Work Text:
Quick, quick
Tell me something awful
Like you are a poet trapped inside the body of a finance guy
***
I hate it here so I will go to
secret gardens in my mind
People need a key to get to
The only one is mine
1
Cameron got whatever head cold all the poets had first. He had given it to Charlie, of course, who had given it to Neil and Knox. Knox had given it to Meeks and Pitts, and Neil had given it to Todd, and even though it seemed like Meeks would never get over it, he had in the last few days. Which was what was weird, because if Meeks had stopped sniffling, there was no reason Neil still should be.
But he was, Todd realized, as he had rolled over, half-awake, too cold with the draft from the window that breached the tight room when the wind was rough. He pulled the blankets up tighter around his chin and tried to bury himself back into sleep, to whatever half-hearted dream had distracted him from the insane amount of calculus homework that needed doing.
Neil was rolled over, facing the wall, shoulders shaking. It wasn’t with cold; this was labored and measured, coming in waves. And he was sniffling, even as soft as it was. Todd must’ve still been half-asleep, because it took him that long to figure out it wasn’t the stupid cold.
Neil was sobbing.
It was almost silent- it wouldn’t have woken Todd, he probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all if not for the crushing cold, but once he realized, it was so hard to ignore.
For one thing, it didn’t seem in line with the normal goings of Neil, who always had some half-smile or grin, even when nothing was particularly amusing, which is probably what made the whole experience particularly disturbing to Todd. Even at his lowest, Neil was cracking jokes and causing goodhearted chaos. He didn’t break; he wasn’t like that.
Except he had, and he was, because it was the middle of the night, and Neil was crying, alone, in bed.
It made Todd’s stomach hurt. If radiant, shatterproof Neil could end up like this, what was there to be said about the situation they had all found themselves in? Especially for Neil- Todd could be a disappointment because Jeffery wasn’t, so his parents had already been satiated. Neil had no such luxury.
Sleep was futile at this point. His mind was awake now, racing like a rat in a cornfield, trying to figure out what exactly he should do. Did he say something, remind him that he was here to listen if Neil wanted to talk, or just remind him that he wasn’t actually alone? Or did he just save him the embarrassment and not say anything at all, pretend like it never happened?
If it was reversed, he would have rathered Neil ignored it, to spare him the awkwardness, but deep down he would still wish that someone would notice and mention it, would be a voice of reason in his misery. And truth be told, if things were reversed, there was a low chance Neil wouldn’t have said something. Neil seemed to be under the impression that things needed talking about.
Following that logic, he pushed up on his elbow to look out into the dark. “ Neil…”
Neil froze instantly, and the silence was so thick, Todd could almost smell it. He was horrified that he’d made the wrong choice, pulse beating in his ears, until Neil’s legs adjusted under his sheets and made a deafening papery noise, beating out the silence like a bad dog, and eventually, he rolled over.
For a minute, both of them laid there in the dark, facing each other on the very edge of the bed with no more than the gaping three feet between them. It felt farther, like if one of them dared to leave the safety of his bed, he’d be eaten by the darkness stretching like some hellish river between them.
“Do you…” Neil’s whisper was hoarse and crackly. “Do you ever feel like you just can’t get out? Like… like it doesn’t matter how much you do, how many awards you get, how many titles… you’ll… you’ll never be finished?”
Todd turned it over in his mind. Yeah, he knew it. “Like you’re in a maze, and no matter how many corners you turn, you’ll never get out? Like everything they want from you is a hand-me-down that doesn’t quite fit? Like… like you’re trapped?”
“ Yeah…” Neil swallowed thickly.
“I don’t think about it.”
He laughed humorlessly. “What do you think about instead?”
The silence came back, but it was thin and fragile, like the cold air above their blankets. The space between them bridged at just the right moment, as Neil looked up imploringly for a real answer, and Todd was spilling the truth before he could stop himself.
“There’s a yellow house,” he whispered. “With big dormer windows and lots of shutters and white trim. And a garden all around it, and a long porch. And a fence.”
“A house?” Neil echoed. “Who’s house?”
