Darcy had just pointed out six books that Oliver would absolutely come back to read, when someone sat at the pianoforte on the opposite side of the room and began to play a waltz. Darcy’s eyes lit up and he grinned at Oliver. “Would you care to join me for a dance?” he asked, his eyes gleaming and hand outstretched. Oliver blinked. Dance with Darcy? Dance with Darcy as himself? He’d never imagined it possible, but pairs of people of all genders had already begun dancing. It was safe here, Oliver realized, to completely be himself.
IM GONNA START SCREAMINGGGGG
