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Todd had gotten plenty of attention for his writing over the years, but his directing experience had always stayed firmly in the family. He’d helmed hundreds of shows at the Abora, studying the craft under Rick’s direct tutelage, and had taken over a show or two at NYU at Lizzie’s request when the professor who’d been directing it had gotten sick. He’d done the initial run of “If They’d Lived” at the Abora, when it had blossomed from the single night they’d seen as a personal indulgence to a lengthy run that had stopped only when the offers from Broadway started pouring in. He’d been heavily involved in every production since then, at least the ones Neil did, but he hadn’t directed any of them since that first run.
Tonight, though, it had been impossible to give the job to anyone else.
"This will be the ultimate performance of our story," Neil told him, holding Todd's face in his hands and looking at him as if he was a wonder. No public admiration he'd ever received had meant half so much as that look on Neil's face. "Who better to tell it than us?"
For the show’s 20th anniversary, they’d brought it back for a single night’s performance at the Kennedy Center. Every shred of the show’s profits was going straight to ACT UP, but he and Neil had done enough charitable work for AIDS-related causes over the last 10 years that no one seemed to find anything particularly unusual about it. And Todd deciding to direct? Everyone seemed to feel that the sentiment was perfectly reasonable. It was his baby, after all.
He loved “If They Lived.” It was a riff on“Romeo and Juliet,” spoken by Romeo as if dreaming about what might have been.
Todd's fingers twitched, fighting the urge to grab the notebook out of Neil's hands and throw it in the trash. Even if they weren't any good, he'd given the words to Neil, who would take them and love them even if they weren't worthy of it. Even if he couldn't see what Todd had wanted them so badly to mean. "We don't have to do anything with them," he said anxiously, clutching his knees to keep his hands away from the notebook. "You can just think of it as a melodramatic love letter."
"Don't you dare, and it's a perfect love letter," Neil said fiercely, finally looking up from the notebook. His eyes were shining. "You made them us."
Todd swallowed, loving Neil so much it filled him up. "You saw."
"Of course I did." Neil smoothed his thumb along Todd's cheek, utterly gentle. "I thought of them, that first night. That we needed to do better." He blinked hard, eyes filling. "And through this play, we'll finally be able to tell the world."
Todd closed his eyes. "Not really," he whispered. He had a wonderful, beautiful life, he’d also had to spend it pretending that Neil and Lizzie, the two people he loved most in the world, weren’t his in every way they could be. He had to hide the love that kept his heart beating.
Neil leaned his forehead against Todd's. "Closer than I could have imagined."
Tonight, they were about to get even closer.
Lizzie stood with him backstage, her chin hooked over his shoulder and arms wrapped in his waist. She had her own life at 28, a successful director and children’s book author, but after living in the dorms for a brief time during college she’d decided to move back into the theater. They’d re-built the wall between the apartments, and if she chose to start a family she insisted they’d move in as well.
Tonight, she’d insisted on being backstage with him. The rest of the family had prime seats in the audience – Francis was front and center, with Patty on one side and Dee on the other, and Charlie, Marie and the kids were right next to them. Jeremy and his family were here as well, along with Neil’s mother, Mr. Keating, and nearly every other close friend they’d made over the nearly four decades since they’d first escaped to New York.
The only face who should have been here but wasn’t was Rick, who’d died almost five years earlier. Still, Todd was absolutely certain he was still watching the show, one hand on Francis’s shoulder and making the occasional note about what he and Neil could have done better.
Todd hoped he would have been proud of what they were about to do. He also wished Rick and Francis could have gotten the chance to do the same thing.
“I think Dad’s even better at this than he usually is,” Lizzie murmured, distracting him from his thoughts. She had her chin hooked over his shoulder, arms wrapped around his middle, and her voice was a little thick as she tilted her head against Todd’s. “I know he says he always performs this one for you, but he’s digging even deeper this time. Even I’m getting teary, and I don’t think it’s just because I know what happens at the end.”
Neil had agreed.
“Tonight’s performance has to be perfect,” he’d breathed against Todd’s neck that morning, their bodies wrapped around each other as they had been for so much of their lives. “It’s finally getting the ending it should have had the whole time. I need to make it worthy of you.”
Todd pulled him even closer. "It will be perfect, because it's you," he breathed. "You're all I've ever needed."
Remembering, Todd squeezed his daughter’s hand. “Your dad’s a hopeless romantic,” he murmured, eyes still on Neil.
“So’s my baba.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Besides, you know full well he’d insist you were both hopeful romantics.”
Todd’s own lips curved up, chest tightening with the sweetest kind of ache. “He absolutely would.”
They watched, together, as Neil wistfully looked back at the dancers behind him. They were pantomiming a scene from Romeo and Juliet’s imagined senior years, the way their steps slow and their linked arms carry a little more weight for each other. He hadn’t lived this part when he’d first written the glorified monologue, but he’d loved Neil enough to dream of it. He’d had the chance to watch Rick and Francis experience old age together, and he’d written Neil a silent promise that they would get to experience that same grace when the time came.
They had so far, a thousand times over. And if either of them had any say in the matter, they’d still have decades more together.
