Work Text:
No.
Is the only thing Todd could think when Neil broke the news to him. For the past eight years they have been together for each show, Hadestown, Newsies, Ride the Cyclone. For eight years Todd had been witness to the grueling practices and the long nights of memorizing lines with such deep desperation one might have thought Neil would die if he didn't have it memorized. Todd had been witness to Neil reading long sonnets of love and singing songs of desperation or hope.
He was there for each backstage breakdown, every time a director would sit the actors down and berate them for stuff that really was not their fault, each time someone lost or broke a prop and was too afraid to tell anyone.
He was there for each turn of the knife, every revolution or strike. He was there, everywhere, because that's where Neil would be.
And for each show that Neil got a part in he would drag Todd along. At some point it became unspoken, if Neil got cast he would bring Todd. Neil had no shame in carrying Todd with him, in fact he was almost proud, boastful even, that he had such a power too bring Todd with him. For Neil it was easy to beg his directors with pleas of: you need to understand, he's here with me or i'm leaving or others words like trust me. He's the best the makeup department could find.
Everytime his pleas would work, and every time Todd would find himself alone with Neil in the fluorescent lighting of the makeup room. Using his hands to gently brush and pat on every new element of that night's character. A charcoal smudge, large rippling scars, blood splatter.
They became known in the theater community, Neil and his artist. Painter and his muse. They became each other's projects, their newest piece of work.
Neil would help other actors memorize their lines while giving Todd his face/arm/leg to show other artists how to get a perfect scar. With a bowl of trail mix and every palette of colors known to man, Neil and Todd's room would be crowded in every corner. People sharing stories and singing songs from past performances. Their room became a school, a hangout spot. And in each place they went they would become that Neil and that Todd.
And even to the public they were that Neil and Todd, for eight years they've had to deal with tabloids of: Famous broadway actor Neil Perry was caught with makeup artist Todd Anderson. Todd Anderson and Neil Perry, best friends or more? Neil Perry, a theater kid's wet dream, off the market?
Eight years of hidden glances, panic attacks, near kisses, post show screaming fans, sharing wine glasses, holding hands. Pining.
It was them going through the pain of wanting to hold each other an arms length away versus holding each other close and pressing kisses to the top of the others head. It was the silent conversations after closing nights, everyone going back to Neil or Todds apartment and making themselves at home. It was the coming and going of new friends and old ones.
It was the eight years of pining for each other, eight years of unspoken drunken words. Of slurred I love you’s combatting with sober “oh that's my best friend Todd” eight years of Todd building up the courage to destroy every foundation they built together, eight years for him to finally think he might confess, eight years till now, the moment Neil tells him news that might just break him.
“Todd, listen. I tried to tell them you had to come with me. I told them, I begged them.”
Neil, a few hours prior, cheeks flushed with an ethereal glow around his face and an easy smile turned to Todd and kissed his cheek. Neil, a few minutes prior, pulled Todd away from the crowd and into a cluttered bedroom all while whispering to him he had big news. Neil, a few seconds prior, told Todd he got his dream role, told him he's finally going to be casted for a new cast recording of his favorite musical. And Neil, a few milliseconds before Todd's spiral, told him it's the only show in eight years he couldn't bring Todd along with him.
Todd zones out, staring blankly as his world explodes in front of him. Neil keeps rambling about whatever Todd can't take the time to understand, “And of course they didn't listen because this director is swearing to me his makeup artist and I will get along well, it's like he's not even trying to understand that it's not her I'm worried about having. It's about not having you with me, which I guess is stupid because I can drag you with me everywhere. But you know me-” Neil is cut off so suddenly by Todd grasping at his hand.
Todd whispers, “I'm so proud of you Neil, i'm so unbelievably proud of you.”
In a way, Todd hopes Neil caught the crack in his voice or the shake each syllable had. He hopes Neil calls him out on those blunders. He hopes Neil realizes how this is all breaking him from the inside out. The words were heavy, they almost hurt to throw into the air. Above all, he hopes Neil would stay . To push away his dream like Todd would do. But this was Neil, Neil who had already lost so much. Who had already sacrificed his dream once before. Todd swears to himself, he cannot be the reason for Neil staying. No matter how much he dreams he could be.
But then Neil looked at him with such love in his eyes, somehow communicating all his thanks and adoration through one soft glance and it all was almost healed. Because, yes Neil was leaving him and yes Todd is already falling apart without him, but to see Neils nervous posture sag. Todd realized, quite blatantly, that he would do anything for Neil.
