The Missing Lantern

Backstage chaos and a missing prop force Eddie and Gabriel into tense proximity, igniting unspoken feelings under the glow of the annual Spring Festival.

The air backstage was a thick, humid mess of old wood and nervous sweat, a metallic tang of something burning faint under the smell of cheap hairspray. Eddie scraped his knuckles against a stack of dusty canvas flats, his breath catching in his throat. Where was it? His stomach twisted, a cold, hard knot. The Starlight Serenade was only minutes away, and the centerpiece, the hand-painted 'Moonpetal' lantern, was gone. Not misplaced. Gone. He’d left it right here, behind the rickety prop table, next to Mrs. Gordon’s ceramic toadstools.

His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic, trapped bird. Panic, hot and sharp, tasted like copper on his tongue. He could hear the low murmur of the crowd filtering through the thin walls, a distant, expectant hum that usually thrilled him but now felt like a predatory growl. His carefully constructed composure, a fragile thing he wore like a worn jacket in this small, watchful town, was unraveling faster than a cheap sweater.

“Lost something?”

The voice, low and steady, rippled through the humid air like a cool draft. Eddie flinched, spinning around so fast his knee knocked hard against the corner of a wooden chest, sending a jolt of pain up his thigh. He hissed, clutching his leg, and met Gabriel’s eyes. Gabriel, leaning against the doorframe leading to the main stage, looked impossibly calm, a stark contrast to Eddie’s internal unraveling. His dark hair, usually messy, was slicked back for the performance, catching the harsh glare of the bare bulb hanging overhead. His gaze, usually a casual assessment, now held an uncharacteristic intensity that made Eddie’s breath hitch.

“Gabriel,” Eddie managed, the word a dry, scratchy sound. He swallowed hard, trying to regain some semblance of control. “It’s… it’s the lantern. The Moonpetal. For the Serenade. It’s gone.” He gestured wildly at the empty space, feeling stupid, exposed. The heat from his blush crept up his neck, a tell-tale sign of his distress, even in the dim light.

Gabriel pushed off the doorframe, moving with an effortless grace that seemed out of place in the cramped, cluttered space. He didn’t rush, didn’t comment on Eddie’s obvious agitation. He just moved, a silent, grounded force. He stopped a few feet away, close enough for Eddie to feel the subtle shift in air current, to catch the faint, clean scent of his soap over the dust and old costumes. It was a familiar scent, comforting and unnerving all at once.

“The one with the tiny blue petals?” Gabriel asked, his voice softer now, almost a murmur. His eyes scanned the messy table, then the shadowy corners of the backstage area. They weren’t judging. They were simply… observing. And it was that quiet observation that always undid Eddie, making him feel seen in a way that scared him more than any public scrutiny.

“Yes! The one I spent two weeks painting, trying to get the glow just right, because Mr. Henderson said it was ‘integral to the ethereal quality of the scene’,” Eddie rattled off, his words tumbling over each other. He tugged at the hem of his ill-fitting, borrowed tunic, the rough fabric scratching his skin. “He’s going to… he’s going to tear me a new one. This whole segment relies on that light, Gabriel. It’s supposed to be the symbol of… of hope and guidance.” His voice cracked on the last words, and he hated it, hated the weakness that spilled out.

Gabriel’s gaze flickered to Eddie’s face, then down to his fidgeting hands. “Henderson’s a dramatist. He’ll survive,” he said, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, though his eyes remained serious. “You need to breathe, Eddie. Panicking won’t find it.”

He stepped closer, moving around the prop table, his shoulder brushing Eddie’s arm as he peered behind a stack of oversized cardboard trees. The casual contact sent a jolt, an almost electric current, through Eddie’s entire arm. He stifled a gasp, pulling his arm back almost imperceptibly, his skin still tingling where Gabriel had touched him. It was always like this with Gabriel. Every accidental brush, every shared glance that lasted a fraction too long, was a physical event, a tremor through his carefully constructed world.

“Easy for you to say, Mr. ‘I’ve-got-my-lines-memorized-and-don’t-even-need-a-script’,” Eddie retorted, trying to inject some of their usual banter into his voice, to mask the erratic thrum of his pulse. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears. He focused on a loose thread on Gabriel’s tunic, anything but the way Gabriel’s sleeve had rucked up, revealing a strong forearm, anything but the way his hair caught the light.

