Work Text:
A sudden twinge of pain runs through Todd’s hand, and he yelps. He clutches his wrist to his chest and groans in frustration, and he hears Neil laugh softly.
“Another cramp?” He calls from the kitchen.
Todd lets out a breath. “Yeah.”
The sound of clinking dishes and running water stops, and Neil appears from around the corner, his lips quirked in a smile.
“Have you been doing those stretches I told you about?” he asks, meandering over to Todd’s desk.
“No,” Todd sighs, letting his back fall against the hardwood of his chair. (The fourth from their dining table—it’s not like it gets used otherwise.)
Neil practically sits on the desk’s edge and pries Todd’s aching hand from his own grip. He holds his wrist like it’s porcelain, guiding his hand up and out and gently pushing it back.
Todd feels the taut muscles in his wrist loosen with each minuscule stretch, and he lets out another sigh. Neil chuckles at him, moving to stretch his other hand.
“You’ve been writing all day,” he muses. “You gotta make sure to take breaks, Todd. I don’t want you going all stiff on me.”
“I feel like a gargoyle,” Todd mutters. His wrist emits a short pop, and they both laugh.
Neil shifts his hold on Todd’s hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to his knuckles. “Feel better?” he asks, a sparkle in his eye.
“Mm,” Todd grunts. “Yes. Thank you, dear.”
Neil smiles, his cheeks scrunching and creasing his eyes in the way that still makes Todd’s stomach flutter. He lowers their joined hands and turns his attention to the scattered papers on the desk.
“What’ve you been working on?” Neil’s eyes scan the only visible page, tracing the barely-dry ink and blots of scratched out words.
“I don’t really know,” Todd says, looking at the ceiling. The lightbulb flickers wearily, and Todd stifles a yawn.
“Mind if I look?”
Todd shakes his head. No, of course not.
The old clock on the wall ticks quietly as Neil lifts the paper closer to his face. He squints—his glasses are on the nightstand in their bedroom—but reads over the lines carefully.
What a life it is
to live half-alive;
when it is only you
you and I
in our own little world,
I am the cool side
of the pillow,
and the rickety
breath of a
phonograph,
sick with the sweet love sweetness
you pour into me.
Then the outside
moves closes in,
prying eyes and
lolling tongues and
nails like knives
clawing down our walls door
demanding to
know,
know,
know.
It would pry rip you from
my arms and cast us
to the pyre
if we made
a sound.
I can feel the
flames lick at
my feet soles
every time I
step outside.
I do not envy Romeo
I am no Romeo,
I’m older, wiser,
I think,
but I understand
the ache
and the need for
a love you cannot should not
Have Want.
But unlike
Romeo,
I will not
let us end
in tragedy.
Neil peers over the edge of the page when he finishes reading. Todd curls inwards on himself, knees hugged close to his chest. He leans into the chair with an air of resignation. Something about the crease between his brows, the blank look in his eyes, makes him seem smaller. Fragile. Neil bites his tongue and dismisses the thought.
“I like it,” Neil says. He says this of all Todd’s work—it’s the truth, after all. “It’s…very melancholy. Desperate…what’s on your mind?”
Todd takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. “A lot,” he sighs.
Neil hums in acknowledgement, then sets the page down and leans forward. He smooths a hand down Todd’s back, and Todd shivers.
“I won’t press, but you know I’m always willing to listen,” Neil murmurs. He reaches to fix Todd’s collar, his fingers gently grazing Todd’s neck. “You should get some sleep, too.”
“I know.” Todd closes his eyes, soaking in the silence and the slow rhythm of Neil’s breathing.
They sit together in the quiet of the night for a moment that feels like a lifetime. It is calm, blissful. Todd nearly falls asleep at his desk (again), but Neil shakes him gently and guides him to the bathroom. Neil hums a Beach Boys song while they brush their teeth, and Todd smiles through the ring of toothpaste foam on his lips.
—
Hours later, Todd wakes up with a headache. The room is still dark save for the pale shine of moonlight through the window curtains. He uncurls his arm from Neil’s waist and slowly sits up, his chest trembling with each breath.