Neil looks at Todd and for a moment too long and can't tell if he's going to kiss the other or if he's going to collapse to the floor.
“Thank you” Neil whispers silently into the soft moment they created.
“Always Neil,” Todd promises, “Always.”
Neil then drags Todd back into the living room where they are hosting the other cast members, mostly Neils friends who acted alongside him in Waitress and a few other artists who Todd had managed to become close with. In the Living room he's suddenly surrounded by bright conversations that overlap each other. Yet Todd can only find himself paying attention to the grip Neil has on his hand, the way his thumb swipes back and forth and threads itself across his knuckles, into his cells.
Neil roots himself into Todd's hand, palms sliding together. This is comfortable, Todd thinks. This is how its supposed to be. In seven years that touch will fade, but for now, as they stumble room to room, Todd can still feel the burn. In every lifetime he could imagine, Todd is the painter and Neil, his muse. But now, he can't help but think that he's the muse. Body built up from different aspects of Neil . His touch gives him life, his words fill Todd's body with sustenance. Neil makes him alive.
They spend the night lost in eachother, or, Todd spends his night lost in Neil. Trailing him through every doorway, through every conversation. Wherever Neil goes, Todd will follow. Has followed. He's the last to leave, first helping Neil clean up all the plates and cups scattered about. He leaves and can still feel the swipe of Neils thumb on his hand.
Like a phantom limb Todd wants to scratch it off. To mutilate his hand until he can't feel the burn of each swipe. He wants to scratch, and itch, and imprint the touch. He wants to get it tattooed. To have it permanent.
The burn doesn't fade as he says goodbye, nor when he stares at Neils eyes before the blue door before him gets gently shut.
Todd tries to not cry everytime he looks in Neils eyes from then on. Todd tries not to cry when he says goodbye for every night after. Todd will always cry as soon as he closes his apartment door.
—
Its hard, Todd realizes, to be friends with this ticking time bomb. Everyday a new second counts down and Todd can't quite figure out what wire to cut to stop everything from exploding.
They make due with the time they have left, feigning ignorance of the invisible clock that starts ticking overhead. In the milliseconds of this countdown they spend every waking moment with the other. Sometimes they'll wake up on the same couch, falling asleep from late night movies. Sometimes they'll grab a coffee together and then go back to someone's apartment just to help with meaningless chores.
Sometimes, they do nothing. They sit in silence contemplating what there to do once the clock hits zero.
Todd catches himself waiting by the open door of Neil's apartment, the orange lighting filtering in through the windows and from the candles all around. He stands and imagines what it would be like to walk in and call that place home. He imagines all that might have been: How would Neil take his coffee in the morning? What kind of flowers are his favorite? Maybe he needs help getting rid of those brown boxes. He hopes for another world where he didn’t see the numerous packing boxes hiding in corners around the place. For the time being, he tricks himself into not seeing them. He tricks himself into imagining eternity with Neil. One cream and a spoonful of sugar. Azalea.
The clock ticks are loud, but time still slows as they move together through this molasses period. It's not sweet like honey, it's thick, it's raw. It hurts.
Every-time they talk together he gets a deep feeling of ‘its all ending’ in his gut. A fifteen minute drive is about to turn into a three hour flight. And all Todd can do is sit and watch.
The wires lay before him in a mangled mess of feeling, the red one is bittersweet: If he confesses now, he gets the luck of moving away from each other. If he confesses now, he gets the tragedy of it being reciprocated and never having a chance to let it become what he wants. Because in the end, he wants to hold Neils hand. He wants the tabloids to be right. He wants so desperately and ferociously to call Neil his that he feels ill.
The blue is thicker than the rest, it's easier to cut, to slice through: Todd says nothing as he watches Neil walk out of his life. Todd says nothing and cuts off contact. Todd says nothing and takes years trying to forget the boy he was, and the boy he could have been with.
The yellow wire is frayed on the edges, sparks fly left and right from its ends. Its dangerous and never to be touched: Todd could ask Neil to stay. He's selfish, he's desperate and all he would have to do is ask Neil to stay.
He holds scissors in his hand, and can't bring himself to cut any of the wires.
They move through it together. They get coffee in the mornings. They spend most nights together. They pack Neils things into small cardboard boxes. They dismantle all the shelves they built together. They host parties and other moving away cliches.
Todd drives Neil and his things into his new life.
Neils new door is Red.
—
Todd finds new jobs with new actors and new shows, he watches the news go crazy about Neil and his next big role. He watches Neil's life through screens, and papers.
In the end, Todd doesn't cut any wires. In the end, there is no explosion, no big boom that shakes the earth. In the end, everyone keeps moving on.
