Chapter Text
On the morning of October 5th, Brooklyn is bathed in gold.
Ed watches the light change leaning against Stede’s window. It’s a different angle from his bay window in the West Village, not quite as high up, so he can clearly see the faces of the people stepping into the new day. He remembers being young and people-watching, wondering if he was ever asked if he could slip into the roles they played. Could he mimic their walks, their facial expressions, their gestures, their speech patterns? Could he slip into their lives if he was asked, lose himself completely so that people admired him? God, he used to worry so much about what other people thought of him.
He watches others less selfishly now. He hopes they’re happy in whatever they have to do and wherever they’re going makes them feel alive as he’s been feeling lately.
Ed pulls the blue bathrobe tighter around his body, reveling in the feeling of softness against his bare skin. He’s still pleasantly sleepy, easing into his morning The final dress rehearsal had run late into the night, and was wrought with careless mistakes that had left the crew jittery for the performance that would follow. A bad dress rehearsal is meant to mean a good first performance, Stede had insisted in their final notes session, but by now Ed could clock the panic in his eyes from a mile away. In the dressing room after, Ed had talked him through it, assured him every way under the sun that it was going to be okay. Then words of comfort had turned to kisses, and then Stede had insisted it was too late for Ed to go on the subway (even though he always did), and his apartment was so close and his eyes were burning with a fire that shot straight to Ed’s core.
And they were both tired and frustrated and yet…
It was lovely.
It was sweet and gentle and nervous and fuck it was hot, a mess of contradictions that Ed never thought could co-exist. They’d laughed through moments that should have been awkward, let themselves take every complicated feeling as it came. It didn’t have to be perfect, it just had to be, and it was so much more than enough. Afterward, they’d curled into each other and Ed had fallen asleep to the ever-steady thumping of Stede’s heart beneath him.
He thinks of the life he’d been living before Stede fell into the middle of his stage. Watching and being watched. Judging and being judged. Play the role, hope for the applause. He’d done well at it over the years. But man, knowing someone. Letting him know you back. Jumping off the edge confident he will catch you. Sinking deep into the sea of vulnerability, then swimming to the surface again and letting the sun hit your face. No amount of training could have prepared Ed for how beautiful this could feel.
With one last glance at the street below, he picks up the breakfast tray off the counter, and moves toward the bedroom, determined to make sure Stede feels it too.
Stede’s still asleep, and Ed just has to take him in for a moment, leaning against the doorframe with a dreamy half-smile. His hair is frizzy from the pillow, one freckled arm is splayed across to bed into the empty space beside him, head lulling to the opposite side. He’s half-thrown off the blankets, so Ed has a full view of his gorgeous chest, rising and falling easily.
I love him. I love him I love him I love him. It echoes through his mind like it’s the only lyric of a song he can remember.
Stede stirs, shifting in the covers and reaching into the space Ed’s left behind. His brow furrows and his eyes fluttering open, but he sighs with relief when he sees Ed in the doorway.
“G’morning,” Stede says with a drowsy smile. Ed crosses to him in a few short strides, pulled toward his sunbeam like a moth to a flame. He sets the tray down on the nightstand and climbs up onto the bed, sliding on top of Stede. The action makes the robe slip down off one shoulder, and when Stede’s hand meets his bare skin a shiver races down his spine. They trade a few lazy, smiling kisses, bodies melting together, and Ed feels warm all the way down to his toes
“My leading man,” Ed purrs, tangling his fingers in Stede’s soft golden locks. “You ready to set the world on fire?”
“Hopefully,” Stede chuckles. His eyes wander to the tray beside him. “What’s all this?”
“Ah, figured eating’s not gonna be the easiest today, so I fixed you Edward Teach’s go-to pre-performance nervous-stomach breakfast, patent pending.” He rolls off of Stede and brings the plate over. Two pieces of toast, one with butter and one with orange marmalade. Two eggs over easy, salt and pepper optional. “Goes down easy but still tastes like something. Not too heavy, but high enough in protein to keep you from fainting.”
Stede grins fondly, finding Ed’s hand in the sheets and giving it a squeeze. “God, you think of everything.”
“Almost like I’ve done this before.”
“Taken care of many terrified first-time actors?”
“No, been a terrified first-time actor.”
Stede sits up fully and takes the plate while Ed tucks himself back under the covers. He props himself up on his elbow, rests his head on his fist, watching Stede as he nibbles slowly at his toast. I could take care of him like this every day, Ed can’t help but think. Any time he needed. I can be there for him the way he’s been for me.
“You sleep enough?” he asks.
Stede nods, covering his mouth while he chews. “Enough. Laying there with your eyes closed counts as sleeping, right?”
“That’s what I always say!”
Stede glances down at him, running a gentle hand over the top of Ed’s hair. “Truth be told, I just wound up looking at you while you slept most of the night.”
Ed eases into the touch, feeling a bit like a cat being stroked, and he sure as hell doesn’t hate it. “No regrets then?” he asks, letting his own hand explore its way over Stede’s chest. No second thoughts?”
“Not one. Never.”
They lie there together a while as Stede eats, Ed playing a game of connect-the-dots with the freckles that dapple his chest. He wants to memorize each beautiful feature of his skin, learn all the intricacies of Stede’s body the same way he’s been unraveling his mind, and it makes him smile knowing he has all the time in the world to do it. For a while Stede is right here with him, his hand moving in soothing strokes over Ed’s hair. But then Stede’s eyes wander away, latching onto some point in the distance, and what is supposed to be peaceful and happy is once again tinged with a sadness that’s too far away for Ed to reach.
