Evan had always been the theatre kid.
Jazz hands. Over-articulated vowels. Dramatic monologues in the hallway. The kind of boy who memorized cast albums and cried at curtain calls.
He was slim back then — soft-featured, expressive, endlessly emotive. The stereotypical theatre gay kid, proudly so. But even as a freshman, there was one thing everyone noticed. His ass.
It was almost comical how it curved against his skinny jeans — round, sculpted, theatrical in its own way. He used to joke that it deserved its own spotlight. He’d strike exaggerated poses backstage, tossing his head, making the other drama kids laugh.
He wore his queerness like a costume at first — flamboyant, exaggerated, protective. And then came Luke.
Evan wasn’t supposed to fall for him. The football player wasn’t supposed to fall for the theatre kid either.
It started with glances in the hallway. Then teasing comments. Then rides home. Then late-night conversations that peeled back the stereotypes they’d both worn like armor.
Luke loved how dramatic Evan was. Loved how he talked with his hands. Loved how fearless he was on stage. And yes — he loved that bubble butt.
When they finally became boyfriends, it was surprisingly gentle. No fireworks. No scandal. Just two boys choosing each other.
Luke’s hands found Evan’s hips like they had always belonged there. He held those famous cheeks with something close to reverence, not teasing now, not playful — but certain. When Evan pressed back into him and Luke buried himself fully in him, there was a stillness to it, a gravity. Their bodies moved together in quiet rhythm, skin meeting skin, breath mingling. It felt like more than desire. It felt like union.
That curve Evan had once joked about — that dramatic, spotlight-stealing butt — became something sacred in that moment. A space of joining. Of surrender. Of love made physical. Something larger than either of them alone. Afterward, Luke wrapped himself around Evan and didn’t let go.
Weeks later, when Evan felt the strange fullness — when he realized what that night had created — fear flickered across his face.
But Luke didn’t hesitate. He listened. He held him. And when the truth settled between them — that Evan was pregnant — Luke embraced it without question.
As Evan would pull on a tight t-shirt, he’d watch the fabric stretch over him in the mirror.
The boy who once flaunted his curves now studied a new one. There was something breathtaking in the way he held himself — half shy, half proud. His hips had begun to widen. His famous butt had grown even rounder, fuller, impossibly lush as his body shifted to carry the life inside him.
Luke loved this stage of him. Loved how his big belly strained the cotton. Loved how Evan waddled a little now, sighing dramatically when he lowered himself onto the bed.
“You’re glowing,” Luke would murmur, kneeling to kiss the tight curve of his stomach.
Evan would roll his eyes — theatrically, of course — but his fingers would always slide into Luke’s hair.
They walked hand in hand down the quiet neighborhood street one afternoon, fingers intertwined.
Evan’s belly was enormous now — heavy and low, rounding his posture forward. His shorts clung to his hips. His shirt molded to every curve, outlining the full, undeniable shape of him.
He looked radiant and Luke felt proud. There was something protective in the way Luke held his hand. Something reverent in the way his thumb traced small circles over Evan’s knuckles.
They had become something neither of them expected. Evan used to command attention with flair and performance. Now he commanded it simply by existing — swollen with life, carrying Luke’s son.
By the water at sunset one evening, the sky burned gold and pink behind them.
Evan’s belly stretched, full, heavy with their large, strong baby boy pressed outward between them as Luke’s hands cradled it.
They didn’t need words. Evan used to live for applause. Now he lived for the quiet weight of his son shifting inside him. For the feeling of Luke’s forehead pressed gently against his. For the warmth of hands spread over the place where their child kicked.
He felt powerful in a way no stage had ever given him. His body, once a punchline, once a stereotype, had become something mythic.
Soon he would give birth. Soon the theatre kid with the fabulous butt would become a father.
And Luke would be right there, still in love, still in awe, still holding him as if he were the most extraordinary thing he had ever seen. Because he was.
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