In the end, Todd decides that no explosion is worse than the detonation that he was preparing for.
It's hard but it's worth it, most nights are spent alone, staring at screens of old cast recordings. He can be seen in the background of their Ride the Cyclone debut as soon as Neils face makeup got smudged. On rarer nights Todd and Neil review their highlights of the week over facetime, how Neils new neighbor is a cook so he gets free meals, how Todd got another raise.
It becomes a sort of obsession for Todd to check in with the news of Neils show, following countless update accounts. Enough that it actually caused speculation that Todd had his own role in the show, enough that Neil called him and in a teasing tone said, “awh Todd, Its okay to be this in love with me. All my adoring fans are.”
Its funny. It was funny. Neil was always funny like that. But Todd's heart jumped at the topic of love. It wanted to claw out of his chest and lay itself bare on the ground.
“Yeah whatever,” Todd had replied instead, “you already know I love you.”
They keep it up for a month, talking, texting, and emailing. But the edges started to fray as time moved.
It's gradual, the loss of communication they had. It starts with Friday nights suddenly being booked, Saturdays and Sundays too. Weekdays were always on a DO NOT TOUCH basis so neither even try that one.
One month becomes four and they keep at it, the desperate attempts to keep in touch. But then four evolves and practices run longer, parties last later. Facetimes stop. By the end of the second year, their nights of chitchat and highlights almost become a futile attempt at communication with the work they do. Sometime between the close dates of opening night and holidays they don't talk anymore.
Tood keeps track of every update for Neils show. Every ticket sale, every release date. His spotify wrapped is all Neil, Neil, Neil.
By the time the show's opening night comes up Todd has reached out to every contact he has to get him front row tickets. Director, actor, writer, artist. It didn't matter, He fought for seating, for tickets, for flowers and hotel room.
He fears Neils reaction to seeing him, disgust or hate. Maybe he's forgotten about Todd. He fears a lot of outcomes, a lot of wires. But he also hopes that Neil will see him and be happy . He’ll see him and be glad he came.
He gets there as early as he can, loitering outside the theater, hoping that Neil will peek his head out, see Todd and drag him inside backstage and kiss him breathlessly. Or at least smile at him, give him a shart stilted nod of approval and thanks.
But instead he shuffles in with every other theater kid and hunkers down for the three hour show.
As curtains open Todd can see the moment Neil catches his eye, the newly bright flush that got added to his skin. The way Neils entire body perks up. Todd spent almost a year's worth of rent for this moment.
I always look at the first seat to the right, Neil had told him when Todd asked how he doesnt get nervous on opening night, there's always someone with their eyes sparkling with excitement in that seat. And somehow, we always share a moment that keeps me going.
For the entire play it's as if Neil is saying everything for Todd, as if all the words of love he screams into the crowd reflect the moments they shared in the others apartment as if everything revolved around their Might-have-beens.
Before either are ready, Neils on stage taking his bow. Before either are ready, the show is done.
Todd sits there in silence, staring at the blazed imprint of Neil his eyes have left him with. The flowers start to wilt in his hand, slowly without water. Like Todd for all these years.
Security walks over and asks Todd to follow him backstage, in a flurry of movement and words Todd caught Neil in his arms. He can hear the crowds of families backstage screaming to Neil, “You were fucking brilliant Neil! Always fucking brilliant. You shined!”
But Neil is looking at him with those eyes, The eyes he would always look at Todd with while he was leaving his old blue door. The pleading, sad but satisfied eyes. Who cares what those families are screaming, I have him here, with me. Finally.
He has no idea who made the move first but in an instant Neils lips were on his. They put eight years worth of pining into the action, eight years of what-almost-was. They put two more years of cross-country love into the kiss.
“I love you, Have loved you. And leaving you has been brutal.” Neil says, lips near Todd's ear.
Todd grapes at the back of Neils shirt tighter, letting his fingers grip onto the white hidden under a dark brown vest. He hopes Neil understands what he means, I will have you here with me for eternity. I will hold onto this moment forever. I thought you'd forgotten about me.
He just lets go of Neils shirt to move his hand up,up,up to his hair and back down to cup Neils cheek. “You can have me forever, I'll move in with you Neil. right now. You have no Idea how much I missed you.” Todd whispers as he drags Neil’s face into another kiss.
In his end, he cuts all the wires. And nothing bad happens, but the explosion still hits. And Neil is still in his arms, kissing his head and crying into his hair. Todd is the artist, but Neil was the boom before time that created him.