Alright. Time to get to the bottom of this.
“You know you get this look in your eyes sometimes,” Ed begins carefully, running a hand down Stede’s arm. “It’s like you go somewhere else, somewhere far away that I can’t see. Where do you go?”
Stede blinks, coming back to himself with a little shake of his head. “You notice that?”
“I’ve always noticed.”
With a shaky sigh, Stede sets the plate aside. He eases back down into the pillows, turning on his side to face Ed. Between them, Ed catches his hand, rests it against his own heart, hopes Stede can feel the easy thump. thump. thump. and remind himself that all is steady here.
“You tell your crew to talk it through,” he says. “You’ve talked through lots with me. You can do it too.”
Stede tightens his grip, pursing his lips before letting go of a shaky breath.
“I’ve been a failure my whole life,” he starts, barely above a whisper. “I’m used to failing. When I moved here, it felt like the biggest success. And most times I can forget about it. But sometimes, it’s like everything I’ve ever failed at just races to the front of my mind. Just to remind me I could always fail again.” And oh god Ed knows that feeling, the knot in his chest that tightens into a noose when danger feels near. He brings Stede’s hand to his lips and kisses it. Let me carry it with you.
“I don’t want to fail at this Ed.”
“This show isn’t gonna fail.”
“Not just the show. This. Us.”
Ed sits up a little, brows furrowed, as Stede worries at his bottom lip. Panic is flaring in his gut now, and he’s not a good enough actor to keep his voice from betraying him.“What makes you think we’d fail?” Because fuck they’ve only just gotten started, why is Stede already thinking about the end?
“Everything’s going to change tonight,” Stede says in a rush. “Everyone’s going to see what we’ve been putting our whole hearts into for months. No more organized chaos. It’ll be just a routine. It’s all going to change.” Stede presses his palms over his eyes, curling into himself in the blankets. “I know it’s not what you meant when you said it, but when we first met you said you were curious about me, that life was boring before…And I know you’ve proven otherwise, over and over, but I just can’t shake the thought that if this doesn’t work…if I stop being interesting to you…”
And fuck, as much as it makes sense, under no circumstances will Ed let him finish that sentence. He leans back down and pulls Stede in until they’re nearly nose to nose, wrenching his hands away from his eyes to look at him. “No.” He startles himself with his own firmness, and Stede’s eyes widen at the tone too, but he has wasted enough damn time not telling this man he deserves the world. “Stede, I’m only saying this because I care, but I’m tired of you being the one who gets to say how I feel about you.” Stede is looking up at him, brow furrowed with something between disbelief and awe, and fuck it, Ed swallows the lump in his throat and jumps right in.
“Yeah, sure, I sought you out because I was bored at first. But the second I met you, that was it. I was gone for you. You saw every broken, fucked up piece of me and made me laugh. I And the theatre, fuck, all you’ve built, I want to do this forever. You made me realize what it is to love things again, and I’m only just getting started. I plan to keep loving things for a long time, I mean it. And hey if we both get bored we can retire and buy a cabin upstate and run an overpriced bed and breakfast and sell fishing equipment to tourists. Whatever we want.”
“We?” Stede chokes out, his eyes rapidly filling with tears, and Ed catches his face in his hands.
“Yes, we Stede. I will never, ever be bored again if you are by my side. Really, how in the world could anyone ever be bored of you? You are the most fascinating person I have ever met. I want to keep reading books with you, and singing songs with you, and making you laugh, and running my fingers through your fucking hair…wanting that is gonna outlast any fucking musical.”
A few tears spill over on Stede’s cheeks, and that’s the last nail in Edward’s coffin.
“You will never be lonely again, Stede Bonnet,” he says like a vow. “Neither of us will.”
“Why?"
“Because I love you."
Stede sucks in a breath, eyes still glistening, and he looks like he wants to say something but Ed plows on, letting the waves of truth pull him straight down.
“I love you. I love you so fucking much it drives me out of my mind. I think I always have, but I didn’t know that’s what it was, and I’ve wanted to tell you for ages and the time never felt right but…I just want to say it all the time and I can’t stand the thought of you going on feeling like you’re alone.” His voice has grown watery, and he leans in until their foreheads touch so Stede can hear him, clear as crystal. “You have me. I’m not going anywhere.”
Stede keeps opening and closing his mouth, but no sound comes out, and Ed is scrambling to find more words, anything that can capture just how much he’s come to feel about this incredible man. But when Stede does finally speak, his voice is dripping with a fondness that makes Ed’s vision grow misty too.
“I love you too,” Stede gasps. “Edward, oh God Ed I love you, I love everything about you.”
He gathers Ed in his arms, kisses him fiercely, and Ed hangs on for dear life. He kisses Stede back like he’s got something to prove, and he’ll prove it every single fucking day if it makes Stede happy. He half expects Stede to say something more, but the kisses just keep coming, and Ed just revels in every little movement – Stede’s hands clinging to the front of the robe, his lips parting and his tongue sliding warm and bold into his mouth. Each sensation is like its own little love confessions, a silent promise that yes, this is real, and yes, the world world is spinning around them, changing so fast, but here in this bed, all is steady. Because Stede Bonnet loves him.
Gradually the kisses lose their fire and melt into something softer, and Ed finds himself giggling against Stede’s lips, giddy with a lightness he hasn’t felt…maybe ever. Stede’s laughing too now, cradling Ed’s face in his hands and peppering kisses over his cheeks, his nose, his fucking eyelids.
“And you’ll still love me if tonight is awful?” Stede asks, flirtatious with just a touch of begging honesty.