As Neil turned back to the audience, his gaze lingered on Todd’s for the barest instant. There was no change in his expression, too caught up in telling their story, but the warm weight in his gaze was its own message. Todd felt it in his chest, a silent message that this was all exactly as it should be. “’As even the darkest shadows pale under the blazing light that shines between your ribs,’” Todd murmured.
Lizzie gave him a quick squeeze. “You’re quoting yourself again, aren’t you?”
His smile flickered again. “I have to. No one else has written about your dad enough.” Then he sighed, worry snaking back in through the happiness. “No matter how much we want this, it’s going to make things harder for you.”
Lizzie stepped around so she could see Todd’s face. “It’s also going to make things better,” she said softly, taking his face in her hands with the utmost gentleness. Even in the low light, he could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “Because after this, I’ll get to tell everybody that I’ve had two dads this whole time. I’ll still call you baba, because no matter what anyone else thought that has never meant anything but dad, but I hope I get to do so many interviews. If not, I’m going to have to stop people on the street so I can tell them.”
Throat closing up, Todd pulled her into a fierce hug. “You are the best thing that ever happened to us,” he whispered, his own tears spilling over. “I am so lucky I got the chance to be your dad.”
She swallowed, squeezing him back just as tight. “I’m the lucky one. I got the best dads in the whole world.”
Onstage, Neil had transitioned to almost the last part of the play. At first, it seemed like the moment Romeo gave up the fantasy of what might have been. He lets himself be angry with the audience, accusing them of not having the same dream he did because
“You crave the taste of tears on your lips, when your heart sits safe and whole inside your chest. Your stories decree that this is how all dreams must end for those who dare more than they should. They get to feel a moment of sun against their wings, a single precious Ishmael l instant to fight back against the heavy press of a fate they had no say in. If you're in a rare mood, you may even grant them the impossible grace of looking into the eyes of the person who makes them realize they had no idea what being alive really meant.
“But all of this is only allowed for your joy in snatching it away again. You've decreed this is the only destiny for those of us who try to tell a different story, crushed between pages someplace where you do not have to hear the screams of loss. Where the shattered remnants of hope are swept safely far away onstage. Because if the dreamers are always dragged into consciousness, you can tell yourselves it's okay that this is simply the way things are. It doesn't matter how beautiful the dream is, or how much it deserves to last. Everyone has to wake up.”
Lizzie grinned as she pushed him toward the stage, swiping a hand across her wet eyes. “Go. It's about to be your cue.”
Todd moved into position just as Neil slowly rose to his feet. “But this is no dream.” He turned to where Todd was standing, reaching out a hand. Even from here, Todd could see all the love in the world in his eyes. “This is my life.”
In every other performance of the play, this is where one of the dancers who played Juliet would walk out. Todd had watched her part of the story more times than he could count, internalizing every step and gesture until it felt like he was doing it himself. He'd wanted to, from the very first time it had been onstage.
Now, he stepped into the light.
He heard the murmurs of confusion from the audience as he came into view, but all his focus was on the outstretched hand and the shining eyes beckoning him forward. He took Neil's hand just as he had thousands of times before, both of their rings glinting in the stage lights (finally on their fingers after far, far too long.)
Neil pulled him close for the brief dance that was the next moment in the play, but he didn't get into the dramatic dance position that let even the cheap seats know what was happening onstage. Instead, he pulled him close the way he always did when they were really dancing, tucking their intertwined arms close against their chests. Todd leaned his head against Neil's shoulder, the same way he always did, and Neil pressed a kiss against his hair. "Still my favorite scene partner," Neil breathed.
The audience was utterly, breathlessly silent.
Onstage, the music played as they swayed together. It quieted as they separated just a little, Todd reaching up to cradle Neil's cheek as the Juliet dancer was supposed to do. He stroked his thumb along Neil's cheek, not part of the stage directions, and Neil changed them more by taking Todd's hand in his and pressing a kiss against his palm. His eyes were bright as the sun as they stared into Todd's, voice thick as he spoke the next line of the play. “I am everything I am because I loved you, and because you loved me.”
Todd swallowed, remembering the first time Neil had kissed his hand. Two desperate boys, clutching at a dream they hadn't even realized was possible until that moment. A dream that had turned into a more beautiful life than either of those boys could have ever imagined.
The next line was supposed to be Neil's as well, but if there had been any words in the play he'd wanted for his own it was these. All the love that would forever burn in his heart, condensed down to a few simple words.
When Todd spoke, his voice was rough with emotion. “You are the poem of my life.”
Neil smiled as he finished the line. “And the only story I'll ever need written.”
Though it definitely wasn't in the stage directions, and they hadn't discussed it, Todd couldn't stop himself from pulling Neil close for a deep, intense kiss. Neil jumped right into it, wrapping his arms around him like an entire theater full of people weren't watching. For the first time, it didn't matter that they were.
What came next probably wouldn't be easy. But there would be so much joy, because they would be together.
By the time they broke apart, the first claps had turned into a deafening roar of applause. Lizzie ran out onto the stage to throw her arms around both of them, beaming like sunlight with tears streaming down her face.
As a family, they turned to face the audience.