest as he quietly hoped and prayed that Lando would get it right. He was sure his name would sound like magic on the other boy’s tongue. 

Lando’s eyes widened curiously at the muttered phrase that fell from the blonde’s lips. Was that French?

“Uh… croissant!” he replied, injecting a little more enthusiasm into his ridiculous microaggression. He knew he had completely butchered the accent and the silly little hand flourish he did was probably a hate crime in France, but he didn’t apologise. He had bigger fish to fry right now. Like realising he kind of thought that French accents were sexy. That was a new one.

He grasped the other boy’s hand tightly and then gave him a solid yank as he pulled him to his feet. Maybe he’d used too much force as the blonde came flying into his chest, crashing into it.

All it did was serve to make Lando let out a bright laugh as the other boy collided with him. He felt the cute blonde’s foot land on top of his and let out an instinctive ‘oof’ of surprise, his forehead creasing at once when he realised that the other boy probably thought he’d taken offense to the small crash. And there it was, the inevitable apology that came spilling from the stranger’s lips. Lando winced, waving his hands quickly as if to dismiss them. Not in like, a rude way. But he didn’t want the other boy to think he’d hurt Lando in any way.

“Dude, it’s okay, it’s okay!” he said quickly, plastering a smile on his face. “No harm, no foul!”

He felt a pair of sturdy hands against his waist and couldn’t ignore the way his heart skipped a beat in his chest. So he liked it when people got a little handsy with him, was that a crime?

He gave his head a shake to flick the hair that had flopped over his face out of his eyes. “Man, you know that you apologise more than like, anyone I’ve ever met?” he grinned. He quickly held up a finger, pressing it against the other boy’s lips. “Whatever you do, don’t even think about apologising for apologising, alright?”

His smile faded when the blonde jumped back and began making excuses to leave. Lando felt his heart sink in his chest and even though he didn’t want the boy to feel like he had to leave, he knew he couldn’t exactly keep him here either. Still, he could sure as hell try, right?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hang on there a second,” he grinned, reaching out to grab the other boy’s wrist.

He swung his free hand around, gesturing to the skate park. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m not exactly drowning in people to talk to right now. And if I get back on my board, I’ll probably just injure someone else. Let me fix you up.” He fixed the full weight of his brown eyes on the other boy in a silent plea. His success rate of the dirty little trick could only be measured against every instance he’d blinked them at his older sister to get what he wanted, but he was batting at one hundred then. Alex always gave into him.

“Please,” he pouted.

“And if you’re worried about me being a total stranger…” He backed up a little and held his hand out properly for the other boy to shake. “I’m Lando. Y’know, like Calrissian?”

[theopaints]

@theomoreau: oh cool haha nice yeah lando really likes hanging out with you lol so thats cool

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i got to spend my lunch break with lando!!! keegan advised against either of us having coffee and said something about a gremlin but we ignored him. my tummy only hurts a little.

[theopaints]

Théo didn’t like confrontation. It made him nervous and uncomfortable, bile rising in the back of his throat any time he thought he might have to politely disagree with someone. Even Elodie, who was headstrong and had a proclivity for jumping into things without thinking – freefalling through life without so much as a parachute to soften the landing – loathed anything that might cause her pain. She avoided confrontation because she loved being happy and excited, negative thoughts thrown to the wayside. The only time he ever heard her raise her voice was when she was arguing with their dad, and that had always been in Théo’s defence rather than her own. Théo avoided confrontation because he liked to be left alone, the weight of his everyday anxieties and pressures from his father enough to imbalance him even on a good day, arguments and disagreements were just an unnecessary obstacle on a path that already seemed laden with lego pieces and bear traps. 

When he’d felt his shoulder jolt from the collision of a total stranger, Théo had opted for shuffling away to the side of the room and ducking his head in shame as he tried to drown out the sounds of irritated New Yorkers. In fact, his primary focus was on slipping three fingers through the button of his shirt as he tried to subtly rub at the mottled, bruised skin against his ribcage, hoping to ease the pain there before Keeley caught on and turned her attention back to him. 

Actually – wait, why wasn’t Keeley beside him? 

Théo frowned, lifting his gaze as his friend’s voice floated across the bustle of the museum, his eyes widening in horror as he realised what was happening. 

