Chapter Text
It was possibly not what people had in mind when they went out to the theatre and to dinner, but Ella stood leaning against the brick wall of the building on Earlham Street, a Pret chicken and avocado sandwich in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. There was still a good half hour until the start of the show, and there wasn’t anywhere to properly sit down in the area. She could have stayed in the Pret and eaten there. Could have. But she didn’t. Instead she’d walked to the theatre and once she had located it, hovered around the entrance, warming her hands on the cup, munching on her triangle sandwich. It was cold standing around, yet entirely unpractical walking to keep warm while eating. This wasn’t Ella’s best idea ever.
By the time she’d finished her sandwich and coffee, there was already a small crowd gathered at the entrance to the theatre. The excitement in the air was growing, feeding the nervous knots in her own stomach. She’d paid good money to fly over again, just for this. This one show that was meant to be the last show in the run before some additional shows had been announced. She was through the doors of the Donmar theatre as soon as she could once they opened, sighing against the warmth. Finally.
Front row center in the stalls. The kind of magic the universe has worked to have that seat available to her when she bought it was unbelievable. But she was grateful for it. Sitting, looking straight at the empty black space of the stage, the knots tightened. She took her bottle of water out of her bag and drank. As if it would make all the nerves go away.
Lights dimmed. The show has begun. When he entered the stage her heart stopped, waited, started again. Would he see her? Would he know her? His eyes passed over her, unseeing. Her heart sank while her mind explained it all away. How is logic even explained to a sinking heart?
She bolted for the bathroom during intermission, but there was already a queue there when she arrived. By the time she was out again, they were about to start the second act. The show grew around her, enveloping, swallowing. By the end her heart was in her throat for a completely different reason, hurting for Caius Martius.
They got a standing ovation. Of course they had. There was simply no other way it could have ended. They lined on the stage, hand in hand, and bowed. Ella stood with the rest of the audience, clapping. Tom straightened, caught her eye and smiled brightly. Her heart dove all the way down to her socks, then jumped back up. He did see her after all.
There was no choice but to leave the theatre with the rest of the crowd, she couldn’t sit blocking the way. She had to go with the flow. So she went, coat draped over her arm. She stalled in the entrance hall, however, looking around for a door to take her where she wasn’t mean to go. Hoping to see Tom one more time. She wasn’t the only one to stay inside, and it was the commotion that caused her to turn around. He was standing there, still dirty and his hair still wet, smiling at people, his eyes darting around the room. They found hers and he smiled again, nodding for her to come over to him.
He talked to the people who gathered around him, signed the show programs, smiled for photos. Ella made her way across the small space towards the wall nearest to him, staying out of the way of the other people. She waited.
“Anyone didn’t get an autograph?” he asked after it seemed like the hands shoving papers and pens at him stopped. “Anyone not get the photo they wanted?” a few more photos followed. It seemed he had infinite patience, the smile never off his face. He made everyone around him smile, too. “Excuse me,” he said eventually, and passed through the crowd to where Ella was waiting.
“Ella,” her name rolled off his tongue, through the space between them and right into the hole she’d been trying to ignore in her heart. It fit perfectly.
“Hi,” she smiled.
“What are you doing here?”
Wasn’t it obvious? “I came to watch the show.” The second part of the answer echoed in her mind, but she left it unsaid.
“It’s lovely to see you,” Tom said, he moved as if to give her a hug, then stopped, glancing down at the paint and dirt on his shirt, “Sorry,” he said. “I almost forgot.”
She was acutely aware that everyone who hadn’t left yet was watching them. Her eyes darted around the room, over the curious faces of audience and crew alike. He saw her looking behind his shoulder and glanced there for a moment, then took her hand in his, “Come on,” and led her back to the door he came through. She followed him through a corridor, up some stairs and into what she assumed was his dressing room. He nodded at the few people they’d passed by and Ella nodded as well when their curious eyes turned to her, but blissfully, Tom never stopped to speak to any of them.
The room wasn’t very big. There was one of those stage make-up mirrors that she knew would be there. No venue that respects itself would have dressing rooms without proper mirrors. There was also a small sofa against a wall, a rack with some clothes on it, a tiny coffee table big enough only for the bowl of assorted fruits and sweets and the large bottle of water that stood on top of it, and a chair in front of the mirror set. There was also a door to what Ella assumed was a bathroom. He closed the door behind her. It was quiet in the small room, and he was crowding it with his sheer height.