“It’s not gonna be awful, but yes. I will.”
“What about if I miss that high A at the end of Act 1?”
“You never miss it, but yes. I will still love you.”
“What about if I throw up in the middle of the stage?”
“Stede Bonnet,” Ed says, voice dropping low and deadly serious. “I will love you if you throw up, burst into tears, and shit yourself in the middle of the stage. But that’s not gonna happen. Because you’re ready.”
Finally Stede laughs for real, throwing his head back, and his nose scrunches up so adorably that Ed would be a fool not to kiss it.
“God I love you so fucking much,” Ed sighs. “I should have told you so much sooner.”
“Well,” Stede shrugs with a rueful smile. “ The course of true love never did run smooth .”
He’s such a fucking dork, Ed rolls his eyes so hard it hurts. “Nope, you’re done.” He twists onto his other side, squirming as close to the edge of the bed as he can and yanking the covers over with him. “Romantic moment ruined. New rule, no quoting Shakespeare in bed with me.”
Ed smiles smugly to himself as Stede huffs an incredulous gasp. He expects some apologetic kisses and pleas, but suddenly he finds himself being shoved onto his back. He falls hard against the pillow as two hands pin his arms on either side of his head. Stede climbs into his lap, a new hunger flaring in his eyes that steals all the air from Ed’s lungs.
“Well unfortunately for you,” Stede murmurs. “I’ve always hated following the rules.”
Ed’s eyes slip shut when Stede leaves a trail of slow, indulgent kisses over his jawline, mouth falling open with a shallow sigh.
“How ‘bout this one instead?” Stede breathes against Ed’s ear, sending a shiver racing down his spine. “ My bounty is as boundless as the sea… ” He sucks a kiss into the tender skin of Ed’s neck. “ ...my love as deep… ” Then another on the bird tattoo right below his collarbone. “ The more I give to thee… ” One hand releases Ed’s wrist and takes a slow journey down the length of his bare chest, down, down, down… “ ...the more I have… ” The moan that falls from Ed’s lips is enough to wake William Shakespeare from the dead. “ ...for both are infinite .”
***
The morning passes slowly, a series of indulgences designed to distract them from the ever-pressing fact that their lives will change in the evening. When Ed’s Shakespeare education is thoroughly complete, they make coffee and finish breakfast, moving through Stede’s kitchen in a domestic little dance so effortless it could have been choreographed.
For a couple hours they sit on opposite ends of the couch, legs stretched out and tangled together, drinking their coffee and reading late into the morning. Before they’d even started dating, Stede had come up with the idea for them to read all of the Pulitzer Prize-winners for Drama together. Ed had had his doubts at first, but now he’s delighted to have another thing to share with Stede. He can hardly keep his eyes on his page, finding it far more entertaining to watch Stede’s shifting expressions as he reads Suzan-Lori Parks for the first time. When he does read, though, he forces himself to admit that Arthur Miller might have been a misogynist with serious mommy issues but the man could write a damn good play.
But Stede’s nerves can’t be contained forever, and his non-stop fidgeting can’t be ignored, so together they set about cleaning Stede’s apartment. Last week they’d scrolled through endless hotels and rooftop bars trying to find the best venue for the opening night celebration, something with enough space to fit the crew and their loved ones while still keeping their vibe. But it all seemed so plastic, so glitzy for no reason, and Stede’s apartment was only a few blocks away from the theater and it would save a lot of money in the long-run…So today the furniture is pushed to the walls to allow maximum room for dancing, and any of Stede’s more precious theater memorabilia is secured away from prying eyes.
Next they sit at the kitchen table together to write their opening night cards. Stede’s chosen blue stationary with little white flowers, and Ed’s cards are dark purple with a cartoon ghost on the front (a perk of a show about ghosts opening at the beginning of the Halloween season). Ed’s surprised by the tremendous pressure he feels to write something heartfelt for everyone. Not that it’s hard, he can think of a thousand reasons why everyone on the team should be beyond proud of what they’ve accomplished. But what if they’re not good enough? What if he hasn’t got the words to tell these people that they’ve changed his life? And Stede keeps shooting him sneaky little smiles while he writes his own cards, like he’s writing fucking sonnets in them or something, it’s not bloody helping.
“Just tell the truth, Edward,” Stede advises with a comforting squeeze of his hand. “It hasn’t let you down yet.”
It should be against the law to date someone who’s fucking right about everything.
Ed makes them both dinner, (cheese quesadillas, hold the salsa, and a full bottle of water for good luck), and before they know it, it’s time to start getting ready to leave. Stede wears his regular activewear, since he’ll have to change into costume immediately anyway, but Ed will be playing host and shaking hands before the curtain rises. He dresses quickly, grateful he had the good sense to leave his opening night suit at Stede’s place after last week’s shopping trip. He buttons the jacket wrong twice, cursing under his breath at his fingers’ inability to cooperate. Despite the calming words he’s had for Stede all day, Ed finds his own palms have grown clammy, and the butterflies in his stomach feel more like birds flapping in a windstorm. Shit, is it normal to get this nervous when you’re not even the one performing? Is this just what it feels like to love someone so much their success feels as real as yours?
With a deep breath, he steps back into the kitchen, where Stede is packing the last of the necessities into his show bag. “So, what do you think?
The smile that spreads across Stede’s face is so sickeningly smitten Ed’s knees feel weak.
“Oh Ed…” Stede gasps. “God you look stunning.”
