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1979
There were plenty of Tony Awards after parties they could have gone to. In a move that surprised no one who knew them, Neil Perry and Todd Anderson went home to the Abora.
Of course, there was a party there as well. They had their own champagne, but here the person who was supplying the drinks made sure there was a whole bottle of sparkling apple juice for Lizzy. They even had a whole potluck, a regular in-house habit from the last night of the show, and several impromptu musical numbers.
After Neil had been talked into a not-entirely-sober rendition of “Ya Got Trouble” (he’d played Harold Hill often enough by that point that Todd had joked that he could sing the songs in his sleep if he had to), attention turned to Todd. The man Neil loved just laughed, holding his hands up in the air. “Sorry, everyone, but I don’t have a single musical bone in my body. Which is good for the play, because if I’d tried to write a musical I would have absolutely lost to ‘Sweeney Todd.’”
“If They’d Lived,” Todd’s basically-a-monologue that wrapped their love story in a happier version of Romeo and Juliet’s, had somehow made it to Broadway. The fact that it had won both he and Todd a Tony when it got there was less surprising to Neil – it was a really fantastic play.
“It would have been a genius musical,” Neil insisted, hooking an arm around Todd’s neck and pressing a kiss against his cheek. If he was pretending to be drunker than he really was so there would be no questions about it (at least half the crowd was totally safe, but it was hard to be sure), no one else had to know.
Besides, he’d long ago established himself in public as a physically affectionate best friend. He knew he had to be careful, but not being able to touch Todd at all was always unacceptable. “You would have blown ‘Sweeney Todd’ completely out of the water.”
“Yah!” Lizzie called out, holding up her bottle in solidarity. “Right out of the water!”
Todd’s smile was wonderfully soft. “You two are a little bit prejudiced.”
Rick, holding court from the second-comfiest on-set chair (he’d given Francis the comfiest), made an amused sound. “While I second Toddy’s point, I feel I also gotta point out that my boy is lying to you. Not only can he sing, he can play the guitar.”
At everyone’s exaggerated gasps, Lizzie held up her bottle again. “They both can!”
Todd groaned, dropping his head back against Neil’s arm. “One song. Neil and I can play exactly one song on the guitar.”
It was two, technically. But the other one was an obvious enough love song that it might inspire more questions than they were sure they could answer.
This time, the gasps were just as dramatic but more genuine. Daphne, a longtime Abara cast member, placed her hand against her chest. “How could we not know about this!”
Well, Daphne, Neil thought, there are a lot of things we don’t necessarily tell you.
1962
Neil was the first one to spot the guitar.
Todd had actually walked on a couple of steps before he realized Neil was no longer next to him. He turned around to see the man he loved staring into a pawn shop window, a complicated expression on his face. Todd went back, curious to see what had inspired it, only to be equally struck by the sight of the guitar on display.
“Jeremy used to have one,” he told Neil, eyes still on the guitar. He shifted closer, their arms almost but not quite touching. “After he went to Welton I stole it one summer and tried to learn to play it on my own.”
“The music teacher actually included it as an instrument one semester.” Neil’s voice sounded far away, but it was rueful rather than pained. “I made it through a whole month and a half before my father caught on and made me drop it because I’d be too ‘distracted.’”
Todd turned to look at Neil, studying the lines of his face. He’d bugged Jeremy to teach him how to play the guitar throughout pretty much his whole childhood, but Jeremy hadn’t had time for his annoying little brother. When he’d asked his parents if he could have lessons, they’d given him a blank look and said that Jeremy already knew how to play.
The words were out of his mouth before he realized he was going to say them. “We should buy it.”
Neil looked over at him, surprised, then seemed to catch himself and shook his head. “It was just a dumb—”
Todd cut him off with a gentle poke to the side, reasoning for the impulse already unfolding in his head. “For the younger versions of us, who didn’t know all of this was coming,” he said softly, meeting Neil’s eyes with all the love he couldn’t say out loud in public. “Their lives stunk, while ours are pretty amazing. The least we can do is let them learn how to play guitar.”
Neil held his gaze for a long moment. Slowly, he started to smile. “You’re right,” he said finally, his grin bright and beautiful. “It’s the least we could do.”
They went inside, divvying the cost up between the two of them. They had enough left for one of the little two-song pamphlets that taught you how to play popular radio hits from a few years ago. Though the collection wasn’t the greatest – whoever owned them before had been big on Perry Como, for some reason – they eventually found a set they could live with. Elvis was a respectable choice in any crowd, and “Teddy Bear” was technically a love song but it was also a nice perky one.
“And this one’s for us,” Neil murmured, touching the title of the other song with his finger.
Todd’s chest tightened. “I’m expecting a serenade, you know,” he murmured back. “As soon as one of us figures out how to play it.”
Neil grinned. “We’ll take turns. You serenade me one night, then I’ll serenade you the next night.”
They’d managed to stop smiling by the time they went to pay, but it was a near thing.
