They were edging closer to Diego’s favourite part of the show. For the past ten years, he and Poppy had a rhythm going. They’d perfected their routine over the years, having spent half their life performing together, and they were a well-oiled machine by now. By the time they’d made their way to high-budget arena and stadium tours, upscale sized sets and elaborate stages that they could have fun with, they’d found news ways to keep each show exciting and keep their audiences on their toes. With Henry on keys, he was usually less inclined to bounce around the stage with them, preferring to keep to his stool and the safety of his routine, but that didn’t mean they didn’t find ways to include him.
Lately, Diego had traded crowd work for grilling Henry, creating a new segment that the fans seemed to love. He’d sidle up to their pianist and ask him to play them a tune – anything that he wanted, no matter how obscure – and Diego and Poppy would try and riff of it. Just last week, Poppy had released a string of high-notes and improved – and deeply nonsensical – lyrics to the tune of One Summer’s Day from Spirited Away.
Where Diego had once kneeled in front of Poppy, guitar held up to her base while they tried to outdo each other, the two of them usually erupting into a fit of giggles as they began dancing and jumping around on the stage; He now pulled that same move on Henry, doing erratic little spins around his keyboard while his boyfriend shook his head fondly, laughing good naturedly when Diego dropped rogue kisses to the top of his head before sprinting down the runway to meet Poppy again.
“I wanna hear you all, loud and clear!” Diego called out into the mic, riling up the crowd between verses.
Poppy’s fingers were expertly plucking at her bass as she bounced around the stage, her solo echoed back to her by thousands of excitable voices. At this point in the show, she’d usually find herself edging down stage and veering closer to Diego. He’d chime in as the two of them sung together, his voice melding perfectly with hers before she soared into his arms, bass clinging to her back, and he’d kiss her in front of the crowd. When they’d been dating, the kiss had been slow and dramatic, and a little too sensual to be simply an act. Over the years, it had grown more playful, with Diego nipping at her jaw and tickling her until the two were laughing into their mics, letting the crowd pick up their slack as they missed half the chorus as a result of their antics. These days, with Diego committed to Henry and Poppy fooling around with that sewer rat she’d picked up on the side of the road, they kept it chaste, all smoke-and-mirrors as his lips smattered her jaw and avoided her lips entirely.
“Are y’all ready to make some fucking noise?” Diego called out, inching closer to the corner of the stage where Henry was positioned. He locked eyes with Poppy, who was beaming with pride and making no effort to cross the runway and join him.
He glanced down at Henry, who seemed blissfully unaware as Diego soundlessly mouthed, “You ready, baby?”
