Chapter Text
Todd Anderson was what you could call a starving artist.
Renting a tiny apartment in New York City, working part-time as a barista in a Starbucks, and spending the rest of his time writing until his fingers ached from typing and his brain hurt from thinking. Hundreds of unfinished scripts sat in leather journals scrawled in colorful pens, and in files on his Google Docs with bold, italics, underlining, colorful highlighting, and comments written all over because they were just never good enough .
He moved to New York to go to college, ready to get away from small-town life and literally go somewhere that no one knew his name, let alone knew he even existed.
His parents wouldn’t miss him too terribly; it wasn’t like they paid him much attention when he was home, anyway. They sent him cards for holidays, called every couple weeks to check in, say hi. Sometimes they’d transfer some cash into his bank account if he mentioned a lack of tips at work.
He had started writing very young, his teachers automatically noticing his “gift” as they called it. It quickly became a passion of his, one of the few things that seemed to stir him up in any way.
He studied English at college, living off Ramen and coffee and reading Shakespeare til his eyes and mind begged for sleep.
And the degree got him nowhere, so, it was apparently all for fucking nothing.
His life was alright though.
He had a cat, a ginger short-hair with big green eyes, who he affectionately named Ophelia.
He didn’t really have friends, but he preferred it that way.
However, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t get lonely sometimes.
***
Neil Perry was the opposite; an artist, yes, but not quite starving.
He was living his dream, acting in plays on and off-Broadway, living in an apartment with his best friend and current co-star Charlie, and, not to brag, being surrounded by people wanting pictures and autographs.
He’d loved the spotlight since he was old enough to walk and talk, and, much the dismay of his parents, chose acting as his career path, moving to New York City with barely any money and a dream, like many dream to but never really do.
Then he met Charlie, another aspiring actor, and they found a shitty shoebox apartment together. They’d been close as twins ever since.
Yes, he was living his dream. Living in the Big Apple, co-starring in a show on Broadway, living with his best friend. But something was missing. He couldn’t quite place what it was.
Maybe he was lonely. He had friends, sure, but he craved something more. Real affection and intimacy, not on-stage kisses and praise over social media from fangirls who didn’t even know him.
He watched Charlie go through boyfriends and girlfriends pretty often, going on Tinder dates, flirting with every moving thing. He just had the kind of personality that allured everyone, and he didn’t want to sit around and wait for the right person. He was content to fuck everyone in the city first, and maybe meet someone truly special along the way.
He didn’t want to just throw himself out into the world, join a dating website, date around. He wanted to find the right person. He’d always been a sucker for cheesy love stories, the Romeo and Juliet instant falling, the Disney couples who kiss for the first time surrounded by fireworks.
Call him old-fashioned or cliche or a damn right fool, he didn’t care. He just wanted to find the one. And he had been severely unlucky so far.
***
Todd didn’t have the income to afford Broadway tickets as often as he would like.
He was much too shy for the spotlight but had spent some time working the lightbox in high school, as well as adoring the work of famous playwrights.
Eventually, tips at his job increased and Neil Perry, Broadway’s hottest new heartthrob, was starring in a play that offered lottery tickets for just thirty dollars, which was cheap compared to the usual sixty or more needed to see a show.
And so, he took his chances and entered it every night he could, always receiving an email that said: “better luck next time!”.
One Saturday night, he entered.
What was there to lose? It wasn’t like he had plans anyway.
A few hours later, the email wasn’t wishing him luck for next time. He’d actually won, and he admittedly jumped around his apartment in a sort of victory dance because of it.
He spent an embarrassing amount of time picking an outfit, finally settling on a blue sweater over a white collared shirt and black jeans. Not too fancy, but presentable.
He arrived at the theatre and claimed his ticket, paying the thirty dollars that could have gone to groceries or some nice, warm clothes for the chilly weather approaching already in mid-October or maybe even to pay his rent.
He hoped it would be worth it.
The seats weren’t great, but as long as he could see the stage, he was satisfied.
This was a rare opportunity for him, to experience the form of art he loved so much and wanted to be a part of. When the lights went down, he was grinning.
He was so grateful whatever force of the universe had let him win.
***
Neil lived for the moment of walking out on stage at his entrance, seeing all the full seats and excited faces out in the audience, hearing the wolf-whistles and shouts and applause.
