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Stuart checked his watch – 1:03AM. He fought to keep his eyes open as the film drew to a close; Stan and Ollie were about to head back on stage for what would be their last time performing together, the end of a partnership spanning over thirty years. Brian was sound asleep, head comfortably rested on his shoulder.
The movie had been Brian’s choice. They took turns; Stuart would choose one week, and Brian the next. Stuart had been dreading this Friday night and another of Brian’s oddities which would probably leave even the most dedicated cinephiles scratching their heads: The Black Hole, Tremors, Dragonslayer, Nothing But Trouble, Waxwork – if it was released before the year 2000 and had passed from all living memory, then Brian probably had it somewhere.
So when Brian had presented him with a copy of Stan and Ollie, Stuart had been a little taken aback. He hadn’t exactly been secretive with his love of the old black-and-white comedies, but he’d never expected Brian to take an interest in them.
Turns out he had his usual motives.
‘I’ll bet you anything this will be the one to make you cry.” Brian had said.
Stuart had scoffed. Him? The man who had kept a dry eye through Edward Scissorhands? The man who had actually yawned during the climax of Titanic? Brian really expected some Hollywood biopic trite to succeed where so many other so-called tearjerkers had failed?
‘You’re on.’ He had replied. ‘And if I lose?’
‘Oh, I’m sure I can think of something.’
Then the night had proceeded as normal: agreeing on a takeaway, the two of them picking the film apart at every opportunity, and Brian falling asleep by the halfway point, as he was prone to doing.
Except this was the first time Brian had gotten this… close. Sure, they usually sat next to each other, but they’d always kept to their respective sides of the couch, even when Brian was asleep. Stuart hadn’t even noticed Brian moving closer until their hands were practically touching. He had briefly considered waking him, but trying to wake up Brian was like trying to raise the dead.
So Stuart sat there, trying to focus on the movie – it had been surprisingly good - as Brian inched ever closer, until his head was resting on Stuart’s shoulder. He had done his best not to flinch as they made contact, but he had drawn the line at Brian trying to rest a hand on his leg. Stuart held Brian’s hand in place to prevent a second attempt, and there it had remained.
As the show drew to a close, Stan was suggesting that they simply take their bow and end the show there, mindful of Ollie’s heart condition. But Ollie was insisting that they do their dance first.
Brian mumbled something in his sleep, and Stuart heard himself gasp as Brian shuffled further up his shoulder, towards the crook of his neck. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, and turned his attention back to the TV.
The orchestra started up again. The duo did their usual routine of Stan starting to head out on stage, only for Ollie to haul him back, followed by Stan “accidentally” kicking him in the backside as they walked on together.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ollie began. “We do hope you’ve enjoyed our bit of fun this evening. We’ve certainly enjoyed ourselves, haven’t we Stanley?”
“We certainly have.” Stan affirmed. There was a ripple of laughter from the audience.
“If you don’t mind,” Ollie continued, “We’d like to finish off with a little dance.”
Stan turned to his partner in shock.
Ollie either didn’t notice or pretended not to as he turned to the conductor. “Maestro, if you would be so kind.”
The two of them took a few steps backward, ready to begin.
“You sure?” Stan muttered.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Ollie replied.
They turned back to the crowd, who gave another cheer. The conductor began a piano rendition of “At the Ball, That’s All,” from what was probably their finest production, Way Out West, the same one they had been filming at the start of the movie.
In a sense, they were back where they started. No longer at the height of fame, but back in the public eye, immortalised and remembered even now. Something about it was almost… poetic.
They were barely three steps into the routine before the audience started to roar.
Stuart felt it immediately. The hitch in his throat. The shaky intake of breath. And the sting of tears at the corner of his eyes.
Their dance continued; the piano faded into the original version of the song from so many years ago. Stan and Ollie were reduced to silhouettes, the ever-recognisable figures in bowler hats, one fat, one thin.
The waterworks were on in full force now. Stuart didn’t even bother to wipe them away.
‘A-a-a-a-all some ball!’
Just like that, it was over. They took their final bow, and the film faded to black. A final information crawl displayed facts that Stuart already knew: Ollie passed away two years later, and Stan never performed again until his own death in 1965.
The credits started to roll, accompanied by jaunty music.
‘Have you been crying?’
Stuart nearly jumped out of his skin. ‘How long have you been awake?!’
‘Long enough to see that I won.’ Brian replied. ‘This is very comfy, by the way.’
Stuart scrambled over to the other side of the couch, anything to get Brian off his shoulder. ‘That never would’ve happened if I’d known you were awake!’
Brian smirked. ‘But it’s okay when I’m asleep? I never knew you liked holding hands, Stuart.’
For a few seconds Stuart was too infuriated to even speak. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Brian’s face was practically folding in on itself as he tried not to laugh.
Stuart closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, enough to calm him down. When he opened them again, Brian was offering him a box of tissues. He remembered the tears still fresh on his face, and took a few tissues to wipe them away.
‘Thanks.’ He said.
‘Don’t mention it.’ Replied Brian. ‘So… if you don’t mind me asking, did you like the movie?’
Stuart sighed. ‘Yes, thank you. It was better than I expected.’
‘I can tell.’
He briefly considered firing back with another retort, but decided it wasn’t worth it. ‘Okay then,’ Stuart said. ‘What are your terms?’
Brian looked confused. ‘What?’
‘You won the bet. What are your terms?’
‘Oh! Right!’ Brian’s eyes practically lit up. ‘To be honest, I never really thought I’d get this far. I hadn’t even thought of anything.’
Stuart yawned. ‘Well, when you do think of something, just let me know. I’m gonna clean up.’ He switched off the TV and started gathering up the trays which had once held chicken curry and rice.
‘I think I’ve got it.’
That was fast, Stuart thought. He set the trays down and straightened himself up. ‘Okay then. What is it?’
For the first time since they’d met, Brian actually looked embarrassed. He seemed reluctant to maintain eye contact and, while it was difficult to see in the dim light, he might have actually been blushing.
‘Come on. Spit it out.’ Stuart said.
‘Well…’ Brian murmured. ‘I was thinking… maybe we could… go out for dinner sometime?’
‘You mean like a d–‘ The words came before Stuart could stop them, and he coughed to cut himself off.
Brian perked up. ‘What was that?’
‘Nothing.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I-it’s just that… isn’t that what we usually do?’ He gestured to the empty curry trays on the coffee table.
‘Well, yeah… but I meant something fancier than a microwave meal or a takeaway, you know? A real dinner. Together.’
‘You have a point.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘That… actually sounds pretty nice.’
‘Great. So, does Tuesday night work for you?’
‘Sure. Sounds great.’ Stuart was grateful for the darkness; by this point his face was practically scarlet.
Brian nodded hastily. ‘Cool. Sounds good. See you in the morning.’
He headed to his room and shut the door without another word. A few seconds later the door opened and Brian stuck his head out.
‘Glad you liked the movie.’
Then he shut it again.
With that, Stuart was left alone. Even in the next room, he was sure Brian could hear his heart pounding away.