#
They kept meaning to practice, but there was so much other stuff they were doing. Todd was the darling of NYU’s poetry magazine, and Neil was playing Harold Hill in that fall’s production of “The Music Man.” They also spent as much time helping out at the Abora as they possibly could, though neither of them had the vocabulary to explain the feeling that it was simply what you did for family.
When they did manage to find some time, it was early enough in the morning that Rick and Francis were definitely still asleep (3 a.m. and 7 a.m. were both early, even though you came at them from opposite directions). That meant they had to be as quiet as they could, and they were both either wired or tired enough that verbal explanations of what they knew didn’t seem to sink in very well.
Which was when Neil came up with an idea.
“I feel like you’re going to be too distracted to teach me anything,” Todd murmured, but he was smiling as Neil settled into position behind him. His legs stretched out on either side of Todd’s, arms wrapped around Todd and laying along his own arms as he held the guitar. “Not that I mind at all, but if that happens we’re really going to need to get the guitar out of the way.”
Neil grinned, pressing a kiss against Todd’s neck. Todd would always be a worrier, at least a little, but that just made it mean even more when Neil could get him to play with him like this. “I guess that means we’re relying on your willpower to make sure we get through at least the first part of the song.”
Todd groaned theatrically. “We both know I don’t have any willpower when it comes to you.”
But as it turned out, they did manage to get some learning done. It was a new way of being close, important now that they spent more of their days apart, and as they both worked out the fingering to change from the C chord to F and back again it felt a little bit like the few good parts of being back at Welton. Or maybe an imaginary version of Welton, where Todd had been there from the very beginning and Neil had managed to find him just as fast.
“I wish I’d known you earlier,” Neil murmured, fingers stilling as he got caught up in the possibility. “That your parents had somehow sent you to Welton the same time they did your brother. I would have found you the very first day you were on campus, and even if we hadn’t been assigned to be roommates I would have absolutely figured out how to keep you.”
Todd leaned back against him. “If I’d known you were at Welton, I would have done everything I could to get there no matter how terrible the school sounded.” He turned, pressing a kiss against Todd’s cheek. “If I’d even had any idea you would be coming at some point, and if I could have made myself believe it, it would have made things easier.”
That was the crux, wasn’t it. Could he have even imagined someone like Todd before he’d actually met him? Could he have believed love like this even existed, let alone that it could be his? He didn’t think so.
Todd was the one who’d taught him how to believe.
He let out a shaky breath. “I think if you want to the guitar to be safe, you’re going to have to move it out of the way now.”
Todd did, shifting around to pull Neil into a kiss. Neil tightened his arms around him, letting himself fall.
1966
Neil hadn’t been home in a month.
The awful part was, this was a good thing. He’d been recommended for a role in the film version of the musical “Camelot,” playing Sir Lionel, and he’s spent that time away filming in Spain. It was a huge thing for Neil’s career, and Todd really was just as excited and happy for him as he always said he was.
But he also missed him so much it ached. Even on their busiest days, he usually got to see Neil for at least a few hours scattered through the day. And at night, whatever sleep they managed to get was always in each other’s arms. Going completely without, especially for so long… it felt like he could never quite manage to draw a full breath.
He couldn’t sleep, either. Not only did the bed feel empty, but nightmares kept invading what sleep he did manage to get. Nightmares that took him back to the lonely 17-year-old he’d been, but put him in the wrong place the night of the theater. That made him 19, 20, 24, living a half-life and grieving something that had never even had the chance to be.
So mostly, he didn’t sleep. He wrote a lot – since he’d kept the pronouns neutral, he might even have enough poems for a collection – read sometimes, and occasionally even pulled out the guitar. They’d finally mastered both “(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear” and “Loving You,” but though they kept meaning to get more music books they never seemed to manage it.
Tonight, though, he had the only song he needed.
“I will spend my whole life through, loving you, loving you.” He sang softly enough not to wake up Rick and Francis in the next apartment, fingers moving easily through the chords. “Winter, summer—"
His fingers fumbled when the phone rang suddenly, wondering who it could be. On show nights downstairs would still be busy, but since they’d just wrapped up their last show there was nothing onstage at the moment. “Hello?”
A woman with a Spanish accent answered. “Normally, you would both have to wait, but we Spaniards don’t like mornings so there was no one else in line. Also, it is very romantic.”
Before he could respond, there was a click and a much more important voice spoke. “Todd?”
Todd’s chest clenched. “Neil?” He did the math in his head. “It’s just past 6 a.m. where you are.”
“Indeed it is. And since our call time isn’t until 8, you should take it as proof of just how much I love and miss you.” Neil’s voice was soft and warm, one of the best things Todd had ever heard. “In fact, I missed you so much I bought another guitar. You can have half ownership of this one, too.”
Before Todd could respond to that, there was a sound like the phone’s handset was being set down on the bed. Then he heard the slightly distant but very familiar opening notes of “Loving You.” Eyes filling, Todd set his own phone handset down on the bed and joined him. They made it through the song twice, both of them singing softly, then talked as long as they could.
When Todd finally fell asleep that night, he didn’t have a single nightmare.
