For no particular reason whatsoever I’m now mildly obsessed with the notion of (seemingly) unlikely theatre buddies Isaac and Jamie.

Say that – as per what’s suggested in the post linked to above – Isaac’s got all these repressed acting dreams now finding an expression in dressing up for the team, as Santa, as a judge, as any fucking cool thing with an over the top costume. He might well have been sneaking off to watch plays for years. Always alone, ‘cause while he ain’t ashamed of this shit, it’s just. Well. It’s not a thing that big bad footballers do, is is, and it’s too precious and too important for him to risk it being mocked or even just met with incomprehension from the people he works with. He’s fine going on his own, anyway. Saves him having to listen to uninformed opinions about whatever he saw on stage afterwards. (It’s not a secret, per se. He casually mentions plays he’s been to from time to time, and all; it’s just not something he actively involves other people in, at least not until now.)

And Jamie now… Keeley introduced him to theatre and it was a fucking ordeal for both of them, Jamie getting frustrated with having his emotions intentionally roused and then getting chastised for expressing said intentionally roused emotions, and Keeley just wanting to have a pretty boyfriend she could actually bring to things without it getting weird and loud. But for all of that, Jamie quite liked the actual plays: the drama, the theatrics, the flair and big emotions and – yes – costumes*. Good bit of fun, innit. And he’s not an idiot, so he gets the hang of not shouting at the players eventually, and while that’s still a bit annoying people not getting mad at him for getting too involved makes for a smoother experience.

So maybe Jamie takes himself to a play every now and then. And maybe one night when he hasn’t been back at Richmond for more than a few weeks he’s lounging in a non-descript hoodie, incognito like, by the bar between acts and oh, that guy in an equally non-descript hoodie looks familiar, doesn’t he, and yeah, that’s Isaac and Jamie doesn’t quite know what to do with that; he’s still finding his feet as the prodigal son and reformed prick and Isaac’s the captain now and if he’s here dressed like that he probably doesn’t want to be recognized and Jamie’s been trying out this new thing called tact so –

Isaac looks up and catches Jamie’s eyes. For a beat there’s just stillness, a breath held, and then Jamie thinks fuck it and swaggers over because he is dying to discuss if Nora would be better off leaving her husband or smashing Krogstad over the head with a frying pan.

And Isaac finds it’s actually quite fun to have some company and Jamie’s opinions are pretty mad but they’re informed mad somehow and Jamie’s clearly into this and not being a prick at all, so that’s okay. They go for a drink afterwards. A couple of Thursays later Isaac gets an extra ticket for the Almeida’s new production of Medea and asks Jamie to tag along. He never could have fucking imagined, he thinks as they take their seats and he sees his companion lean eagerly forward, just a couple of years ago, that this is where they’d be, that this is something he’d share with Jamie Tartt of all people.  

But if it’s good then it’s good, yeah, no sense wondering about it or about what was. Isaac leans back in his chair, relaxing, while next to him Jamie is humming with barely constrained excitement.

The lights dim. The curtain rises.