He’s chosen a velvet suit, royal purple with a gray dress shirt underneath, a few buttons undone at the top. His hair is tied back in a bun just messy enough that it still looks artsy, and he’s added just a touch of makeup, a subtle bit of black eyeliner and a dash of gold highlighter on his cheekbones. It’s different than anything he’s ever worn to an opening night, bright and daring rather than subdued and safe, an outfit that begs people to notice him.
And the way Stede looks at him…god, what a beautiful thing, to be noticed like this.
All at once Ed finds himself in Stede’s arms being kissed like he’s a princess heading to the ball, not a kinda-sorta-director about spend two hours in the dark
“How lucky am I,” Stede whispers reverently, brushing their noses together, “To get to sing and know you’re in the audience waiting for me.”
Ed grins and steals himself another kiss. “Who's to say, maybe one day I’ll get up there with you.”
“I’d love that. Assuming I survive this.”
“Stede.” He means to follow his cautionary tone with a sharp joke, but he suddenly can’t find it in himself to be anything but earnest. He takes Stede’s face in his hands. “No one on that stage is gonna let you fall. And when it’s over, I will catch you every single day. I promise.”
Stede manages a miniscule nod, pulling him into a hug and nestling into the crook of his neck. Ed holds him back, and reality finally starts settling over him. Stede is right to an extent. In a way, opening night is an ending. Tonight the show ceases to be theirs alone. It will belong to the audience, theirs to discuss and interpret and (hopefully) to love. And that is a little sad, and more than a little terrifying. But Ed and Stede, they’ll only keep growing, through the hard days and the laughter, finding new songs to sing as they settle into their lives together.
“You know, the first night you came here, after you left, there was a song stuck in my head,” Stede admits bashfully.
“Oh yeah, which one?” Stede blushes, and drops his eyes, and Ed pokes a teasing finger between his ribs. “You can’t start a sentence like that and not finish it.” Then he softens, raising Stede’s chin to look him in the eye. “Come on mate. Sing it for me.”
Stede’s hand wraps around his, and Ed lets himself be guided toward the piano room, where the white Steinway glistens in the early evening sun. It’s been thoroughly loved in the last few weeks, filling the apartment with all the songs that remind Ed that life is beautiful. Kneeling beside it, Stede opens the bench and draws out the Essential Stephen Sondheim. The first book that brought them together, showed them both they weren’t alone in this fucked up world.
Stede motions for Ed to join him on the bench. Ed slides in next to him, and this time he has no reservations about pressing into his space, shoulders brushing, feet touching.
When Stede sets the open book on the piano, tears well in Ed’s eyes immediately. He blinks them away as fast as he can, and knowing words will fail him too, simply lays his fingers over the keys. He gives Stede two bars of an introduction, and lets him sing the feelings instead.
“There’s a place for us. Somewhere a place for us. Peace and quiet and open air. Wait for us, somewhere.”
Stede’s voice is so much stronger than it had been that first night. All these weeks of training have paid off, but more than anything there’s a new confidence in it that makes Ed nearly burst with pride. He wants to hear that voice every day, wants to show the whole world how brave and wonderful Stede is, and let himself be brave and wonderful too.
Ed shoots Stede a look – this song is best as a duet – and when he’s rewarded with an approving nod, he takes the next verse.
“ There's time for us. Someday a time for us. Time together with time to spare. Time to learn. Time to care. Someday…”
Ed feels Stede’s chest hitch against him, and he presses his foot to Stede’s beneath the piano bench, a silent reminder to be here. To let himself fall. Stede’s the next words a little more shaky, but still absolutely shining with affection. “Somewhere, we'll find a new way of living. We'll find a way of forgiving, somewhere.”
Ed read once that Sondheim hated this song. Thought it was too simple, not sophisticated enough. But who the fuck cares about sophisticated and complex in the long run? It’s real, it’s true, it’s full of all the feelings that make you hopeful that life will go on. And the first night they’d met, singing loudly and boldly without a trace of fear, it had reminded Stede of him.
So, so many years of Ed’s life have been lost to the fear of not being perfect. Never again. With Stede, it doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be.
When their voices blend together, all the love songs Ed’s been singing his whole life suddenly make sense.
“There's a place for us. A time, a place for us. Hold my hand and we're halfway there. Hold my hand and I'll take you there. Somehow. Someday. Somewhere.”
The last chords ring through the air, and Stede wraps his arms around Ed at once. They hang together in the shadow of the music, breathing together, maybe crying just a little, and Ed thinks, no, not someday. Not somewhere. Now. Here. This is his place.
“I love you, Edward.”
“Come on, my beautiful lunatic. Let’s go do a fucking musical.”
***
The old vaudeville house gleams in the setting sun when Ed and Stede arrive. “Wherever You Go, There You Are” lights up the old marquee, and Stede beams up at it like it’s his baby. They take each other’s pictures in front of it, and then a selfie or twenty, and save their favorites as their lockscreens at once, because fuck it, they’re official official.
In the lobby, Lucius is directing the front-of-house help they’ve hired in their final preparations. Programs are set, merch is lined up on tables, everything is in truly impeccable order. Lucius smiles broadly when he catches Ed and Stede’s eye, without a trace of the humming anxiety that radiated off of him during those first few weeks.
“He’s really come into his own,” Stede notes.
“Man of many hats, our dramaturg.”
“I know, I really ought to pay him more.”
They step into the theater together, and the vibe is so much different than it was when Ed first stepped in here three months ago. The air is still, but crackling with anticipation, like the building itself can sense it will soon be bursting with new faces. Even with all the holes patched up and the creaky floorboards replaced, it still feels a bit haunted. But the ghosts feel more like friends now. Ed hopes they enjoy the show.