1970
Lizzie barely slept.
The few people Neil knew who had kids assured him this was normal for babies, but that was little comfort to the men of the Abora. They were mostly youngest or only children – Francis' only sister was three years younger than him – and so everything about babies was completely new territory to them. Including, and most pressingly, the nights spent in constant, sleepless tears.
The exhaustion it meant for her dads wasn't even the biggest issue. It wasn't great, of course, but they were theater people – this wasn't the first time they'd gotten by on too-little sleep, and it wouldn't be the last. No, the big problem was how much it hurt to hear their little girl so unhappy. She was upset about something, maybe even in pain, and neither Neil or Todd had any idea what to do to fix it.
Still, they tried everything they could. That meant a lot of rocking, bouncing, dancing, swaying, singing, and anything else that might give her a moment’s peace. They knew it would be smarter to do it in shifts, taking turns trying to snatch a little sleep for themselves, and while they sometimes managed to it was mostly easier to just stay awake. An empty bed and the knowledge that the two people you loved most in the world were suffering did not make for the most restful sleep.
That night, the clock was well past three and the boys were still trying to dance Lizzy through the living room to get her to settle. She wasn’t crying so much as she was making distressed noises, as if she wanted to go to sleep as much as they wanted her to but couldn’t quite manage it.
Finally, in desperation, Todd went to get one of the guitars. “It probably won’t work, because lullabies don’t help, but I never slept better while you were gone than when you played the guitar for me.”
Neil’s chest tightened as he rocked their daughter back and forth. “Hey, even if it doesn’t work, at least I’ll enjoy it.”
Given how little interest Lizzie seemed to have in the gentler songs they’d been singing, Todd went immediately to a fairly bouncy rendition of “(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear.” (They didn’t have to worry about waking up Rick and Francis, who had learned to start sleeping with professional-quality earplugs weeks ago.) After the first line, Neil joined him in singing along.
By the end of the first verse, Lizzie had settled. By the second time through the song, she was sound asleep. Todd played the song one more time through, just because neither of them could quite believe it. When the last note faded they both froze, waiting to see if she’d wake up, but as the minutes ticked by she was still breathing deep and easy.
Gingerly, Todd set down the guitar. They both walked her back into the nursery, gently laying her back down in the crib, then stood in the doorway and watched her sleep.
“I feel we’re going to be hearing that song a lot over the next few months,” Neil murmured, far more warm and content than he probably should be given the last few hours.
Todd smiled, leaning his head on Neil’s shoulder. “Maybe it’ll finally encourage us to learn some new songs.”
1979
Once word was out that Neil and Todd could both play the guitar, however limited, there was no way the crew was going to leave it at that. A cry went up for someone who was allowed in the family space to retrieve the guitars, with Charlie and Lizzie going up together to do just that. When they came back downstairs, Lizzie beaming in excitement, Todd lost the last of his ability to argue.
Settling the guitar Charlie handed him into his lap, Neil leaned close enough to murmur in his ear. “Pretend it’s just family,” he murmured. “Lizzie asked for a concert, and Rick and Francis are singing along. Don’t think about anything else.”
Then he started playing, the notes a familiar accompaniment to so much of his life, and Todd almost couldn’t help but follow along. He relaxed with every note, enough that when everyone started singing Todd ended up louder than everyone else. He was singing to Neil, and it didn’t work if Neil couldn’t hear him.
Eventually, the party wound down. When everyone else finally left, it was time for bed. After another round of congratulations, hugs and kisses and the promise that Rick would make bacon in the morning, Rick and Francis claimed one of the master bedrooms for the night. Lizzie, who’d been asleep enough to be carried upstairs but woken up on time to get in on the grandpa kisses, asked to be tucked in like she used to “back when she was little.”
“You’re still little,” Neil insisted gently, kissing her hair. “And don’t tell us when you’re not. It’s a traumatic experience for dads when their little girls grow up.”
Rather than protest that she was a big girl, she gave them both a big-eyed hopeful look. “Then will you play a guitar song for me? The one you don’t really like playing around everyone else?”
The ache in Todd’s chest was sweet. “Of course, baby girl.”
They played “Loving You” through twice before she drifted off, a smile on her face. Quietly, they kissed her goodnight and slipped out of the room. They put the guitars away back in their stands, truly alone for the first time that night.
Todd wrapped his arms around Neil the way he’d been wanting to for hours. “I wouldn’t have wanted to do this with anyone else,” he murmured.
He felt Neil’s smile as much as he heard it. “The Tony or the parenting?”
Todd leaned his head against Neil’s shoulder, heart full. “All of it.”
Neil started them swaying gently, moving to the silent rhythm of “Loving You.” It was only a few steps before they shifted into the same dance position they’d used since they were 17, one set of arms tucked against their chests and fingers laced together. Prom dancing, Charlie had called it once.
They hadn’t ever gotten a prom. But they would have this, forever.
It wasn’t long before Neil started singing gently. “Makes no difference where I go or what I do, you know that I’ll always be loving you…”
Todd closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away.