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Leo stare d at the clock in the corner of his screen as he nervously fiddled and tweaked with the tracks loaded into yet another love song he had drafted and will probably delete in the next month or so.
They said they would call him back by 12.30, right? It was only 12.29, he had about 53 more seconds.
53 more seconds to know whether or not he’d gotten the part.
His hopes shouldn’t have been this high, he was still relatively fresh out of Julliard and the role of Alexander Hamilton was the most highly coveted on both Broadway and the West End. You had to be truly unique to achieve such a role. There was no way Leo, a kid born in Torréon and raised in Denver, who got into Julliard by working hard enough to earn a scholarship and fought his way through, no matter how much he wanted it, no matter how perfect his friends and family said he was for the role.
He wasn’t going to get it.
12.32.
He didn’t get it.
He felt his heart sink as he scrubbed his hands over his face, groaning against his skin.
“Recuérdame hoy me tengo que ir mi amor-” Hummed the soft spoken vocals sounding from his pocket, the guitar strumming tenderly in the gentle lullaby.
Feverishly, Leo snatched his phone out of his pocket, viewing the number on the screen before pressing the green pick-up button.
“Hello?” Leo asked all too quickly.
“Is this Leo de la Iglesia?” Asked the woman on the other end. “Represented by Rhiannon Rodriguez?”
“Yes! Yes! I’m Leo!” he could feel his heart racing in his ears.
“This is Ketty Abelashivili, I met you at the casting audition on Tuesday at the Richard Rogers Theatre.” She explained.
Leo recognised her voice now, the petite woman with mocha skin, violet eyes that he wasn’t quite sure were real or not, and a bouncy, carefully ironed curly bob tickling at her soft jawline.
“I am calling to let you know that we at the Hamilton company were thrilled with your audition and would like to welcome you to rehearsals this Thursday, unless you have any pre-arranged commitments?”
“None, nothing at all.” He said quickly, trying to keep his voice even and repress the trembles of excitement in his tone.
“Great! Welcome to the cast, Alexander Hamilton.”
The line went dead and Leo dropped his phone on his bed, sprinting into the hallway to the main living space and dropping to his knees with an excited scream.
“I’M ALEXANDER GODDAMN HAMILTON!” He shouted, fists clenched and head thrown back.
“I GOT LAURENS!” Guang-Hong squealed, running into the kitchen. “And your son, but like; LAURENS!”
“Hercules Mulligan and James Madison.” Otabek grinned from the couch, flicking rather calmly through his weathered copy of Anna Karenina.
“Yeah, yeah, congrats, you’re on the cast.” Seung-Gil sighed monotonously, stirring his third coffee of the day on the breakfast bar. “Welcome to the most stressful production of your lives.”
“Don’t mind him, it’s not that bad.” JJ assured everyone. “Seung-Gil is a swing so he’s constantly stressed. I thought having a double role was taxing, but you guys have it harder.”
JJ had made it onto the cast before any of them had. Leo had guessed it may have been due to the fact that JJ’s parents were Broadway royalty.
Their love story was one known well throughout the industry, they had met on a production of Guys and Dolls and while irritated by Alain, who had been in the role of the gambling playboy Sky Masterson, Nathalie who had been playing the pure hearted Salvation Army volunteer Sarah, she eventually became wooed by his sweet and cordial gestures off-stage and the pair had announced their engagement after the end of their two year run at the production.
JJ had grown up in the musical theatre industry, as had his three younger siblings. He had an extensive repertoire from a young age and it made sense that he had made it onto an actors dream of a musical, one that sky-rocketed you to theatrical fame and could even score you feature film roles if you played your cards right.
Of course that wasn’t to say JJ didn’t have talent; a fine-tuned vocal tenure and practiced range with rhythmic and dancing abilities to match, he was fitting for the dual role of Lafayette and Jefferson, especially considering that while they had been friends for years – having met in the stuffy studio of a dance audition as kids – it seemed fitting that JJ would be Leo’s Lafayette, a great ally in the face of an adversity, and his Jefferson, an infuriating adversary who had sought out to succeed and nothing else.
Though those days were behind them, and the two were as close as ever, it was a fond bit of irony that Leo felt at recalling upon this.
“Don’t you have a wife to get home to?” Seung-Gil muttered over the brim of his mug.
“I do, thanks for the reminder. Just wanted to check on my new castmates. See you all Thursday!”
