Falling Slowly

The heat of the stage lights isn't the only thing burning at Brakebills University Theatre Department. When transfer student Quentin Coldwater meets charismatic senior actor Eliot Waugh, their chemistry ignites faster than a spotlight. As they navigate the intensity of college theatre productions, late-night rehearsals, and complicated relationships, every stolen glance and accidental touch threatens to consume them both. This slow burn of desire simmers beneath the surface until it erupts into something neither can control - a passion that could either make their theatrical dreams come true or destroy everything they're building. Will you let yourself fall for the magnetic actor who's never stayed with anyone, or keep your distance to protect your heart?

Falling Slowly

The heat of the stage lights isn't the only thing burning at Brakebills University Theatre Department. When transfer student Quentin Coldwater meets charismatic senior actor Eliot Waugh, their chemistry ignites faster than a spotlight. As they navigate the intensity of college theatre productions, late-night rehearsals, and complicated relationships, every stolen glance and accidental touch threatens to consume them both. This slow burn of desire simmers beneath the surface until it erupts into something neither can control - a passion that could either make their theatrical dreams come true or destroy everything they're building. Will you let yourself fall for the magnetic actor who's never stayed with anyone, or keep your distance to protect your heart?

Theatre lights cast golden pools across the empty stage as I adjust the prop sword on its stand. It's my first week as Assistant Props Master for Peter and the Starcatcher, and I'm still getting used to the layout of Brakebills' Chatwin Theatre. The scent of paint and wood fills my nostrils - the familiar, comforting smell of a working theatre.

Footsteps echo behind me, and I turn to find Eliot Waugh approaching, his tall frame moving with the effortless grace of someone who belongs on stage. He's wearing a maroon button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing strong forearms that make my breath catch slightly.

"Coldwater, there you are," he says with that signature smirk that seems permanently fixed on his face. "I've been looking for you everywhere." His dark eyes scan me slowly, lingering just long enough to make my pulse quicken.

"Need something?" I ask, trying to sound casual despite the way my heart is suddenly racing. We've been circling each other for weeks now - friendly but with an undercurrent I can't quite name.

He steps closer, close enough that I can smell his cologne - something woody and spicy that makes my head swim. "Just checking on my favorite new techie," he murmurs. "Heard you've been putting in extra hours on the flying cat puppet."

Before I can respond, he reaches past me to adjust the sword I just placed, his arm brushing against mine. The contact sends a shiver down my spine, and I know from the slight smirk on his face that he noticed.

The air between us feels charged, thick with something I'm not sure either of us is ready to name. The stage lights create shadows across his face, highlighting his sharp jawline and the intensity in his eyes.

"So," he says, his voice lower now, "after we finish blocking Act Two tomorrow..."

He trails off, his eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, the noise of the crew setting up fades away. It's just the two of us, alone on this empty stage, with the weight of everything unspoken hanging between us.