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Todd doesn’t really know how he ended up in a hospital room on the exact opposite side of Manhattan from his apartment, and honestly, he doesn’t really care.
But he does know that he’s hallucinating. He must be. His fever is at 105, he hasn’t eaten all day, and Neil Perry is walking through the door to his room, fully equipped with a white lab coat and clipboard.
He wouldn’t be lucky enough to see Neil in this life again, even from a hospital bed. So it has to be fake. There’s no other way of rationalizing it, he tells himself.
“Mr… Anderson?” He says, and Todd can’t help but laugh. Neil hasn’t looked up at him yet, but if he knows Neil, and he does, his face will twist into this sort of soft, love-sick look that used to be reserved for Todd.
“Yep,” Todd coughs, and he sees the small, but unmissable, way that Neil’s shoulders tense and the bittersweet melancholy that crosses his face when they make eye contact for the first time in eleven years.
“Todd?” Neil breathes, taking a few steps towards him, but still keeping a polite distance. The corners of his mouth pull up in a small, hopeful smile. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Todd responds, trying his best to smile back. Neil looks different in this light. Older, Todd thinks, with a faded scar trailing from the edge of his hairline to the top of his cheek. Twenty-eight looks good on him.
Neil smiles, wide and lopsided, like he did as a teenager, and Todd can’t stop the memories from coming back. They all come forward like an unanticipated high tide, crashing into him and anchoring him underwater. Falling for Neil was like getting thrown in the deep end of the pool, stretching down so low that his feet couldn’t reach the bottom even if he tried.
Neither of them speak for a long moment, a tense silence having fallen between them. Neil clears his throat, squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, and shakes his head slightly before looking back down at his chart.
Todd’s chest tightens, and he’s not sure if it’s from his cough or seeing the boy unfold in front of him. Neil did the same thing when they were younger, a fruitless attempt to straighten out his thoughts. He told Todd once that it only happened around him.
“You have pneumonia,” Neil says once he’s finally gathered his perfect doctor facade. Todd knows that’s what it is. A facade, crafted to perfection. The man that stands in front of him now isn’t his Neil, he hasn’t been for years. He knows that. “We’re trying to figure out the cause, it’s probably just bacterial, which is the most common, so don’t worry too much about it. Just to rule it out though, you don’t smoke, right?”
“No, I do,” Todd disagrees, eyes focused on the way Neil’s hands move when he takes notes. “I started… probably around when you left.” Neil visibly tenses.
“How—” Neil starts.
“Pack a day,” Todd finishes. They’ve always been like this, Todd recalls. It was never hard for them to communicate, and they liked to pull out their sentence-finishing trick at parties. But that was way back then. It’s not sweet anymore. It doesn’t make Todd’s heart soar like it used to. It makes him ache.
“That’s most likely what caused it, then,” Neil mumbles, keeping his eyes on the clipboard as he walks towards the bed. “Didn’t take you for the smoking type,” He tries to joke.
“Yeah, well,” Todd wheezes, chest pressing in. “A lot can change in eleven years.”
“Yeah,” Neil sighs, scratching the back of his neck and tossing the chart on the table beside the bed. “I’m… really sorry about—”
“Don’t,” Todd barks. “Please? Don’t.”
Neil gives a curt nod, face falling to become tight-lipped and professional. Todd wants to punch the way too-polite look off his face. He wants to punch him even more when he sees the hospital lights catch on a gold ring Neil’s wearing.
“What’s her name?” Todd asks, his tone shifting to something softer. Something sadder. His eyes fixate on the wedding ring.
It’s something Todd selfishly thought he would never see, knowing that the two of them would never be able to get married. He swallows hard, and his head feels faint. He isn’t quite sure if it’s from the fever or the fact that the lingering love he feels for Neil has no chance of being reciprocated now.
Neil visibly tenses, face looking confused for a moment before following Todd’s gaze to his hand.