A wave of sound crashes into them the moment they open the dressing room doors. The crew are all fucking about, toying with the costumes and fiddling with their instruments, everyone far too excited to speak with a respectable volume. The stations are bursting with gifts, everything from cards to stuffed animals to candy to roses. Ed and Stede make quick work of passing out their own cards, offering hugs and handshakes to everyone along the way. Ed usually skips this part, everyone getting all fucking sappy with each other, but with this bunch the rituals feel much more genuine than they have in years. He means every positive thing he says to them. He’s glad he gets to tell them.
When he goes to hand Jim their card, Ed is shocked when their arms are suddenly around his neck.
“My Nana’s here,” they say, barely above a whisper in the cacophony around them.
Ed hugs them back as gently as he can. “Don’t think about it. Just sing. We’ll be here to catch you.”
Jim blushes and darts away, but Ed swears he sees them grinning. No matter what happens after this, they’ll be okay, he’s sure of it.
He deeply regrets not bringing any sort of tote bag because in five minutes his arms are overflowing with presents – little plastic toys, treats in ziplock bags, nips of vodka and rum, and a fist-full of notes.
“Mind if I leave these with you?” he asks Stede, who’s fussing with his jacket in front of his dressing station.
“Not at all!” Stede chirps, admiring himself in the mirror. His costume suits him beautifully. A red coat and tails that swishes when he walks, the bright spot of color on the neutral-toned stage. Ed can’t resist wrapping his arms around his waist, dropping his head onto his shoulder and smiling at him in the mirror.
“I ever tell you you wear fine things well?”
Stede’s whole body relaxes beneath him, and he angles his face to kiss Ed’s cheek. Before he can respond, his phone chimes with a text message. Peering over his shoulder, Ed sees it’s a photo. A pretty brunette woman smiles up at them, her arms around two kids that are the perfect combination of her and Stede’s features. The girl has a smattering of freckles across her nose and a fierce sparkle in her eye, and the boy has a broad smile and fluffy hair that looks like it was made to be ruffled. They’re holding their hands in heart shapes, all three of them looking beyond delighted. The speech bubble beneath the photo reads, “Break a leg Dad! So proud! We love you 🫶”.
Stede picks up the phone and studies the photo more closely, one hand finding Ed’s where it’s secured around his middle. “They’re coming to the show next Friday," he explains with a smile. "Then the kids are staying for all of Fall Break.”
“Stede, that’s great!” It wasn’t all that long ago the man was in tears in his living room, convinced these same children would never give him the time of day again. “What’s changed?”
Stede hums, meeting Ed’s gaze in the mirror. “It’s funny. Lately when we’ve been talking, I’ve started acting like I do when I’m with you. Instead of some caricature of what a dad should be, what I imagine they want. They seem to like that better than whatever I was doing before. It’s not perfect yet, but it’s getting better. I know I hurt them a bit, but I know they love me.”
Ed wonders if he’ll get used to having his heart split right down the middle. He hopes he doesn’t. He hopes he’ll always feel bowled over when he finds new ways to be proud of Stede.
“You remember when you told me two things could be true at once? That you could be happy and sad at the same time?” Ed asks.
Stede straightens up in his arms, smiling a little cheekily. “That was pretty smart, wasn’t it.”
“Life-changingly smart actually.”
“I’d love for you to meet them, Alma and Louis.”
“I’d love that too.” He cranes his neck to kiss Stede on the cheek. “Got you a present. Close your eyes.”
Stede obliges, and Ed reaches into his pocket. He tucks the square of paper into the corner of Stede’s mirror, buzzing with anticipation. “Okay, open.”
A quiet gasp leaves Stede’s lips as catches sight of the photograph. It’s the first picture Ed ever took of Stede, from that emotional night in his apartment, burning joint in one hand and Tony award in the other, laughter blooming across his face like a sunflower. Printed out and placed right where he has no choice but to see it.
“Told you you gotta remember him,” Ed explains. “Every time you do something scary, remember what you can be. And remember that I’ll be on the other side.”
“God, Ed, I can’t cry now, I’ll ruin my makeup!’ Stede laughs, twisting in Ed’s arms until they’re face to face. “Thank you,” he says earnestly. “I will do my best to remember.”
Before Ed can kiss him senseless, Izzy’s voice cuts over the noise through the intercom system. “Good evening, you beautiful people. The house is now open, and this is your half-hour call. Sign the fuck if in if you haven’t yet, this is your half-hour to places.”
And that professionally-cheery voice is Ed’s cue to say goodbye for now. He pulls Stede into one final hug, kisses him like he’s sending him off into battle, except he’s positive he’s going to see him on the other side. “Knock ‘em dead babe,” he says against his lips. “Make that dream come true.”
Stede’s eyes sparkle with that sexy confidence that Ed fell so hard for. “My dream has already come true. I found you. But I’ll still knock ‘em dead. Think I’m pretty good at this.”
That’s his leading man.
***
For the next half hour, Ed plays host like it’s the role he was born for. He weaves through the crowd, welcoming everyone to the show with a blinding smile. The small talk is still a touch exhausting, but it’s easier when he gets to hype up the people he loves most in the world. He knows people might be judging him, but really he can’t bring himself to care. Maybe it’s the suit bolstering his confidence, maybe it’s the makeup, but he’s pretty sure it’s knowing that this could all go south and he’ll still get to kiss the prettiest man in the building at the end of the night.
When three clear chimes signal the doors are about to close, Ed tears himself away and climbs the rickety staircase up into the stage management booth. He’d wanted the best seat in the house for opening night, the only perspective he hasn’t seen throughout rehearsals.