He couldn’t fight his sleepy smile. “My house.”
“You live in a yellow house?”
“No,” He murmured sheepishly. “But I will. When I escape. When I get un-trapped.”
Neil nodded slowly. Todd was afraid again that he’d said something irreparably odd, and that it was not the kind of help Neil had been looking for. He was ready to pretend to go back to sleep and forget the whole thing, when Neil’s voice leapt across the divide, in a way that almost made him sound small. “What’s it like inside?”
Todd’s breath caught in surprise. He’d never told anyone about the house, actually, because he thought it made him sound downright insane, so he certainly wasn’t expecting to be asked for elaboration. He certainly hadn’t imagined himself giving it.
“The ground floor is a sitting room, with floor to ceiling curtains and a sofa, and a fireplace,” He was in far enough now, he might as well indulge. “Sometimes, I imagine I’m decorating for Christmas, and the tree goes in there.”
“What color are the trimmings?” Then, he added shyly, “I want to imagine it just the way you do…”
“Red and gold.”
Neil hummed contentedly.
“And there’s a kitchen, with a big sink under the window, that looks out to the garden. My garden.”
“What do you grow?”
“Carnations and… baby’s breath. But across the yard, vegetables and raspberries. And there’s my study. It has a library… two whole walls of shelves and a desk for me to write.”
“Poetry?”
“Or novels. Or short stories. Whatever comes to me. I can do whatever I like in the house, you know.”
Neil smiled, in a perfectly relaxed, genuine way. “It sounds lovely.”
“It is,” Todd mumbled.
Suddenly, it felt as if the river was hardly there at all, and Todd was deeply aware that if they both just stuck out their arms, they would meet, easily. That they could lock their fingers together and hold onto each other and it would hardly be any stretch at all.
He was almost brave enough to do it, in this soft darkness, but when he looked up, Neil had fallen back asleep.
2
Todd’s hand was twitching. He could actually see it, the tense jerk between his thumb and forefinger. Angry, like his body was finally speaking out against the abuse he’d pushed it through.
There wasn’t time to think of that thought. He had too much to do, so much to do. Latin dictations and calculus problems and biology experiment write-ups and a history paper on the effect of Bacon’s rebellion on the American Revolution and chemistry equations and analysis of Ode On a Grecian Urn and and and and and
Too much to do, to worry about the twitch.
Todd felt like his head might explode. There was so much circulating, rolling around in his head over and over that it felt like no matter how productive he was, he’d never be able to catch up. Like the school year had caught him like a rock in a snowstorm and now he was tumbling downhill collecting snow, until eventually the snowball would be so large they wouldn’t be able to pry him from it.
Focus. Latin. No, but chemistry was the worst, so if he could get that done, the biggest hurdle would be gone. But actually the paper was due the soonest and he had little more than a bad thesis to show for it. And, really, he could get the poem done if he just had the time to wrap up his thoughts…
Too much to do.
His hand twitched again. He grabbed it with his other hand to keep it still. But he couldn’t write with both hands grasping each other to ignore the twitch.
So much to do.
The twitch worsened. His heartbeat had started to pound anxiously in the cavity of his ribs, clawing its way to the surface. The more his blood raced, the worse the twitch got, until both hands were shaking so-
FOCUS. Too much to do.
His chest heaved uncomfortably as he crouched over his textbooks. His pen wouldn’t stay in his hand, wobbling against the twitch and clattering against his notebook loudly.
So much to do.
“Todd?”
He startled, jumping back reflexively. He’d forgotten where he was, forgotten he wasn’t alone. Hadn’t noticed Neil look away from his own work, where he was sprawled on his bed.
Todd swallowed thickly, but couldn’t force down his tight pulse. “Yeah?”
“You okay?”
He almost said yes, almost nodded and turned back around to his work and continue his silent meltdown. But as soon as the words had completely left Neil’s mouth, it felt too strong, too inescapable and he couldn’t say anything at all.
Ragged breath ripped from him without his control. The twitch was completely erratic, spasming so much it almost hurt. He had to focus. He had to get his work done. All of it, right now.