He pulled on his purple varsity jacket and closed the door behind him. After JJ had left, Guang-Hong ran to Leo, grinning. Leo was thankful he’d had enough time to stand as Guang-Hong launched himself at him, catching the smaller actor in his arms and spinning him around as Guang-Hong’s slender legs wrapped around his waist. Guang-Hong giggled in his ear, arms around his shoulders as Leo wrapped his arms tightly around Guang-Hong’s waist to hold him steady.
As they slowed to a stop, Leo looked up at him, trying not to mentally map the constellations of freckles on his soft, rose-dusted cheeks, the floppy, mousy brown curls of his fringe brushing against Leo’s forehead as his soft, pink lips stretched into that perfect grin that made Leo feel positively helpless as his chestnut eyes sparkled with elation and joy.
“We made it, Leo!” Guang-Hong squealed, cupping Leo’s cheeks. “We joined the revolution!”
Leo laughed and hugged his friend and set him down.
“I need to call my mom; I don’t care what time it is in Shanghai she needs to know.”
Leo laughed, squeezing his friend’s hand before he skipped into his room and shut the door.
“What are you two looking at?” Leo asked, looking between the stoic stares of Seung-Gil and Otabek.
“Are you two seriously still not dating?” Seung-Gil asked dryly, draining the last of his coffee and reaching for the cupboards to make himself another mug.
“Cut it out on the caffeine and no, they’re still pining. Like idiots.” Otabek remarked plainly, thumbing through the worn, dog-eared pages.
“Guang-Hong isn’t into me.” Leo sighed. “I’ve told you guys this a million times.”
“I don’t have the strength for this argument I’m going to go to sleep, see you idiots at rehearsals.”
*
The first thing on the agenda was dance, apparently. When he had arrived at the theatre, he had been given his pass, a schedule and a briefing by Ketty, one of the production managers at the theatre. Because he was new to the production, he still had rehearsals, fittings and run-throughs to go through before he could actually be on stage. For once, Leo was grateful that most of the dialogue in the musical was sung or rapped through.
He reached for the hair tie around his wrist, removing his snapback and pulling his hair into a bun, shucking off his hoodie and picking up his water bottle.
“You okay there?” The choreographer asked. “Everyone usually finds the ‘My Shot’ choreography tricky first try, well, most the Hamilton’s I’ve worked with have. You’ve been doing really well.”
“Thank you.” Leo nodded, twisting the cap closed. “I grew up dancing so I guess I just find it natural?”
“More natural than our current Mulligan did, I can tell you. He’s determined though, he picked it up quickly in the end.”
“Well, that’s Otabek.” Leo grinned. “Determined and stubborn but for the best reasons.”
“Do you want to try the choreography together? Ketty let me know Otabek is out of fitting and Guang-Hong just got out of vocal practice.”
“And JJ?”
“Just showed up with a latte, apparently.”
Leo chuckled, picking up his snapback, stretching out his shoulders with a soft crack and putting the hat back on.
“If they’re down, I am too.”
“Ketty, let the guys know that they’re needed in the dance studio?” The choreographer spoke into his walkie talkie.
Leo tugged up his loose t-shirt, wiping the sweat from his face. He heard the door open, the familiar soft tones of Guang-Hong’s voice humming at his ears from the doorway.
“Y-You called for us?”
Leo dropped his shirt back down, bending down to re-tie his shoelaces and casting a grin at his friends. He saw Guang-Hong’s cheeks were redder than usual, feeling curious as to why that could be, but too preoccupied with how cute it actual was to consider the matter further.
“Eyes up, lover boy.” Otabek whispered next to him, nudging him. “Otherwise you’ll make your secret crush not so secret; unless that’s what you want.”
“Didn’t you spend all of drama school pining over that dance student?” Leo hissed, cocking a brow at the Kazakh. “Don’t judge me, Bek.”
“The difference between you and me is that I wasn’t dumb enough to keep pining and actually asked him out.”
“Guang-Hong isn’t into me. Just because it worked out with you and Yuri doesn’t mean it’s gonna work for me. And dating your best friend isn’t exactly the perfect relationship either; look what happened with you and JJ.”
“I’m just saying that internalising this isn’t healthy-”
“Hey guys, what are we talking about?” Guang-Hong whispered; lips pulled into a mischievous grin.
“I’m not sure what to do about mine and Yura’s anniversary.” Otabek lied. Leo sent him a thankful glance.
“Oh, it’s been two years already, hasn’t it?” Guang-Hong gasped, smiling brightly. “I still can’t believe you pulled a stunt like that; asking him out on stage. He would have been furious if it was anyone else.”