Button’s light board takes up most of the long table, but on the far left he’s made a place for Ed to sit. Izzy’s station is in the middle, complete with monitors and a calling script thick enough to be a murder weapon. Keeping his promise to Izzy, Buttons has secured Karl the Pigeon in a wire birdcage against the back wall. A pretty white pigeon perches next to him, fluffing her feathers and nuzzling up against Karl like an old married couple settling in for the show. “His wife, Olivia,” Buttons explains when he catches Ed’s curious look. Yeah that’s…pretty fucking weird, even for them, but whatever. Ed likes weird. Loves it in fact. Loves that he can admit how much he loves it.
Izzy is staring down at a pile of gifts on his station. It’s the same trinkets and treats everyone else has exchanged, but front and center among them is a stuffed purple unicorn, a medal with the company logo around its neck, that chaotic jumble of images that encompasses everything they are to each other.
“I didn’t think they’d get me anything,” Izzy mutters, swiping furiously at his face.
Ed claps a hand on his shoulder, gives it a comforting squeeze. “We fall in love fast around here.”
“Fucking cocksuckers.” Izzy gently sets the toy to the right hand corner of his table, angling it so it’s looking out the window over the theater. Then he slips on his headset, clearing his throat for an extended beat before switching into that ever-professional tone. “Alright you lot,” he says into the mic. “You know what this means: places. Places please for the top of the show.”
“Thank you places!” Buttons yells even though he’s two feet away, and it makes Karl and Olivia flutter in their cages.
“You’re a fucking beast, you know that?” Ed says, sliding into the chair next to Izzy.
“What’s that mean?”
“You put on that headset and make order out of chaos. You make sure everyone’s safe, make sure all the lights and the sounds and the sets work together, and then you make sure it looks like magic. It’s the coolest thing in the world to watch. Have I ever told you that?”
The corner of Izzy’s mouth twitches upward. “No, you haven’t.”
“Well, ‘m telling you now.”
Because what good does mystery and detachment do? What has Ed ever gained from not telling people he cared about them? Izzy gives him a sharp nod, pursing his lips against the grin that’s expanding over his face.
“There’s a letter for you, Mr. Teach,” Buttons says, again, unnecessarily loudly.
For the first time Ed notices an envelope on his table. It’s not a small note like the ones they’ve been handing out all night, but full letter, with a fucking wax seal and a letter S stamped on it. Stede. Of course that man owns fucking sealing wax. When the fuck had he had time to write this and leave it up here?
“He snuck up here about an hour ago,” says Izzy, reading his mind. “Said to make you read it before the show started. But you better read fast. They’ve got two minutes and I’m calling it.”
Ed rips open the envelope.
Dear Ed,
Happy Opening Night! I know you’ll try to deny it, but this is your opening night, too. I hope you’re proud that your fingerprints are all over this show, not just in the set design and the blocking, but on all of our hearts. Mine especially. Oh how much we’ve grown since you found me dangling from the ceiling!
He’s smiling already. Fucking lunatic, his Stede. Wouldn't want him any other way.
You may have noticed that sometimes words fail me when I’m with you. It often catches me by surprise, how deeply you care for me. So I fear this morning I wasn't able to adequately express just what you mean to me. I’ve tried with Shakespeare, I’ve tried with Sondheim, but now I want to try as Stede.
The love I have for you is so big I don’t know what to do with it. It has been since the first night I met you and you sang all the songs I thought only summed up how I felt, and showed me I’m not as trapped as I once thought. You matched me beat for beat and you hardly knew me. You know me much better now, and the music’s only gotten better too. You notice all the parts of myself that I think I’m so good at burying, and you’ve accepted them all. You make me laugh every day. You make me want to learn more about the world. And I want to do the same for you.
“Alright, now or never. Have a good show everybody,” Izzy says into the headset beside him. “House-to-Half, stand by.”
Ed reads faster.
I meant it when I said I love everything about you. All the parts you don’t want people to see, I love them. The thing you don’t realize about yourself, Ed, is that you are so brave. You told me once that you’re not scared of anything, but you are, and you do hard things anyway. That is true bravery. It blows my mind every time. You look at the world and see endless possibilities, and I want to be by your side to discover them.
“House-to-Half, go.”
And I know what I said this morning might have sounded desperate, but now more than ever I know that a love like ours can’t disappear in an instant. Because at the core of it I am your friend, and I don’t take that privilege for granted. I want you to know that even being near you feels good. I want you to know that you could never do another show again, never win another award, and I will still be here, loving you with all that I am. I’ll always bring you your coat if you’ve forgotten it, and I’ll be there whether we’re dancing or crying. I hate that the world has told you otherwise, but you are safe with me. And maybe that’s a lot to admit after knowing each other for one summer. But I know it’s true.
The first night we sang together, we wrote our names on each other in permanent ink. I can’t wait to see what we sing together next.
Happy opening, my love.
Yours,
Stede
“Lights 2 and House Out, go.”
Ed holds note to his chest as the house lights finally fade out, plunging the theater into a darkness that hides the tears that are no doubt destroying his eyeliner. He has half a mind to run straight up the aisle, leap onto the stage and scream to the whole fucking world that he loves Stede Bonnet.
“Curtain, go,” Izzy calls into the headset.
And then the lights come up.
***
It’s fucking brilliant.
The music is catchy without being annoying, heartfelt without being overly sincere.