Sweet, tiny, fiery Keeley was squaring up to a man at least double her size, all the while gesturing towards Théo like a bright and shiny sign bedazzled with his name all over it, practically reading over there, dumbass. He’s the guy you want. That stupid little idiot in the corner that ruins everything and makes people’s lives harder just by way of his existence.  

Only, Keeley was kinder than that. Though he’d only known her a short while, he knew she’d never draw any negative attention towards him on purpose. In fact, as he strained his ears and took a few, tentative steps closer to her, he realised she was actually defending him. Her raised voice and furrowed brows were in dire contention with her usual cheery disposition, round cheeks no longer rosy from smiling at him, but hot with rage instead. 

“Hey, um, no! Whoa, uh, yeah... It’s, like, totally okay. And actually my fault anyway,” Théo stepped in, raising his hands in front of him, palms outwards to motion his surrender.  

He knew that Keeley meant well, but he didn’t want the angry guy turning on her too. He could glare at the young blond boy all he liked, but this wasn’t Keeley’s fight. In fact, Théo kinda thought it wasn’t anybody’s fight. He was sorta hoping the guy would keep moving and leave Théo to fixate on the brief encounter for the next 72 hours instead. 

Unperturbed by his anxious constitution, the man who’d shouldered him simply rolled his eyes and scoffed in Théo’s direction, muttering something rude about how Théo should keep your damn girlfriend in line, buddy before storming off. Théo hadn’t even had the chance to tell him that Keeley wasn’t his girlfriend, nor was she his to control before he’d disappeared around a corner. But hey, at least they knew not to venture anywhere near the ceramics exhibit for the next fifteen minutes or so. 

“That was... Uh, well, I mean... I don’t know, that was actually like, super rad, Keeley,” Théo found himself mumbling, cheeks flushed as he awarded her a sheepish smile. He hoped she wouldn’t be upset with him for sending the guy on his way, but he really didn’t want some rude stranger to ruin their day out. “I’ve never really had anyone other than, like, Elodie stick up for me like that...” 

“You can’t be clumsier than Lando,” Keeley pointed out with a grin. Instantly, she kind of regretted bringing up their mutual friend, even though he was definitely more of Théo’s friend than Keeley’s. She’d always been a little jealous of how close the two were. If Keeley thought that she was loud, she had nothing on Lando who often bulldozed his way into conversations and commandeered Théo’s attention when she failed to hold onto it.

Bringing him up right now felt like a mistake and she quickly tried to move on.

“I could help you with your balance though,” she offered. “Not even on a beam or anything, but we have trampolines at the gym which helps stabilise a lot of people’s center of gravity.”

She suddenly warmed to the idea of bringing Théo to her work and teaching him everything that she knew. True, she was more accustomed to teaching attentive six-year-olds than cute guys in their twenties, but Théo often wore the same wide-eyed expression as her students. When she talked, he listened, just like the way the kids in her classes hung onto every word she said. Plus, her mind was already conjuring up visions of them bouncing on one of the trampolines together, holding hands and giggling when they tried and failed to execute a trick and only succeeded in falling all over each other.

Hurriedly, she blinked herself out of her mindless daydreaming, focusing on the gallery that they had found themselves in.

She turned to Théo and her heart was fit to burst as soon as she saw the way his face had lit up and the bright smile he wore. All the way through knowing the other boy, she’d never seen him like this. Théo smiled often, sure, but it was always modest and a little contained. Right now, he was beaming and Keeley wanted to do whatever she could to keep it there. Her heart fluttered erratically when she thought about what it would be like to have the full force of that smile directed at her.

Man, she was jealous of an art gallery. That was kind of a new low. Still. It was better than being jealous of Lando.

She felt her own smile widen, like it was threatening to colonise her entire face, when Théo began rambling again. He had no idea how cute it was when he did that, did he?

Still, thanks to some asshole New Yorkers, the smile was wiped clean off of Théo’s face as he was jostled from behind. His hand was ripped from hers and Keeley didn’t miss the little pained noise he made. She frowned, about to ask him if he was hurt, when she heard the low mutterings of one man in particular that had shoved by him, making some smartass holier-than-thou comment about them being tourists.

“Hey!” Keeley snapped irritably. It came flying out of her mouth before she could stop herself, but she stood her ground when the man turned around, an annoyed scowl on his face. 