“Whoa, Todd,” Neil was right there, had abandoned his homework and come to perch on the edge of Todd’s bed. “Todd, breathe.”
He was right, Todd wasn’t breathing, or at least not breathing correctly, so he tried to force it out naturally, which only made his heartbeat more intense and the twitch insufferable. He was suffocating, actually, in his to-do list, and he was going to die, right now.
He had to get out, had to think of something better, something new, had to get some fresh air.
“Todd, you listening?”
And Neil, damn Neil, was still talking to him and he couldn’t even hear what he was saying except-
“What’s upstairs? In your house?”
Todd’s inhale shuddered. “What?”
“You told me what’s downstairs, but not upstairs. What’s up there?”
This conversation felt stupid and trivial, but as soon as his brain had gotten a single taste of the safety and escape of the house, it wanted to flee there. Wanted to follow Neil’s insistence.
“Bedrooms,” Todd said lamely.
“More than one?”
He nodded.
“Oh.” Neil thought it over, scrunching up his face in what must’ve been surprise. “I guess I thought you would live there alone. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? To be alone? No one to nag you or ask about your schedule or ask you to do more?”
“No!” Todd choked. “No, I would hate to be alone. I’m alone right now.”
Neil smiled peculiarly. “No, you aren’t. I’m right here.”
“That’s, that’s not what I mean.” He shook his head impatiently. “It’s different for me. When no one cares what I do, where I am. It’s… I’m… alone. I don’t want that anymore.”
“That’s not alone, that’s lonely.”
Todd looked away, suddenly feeling too seen to keep up the intimacy of eye contact. He was right, really. Neil thought of alone as freeing, Todd thought of it as abandonment.
“I bet a bunch of real famous, established poets will come stay at your house,” Neil said suddenly. “It’ll be the retreat of the country, where all the writers come to write their best pieces. I can see it now. The Anderson Estate.”
Todd rolled his eyes at his dramatics, but it was a lovely thought and he knew he’d entertain it later.
3
Todd wasn’t actually asleep. He was laying facing Neil’s empty bed and watching it anxiously, like if he stared long enough and then blinked quickly enough, Neil would appear there, where he belonged.
It seemed as though it wouldn’t happen, however. It had been almost four hours since they had left the theater, and there was no Neil to show for it. Todd had wanted desperately to talk to him, to tell him how wonderful he was, how beautiful he was. He probably wouldn’t have said all that out loud, at least, but he would’ve liked to at least say something.
Neil had been gone with his father too quickly.
And still, Puck’s haunting figure wouldn’t leave Todd alone, his charming giggle, his mischievous grin. Really, Neil should never have to take a science or mathematics class again. The world would be irreversibly changed with Neil as a permanent addition to the stage.
At least, Todd had been changed.
When the door pushed open, he sat up instantly, overly hopeful it would be Neil, a little down but no worse for the wear, coming to tell him how much fun he’d had.
It was, instead, Charlie, with his coat on over what was definitely not pajamas. He hissed Todd’s name like he was in some great hurry.
“What’s going on?”
“Have you heard from Neil?”
Todd frowned anxiously and shook his head. Charlie cursed. “He’s there alone, in that house with him. I don’t feel good about it.”
“Who, his dad?” Todd asked stupidly. He was already pulling himself out of bed and changing out of his flannel pants. It’s not like he was going to calm down enough to sleep.
“Yeah. You don’t know the half of it with Neil’s dad. He makes him act crazy, makes him lose his sense. Neil’ll do something stupid. I could see it on his face.”
“Neil?” Todd echoed- again, stupidly. “He’s smart, I’m sure-”
“I’m going to get him.”
Todd’s stomach dropped. “You’re what?”
“I’m gonna go get Neil. I can’t leave him there by himself. What are they going to do, expel me? I’ve had that coming for years, and for nothing as important as this.”
“How are you even going to get there? You’ll have to walk for hours, it’s too snowy to bike-”
Charlie’s hand shot out of his coat, jingling with the keys looped on his finger. Car keys.
“Where did you get those?!”
“What can I say? I’m clever.”