“Oh,” Neil breathes, eyes flickering quickly between the ring and the blond. “Uh— Mare. Mary.” The words fall past his lips quickly, and it’s clear to Todd that Neil is trying to rush through this conversation. He’s never been one for difficult discussions, but neither has Todd.
“Nice name,” Todd coughs, carefully readjusting his position and moving wires around. “Doesn’t go well with yours though. Mary Perry,” He laughs. “My name would sound better than hers.”
“Todd,” Neil says, and it comes out sharp. Demanding. It’s a trace of the old Neil he used to know. “Please.”
“Your father introduce you two?” Todd asks, knowing that he’s being unfair. It’s always been unfair to bring up Neil’s father, but he can’t help it.
“Yes,” Neil replies quickly, almost brushing it off as he walks over to the medicine cabinet on the opposite side of the room.
“Do you love her?” Todd asks, voice straining to reach across the room.
“Yes,” He responds, voice flat and emotionless.
“More than you loved me?” Todd tries. He’s pushing it too far at this point, he knows, but he can’t stop himself.
“Todd,” Neil sighs, spinning back around to face him.
“I loved you.”
“Stop.”
“I loved you so much,” Todd smiles, watching Neil’s face shift into something unreadable. “I still do, you know.”
“Todd. Stop.”
“You know you couldn’t…” Todd groans, grabbing his head and making eye contact with Neil. It burns him, he knows that’s not the fever. “You couldn’t have stuck your tongue down the throat of someone who loved you more, you know that? Do you reme—”
“Stop!” Neil shouts, reaching up to cover his mouth quickly, shocked at his own volume. “Sorry, I— uh…” He shakes his head and crosses over back to the bed, handing Todd two small pills. “Aspirin… and— uh, cold medicine. Take it. Go to sleep. I’ll check on you later.” Neil leaves quickly after that, grabbing his clipboard and disappearing into another room.
Todd dry swallows the pills.
He sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning and dreaming of his seventeenth birthday and the small party Neil had thrown for him two days later. It was nautical themed, out by the dock, and Neil had sung to him. It was the happiest either of them had ever been, Todd was sure of it.
He knew he was supposed to say something at the end of the night, but couldn’t for the life of him figure it out. It might’ve been ‘Thank you.’ It might’ve been ‘I love you,’ but Todd didn’t know what was right. He still doesn’t.
So, he had resolved to reaching out and hooking his hand around the back of Neil’s neck. He resolved to leaning forward and pushing himself up on his tip-toes. He resolved to pressing a light kiss to the corner of his best friends mouth, and waiting to see the outcome.
He wakes just as quickly as he’d fallen asleep, bones stiff, chest heavy with regret, and the memory of Neil kissing him back stuck to the inside of his eyelids.
His vision is blurred, but he can just barely make out the shape of Neil sitting in a chair by his bed, scribbling something down in a folder. He lets himself look while Neil is occupied.
Todd can assume what people see when they look at Neil, a young, successful, married doctor. They think he looks put together, well balanced. The Neil that Todd sees, though, is tired. The shadow of day-old stubble covers his neck and jaw, and the dark smudges around his eyes are much more prominent from this angle.
His hair is shorter, but it still falls over his eyes in the same way, and for a half a second, a vision of Neil in their dorm room flashes through his mind. It reminds Todd that it’s still him, despite everything. It will always be him.
“What were you dreaming about?” Neil asks, suddenly and not looking up to meet Todd’s lovestruck gaze. He shoots a confused look towards Neil, who smiles softly, head tilted down. “We were roommates for long enough, I know when you’re awake.”
Todd bites back a smile, his canines digging into the inside of his lip. “Just stuff,”
“Stuff?” Neil laughs, pulling his chair closer and dipping a washcloth in a bowl of water on Todd's nightstand.
“Poetry,” Todd smiles, afraid to break the eye contact that Neil initiates just a moment later. “You,”
“Me?” Neil smiles back, a soft look of affection gracing his maturing features. “What about me?”