“You just hurt my friend,” she bristled, feeling not one ounce of anxiety as she stood up for Théo. She’d never had this much nerve a few years ago, but perhaps that was the sort of thing that developed over time when you left home. Or lived with Noah Calloway. The man seemed unmoved by her statement and just scoffed. Immediately, she saw red.

“You can’t just shove people out of the way,” she said, eyes narrowed as she folded her arms across her chest, hoping to look at least a little bit intimidating even if the action did draw attention to the embroidered strawberries on her t-shirt. Not exactly a threatening look. “He’s waiting for an apology so you better hurry up. This place shuts at 5.”

Her entitled attitude and downward fixture of her eyebrows made one thing clear: Keeley was not a tourist. She was a purebred New Yorker waiting for this man to say sorry.

[theopaints]

Keeley’s words seemed to reverberate in the back of Théo’s mind. They’re manly and have wives. It was a small comfort. This assessment meant that his dad was wrong, that you could like fashion and things that were often characterised as ‘feminine’ and still be a strong, heterosexual man. He could use those guys as an example against his father – if he ever found the courage to talk back – and know that their lives reflected a wholly different image to the ones his dad had conjured up. They weren’t ‘flouncing around’, as Mr Moreau so often put it, in hot pants and kissing boys. They went home to their wives and children, lived healthy lives while still remaining passionate about the same things Théo did: Art, fashion and imagination. 

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? They were heterosexual men, they fit into exactly the correct box that Théo’s father, and seemingly Keeley, had envisioned for him. Would it matter to Keeley if there was a chance that he wasn’t straight, if he didn’t dream of a future that involved a wife and kids for himself? Théo had never been described as manly in his life, not once. 

He walked alongside her, hand-in-hand, deep in contemplation as the two of them chatted aimlessly. Keeley was easy to talk to with her enthusiasm and her eagerness to listen, to learn something new about him. She made him feel like the things he had to say actually mattered to somebody. 

“Yeah... I’m like, way too clumsy,” Théo blushed, offering up a small shrug. He thought back to just last week when he’d taken a tumble in one of the batting cages, a quiet Sunday outing with his dad. He’d lost his footing and slipped, knees skidding across the dirt. Grazed knees were a fairly common occurrence in the Moreau household, but Elodie wore hers with pride and a shit-eating grin, while Théo’s teeth bore down on his inner cheek, sinking down on the flesh in an attempt to resist the tears that threatened to fall. 

He didn’t like thinking about that, though. Not when his stomach was currently mottled with red and purple bruises, his knees long-since healed up, an imprint of his father’s knuckles against his ribcage the only inclination there’d even been an incident in the first place.  

He brightened up as they stepped through the doors of the gallery. Absently, his hand fell away from Keeley’s as he turned on the spot, blinking up at the vast expanse of the room they’d entered into. He’d never seen anything like it, and they were barely through the entrance. Glancing at Keeley, he smiled, wide and toothy, cheeks aching from the sheer power of it. He wouldn’t mind explaining as they went, not when he considered how excitable he was sure to get. Théo only hoped it didn’t get annoying. 

“Aw, dude, not even,” he shook his head, eager to reassure her. “Art’s, like, totally subjective anyway. Like, I don’t mind talking about it because it’s so freaking rad and cool and it really makes me think, you know? But at the same time it’s like, I bet you’ll have so many cool thoughts and interesting things to say about what you see because everyone kinda views this stuff diff- Oof –” 

Théo found himself abruptly cut off, shoulders bumping his own as angry voices sounded around him. He stumbled, muttering apologies as other guests tried to push past him, grumbling about idiot tourists and stupid kids as he blocked the doorway, his cheeks burning with the embarrassment. He hissed as a shoulder collided with his injured side, scurrying across to the side so that he could get out of everyone’s way. 

Okay, Keeley wasn’t too proud to admit that she was guilty of fishing for compliments. They kept her ego well-fed and they weren’t exactly hard to come by when you were a freckled redhead with a dainty figure and a semi-significant internet following. Plus, she’d been flirted with by hot dads at the gym when they came to pick their kids up from her classes. 