“Maybe you could propose.” JJ shrugged, screwing up the brown paper bag in his hands and licking the last of - what Leo assumed was - cream cheese frosting from his usual morning cinnamon roll, tossing the ball into the trash and missing miserably.
“Its only been two years; are you insane?”
“Didn’t Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki get engaged after like, 3 months of officially dating?” Guang-Hong asked, pulling his leg up to the barre for a warm up stretch.
Leo tried not to stare, deciding to take a spot at the barre next to Guang-Hong and rest his ankle on it, reaching over to clasp his hand over his toes, inhaling steadily.
“Yeah, but they were already madly in love with each other for forever.”
“And you and Yuri weren’t?” JJ scoffed.
“Alright! That’s enough chatter!” The choreographer called, clapping. “Warm up, and then we’re going to try ‘My Shot’ from the top.”
*
“So what’s the deal with you and Guang-Hong?” The costumer asked through the pins in her teeth.
“Deal? What deal- ouch!” He winced as a needle accidentally stuck his rib.
“Sorry.” She sighed, moving it out of the way. “It’s just, people say you’re dating, and you look like you’re dating but according to him you’re not.”
“Because we aren’t?”
“Well, in that case, you’d better clear that up with everyone else, because they seem to think you two are together.”
“Why do they think that?” Leo asked. “Not that I care, obviously, I’m just, curious.”
Nice save.
She eyed him curiously behind the ruby cat eye frames of her glasses, pinning a sleeve in place to fit Leo more comfortably.
“You guys act like a couple, that’s all really.” She shrugged, pushing her glasses back up the slope of her nose with her knuckle. Leo wondered if the lapis lazuli encrusted ring wrapped around her finger would scratch her lenses.
“How?”
“You don’t notice it? You guys are super close, physically too. There’s something about you and him and how you guys are around each other…” She trailed off, plucking one of the pins from between her teeth and pressing the rest into the cushion around her wrist. “It’s almost like he should be your Eliza and not your Laurens.”
“Well, there were letters exchanged between them with romantic subtext.” Leo blurted, mentally kicking himself.
Nice going, totally proved to her that you’re in love with your best friend.
The costumer laughed, nudging Leo’s arms back down and straightening out the jacket before standing up, her knees popping softly as she muttered a soft curse, easing the jacket off of Leo’s body, along with the waistcoat, ruffle collar and dress shirt.
Leo unfastened the drawstring tucked into the waistband of his pants, carefully tugging them down his legs and sitting down to remove them with his boots.
“I’ll have your alterations done by the end of the week so you can get the feel of the costumes and the changes before dress rehearsal.” The costumer told him, handing him back his clothes.
He thanked her, dressing quickly and picking up his backpack, moving swiftly out of the costuming department. He pulled out his phone, smiling at the congratulations from friends and family and untangling his earphones as he walked down the hall, humming to himself.
Down the hall, in the practice blocks, the orchestra sounded, tuning up their instruments after what Leo had guessed was a recess. He’d never worked on a production with an orchestra so grand, in some ways he still couldn’t believe he’d been cast. He stopped by the window, peeking in to watch.
Once, he had fancied himself a part of an orchestra, but he never found his musical aptitudes deemed enough by the ones he had auditioned for. He could play the piano, but everyone on Broadway seemed to. Guitar was the same, drums less common but still not a rare commodity. But on stage, in a role, singing and dancing his heart out. That’s where he belonged.
He had put years into this, working day and night until his throat was raw and his feet bled and his eyes stung from all the tears he shed both on and off cue. It had finally paid off.
He chuckled to himself as the conductor shooed him away with a flick of his wrist before turning back to the assembled musicians.
Leo continued down the hall, finding himself stopping once more as a familiar timbre danced upon his ears.
“- but I don’t know where to go, and I came here all alone.”
Leo’s attention turned towards the sound. The song, he knew that song. Hell, he was in that number, with Isabella Yang. He walked closer to the source. The voice was familiar but it wasn’t hers. A male voice, deeper in timbre but still soft, gentle, pleading, vulnerable.
“My husband’s doin’ me wrong, beatin’ me, cheatin’ me, mistreatin’ me.”
Leo swallowed thickly as he peeked into the thin, rectangular window.
“Suddenly he’s up and gone, I don’t have the means to go on.”
It was Guang-Hong, of course it was.
The backing track continued, but Leo’s lips moved of their own accord, softly filling the silence.