He’d wanted to act since he was young, probably since he was as young as five, and it had taken him years of convincing his parents and practicing lines in the mirror to get where he was.
And he was so grateful for it.
The line the cued his entrance came, and he walked out, waiting for the applause to die down before speaking his first line.
The scene played out with no mistakes, however, the scene that followed had a missing prop, but everyone adapted and improvised like the professionals they were.
Overall, it was a smooth show with a great audience, and Neil took his final bow proudly, sweat shining on his forehead and a grin plastered to his face.
***
About two hours later, Todd was on his feet, clapping, as Neil came out with his fellow actors and actresses, bowed, and smiled out at the audience.
Was stage-dooring a real thing? Was it cool? Did Neil Perry even come out to the stage door? Was Todd really going to stand out in the cold just for the chance to get Neil Perry’s autograph?
You bet your ass he was.
His hands shook as he held his Playbill out to various members of the cast, including a blond man named Charlie who winked at him when he handed the program back, making Todd’s cheeks flush a brighter shade of red than the wind had already turned them.
After twenty minutes of being squished between giggling girls, he was ready to just leave. Neil Perry was probably too famous for the stage door, he probably didn’t come out, or with Todd’s luck, this was the one night he wouldn’t.
But the second that thought entered his head, screaming erupted around him and scared the absolute shit out of him.
But as he peered out over the sea of heads, he saw him.
Tall, with messy brown hair and bright eyes of the same color, freckles and a dimple pressing into his cheek as he grinned at the people surrounding him.
Todd refused to admit he felt a little weak at the knees. He wasn’t one to fangirl over people, but Neil Perry wasn’t like normal people.
He was gorgeous and talented, and he was apparently a fucking delight because every person who asked for a picture got one, every Playbill got signed, every conversation was had.
He was humble and sweet, as if he couldn’t get any better.
Now, Todd was socially awkward at the best of times, so he was terrified of what would leave his mouth in the presence of this angel walking the earth. Surprisingly, though, he managed to be a coherent, functioning member of society.
“Hello!” Neil said, taking the program from his shaking hands, still as enthusiastic at the end of the line as the front, “Did you enjoy the show?”
“It was amazing,” Todd replied, a little breathless, but otherwise managing to not sound like a complete fool.
Neil looked up and their eyes met, and the Playbill was pressed back into his hand, their fingers brushing.
***
Okay, so, Neil was not one to get flustered easily. He loved being the center of attention, and he was used to being flirted with.
But when his eyes met with wide blue ones, he felt heat rising in his cheeks.
The guy on the other side of the flimsy barrier they put up was beautiful. He had blond hair and a shy half-smile, and he looked freezing with red cheeks and a far too thin sweater. Neil wanted to wrap his scarf around his neck, but that would probably be really weird of him.
So instead he sucked in a breath and tried to pull himself together.
“I-I’m glad!” he said, “What’s your name?”
“Todd.”
“Todd,” Neil repeated, letting the syllable roll off his tongue as a smile curled on his lips. “You look familiar, do you work around here, or..?” It was a lie, but anything to get to know him better.
“Yeah, at Starbucks. On 54th,” Todd replied, smiling back.
“Oh, that’s so cool!” Yeah, because being a barista was so cool. Idiot.
Todd chuckled, unsure of how to respond to that. “Uh...You were really so amazing, thank you so much,” he said, sensing that the people around him were getting annoyed with how long Neil seemed to be taking to talk to him.
“Thank you, have a...have a nice night, Todd,” Neil said, waving.
He really was an idiot. Have a nice night? He couldn’t have come up with a better line, huh?
He continued down the last few people, taking pictures and signing Playbills, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the boy with blond hair and the blue sweater who worked on 54th.
As he started walking to his apartment, he made a note in his phone that simply read, “Todd cute boy barista on 54th”. He figured he’d know what he meant when he read it again in the morning.
By the time he returned to his apartment, Charlie had already fallen asleep, so he had no friend to gossip with about the boy, so he decided to go to sleep too, already knowing where he would be going to get coffee tomorrow.
***
Todd fell asleep almost immediately upon getting home too, curled up with his pillow and smiling to himself.
He’d actually met Neil fucking Perry.
One day, he’d write a play, and Neil Perry could star in it.
That dream was what he fell asleep thinking of, his stomach still fluttering at the idea.