“Do you even know how to drive?”
“Sure, I do. Learned last summer so I could take girls out.” He tapped his temple. “I’m too good.”
He turned immediately on his heel, with a “See ya, Todd,” and started off down the hall into the dark.
Todd let out a frustrated, unsatisfied noise, yanked his shoes from under the bed, and ran after him.
“That’s his room,” Charlie muttered, pointing up to the open window.
“He’s not in there. All the lights are off.”
“Why the hell would he go to sleep with the windows open? He’s in there.”
“You don’t think he already got out, do you? That he jumped out the window and ran off?”
Charlie made a face as he thought it through. “There would be prints in the snow, wouldn’t there? Besides, he wouldn’t. You’ve got to see him with his dad, he’s not… he’s not himself.”
Todd nodded pensively.
Charlie darted out from where they hid in the bushes surrounding the Perry household. His feet were light and silent in the snow, but he was right, there was a great trail of footprints left behind. He turned for only a moment, motioning for Todd to follow, before moving around the side of the house.
Todd chased after him. His feet were absurdly loud, and his footprints were uneven and deep, but he’d come all this way. If he was going to do this, he may as well be all in.
Charlie was trying to scale the side of the house, cold fingertips digging into the mortar between the stony walls, as he tried to get his feet off the ground. It wasn’t working particularly well, but it wasn’t like they had much else to try. When Todd had asked what the plan was, Charlie had said something that alluded to “We’ll figure it out when we get there.”
Todd, less intent on relying solely on upper body strength, peered through the nearby windows, hoping they would get some other idea. There was nothing- the house was almost entirely dark, but he cupped his hands around his eyes to block out the moonlight and see in.
The house looked somewhat abandoned, if you didn’t think too hard about it. It was hardly lived in; like Neil’s father had spent all this money to get the house and then refused to let anyone use it in fear it would get damaged. It was an empty, loveless house, and Neil was the one haunting it.
Charlie fell from his perch four inches off the ground and grunted frustratedly. So far, the plan- or lack thereof- wasn’t going all that well at all. It occurred to Todd suddenly that it was good he had come along, because they had a better chance of actually accomplishing something between the two of them. He kept peering in windows.
There wasn’t much to be seen from the ground floor. A macabre dining room set for a nonexistent family of an eight. A sitting room polished like a doll house. An office in which no one had ever worked-
Wait. Something had moved. He had actually seen something.
He blinked a few times to clear away his exhaustion and looked again to be sure he wasn’t losing his mind. It was so hard in the dark… it was- No! There it was again. The flash of pale skin. The longer he watched, the clearer the scene became…
Neil.
“Charlie!” Todd hissed. “He’s in here!”
Charlie, who was currently trying to throw one end of his scarf through the open window, like it he could use it as rope to climb up, whipped around and came crashing through the snow to look.
“Neil!” He tapped aggressively against the glass.
Todd knocked with his whole fist. “Neil! Neil!”
They couldn’t seem to get his attention, and Charlie started to root around in the flowerbed for something that might help, but Todd kept knocking. Finally, Charlie procured a rock, smooth and white and the next bit happened so quickly Todd couldn’t really comprehend it.
Charlie’s rock shattered the window at the same moment the gun went off, like the scream of the glass had startled Neil enough to reflex against the trigger. He looked away as he shot, which was the problem, that sent the bullet off course from the place it was supposed to nuzzle into his skull and instead lodged into his shoulder, which made him cry out and fall from the chair in pain. Charlie’s boot smashed through the rest of the glass so he could leap into the room, and Todd, without thinking went with him.
Neil moaned and writhed against the carpet as blood started to pour from his shoulder. His other arm reached for Charlie desperately, begging to capture something stable. Charlie didn’t understand what was happening, and Todd was crying to “Call an ambulance! Call the police!” and pushing him toward the phone on the wall.
Neil’s parents had woken at the gunshot and their frantic footsteps pounded the floor about them. Charlie managed to grasp enough sense to call 911, to get help there, and Todd had not a single thought except to hold on to Neil, to pull him into his lap and press against the gushing wound until his sleeves were so saturated with blood they made his arms hard to move.