“Let me take a quick shower,” Tom said, “And we’ll catch up after?” Ella nodded. He smiled, “Fantastic. Make yourself at home, I won’t be long.” He grabbed some items from the clothes rack and disappeared behind the bathroom door. A few moments later she could hear the running water for the shower. She put her coat on the arm of the sofa and walked around the small space, touching the fabrics hanging on the rack, running her fingers across the make-up table. His mobile was on the table. Her hand itched, but she didn’t touch it.
A quick knock and the door opened, not waiting for an answer, Ella turned to see a man stand at the door, as surprised to see her as she was to see him, “Where’s Tom?” he asked.
“In the shower,” she nodded towards the closed door. The man nodded and left, closing the door. Having nothing else to do, Ella sat down on the sofa, grabbed a mini sneakers bar from the bowl on the coffee table and settled to wait. She didn’t have to wait long. She’d barely finished chewing the sneakers when the running water stopped. Two minutes later, Tom walked out of the room, towel-drying his hair. The room filled with steam and the smell of soap. It was the same soap, the same smell. His smell. She took a deep breath. He wore dark jeans, a white shirt, still unbuttoned. He threw the towel on the chair and turned to her.
“There, much better,” he said, opening his arms, “C’mere, give us a hug.”
Ella obliged, getting up and crossing the few steps between them, going on tiptoes and wrapping her hands around his neck. His arms tightened around her body, pulling her close. She closed her eyes and it was as if time had stopped. They were outside in the morning chill, it had stopped raining and she was about to leave. He felt the same. He smelled the same. She ran a hand up his neck and into his hair, took a deep breath and stepped back. He kept his hands on her waist.
“You look better,” he noted, looking her up and down. A thick knitted dress, striped purple and white, was just long enough to cover her backside, over a pair of thickly lined black leggings, tucked into flat boots. Theatre or no theatre, it was cold outside and Ella dressed appropriately. Which wasn’t quite as appropriate for the heated interior of buildings. She still had to learn the magical layer combinations or cold immunity that seemed so common in the UK.
“I am better,” she said. Time didn’t always make things better, but it went a long way towards making things not matter quite as much.
Tom smiled, “Good.” He finally let go of her waist and busied himself with the buttons of his shirt. “How long are you here for?” he asked.
“A few days. I’m flying home Thursday morning.”
“Are you doing anything tonight?” Ella shook her head. “Can I buy you dinner then? I’m starving.”
“Yeah, that’d be nice.”
“Brilliant, then give me a few minutes,” he picked up his phone and shoved it deep into his front jean pocket, then left the room.
Alone again. With nothing better to do, Ella fished out her phone and started playing solitaire. Tom came back when she was into her fifth game, roughly ten minutes later.
“All sorted,” he said. “Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know,” Ella said, exiting the game and putting the phone back into her bag. “Italian maybe?”
“I know a place,” he said. He put on a thick black coat and opened the door for her. Taking her hand in his again as he led her through the hallways. It seemed natural somehow, and she wrapped her fingers against his without second thought.
The darkness outside caught her by surprise. It was just getting dark when she’d entered the theatre, but time moved differently inside, and it was a moment until she caught up with the fact she’d been inside more than three hours, and it was actually quite late.
Tom let go of her hand once they were outside, and Ella hurried to put on her coat and shove her hands into the pockets for warmth. He led her up one street and down another, taking turns here and there. She’d completely lost her direction following him. They passed by several restaurants and cafes that seemed perfectly fine, but he didn’t even look at them. Then he stopped in front of a nondescript door, and only when he opened it Ella realized that there was a sign, and a menu hanging on the wall. It was a little hole-in-the-wall place, with no more than half a dozen tables, half-empty. It was warm, homely and smelled divine.
He looked at her and smiled, making a sound that was meant to be a question. Ella smiled back, “I love it!”
“Wait until you taste the food,” he promised, already leading her to an empty table in the far corner. The few people that were there looked up at their arrival, and Ella could tell from the expressions on some faces that Tom had been recognized, but after a few moments of staring everyone went back to their own plates, their own company for dinner.
They sat down and ordered from the teenage waitress. Tom sat back into his chair, focused his eyes on her. “How have you been? What have you been up to?”