It’s filled with all the emotions this crew can’t express in their lives, made possible by the magic of the theatre. They leave it all on the stage, singing like they’ve got nothing to lose, with a passion that leaves Ed’s arms covered in goosebumps. And it’s not just the songs. The lights and the costumes tell the story as much as the words do. The few special effects (come on, they couldn’t resist a little bit of pyro) are neat and effective. It’s all coalesced into a total work of art, everyone’s strengths on full display.
Even if it hadn’t been Ed’s entire life for the last three months, this would still be his favorite musical.
And Stede. Man, Stede is just sparkling up there. Gone is the man of false confidence and bravado. In his place is an actor completely at home in his own skin. He guides the audience through all the epic highs and lows, makes his own pain palpable without taking away from the other characters. Ed remembers singing his main song in the empty theater, the day he’d asked to be more than friends, and fully understanding what it means to be lonely. Now Stede sings the song with a new hope, showing the audience what it means too, while still believing things could change.
Ed’s not sure he breathes through the whole show, hovering on the edge between giddy laughter and tears. Before he knows it, the finale is drawing to a close. The cast has joined hands, resolving to fight their ghosts together, to live another day in spite of it all, to finally move on. The song ends slowly, fading into the distance as everyone moves toward the back of the stage, disappearing into the darkness as they set off on the next phase of their fight. Only Stede’s narrator character remains, alone in a single spotlight.
He takes a moment, like he’s soaking in the full weight of the story he’s just told. There’s a flicker of uncertainty on his face, like he’s not quite sure what to do now that the song is over.
“Hey!” Stede turns to see Jim’s character peeking into the beam of light. “You coming or what?”
A hand reaching out through the storm. An invitation. Fight with us, the gesture says. Live with us. You are not alone. You never will be.
With one last hopeful smile toward the audience, Stede exits, and the stage is engulfed in darkness.
There’s a terrifying moment where no one moves. You can hear a pin drop in the theater, and Ed finds his hands have balled up in fists in his lap. But then a wall of sound slams right into him, an utterly deafening applause.
Fuck. Yes.
Ed’s on his feet and cheering when the lights come back up for the curtain call. Even Izzy and Buttons are clapping and whooping as everyone bows. Ed realizes he’s shaking from head to toe, so much unspent energy coursing through his veins, a mix of relief and pride and love that defies any emotion he’s ever felt. Those are his people. Their dream has just come true. And he got to be part of it.
The cast waves goodbye as they exit back into the wings, and Ed can’t help but wave back. Izzy calls the final cue, sending the house lights back on. Ed immediately shakes Buttons’ hand and wraps Izzy in a bear hug. The birds flutter excitedly in their cage.
“Ah go on,” Izzy ribs, “Hug your fucking boyfriend.”
Ed races down the stairs, skipping a step and almost dying in the process, but he sticks the landing. He’s bombarded immediately with audience members who want to congratulate him, and he does his damnedest to say thank you gracefully while still correcting that this really has had very little to do with him, but the only thing he can really think of is getting backstage. He can’t be feeling all this alone. He needs to be with his people.
Then one voice cuts above all the others.
“Ed!”
He’s stripped out of his costume in record time, switched into an absolutely stunning navy blue suit, and now he’s shoving his way through the crowd toward Ed. He’s offering the same rushed thank yous and nearly collides with several very startled patrons, but mostly he’s calling Ed’s name.
When their eyes lock all the noise fades away, and they’re pushing through the sea of people like magnets are drawing them together. Ed’s nearly running up the aisle now, he’s stopped saying sorry to the people he pushes by, because he’s falling so fast and there’s only one person that can catch him right now.
Stede barrels into him, nearly knocking Ed off his feet, holding on for dear life. His shoulders are shaking with overwhelmed tears, and he’s sobbing “Oh my god, oh my god,” over and over into Ed’s neck. He squeezes Stede as hard as he can and lifts him clear off the ground, spinning him until they’re both laughing.
“You fucking did it!” Ed finally manages to scream.
“We fucking did it!” Stede corrects.
“You wrote me a lovely letter!”
“I love you so much!”
And when their lips crash together, Ed knows he’s found the role he’s meant to play forever.
***
“I’ve been thinking,” Stede says, flopping into Ed’s lap.
They’ve retreated to the couch as the party swirls around them. The cast, crew, and their families have crowded into Stede’s apartment, all buzzing with the infectious post-show high. Every hand has a drink in it. Someone’s noodling around the piano in the next room. Voices find a way to carry above each other. It’s chaos. It’s beautiful. Ed loves them all.
“Uh oh,” Ed teases, as he circles his arms around Stede’s waist. “We know how this goes.”
Stede’s cheeks are pink from the warmth and the wine he’s been drinking. He’s pretty all the time but Ed thinks he might just be prettiest like this, a little ball of light and feelings that’s just the right size to fit in his hands. He crowds in closer to Ed’s space, intertwining his fingers around the back of Ed’s neck. “I’ve been thinking about Hornigold.”
The name still sends a little prickle of nerves down Ed’s spine. Maybe it always will. He can’t change the past, can’t help his feelings, and yeah now that the show is open he’s gonna book himself some nice therapy to actually work through some of this. But every day he’s making things with this bunch, the nerves are a little duller, a little further away.
“What about him?” Ed asks.
Stede’s face grows thoughtful. “From what you’ve told me, the things he used to put people through... know things have gotten better since then, but not by much, let’s be honest. I think what we’ve done, with our crew…I don’t want people to have to wait until they’re our age to know you can make art and be safe at the same time.”
Ed nods, feeling the sentiment tightening around his chest. “Yeah. Yeah that would be something.”