They’re walking a very thin line, they both know it. All sense of self-preservation Todd once had falls away when Neil pushes a strand of hair off his forehead.
“Kissing you,” Todd admits, breath jumping as he leans into Neil’s touch. He sees the blush creep up the brunet's face, and for a moment he’s proud of himself.
“Tell me about the poetry,” Neil says after a brief pause.
“What do you want to know?” Todd asks, the cold medicine hitting him all at once. His head feels light, and his verbal filter has to be completely gone by now.
“Anything. Your favorite verse?” Neil says softly. “I always loved hearing you recite poetry, you know.”
Todd feels like he could shatter, because Neil’s here, and he’s looking at Todd like he’s everything and more, but Todd can’t do anything about it because Neil isn’t his.
It doesn’t matter if he breaks, Todd thinks. He’ll do what he always does. He’ll pick up the pieces and move along.
“We were together. I forget the rest.” Todd whispers, exhaustion overtaking him as Neil presses the cold cloth to his forehead.
“Whitman,” Neil smiles, tracing the soft washcloth along the curves of Todd’s face. It feels too intimate, Todd thinks. This type of affection isn’t for married men and their high school experiments that never got over them.
“Reminds me of you.” Todd hums, words slurring together as the medicine hits him harder and harder.
“You’re sick,” Neil sighs, giving the blond below him a small, private smile.
“And you’re married,” Todd bites back, emotions shifting too quickly. The words are harsh, he knows, but it’s the only coherent thought that forms in his brain.
“You might be dying,” Neil whispers, tracing his thumb against Todd’s cheekbones and down to his lips.
“No, I’m not,” Todd says, breath hitching.
“No. No, you’re not,” Neil admits, pulling his hand back towards himself when Todd comes up to softly grab his wrist. Todd watches Neil’s face shift into this quiet, hesitant look, one he knows all too well. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” Todd whispers, breathlessly. He says it without a second thought, not caring about the consequences. “Every day.”
A smile breaks across Neil’s face, and he reaches out again towards Todd’s jaw. Todd’s chest really does feel like it’s going to tear open. Everything is too loud, Neil is holding his jaw like he did when they were together, and if Neil doesn’t move away from him right now he’s going to break the final pane of glass separating them and ruin everything.
“Do you remember the meeting when Charlie snuck in a flask?” Neil asks, cutting through Todd’s hidden breakdown. “It hit you the hardest out of everyone else there,” Neil laughs.
Todd does remember. He wouldn’t let himself forget any moment he shared with Neil. It was dark and it had rained the day before, so the ground squished unpleasantly under their feet when they walked. Neil had an unkillable smile on his face that night, and it was driving Todd insane.
He’d hoped that by drinking more, it would make the thoughts about Neil go away. It did the exact opposite.
It really is a funny story, Todd knows it is, but he can’t help but cringe at the memories of him draped all over Neil, talking more in forty seconds than he had in four years, complimenting him, and reciting lines that weren’t his to a group of stunned Vermont schoolboys.
“You asked to walk me home,” Neil recalls, eyes boring deep into Todd’s. “But I had to carry you back, and you were stumbling and— and saying all kinds of things I didn’t know you'd even thought about.”
His smile has almost completely disappeared now, slowly being replaced by a look of wonder. Todd thinks it’s fascinating.
“Yeah,” Todd whispers. “Sorry… about that.”
“That’s my favorite memory of us,” Neil breathes, matching his volume. “Always has been. You were so… happy. I’d never seen you like that before.” He leans down slowly, deliberately. Todd follows Neil’s gaze as it drops down to his lips for half a second.
“That’s— that’s a good one,” Todd breathes, tilting his chin up slightly, eyes fixated on Neil’s lips.
“Can—” Neil whispers, grip tightening on Todd’s jaw.
“Please,” Todd exhales, eyes squeezing shut.
