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Ronnie’s hands were flat against the wall in front of him, and in-between him and the wall was the man he was kissing. Kissing back, tongue strong and lapping, Abe was thoroughly into it. Until he wasn’t. He pushed against Ronnie’s chest, forcing the man back. They both panted as they separated. “What?” Ronnie asked, wiping the back of his hand at his mouth. The production of Phantom of the Opera had been running for two weeks now, and every intermission had always equaled makeout time, right up until curtain call. Until now. “Is something wrong?”
Still pinned back against the wall, Abe glanced over at the two masks that sat on the table beside them. “I don’t think I can do this.”
Ronnie sighed. “It’s closing night, man. You’ll have a mask on. No one’s going to know.”
“But Kathy—“
On closing night, their director had better things to do than account for every member of the cast and crew during the second act. “Kathy won’t be counting crew members backstage, neither will the stage managers. And with Millie out sick, it’s no problem for you to take her place.” Ronnie patted Abe’s chest, covered in a tight black shirt. The backstage crew all wore black so they couldn’t be seen during set changes. “You’ve seen the number hundreds of times. You know what to do.”
“Knowing is different from doing, though. What if I move in the wrong direction? What if I step the wrong way and push everyone down the stairs?”
“You won’t. I’ll be right next to you. I’ll make sure you don’t cause the stairs to collapse or pull down the scrim.” He reached over for the mask and pressed it to Abe’s chest. “You can do this, man.”
Abe glanced in the direction of the stage and took a deep breath. “I can do this.”
A grin spread over Ronnie’s face. “Yeah, you can. Now get changed.”
They quickly changed into the elaborate costumes, securing the masks with straps and bobby pins, just to make sure they stayed put during the dance number. He looked so good like this, Ronnie tried to kiss him again, but Abe refused. If they turned their heads the wrong way and damaged the masks, everyone would see when the curtain rose, so Ronnie supposed he had a point.
When the stage manager called for them to get into position, they headed onto the stage. Ronnie held Abe’s hand, feeling it tremble in his. “It’s all right,” he whispered a reassurance he wasn’t sure Abe believed.
As they approached the stairs, Abe pulled his hand free and took a step back. His mask hid most of his expression, but his eyes were filled with nothing but fear. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I can’t do this.”
“Abe—“
But there wasn’t time to talk him into it. The familiar chiming through the sound system told everyone in the house to take their seats and told the actors to take their places. Looking longingly back to where Abe had been, Ronnie saw nothing now but blackness. No mask, no costume, no supportive smile.
With a deep breath, Ronnie centered himself and got ready for the first number of the final act on the production’s final night. Andre and Firmin said their part. The gauze lifted to reveal the staircase and the various guests. And then the song began. Ronnie sang with what was only partly his heart. “Masquerade! Paper faces on parade… Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you!” The other part of his heart was still backstage with the man he could no longer see.