Gabriel chuckled, a low, warm sound that seemed to vibrate in the confined space. “Just because I don’t flail doesn’t mean I don’t care. Now, did anyone else have access back here? What about those juniors, they’re always poking around.” He was already methodically checking under blankets, behind painted backdrops, his movements precise and unhurried. The contrast between his methodical search and Eddie's frantic, desperate energy was stark.

“I… I don’t know. I mean, maybe? I didn’t see anyone,” Eddie stammered, his mind a jumble of accusations and desperate hopes. He joined the search, mimicking Gabriel’s calm, careful movements, trying to soak up some of that unwavering composure. He checked the same spots he’d already checked, just slower, more deliberately. Every now and then, their hands would brush as they reached for the same dusty box, or their shoulders would bump, and each time, Eddie’s stomach would clench, a hot wave washing over him.

The clock above the stage door ticked loudly, each second a hammer blow against Eddie’s nerves. He could almost hear Mr. Henderson clearing his throat, his disapproving gaze already burning holes through Eddie’s forehead. This town. Everyone knew everything, or thought they did. A missing prop would be a minor scandal, a sign of carelessness, an invitation for judgment. And judgment here, for someone like Eddie, felt like a heavy stone, always threatening to sink him.

“What if… what if it was intentional?” Eddie whispered, the words barely audible. He glanced at Gabriel, his eyes wide with a fear that went beyond a missing prop. It was the fear of being seen, of their own unspoken secret being exposed, tangled up with the drama of a community festival. He’d seen the looks, heard the hushed conversations. The way people in Ash Creek, this quaint, conservative pocket of the world, talked about anything that deviated from their strict, narrow path.

Gabriel paused, his hand resting on the rough fabric of a folded curtain. His head tilted slightly, and his eyes, dark and fathomless in the dim light, met Eddie’s. There was an understanding there, a shared burden that didn’t need words. It was that silent acknowledgement that always drew Eddie to him, a lifeline in a suffocating sea of expectation. He could see the flash of something protective in Gabriel’s gaze, something that settled Eddie’s frantic heart just a fraction.

“We’ll find it,” Gabriel said, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. It wasn't just about the lantern. It was about *them*. “If not… we’ll improvise. Henderson will have to deal. But we will find it first.” He gave Eddie a small, almost imperceptible nod, a private signal that felt like a shield against the rest of the world.

They continued their search, a tense, silent dance around the cramped space. Eddie was hyper-aware of Gabriel’s every movement, the way his jeans stretched taut as he bent, the concentrated line of his jaw. The space felt charged, thick with unspoken words and contained energy. Eddie could almost taste the fear, sharp and metallic, mingling with the sweeter, more dangerous hum of attraction. He wanted to reach out, to just… touch Gabriel, to feel the solid warmth of him, to anchor himself against the rising tide of panic and yearning.

Just as Eddie was about to give up, his gaze falling on the dusty floorboards near a forgotten costume rack, Gabriel let out a quiet sound. “Bingo.”

Eddie whipped his head up. Gabriel was crouched behind a pile of lumber, pulling something out. It was the Moonpetal lantern, slightly scuffed but intact. Relief, so potent it made his knees weak, washed over Eddie. He stumbled forward, almost tripping over a loose cable. “You found it! Where… how did it even get back there?”

Gabriel stood up, the lantern glowing softly in his hand, a warm, artificial light that seemed to chase away some of the shadows. “Looks like someone tried to hide it. Or just tossed it carelessly.” His gaze, however, was not on the lantern, but on Eddie, a question lingering in their depths. Eddie felt a sudden, profound heat bloom across his face. It wasn’t an accident. Someone had tried to sabotage the performance. Someone in this town, watching, waiting.

The stage manager’s urgent whisper cut through the silence. “Five minutes, boys! Get ready for your cue!”