“And so I’ve been thinking…” Stede goes on, picking up the tempo.“What if there were two parts of the Revenge Theatre Collective? One part is the acting company, doing shows in rep. And the other part is a school. A place where students could learn all the things we’ve improved, really sink their teeth in and explore, feel safe to do so, and then if they wanted they could join the company when they graduated. We could call it the Theatre School at RTC. Or something. I don’t know, I’m still workshopping it. But you…if you wanted of course, and please so no if this is ridiculous…after all you’ve taught me, I just think you’d be a wonderful teacher.”
Fuck. What a thought. Him, a teacher. Doing it differently, doing it with kindness, making people better, making sure they have a safe place to land.
It sounds completely fucking mental
It sounds completely fucking fascinating.
“Yes,” Ed breathes.
“Yes?”
“Yes.” Yes to this and every wild idea forever. Yes to chasing every whim, and making sure it pays off. Yes to making things better, yes to trying, yes to moving on. “Fuck yes Stede let’s open a theatre school.”
“Great!” He says it so loud that Frenchie jumps as he’s walking past him. Stede winces apologetically, but Ed just laughs, pulling him in close to kiss the worry off his pretty little mouth.
“We’ll talk,” Ed says when they come up for air. “We’ll talk it through.”
“Of course. Of course we will.”
He’s debating saying fuck the party and barricading themselves in Stede’s bedroom for the rest of the night, when a frantic tapping on a glass draws their gaze across the room.
“Hey hey hey everyone shut up!” Roach is yelling over the party. He’s climbed up onto the coffee table and is waving his phone in the air. “The Times review is up!”
There’s a chorus of Holy Shits and What the Fucks, because it’s barely past midnight and the Times almost never posts reviews until the following morning. Stede tightens his grip on Ed for a moment, the memory of Chauncey back at Jackie’s 54 Below still fresh in their minds. Ed leans in as close as he can to Stede’s ear.
“Whatever he says,” Ed whispers, “I’m still here.”
“I know,” Stede says back, and Ed is finally confident that he believes him.
“Who’s gonna read it?” asks Frenchie.
“Izzy should!” Lucius yells. “He’s the least emotionally invested.”
“Fuck you!” Izzy scoffs, but then everyone’s chanting “Dramatic reading! Dramatic Reading!”and Izzy is hauling himself up onto the coffee table. Taking Roach’s phone, he clears his throat with a performative flare, and begins to read.
“Perhaps no show has captured Off-Broadway’s attention this season quite like Wherever You Go, There You Are, the inaugural production of the Brooklyn-based Revenge Theatre Collective. The company’s mission to collectively devise an original musical raised the eyebrows of many, including, I must say, this reviewer and his slightly less prestigious brother. But as painful as it is, I must admit that it is no longer a question of if, but when this special little show will transfer to Broadway.”
There’s a collective gasp before they’re all shushing each other again. Ed can't decides if he wants to cry or scream or throw up or possibly do all three at once.
“The story emerges on the whims of a mysterious Narrator, played with charm and nuance by RTC founder Stede Bonnet. The ghost story that follows traverses time and space, switching between six perspectives with effortless clarity. The stories, while fictional, feel achingly personal, and any audience member can easily see their own struggles face to their pasts in each of the characters. While every performance is truly one-of-a-kind, special attention must be given to Jim Jimenez, whose 11 o’clock number brings the piece together with an emotional depth of one twice their age. But truly every member of this young cast shines. There is no doubt in my mind that they are all Broadway stars in the making.”
A cheer rises up among the party. Ed spots Jim at the far corner of the kitchen, and their Nana – a feisty little woman with just as much spunk as their grandchild – has them crushed against her in a bear hug.
“Love permeates every aspect of this production,” Izzy reads on. “From the sets to the costumes to the lighting, one can see the influence of every crew member on this show, every detail thought through with care. While half the theatre community knows at this point that Edward Teach played a hand in the development process, this truly feels like a collaborative process. It leaves you feeling hopeful for a future of theatre, where hierarchies and recognition are less important than inclusion and creativity.”
Against him, Stede gasps around a sob, and Ed presses a comforting, proud kiss to his cheek. Ed’s no longer surprised to find himself crying too. Maybe he’s just gonna be a person who cries when he’s happy now. It’s certainly nicer than the alternative.
“There’s little else I can say to entice you to see this musical without spoiling the immensely satisfying conclusion. But one thing is for sure. Theatre is changing, and it is time we changed with it. The RTC has crafted a brilliant piece that will leave you empowered to fight your own demons, and remind you that you never have to fight alone.”
If Ed had thought the post-show applause was loud, it was nothing compared to the screams that ring through the apartment. People hug, jump up and down, splashing their drinks around like they’ve just won the fucking Superbowl. Stede’s lips crash into Ed’s, and once again the world around them spins so fast but they hold each other through it all.
“I’m so happy,” Stede laugh-sobs. “I know it doesn’t matter but I’m just so happy.”
“It matters a little,” Ed admits, wiping the tears from his boyfriend’s cheeks. “And you should be happy.”
“And what about you, darling?” Stede asks, eyes shimmering bright. “Are you happy?”
They have a long road ahead of them if they want to make it to Broadway. Some things will work out, others won’t. That’s the risk you take, in this business and in love. But Ed knows one thing’s for sure: he will keep his hand in Stede’s through it all. They’ll find new ways of living, no matter if anyone ever listens to them again.
Family. Friends. Love.
So many songs Ed can’t wait to keep singing.
“Yeah,” Ed says with a smile, lacing his fingers through Stede's. “Reckon I am.”