That being said, she was innocent this time. She hadn’t been baiting Théo into complimenting her when she’d bemoaned all the comments her mom had made about her hair. Truthfully, yeah, she was still a little self-conscious about all the jibes her mom used to throw her way, especially the ones concerning her appearance. It was the reason she often saw herself standing in front of a mirror, second-guessing everything about herself. And it was why she liked that she could post a selfie online and have a bunch of faceless strangers fill up her comment section with encouraging words and flame emojis. This time around though, she’d just been… talking. Sharing things with Théo and not thinking too much about what she was saying.

And he’d complimented her anyway.

She listened intently to him as he talked… and talked and talked. A fond smile made its way onto her face as he rambled on about colour wheels and the like, although she didn’t miss the self-deprecating little comment he made about it being weird that men were into fashion. She didn’t think that was true. Didn’t Corey Lang often have Twitter threads dedicated to his grid outfits when he showed up on track for press days? She’d often found herself admiring his bold choices, often sending screenshots of tweets to Fitz and attaching them to messages that read you wish you had drip like this.

“Why shouldn’t it be manly for guys to be into fashion?” she asked. “Ralph Lauren’s a fashion designer. Tommy Hilfiger too. And they’re manly and have wives and everything.”

She was so focused on reassuring him that his hobbies weren’t to be brushed under the carpet or ignored, that she hadn’t had too much time to really process his compliment. Or the surprising little nickname he’d given her. Confident that she was blushing as pink as her jacket, she ducked her head, a curtain of red hair falling between them as she fought to hide the way she was suddenly grinning like a maniac.

“But thanks, Théo,” she said, softly. “I appreciate that.”

It made her feel dizzy in the best way to know that here she was, holding hands with a cute guy and going on… an outing with him. Not a date, she had to fight to remind herself. But even that little addendum couldn’t dampen her mood, not when said cute guy was laughing at her jokes and choosing to give her a cute nickname and complimenting her without her having to be the one to push for him to do it. Whenever Harrison had complimented her, it had always been because she’d been scraping the bottom of the barrel and bidding farewell to any traces of dignity she had left. She’d be the one to stand in front of him, feeling exposed in all the worst ways, asking if he liked the outfits she’d picked out for him. God, it made her almost nauseous now to think about it and she quickly shook those thoughts away, focusing instead on Théo - and how he was still holding onto her hand even though they were on the other side of the road.

She blinked in response to his question, realising he was asking her something that required an answer. As in, he wanted to know what her reply would be. 

Oh, so he cares about my opinions, she thought to herself in an epiphany that made her want to tap dance like one of the goddamn penguins from Mary Poppins. That’s it, I’m going to marry this man.

Figuratively stepping over the low, low bar she had set, she pondered his answer for a moment. “I think the basic answer is the gymnastics studio. That’s where I teach classes for little ones,” she said. “But then the even more basic answer is Central Park. But specifically this one bit at Belvedere Castle. You get a really good look at the city from up there and during the summer there’s always some sort of street musician there. I saw a proposal once!”

She made a mental note to try and think of some indoor slopes where Elodie could ski. She knew that some of the complexes down by the piers often had a bunch of indoor recreation centers, but her athletic prowess began and ended on a balance beam.

“Skiing is so not my thing either,” she laughed. “But your sister is badass for being so good at it. I think I’m more like you. Feet on the ground, and all that.”

As they neared the exhibit, she gave Théo’s hand a squeeze.

“We’re here!” she said, leading him through the doors. “I’m gonna be honest, you might need to talk me through some of these pieces…”

[theopaints]

@theomoreau: you are way talented :)

↳INSTAGRAM: @littlelisanash uploaded a photo:

I’m in a pickle and Ash refuses to help me. Should I paint daisies or strawberries on this when it’s done?

[theopaints]

@theomoreau: wow thats like so cool :) i dont know what you should name it though haha sorry

↳INSTAGRAM: @marymarykatekate uploaded a photo:

anniversary gift from mikey 💝🌸🤙 what shall i call her guys she’s so rad 🎸

[theopaints]

↳INSTAGRAM: @theomoreau uploaded a photo:

life stuff :)

[theopaints]

@theomoreau: @land000 ?

↳INSTAGRAM: @magnifiquemoreau uploaded a photo:

who wants to come skinny dipping w meeeeeee 😋

[theopaints]

@theomoreau: hahahahahaha thats funny 😊😊

↳INSTAGRAM: @heathhudson uploaded a photo:

Let’s seal the deal with a kiss.