You know what, I'm not worried if Larry and Marian are going to be endgame. I know they're going to be endgame because not only the actors and characters have insane chemistry, they are, quite literally, the only characters who can give what the other really wants (romantically speaking of course).
What does Larry want? To be recognized as something more than just his father's son, valued beyond his family's wealth and name. Who can give that to him? The girl who has been telling us over and over, since season one, how she doesn't care about money and society. She already values him and already supports his dreams (let's not forget who convinced him to tell his father about architecture).
What does Marian want? To be loved unconditionally by someone who's not after her because of her name. Who can give this to her? The young man who already has money and a name, who has always liked her just because of who she is. Also, in a marriage to Larry, a man who values hard work, creativity and has a open mind to change and also doesn't really care about society's values, she can have her own independence and interests. She can keep working at the school and exist beyond the marriage.
Besides, one of the first things that are stated in the series narrative is how the Van Rhien and the Russel house will never relate to each other, so of course they will be united at some point. And now that the Oscar and Gladys train is long gone (it would never work) it falls on Larry and Marian to unite both families. It. Makes. Sense.
What I am worried tho is HOW this romance is going to go. I want a concise, well though and well written friends to lovers please and thank u.
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ballerina daniel pianist max would be craaazy because i think you could have a cool dynamic similar to irl with max as a Child Prodigy musician. and daniel immediately connecting to him but feeling guilty about it. and obviously max's massive crush
anon i know you sent this 4 million years ago, but here is some nonsense i wrote for the idea of max being a failed composer, who ends up working as the pianist at daniel's ballet studio :)
"I am not doing it like this," Daniel says, but Max can't feel the movement of his lips, can't taste the words anymore, because Daniel has taken a step backwards.
In the mirror behind him, Max can see the tense line of Daniel's back. The trembling of his shoulder blades, the same way they look when he is lifting Stacey over his head for the balcony scene, or taking critiques from Christian about it right after.
It is easier to look there than at Daniel's face.
"Like what?" Max demands, and the words bounce around the empty studio. Daniel's shoulders creep up another centimetre.
"Like this, Max," and then he's gesturing between the two of them like that is meant to make sense to Max, who just-
He just wanted to be kissed. He's wanted to kiss Daniel since the first day he saw him dance.
He didn't think this was something Daniel would make him explain.
"Okay," he spits, cheeks burning from the slap of rejection, but before he can hoist his bag onto his shoulder to leave, Daniel is stopping him.
"No, Maxy, I didn't-" He's saying, hand curling around Max's wrist. "Just- I thought-"
Max can't not look at him then, and for a second he hates him, even if not really at all. Hates Daniel for asking Max to let Daniel know him. For all these nights spent playing the audition score, but other music also, while Daniel just sat next to him on his bench and told Max how 'beautiful,' his hands were, his fingers. Only for Daniel to decide he doesn't like him like that after all.
That apparently it took Max kissing him for Daniel to break that to him.
There’s a pause, and maybe it’s the way Max pulls back the arm Daniel is still holding, trying to flee, that spurs Daniel to speak again.
“I thought this would be like when you play. Like music, like- Like something you can enjoy,” Daniel, says, a confession, eyes searching Max’s face. “Not something you do with your eyes screwed shut, so tense like you are wanting to get it over with."
And- It's not what Max expected.
Music. Daniel wanted this to be like music, and Max doesn't know how to explain that nothing can be like that. That he wouldn't want Daniel to be like that anyway, because music has brought him so much pain with the joy, and Daniel only ever makes him feel like he could be good.
Except now with his hesitance, like Max kissing him isn't enough, when it’s the bravest thing he’s done besides stop picking up the phone when his dad calls. If Max's efforts aren't enough, maybe Daniel is like music after all.
He opens his mouth to tell Daniel just as much, to tell him to fuck off, to demand what else he wants from him, but what tumbles out is--
"For you, is it like dancing?"
Daniel's whole face softens then. Over his shoulder, Max watches an infinite number of Daniels relax a little.
"No," he says honestly, tugging Max to him. "Never, the way this does, and anyway, it- I think with you, it might be more."
They’re pretty words from a man used to having pretty things, and that’s something Max has never been. It shouldn’t be enough, but Max goes, easy, anyway.
Too easy, and he should stop to tell Daniel, I've never done this before, to make it clear that he means not even with a girl, because Daniel of course knows already never with a boy.
But Daniel's fingertips are coming to trace over the corners of his eyes, erasing tension Max didn't even know he could hold there. They're soft, smooth, so that Max can imagine they leave a perfect stamp of whorls and swirls on his skin, the patterns of which faded on Max's own fingers long ago, worn away by piano keys.
"What do you want," Daniel asks, voice so much gentler. "I want to give you what you want."
Max is greedy, so he has to choose carefully. Too much, and he'll be exposing his own rotten underbelly, revealing that no matter how much Daniel gives, Max will always want more. Insatiable.
He wants to be kissed, to be touched like he is something precious. Wants to be bent over and fucked, to be bruised but maybe also held after. He wants everything his father ever told him about him to be true. He wants pleasure, so white hot, that it cauterises the wound those words made inside him. Something that stops it from tearing open again, each time he remembers. Each time he calls his voicemail.
He wants to play Daniel his song, the one Max has been writing in his head the last few weeks, as he's watched him dance the same move over and over, no one's eyes on him but Max's.
Daniel would understand then, Max thinks. That Max is made of want, that he’s not sure who he’d be without it.
"Show me how it can be," is what escapes him this time, and then he watches as the Max's in the mirror are walked backwards, cheeks flushed, until his own back is hitting the one behind him, and all he can see is Daniel.
This time, Max’s eyes shut softly when they kiss.
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