Neil was barely conscious, crying and fisting Todd’s sweater, sobbing that “It hurts! It hurts! Make it stop!” and Todd wanted to say something, reassure him, make the pain go away, but he was scared and confused about why there had been a gun, why it had gone off, why Neil had had it in the first place.
Mr. Perry burst into the room in a panic, sight darting wildly between crying Charlie holding the phone like it would keep him upright and Todd’s bloody hands. “Neil?!” He demanded, and just the sound of his voice incited Neil to let out the most barbaric pained sound Todd had ever witnessed.
He almost vomited. Instead, he hunched over just enough that Neil’s head was shielded from his father.
In the story portrayed to the nurses, there had been an accident between the boys playing with the gun. This was because Charlie had put together the suicide plan almost instantly and berated Mr. Perry for the whole seven minutes it took the ambulance to show up, and Mr. Perry- too in shock about the whole situation to rebuke him- had looked so properly horrified that he must’ve come up with a new story then and there.
Todd had started to protest, that that wasn’t true, it was him, it was stupid Tom Perry and his stupid rules and stupid plans and stupid pressure, but Charlie had hushed him. If the hospital staff found out what had really happened, they’d try to institutionalize Neil. Treat him like a crazy person.
Keating had shown up not long after, upon realizing that Charlie had a) stolen his car keys and b) left his dorm, and when Todd was nowhere to be found, he put two and two together. He’d gotten after them half-heartedly but had taken off his sweater so Todd could change out of his and helped scrub the blood off his arms. Charlie had to be restrained from attacking Mr. Perry while Neil was in surgery, and Keating had done that too, until Mrs. Perry’s shock wore off and she had to confront the idea that her son could be dead, and Keating had to calm her down, even more frantically.
Now, all five of them were waiting on the floor with the operating rooms, while they stitched up Neil’s shoulder. He had fainted from the pain not long before the ambulance had arrived, and hadn’t come to since. Todd just hoped they had injected him with something to make him numb and put him out of his misery for the time being. That horrible pained scream that had clawed its way from his throat was horrific enough, it made his hands tremble when he thought of it.
Charlie had almost fallen asleep against Keating’s arm, but Todd was wide awake. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, about Neil and how if they had been five minutes later, he could be sitting in a funeral instead of a hospital.
What if he hadn’t looked in the window? What if he hadn’t come with Charlie at all? What if Charlie hadn’t taken the keys? What if, what if… what if…
A nurse came from around the corner with a chart. “Mr. and Mrs. Perry? We’ve just finished. Everything’s gone well. He’ll make a full recovery.”
Charlie startled awake, swatting at his eyes to wipe the sleep from them and leaned forward. ”Can we see him?”
Immediately, Mr. Perry started a protest, but his wife glared him down and nodded on toward the boys.
Keating patted Todd’s arm in confirmation. They stumbled to their feet, and tripped after the nurse to his room.
Neil looked tired and sickly and small buried in the hospital bed with his shoulder wrapped up. He smiled at the sight of them in the doorway, laughing softly but absurdly as they came to him. “What are you wearing?” He tugged on Keating’s sweater, drowning Todd.
“He’s coming off some pretty strong sedative,” the nurse said. “Might not make a lot of sense.”
“Does it hurt?” Charlie murmured, uncharacteristically solemn.
“Not at all. Got me on the good stuff.”
Todd half-smiled. He watched Neil twist his finger in and out of the hem of the sweater.
“‘M glad you’re here.”
“Who, me?” Todd whispered smally.
“Yeah, you,” He laughed again, as if it was perfectly ridiculous to imagine anything else. “I wanted to tell you something.”
Todd shifted awkwardly and looked to Charlie, who just shrugged.
Neil continued, “I was… I was… when it hurt… I just kept thinking about it.”
“About what?”
“The yellow house…” His fidgeting hand stopped, tucked up barely against Todd’s hip. “I was dreaming of it. Of your house. I wanted to be there… so badly. You’ll let me visit, won’t you? I want… I want to walk in your garden… And read your stories…”
Charlie chuckled, clearly assuming this was some delusion of whatever drugs were being metabolized.