Todd rubs his temples and yawns. It can’t be any later than three in the morning, but the pain splintering through his forehead makes him want to do anything but sleep.
Perhaps he’s been working too much. Between studying for exams and working at the library and writing in his free time, he’d hardly allowed himself any reprieve. Even now, over break, he doesn’t let his guard down. He keeps working and working and working because that’s what keeps them afloat. The one-bedroom apartment they’ve called home for nearly four years doesn’t pay for itself, even in this part of New York.
He works, Todd laments, and he doesn’t sleep. He grows more and more restless as the work piles on. A worrisome part of his brain tells him rest is a waste of time. What is he without something to do? Something to create or learn or mold into something new? His mind begins to wander most nights, and the thoughts that come are often of Neil.
Neil, and his infectious, radiant smile, his shining eyes and soothing voice. His Neil.
Oftentimes, when his mind runs amuck thinking of the loveliest person he’s ever known, he wonders how long things will last like this. Todd thinks he’s lucky to have met him at all, and some nights he still can’t believe they share a bed and a home.
Todd doesn’t doubt their mutual love and respect; no, he moved past that in his second year of university, after they’d been joined at the hip for nearly three years. He knows Neil loves him, and in turn he loves Neil, more than words can possibly describe. The problem isn’t them, but rather others and what hideous things they may think or say of them.
They keep their relationship as private as possible, only showing affection around each other and their close friends. But he can never shake the fear of someone finding out. Neil’s career demands that he be seen and known in the public eye; he is the face of beloved characters onstage and off. How much of himself is he willing to hide before he crumbles under the pressure?
The folks at the library are kind, good and honest people; how quickly would their demeanors change if they knew what Todd was? And his writings bring in income, but how long can he stand publishing half-truths about himself? He wants to write honestly, but doing so could put their lives at risk.
Todd lets his forehead fall against his knees. It’s too late—or too early?—to be thinking about these things. His head swims with anxious questions and thoughts, and he can hardly hear himself think. He presses the heel of his palm to his forehead and tries to breathe, but his vision still seems to spin.
“Todd?” Neil’s voice is heavy with sleep, and Todd hears him roll over beside him. Todd shuts his eyes tight, losing the ongoing battle with his headache.
When Todd says nothing, Neil sits up and leans forward to look at him. “Are you alright? Do you want me to grab a water or something?”
His knee jerk reaction is to decline; he would never want to burden anyone, especially Neil. He’d rather suffer in silence than ask something of someone else, but he knows refusing isn’t really an option here. “That would be nice,” he says hoarsely.
Neil is up in an instant, walking as if he weren’t just out cold for the past couple hours. Todd hears the sink turn on and off in the kitchen followed by the light thump of footsteps retreating back to their room.
When Neil returns with the cup, Todd accepts it with a tired smile, lifting the cool glass to his forehead and sighing at the momentary relief it brings. In the dim light, he can see the soft creases of concern etched into Neil’s face. This isn’t the first time one of Todd’s headaches has woken them both up. And, Todd grimaces internally, it likely won’t be the last.
He takes a long sip of water, relishing the cool wave that washes over his chest. A moment passes before either of them even move.
“What’s bothering you?” Neil asks. The question lingers in the air for a heartbeat, then two, and Todd sighs.
“I don’t…” he starts, then clears his voice. “I don’t know how to…describe it. It’s odd.”
“Would it help to write it down, maybe?” Neil’s always looking for solutions, problems to be fixed. Todd grows exhausted just thinking about it.
“I already did,” he laughs a little. “It still doesn’t really make sense, though.”
Neil tilts his head to the side. “The poem you wrote today?”
Todd nods, biting the inside of his cheek, and Neil’s brow furrows in thought.
“What are you feeling?” It’s a simple question, but the answers that come are anything but.
“Like I’m suffocating,” Todd says, tucking his chin behind his knees.
“How come?” Neil’s voice is gentle, careful.
“It…it always feels like I’m living…a-a lie,” he stammers. “Like no one outside our little bubble really knows me.”
Neil places a hand between Todd’s shoulder blades and rubs slow circles with his fingers. “Do you want them to really know you?”