The moment before the kiss is excruciating. They’ve both been here before, in this same position hundreds of times. Todd briefly wonders why it hurts now if it didn’t before. It should be like it was before, he thinks, why isn’t it like it was before?
He knows he‘ll be okay though, because the moment before the kiss never lasts forever. The tension between them is thick. Palpable. Todd imagines cutting through it with a butter knife when he feels Neil’s breath faintly on his lips.
But then everything starts happening too quickly. The door to his room swings open, Neil is pulling away, and the lights are too bright, and Todd’s too cold, and Neil’s face is blood red, and the tension is getting thicker, and a nurse stands in the doorway, holding eye contact with Neil. Except it’s not Neil, and Todd knows that.
“Doctor Perry,” She says, softly, fully unaware of the moment she’d just stepped on. “Sorry to interrupt, but your wife’s on the phone, mentioned something about the baby, but no specifics. She said she wants you home, though. Should I tell her you’re with a patient?”
Todd’s heart stops at the mention of a baby. He looks frantically towards Neil, who’s carefully putting his persona back together, pointedly keeping his eyes away from Todd. He can handle it, he thinks. It’s just a baby. But dear God, Neil has a baby.
He’s responsible for a person, a living, breathing attachment to him. One that will serve as a tether to his wife forever. Todd will never get another chance. The reality hits him all at once.
“No, no,” Neil coughs, standing from his chair and grabbing Todd’s chart. “Tell her I’m on my way.”
The nurse walks out and Neil finally looks back towards him. Todd is staring straight ahead, eyes unmoving and lost in thought. Neil has a baby. He has a family. He’s moved on. He made his own life, and Todd isn’t part of it. He never will be.
“Pneumonia sucks, but you should be good to go in a few days,” Neil whispers, but Todd isn’t listening. “I’m going to start you on antibiotics. A nurse will bring them by with instructions later.”
Neil’s face is soft. It's the face Neil made when he found Todd on the bridge for his birthday. Todd wonders if that’s the face he made when he saw his kid for the first time. Or when he saw his wife walking down the aisle.
“Todd? You okay?” Neil asks, but it still yields no response. “My love…”
“Do not—” Todd tries, coughing into his arm as his chest constricts. He hears the faint sound of Neil sighing behind his own unwilling attempt at hacking up a lung. He briefly sees Neil scratch the back of his neck, before heading for the door. This can’t be them anymore. He can’t go through this again. He can’t be a secret anymore.
Todd falls back onto his pillow. Neil’s shoes click against the tile. Todd catches his breath. Neil’s shoulders shake. Todd’s body feels heavy. Neil has a son. Todd barely knows him anymore. Neil has a family. Todd’s alone. Neil’s not.
“What’s its name?” Todd weakly calls out to Neil, who’s just reached the door. He doesn’t even realize he’s said it until Neil turns back to look at him again, eyes brimming with tears.
“What?” Neil asks, voice cracking. Todd realizes that they’re both broken, and they can’t fix each other this time.
“The baby.” Todd breathes. “What’s its name?”
Neil shoots one last small, sad smile towards Todd. A watery laugh pushes through his throat, and Todd can tell he’s choosing his words carefully. He looks everywhere in the room except for Todd, but finally gives in and makes soft eye contact with the blond, taking a shaky breath.
“His name is Toddy,” Neil whispers, voice breaking as he ducks out the door.
Todd’s chest falls in on itself, a strange twist of something sour tugging in his stomach. His body is on fire. Everything is turning to ash around him. The world is falling apart, too fast to be able to pick up all the pieces. Todd knows he can’t be put back together this time.
He doesn’t feel the scream that finally rips itself from his chest. He doesn’t feel the weight of the nurses trying to hold him to the bed. He doesn’t feel the tears streaming down his cheeks. He doesn’t feel the sedative push through his muscle.
He falls quickly into sleep, not feeling anything.