Todd dipped his head to get closer to Neil, whose eyes dropped heavily with every third blink, and mumbled. “You were?”
He hummed in affirmation.
“I’ll tell you what,” Todd lifted his arm gently to pull his hand from the sweater and tuck it in against his side. “You get better and I’ll even let you come live with me. I’ll make you a bedroom up next to mine. With a big closet so you can keep all your Broadway costumes. And a balcony over the garden where you can practice lines.”
Neil laughed again. “Really? You mean it?”
“I do.”
His laugh died into a contented smile, and he mumbled, “Was I good?”
“Really good,” Charlie answered softly.
4
“What’s that?”
Neil looked up from the glass jar he was shoving his tips into. Fresh out of prep-school actors don’t make the kind of money that can support a kid recently disowned by his parents. Waiting tables tends to work a little better.
Hey, at least it wasn’t med school.
“It’s a savings fund, dumbass,” Neil told Charlie.
Charlie flung himself on the couch. “Saving for what? A life? All you do is work and work and work-”
“And act,” Todd added quietly.
Neil shrugged. “It’s all I know.”
“So what are you gonna buy?”
Neil and Todd made eye contact. They hadn’t told Charlie yet, hadn’t told anybody, although they would tell Charlie first of course, about them. It had taken long enough to say it between the two of them, they weren’t particularly eager to have everyone else in on it too.
“A house,” Neil said finally. “I wanna buy a house.”
Charlie propped himself up on his elbows and cocked an eyebrow. “Why? What’s wrong with this place?”
“Is it a crime to want something better for yourself?” Todd said.
They knew what he meant- what with Neil taking back control of his own life and “ruining” all the opportunities that had been given to him. And Todd had gone with him, because one night, after The Incident, with Neil in his bed across the dorm, he’d finally been brave enough to reach over the river and now Todd and Neil had more or less become ToddandNeil. Besides, the apartment was a total dump, but it was the best they could do, and it was better than Welton or their parents’ houses.
“Are you gonna go with him?” Charlie demanded incredulously.
“Why wouldn’t he?” Neil shot back defensively.
Charlie held up his hands in surrender, clearly caught off guard. “I dunno, you just seem like the type of person to live alone. Spent all that time getting away, didn’t think you’d want to get tied down again.”
Neil rolled his eyes, but leaned into Todd’s space, who shouldered him off, grinning softly. “When I’m with Todd, it’s like I’m alone.”
Todd took it the way he means it, that he doesn’t feel trapped or pressured or undervalued when they’re together. It’s the highest compliment he’d ever been paid.
“When I’m with you,” Todd agreed, just quietly enough that Charlie might miss it. “I don’t feel alone.”
Neil grinned stupidly, if not for Charlie and his big mouth, they’d kiss, because that’s the moment they realized this was the closest to unconditional love they’d ever had before.
5
“I didn’t get it.”
Todd’s stomach dropped. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing felt good enough, so he just chewed on his lip instead.
Neil’s bag fell dejectedly from his shoulder and neither of them rushed to retrieve it. He shook his head disappointedly, almost with frustration, before scrubbing at his face, and coming into the apartment fully. The door clasped loudly behind him.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
That really was cause for alarm- Neil loved to talk about things- but Todd just nodded. “Hungry? I’ve got pasta.” He dished up a plate and slid it on the counter toward him.
Neil stared at it like he couldn’t even see it. Maybe he couldn’t. He said slowly, “Knox was right. They gave it to Topher. I… I thought maybe I would be so good, they wouldn’t give it to him for being John’s nephew, but, uh…” He laughed once, uncomfortably, and rubbed the dip below his eyebrow.
Todd’s insides ached. He’d been talking about it for weeks, about playing Iago. He’d wanted it so bad, so desperately. And he should’ve gotten it! They’d been practicing for hours and hours every night- Neil had even broken the leg off the couch when he got too excited a couple days ago. They had laughed and laughed, wedged some old textbooks in its place to keep the couch level and Todd had mumbled into his shoulder that of course he was going to get it.