“I offered him a loan, I offered to walk him home, he said;”
“You’re too kind, sir,”
“I gave him thirty bucks I had socked away; he lived a block away he said:”
“This one’s mine, sir.”
“Then I said; well I should head back home, she turned red, she led me to her bed, let her legs spread and said;”
“Stay.”
“Hey….”
“Hey. ~”
Leo swallowed thickly, continuing to sing along.
“And that’s when I started to pray, Lord, show me how to say no to this,” He sang louder, grateful that Guang-Hong’s back was turned so he wouldn’t see his face. “I, don’t know how to say no to this. But my God he looked so helpless, and his body’s saying, hell, yes.”
“Whoa oh, oh,”
“In my mind I’m try to go, go, go.” He closed his eyes, fist clenching around the shoulder strap of his backpack. “But when his mouth is on mine, I don’t say no.”
The silence between them was filled with the melody of the ensemble’s part playing from the speakers within the practice studio, Leo tapping his foot to keep in time with the music despite the timings now being akin to muscle memory.
He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the door, and before he could stop himself he found himself longing to share that passionate embrace characterised – and that he would have to perform – on stage with Guang-Hong. Wrapped in each other’s embrace, lips moving seamlessly against one another’s.
“I wish I could say that was the last time, I said that last time. It became a pastime.” He sighed, opening his eyes and staring at his feet. “A month into this endeavour I received a letter from a Mister James Reynolds, even better, it said;”
Surely Guang-Hong would have heard him by now. If Leo could hear him through the walls then it must mean Guang-Hong could too. Was he creeped out? Did he just want to have some fun and thought it would be okay to help Leo practice? Did he want this as much as Leo did?
Leo doubted the last one.
The song carried into the frenzied crescendo of chaos and desire, as the scandal of extortion and adultery came to light within the plot, their voices mixing in a passionate harmony that portrayed desperation, fear, weakness, vulnerability. The sultry tones of Guang-Hong’s voice wrapped smoothly around the frantic chords falling from Leo’s lips, soothing the characteristic panic with the embrace of scandal and seduction.
“Nobody needs to know.” Leo breathed as the instrumentals diminuendo-ed into silence.
He stood there, his chest heaving and heart racing in his chest, blood roaring in his ears. His hands were clammy against the door as he returned to reality, blinking at Guang-Hong through the glass panes. He turned, finally, the familiar blush high on his cheeks, endearingly rosy as it highlighted the constellations of freckles splashed across his nose and high cheekbones.
Leo jumped back from the door as if he’d been burned, sprinting down the hall once Guang-Hong made for the door.
He crammed his earphones back into his ears, pressing play on whatever song had been paused on his phone.
As fate, as cruel and ironic as it was, could have it, the same chorus echoed in his ears.
Nobody needs to know.
*
“Leo, c’mon, get up.” Phichit whined, tugging on the blanket thrown over his tired form.
“I’ve had a long day.”
“You want a long day? Leo try being a member of the ensemble in 8 inch heels, corset, full face make-up, wigs and your junk taped between your legs.” Phichit frowned.
“Isn’t that the price of being Drag Queen #5 in Kinky Boots?”
“And I’m never complaining.”
“You just want an excuse to drink.”
“Okay, guilty, but it’s a good excuse!” He pleaded, dropping onto Leo’s bed. “Plus, you can celebrate your new role by getting laid.”
“I told you, I’m not interested in hooking up with strangers.” Leo frowned, wriggling out of his bed and walking to his closet.
“I never said it had to be a stranger.” Phichit responded, suddenly taking a newfound fascination in his nails.
“Phichit.”
“What? I’ve been watching you two flirt back and forth for years – and I wish I was exaggerating that by the way. You guys are perfect for each other.”
“No offense, Peach, but you’re being a bit dramatic.”
He wasn’t, at least on Leo’s part.
He’d been in love with Guang-Hong from the moment they met, he just never knew how to approach it. They had both been in relationships by the time they met in Julliard. Leo had his first love, or so he thought. They met when Leo was working as a barista, Yoav would come into the coffee shop to pick up his regular latte, and, eventually, picked up Leo too.
Yoav was sweet, fair. Even when they were growing apart, he was still supportive of Leo, right to the end. Right to when Yoav recognised he wasn’t the one Leo had fallen for. The split was mutual, amicable. Leo wished he could say the same for Guang-Hong’s ex.
Thinking about him made Leo’s blood boil.
He sighed, pulling his t-shirt over his head and reaching for his black dress shirt.
One drink wouldn’t hurt.
*
Turns out one drink could hurt.