She told him. It was so easy, with the way he listened and commented. She looked at him when she spoke, making a point of looking into his ocean eyes. There was no way she’d learn how to swim if she didn’t dare step into the water. There wasn’t much to tell, of course, her life wasn’t very exciting. But he listened anyway.
Their food arrived, and it was as good as she’d hoped. Much better than she’d expected. Tom had ordered a bottle of wine to go with the meal and they were slowly making their way through it.
“You know,” Ella said, nearly done with her portion, “We really shouldn’t be eating heavy food this late.”
“I guess we’ll just have to stay up ridiculously late until it digests,” he grinned.
She sighed heavily, “If we must.” Tom laughed.
By the time they finished their meal, and the better part of the wine-bottle, it was nearing midnight. There was no one left in the little restaurant but them. Tom paid, helped her into her coat, put his own on and followed her to the door. The waitress from before seemed relieved to watch them go. Ella couldn’t blame her.
The street outside was deserted, almost silent, as much as any street in central London could be silent. Tom put his arm around Ella’s shoulder, pulled her closer, started walking.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Does it matter?”
She shook her head. It didn’t matter. Not yet.
“Do you ever think about that night?” the question rolled off her tongue before she could catch it. She held her breath, waiting.
“Sometimes,” he looked down at her, pulled her just a bit closer for a moment. “I wondered how you are, if you’ve made it safely.”
“I did,” Ella said. “And then I got back home and kind of… got a grip, you know? At least partially.”
“Good good,” he said quietly.
“Chance encounters are what keep us going,” she said, trying to remember where she’d read it.
“What?” Tom looked puzzled.
“I read it somewhere, chance encounters are what keep us going, but I can’t remember where.”
“How…?” the question died on his lips when he noticed the look she was giving him. “Oh.”
She chuckled, “Oh, indeed.”
His phone beeped. He ignored it. A few minutes later it beeped again. Then again. He took it out, looked at the incoming messages and smiled. It wasn’t until there was the sound of another incoming message that Ella made the connection between the messages and the time. It was after midnight. Of course.
“Hey,” she said. He put his phone away and looked at her, when he did, she added “Happy birthday.”
He grinned, placed a quick kiss on the top of her head, “Thank you.”
They wandered the streets until Ella couldn’t keep warm anymore, her hands frozen, her teeth chattering despite her attempts to clump her mouth shut. The cold had seeped through all her layers and nestled right in her bones. It was ridiculous. It wasn’t even that cold. It could have been so much worse.
“Where are you staying?” Tom asked. He was already looking up and down the street for a taxi.
“I’ve got a bed in a hostel near Russell Square.”
A pause, “Wanna stay at mine tonight?” his brow furrowed lightly, causing his forehead to wrinkle.
Ella grinned, reached a hand to smooth the lines, “I thought you’d never ask, Mr. Forehead.”
“Mr. Forehead?” his eyebrows shot up.
“Well you’ve got all that forehead,” she gestured, “and I just-“ he didn’t let her finish. His mouth found hers, and for a moment there was nothing but that. His lips on hers, his tongue dancing with hers. Then he pulled away, “-said it out loud because of all the forehead that was very rude I was talking!” his eyes grew wide as she spoke and he was laughing by the end of the sentence. Ella took a much needed breath.
“That was,” he said, “brilliant. Did you really just keep talking?”
“I was in the middle!” Ella said.
“Are you in the middle now?”
“No.”
“Good,” he kissed her again. Deeper. Longer. He got his fingers entwined in her hair, his other hand holding her side, pulling her close. Ella rose on her tiptoes, balancing against his shoulders.
“Is that something you learn in boarding school?” she asked afterwards.
“What?”
“The kissing. The really good kissing. My…” she searched for the word, settled, “-friend, he was very good, too. So I was just wondering.”
“I went to an all-boys school,” Tom said.
“So…?”
She laughed at the expression on his face.
“Ella?”
“Hmmm…?”
“Stop talking.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. And I didn’t say anything.”
A taxi was coming down the street, Tom reached his hand up to hail it. It slowed to a stop. He opened the door for her, waited until she sat and slid inside after her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder again, gave the driver an address. She rested her head against his shoulder. He took his mobile out of his pocket and started scrolling through birthday messages, replying. Ella closed her eyes, enjoying the thumping of his heart near her ear, the warmth of him.
Chance encounters are what keeps us going.