He was supposed to get it.
“I’m so sorry,” He whispered earnestly.
Neil moved suddenly, the only deliberate motion it seemed he’d made since returning, to fling his coat off and onto the table and bury himself in Todd’s arms. His hands clawed up his shoulders and the heat of his sob met the tender side of Todd’s neck almost instantly.
Todd tripped backward with his momentum, but caught them against the sink and immediately hoisted him up so Neil’s legs were around his waist, so they were properly clinging to each other. The only way he could think to support Neil at the moment was to quite literally support him. He buried his face in Neil’s hair, mumbling “I know, I know, I know,” with every one of his shuddery breaths.
Eventually, Neil regained himself and untangled from Todd’s body, laughing sheepishly. “I guess that’s show business.”
Todd pulled his sweater sleeve up over his hand to wipe under his eye. God, he was so pretty.
Neil propped his forehead against Todd’s chest. “I, uh, I was gonna surprise you, but… I’ve been talking to a realtor. You know the yellow house on the south end? I was in this horrible bidding war, and I was gonna use the signing bonus to get a down payment on it, but… I’m gonna lose now… I’m sorry…”
Todd laughed wetly, carding his fingers through Neil’s hair. “Wait, what?”
“I was gonna buy your house.”
“The yellow colonial style by the park? With the swing in the tree? And the,” He motioned wildly with his hand. “The shed in the back that’s, like, red?”
Neil looked up to figure out what his tone was supposed to be. “Yeah. You know it?”
“The yellow house on St. Laurence Avenue? You’re trying to buy it?”
“Yes!” Neil laughed absurdly. “What? What is it?”
“ I’m trying to buy the yellow house on St. Laurence Avenue. I’m talking to a realtor about that house. I was gonna buy it to surprise you.”
“What are you talking about?” Neil stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “The bidding war is with you ?”
“Yes!”
Neil flung his arms back around Todd’s neck and they laughed so hard, they stumbled around the tight kitchen, and suddenly nepotism and Iago and the lost role didn’t feel so atrociously unmanageable.
They were gonna buy the house.
+1
Neil was dreaming of home.
He was tired, and his feet hurt, and he was just beyond sweaty. Dress rehearsal had gone well, and he was absolutely ecstatic for opening night, but right now, he just wanted to be home.
Gold headlights sliced up the darkness as he pulled in, lighting up the yellow paint like a dream. The porch light was still on, waiting for him.
This was the best part, anytime he got home. Opening the white picket fence and walking through the hot summer air up the cobblestone path through Todd’s flowers and the green grass, under the willow tree with a swing. Colorful and lively, in a way he’d never really lived in before.
The door was unlocked for him too, and only a few lights on, trailing through the silent house like a path he was meant to follow. He did, although he knew where it would take him.
Todd was asleep with his face pressed to his cluttered manuscript, wrapped in the lamplight of the office. They’d painted it deep green shortly after moving in, and it was equal parts moody and comforting, the way artists needed.
“Hey, you,” Neil mumbled, nudging him lightly. “Walt Whitman.”
He startled awake, swatting at his eyes in surprise, but softening at the sight of Neil. “Hey,” he rasped.
“I told you not to wait up.”
“I meant to anyway,” He motioned to the scattered pages hopelessly.
They tripped after each other up the hardwood stairs it had taken them weeks to stain the right color. There were bedrooms- plural- although two of them were hardly used unless one of the poets needed somewhere to crash (who all knew now, about them), or a cast party went on late, or one of Todd’s contemporaries came to visit.
The third bedroom, with a balcony and a huge closet was theirs. Nearly twice the size of the Welton dorm, and one queen bed with no river down the middle, so that when Neil got back from his shower, he could clamber right onto Todd playfully, and they could spend the night both alone and not alone in the way that suited them best.
It was a dream, the whole thing, one they had built room by room, and they had worked too hard to bring it to life to not revel in it.
And Todd, most of all, never had to find Neil sobbing in the middle of the night ever again.
They had better things to think about.