Quite a lot, Leo found as he blinked at the too-bright sun streaming through his curtains. He sat up, his head throbbing and vision blurred as he fumbled for his glasses.
He groaned, blinking hazily as the world around him stopped spinning, unsure if the pounding in his head was a migraine or his own heartbeat. His stomach lurched as he shifted to get up, making him grimace as he stumbled to his feet. He sauntered to his closet, pulling on the first t-shirt and pair of sweatpants he could get his hands on, twisting his unruly hair into a bun and picking up his phone.
REMINDER: ACT 1 RUNTHROUGH TODAY, 8AM START
Leo cursed as his gaze flicked to the clock on his screen.
9.15
He was so, so late.
He stumbled out of the door with a slice of toast in his mouth, duffel bag haphazardly thrown over his shoulder and a bottle of Gatorade in his hand as he ran to the subway. He couldn’t afford to be any later, despite his pounding head and bile crawling up his throat, the commute from Queens Village to the Richard Rodgers Theatre was already an hour.
Tripping over the laces he had haphazardly stuffed into his sneakers, Leo sprawled into the west wing of the backstage area, dropping his duffel bag in his dressing space and tying his laces before he jogged onstage.
“Leo,” The choreographer called. “Guang-Hong and Otabek said you might not be joining us today.”
Guang-Hong.
The last time Leo had seen him was on the dancefloor, tangled between two men much taller and more attractive than Leo was. He wasn’t jealous. He had no right to be, at least, that’s what he told himself as he tried to keep his gaze away from the purple-ish marks on Guang-Hong’s neck and shoulders, peeking out of his loose tank top.
They weren’t together, and probably would never be after what Phichit had told him.
“His VISA ran out.” Phichit had explained. “He has 3 more months to renew it or he has to go back to Beijing. He was going to tell you; he just didn’t know how.”
“Why not? I mean… we’re so close.”
“Maybe he feels the same and he doesn’t know how you feel about him. Maybe he isn’t sure if its worth staying. He doesn’t really have anyone to stay for besides friends, and even then that can easily be managed long-distance.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I’m telling you to not throw away your shot.”
Guang-Hong offered a small smile and a wave before the choreographer clapped his hands.
“In that case, now that we have our Hamilton, we can move on from Blow Us All Away to Stay Alive Reprise.”
The cast shifted around Leo into their places, the echo of “Stay alive,” whispering around him in a ghostly chorus as Guang-Hong was lifted by the swing cast onto a table, the stage shifting and rotating beneath his feet.
He ran towards Guang-Hong as the rotating stage moved them to the front of the stage. As he delivered his line, Guang-Hong looked up at Leo, eyes wide and full of pain as he sang shakily.
I don’t have much time left.
Guang-Hong was easy to read like this. Leo’s heart clenched in his chest and his throat constricted as he sang along, calming Guang-Hong’s frantic apologies as Philip. Leo stroked his hair as he sang, retracting his hand as Sara ran on set, screaming for their ‘son’.
He was pushed away, the stage moving him away from the pair.
Away from Guang-Hong as tears pricked at his eyes.
He couldn’t throw away his shot.
*
Two weeks left.
They hadn’t talked about it, of course. How could they when there was so much unsaid between them.
He adjusted his collar and inhaled deeply, stepping out into the brightly lit stage, prop pistol in hand and Michele staring him down from the opposite end of the stage. He adjusted his glasses as Michele began the panicked monologue that opened the number, the countdown of the ensemble echoing from the parapets.
Michele aimed his pistol at Leo and fired, the shot sounding along with a puff of smoke as Leo stepped onto the crate behind him. His lips moved as a muscle memory as he breathed his closing monologue, eyes trained onto Guang-Hong standing in the parapets above him.
“My time’s up, eyes up, wise up- I catch a glimpse of the other side. Laurens leads a soldier’s chorus on the other side, my son is on the other side! He’s with my mother on the other side, Washington is watching from the other side! Teach me how to say good bye! Rise up, rise up! Eyes up! Eliza…” Leo knew he should have moved his gaze to Sara but couldn’t. “My love, take your time. I’ll see you on the other side.”
The applause fell on deaf ears as the curtains dropped, all that mattered to Leo was the man next to him, the man holding his hand.
“Guang-Hong,” He said softly, turning to him. “I know this is overdue but I… I love you. I just want you to-”
Leo never got to finish his sentence, as Guang-Hong had already fisted his hands in the lapels of Leo’s jacket and pulled him into a kiss.