Eddie snatched the lantern, his fingers brushing Gabriel’s as he took it. The contact was brief, but it left a lingering heat, a brand on his skin. “Thank you,” he mumbled, avoiding Gabriel’s eyes, afraid of what his own might betray. He felt utterly exposed, his emotions raw and close to the surface. It wasn’t just the festival, it was everything. The town, their secret, the way Gabriel looked at him. The way Eddie wanted him to.

They moved onto the main stage, the sudden burst of lights and the roar of the crowd momentarily blinding Eddie. He blinked, trying to adjust, gripping the lantern like a lifeline. The Spring Festival stage was set with painted backdrops depicting a starry night, cheap glitter shimmering under the spotlights. The air out here was cleaner, filled with the scent of popcorn and blooming azaleas from the town square outside, but the pressure was ten times worse.

Their segment, the Starlight Serenade, was meant to be a simple, interpretive dance, a soft, hopeful piece. Eddie was to move across the stage with the lantern, symbolizing light in darkness, while Gabriel, positioned slightly behind him, narrated a poem about finding guidance. It was an excuse to be on stage together, a public space where their proximity could be explained, justified. But tonight, it felt like a spotlight on their very souls.

The music swelled, a gentle, soaring melody played by Mrs. Gordon’s youth orchestra. Eddie began to move, slow and deliberate, the lantern held carefully in his hands. His focus narrowed, the crowd blurring into a faceless mass. He could feel Gabriel’s presence behind him, a steady, warm anchor. Gabriel’s voice, deep and resonant, filled the hall, reciting the poem about stars and distant shores. His words, usually just lines, took on a new weight tonight, a double meaning that resonated only with Eddie.

As Eddie reached the center of the stage, he was supposed to raise the lantern, casting its moonpetal glow over the audience. But his hand trembled, a sudden wave of apprehension washing over him. The thought of all those eyes, all those judgments, paralyzed him. He could almost feel their scrutiny, the weight of their expectations pressing down on him. His breath hitched, his movements faltering.

Then, a hand, warm and firm, closed around his. Gabriel. He hadn’t been expecting it. It wasn’t in the choreography. Gabriel stepped subtly closer, his body shielding Eddie slightly from the audience, his presence a solid wall against Eddie’s burgeoning panic. Their fingers intertwined around the lantern, Gabriel’s thumb brushing lightly against Eddie’s knuckles. It was a small gesture, almost imperceptible to the audience, but to Eddie, it was everything. A jolt, electric and raw, surged through him.

Gabriel’s voice, a soft murmur in his ear, was barely audible above the music. “Breathe. We’re in this together.”

Eddie looked up, his eyes meeting Gabriel’s. Gabriel’s gaze was unwavering, fierce and protective, a silent promise of support. In that moment, surrounded by the artificial stars and the real, terrifying presence of the town, Eddie felt a crack in his carefully built wall. He felt seen, truly seen, not just by Gabriel, but by something larger, something allowing this quiet, profound connection to exist. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and together, their hands raised the lantern, its soft, painted glow spreading across the front rows.

The audience, initially hushed by the poem, let out a collective sigh, a murmur of appreciation. Eddie risked a glance at the front row. Mrs. Gordon, usually stern-faced, offered a small, knowing smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t judgment. It was… understanding. A flicker of acceptance in the sea of watchful faces. Eddie felt a strange, unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest, replacing the fear. It wasn't the dramatic outing he'd always feared, but a quiet moment, a public gesture that felt deeply personal, an offering of shared vulnerability.

As the final notes of the music faded, their hands still intertwined around the lantern, Gabriel didn’t immediately let go. His thumb continued to stroke Eddie’s knuckles, a gentle, rhythmic motion that grounded Eddie to the present moment, to the undeniable truth of their connection. The applause swelled, a wave breaking over them. It wasn't just for the performance. It felt like something more. Something had shifted, a fragile, hopeful crack in the conservative veneer of Ash Creek.

They held the pose, the lantern between them, its light illuminating their joined hands. The warmth from Gabriel’s palm was a brand, a silent, burning declaration in the face of a hundred watching eyes. Eddie didn’t know what came next. The fear was still a whisper, a persistent echo. But under the spotlight, with Gabriel’s hand a steady presence on his, the whisper felt smaller, swallowed by the rising tide of something new, something brave.