Todd shakes his head. “No…I don’t know, it’s just…it’s so stifling, you know? Spending half your life pretending to be someone else…I’m just always so worried and so tired.”
Neil hums in agreement. “Do you still…want this?” he asks, suddenly unsure.
Todd turns to look at him. A cloud of fear sits in his eyes, and Todd frowns. “Yes. Yes, I do, more than anything, Neil.”
“But is it…is it enough for you?”
“Of course,” Todd whispers. “I can’t imagine a life without you. I … I just get worried, you know? Thinking about what could happen if—if someone found out, or…”
With a slow nod, Neil shifts closer to him. His fingers tense against Todd’s back, his eyes focused on empty space. “It shouldn’t have to be this way,” he murmurs.
“There’s not much we can do about it,” Todd sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Neil rests his forehead against Todd’s shoulder. He’s silent in thought, Todd knows, not because he has nothing to say. Another beat passes before Neil says, “What if we stopped hiding?”
Todd blinks, processing each word individually once over, then twice, before he looks over to Neil with shock. “Neil, you can’t be serious.”
Neil lifts his head to look Todd in the eye. “And what if I am?”
“You…” Todd starts, caught off guard by the spark of determination in Neil’s gaze. “Y-you know how dangerous that would be. People get murdered for being out, Neil, a-a-and…” His breaths begin to grow shallow as the words tumble out, and his head starts feeling light.
“We wouldn’t have to parade our private life around the block, Todd.” Neil squeezes his shoulder, trying to get Todd to look at him. “We could just—just be more honest when people ask who we live with, or if we’re seeing anyone—“
“That could cost you your job.” Todd’s voice shakes, his heart beginning to race in his throat. “It could cost us our home, our lives—“
“How is living like this any better?” Neil cuts him off, though he keeps his tone calm. “You’re miserable, Todd; you haven’t slept right in months. We can hardly go out in public without you having a panic attack—“
“Being alive is better than one of us getting killed! ” Todd shouts with his last bit of air before he starts to hyperventilate.
He feels his chest tremble as he struggles for breath, barely registering Neil grabbing onto his hand. Adrenaline rushes through Todd’s body; everything is too hot, too much. Neil’s voice sounds watery and garbled, and in Todd’s head swims the thought, he could die, he could die , drowning out any other noise.
“Todd,” Neil says. His name is the one clear word he hears, pulling him out of the sludge in his head. “Todd, breathe with me, okay? Like we practiced, remember?”
Through his sputtering breaths, Todd feels Neil’s hand tighten and relax in his own. He squeezes Todd’s hand in time with a slower breathing pattern, and gradually, Todd manages to calm his breaths to match it. They sit like this for a few minutes, hands joined while Todd lets his heartbeat settle down. The back of his shirt feels damp, and Todd wants to cry. He hides his eyes with the back of his hand, his arm shaking.
“I’m sorry,” Neil whispers after a long moment. “I shouldn’t have brought that up. I… I know that stuff stresses you out.” He gives Todd’s hand another squeeze, and Todd returns it weakly.
“I just can’t stand to see you like this,” Neil continues. “I mean, if there’s anything I can do to help you, I wanna try it.”
“Is it worth putting your life at risk?” Todd chokes out, blinking back tears.
With his free hand, Neil caresses Todd’s cheek, turning his face towards him. Todd uncovers his eyes to meet Neil’s unwavering gaze. “You are worth everything to me.”
Todd wraps his hand around the one holding his face and shudders a breath. “As are you to me,” he mutters as a tear slips onto his cheek. “I can’t imagine life without you, Neil, and the idea of—of you…” Todd can’t even get the words out before a sob escapes his throat, and he slumps forward, folding in on himself.
Neil slings his arm over his shoulder and holds Todd as best he can while he cries into the bedsheets. Todd’s chest shakes, each breath rough against his raw throat. He shouldn’t have brought it up. Fighting a headache and a touch of insomnia would be better than this. Better than the dread gnawing at his stomach.
“It’s gonna get better, Todd,” Neil murmurs, pressing his forehead to Todd’s shoulder. “I promise we’ll figure something out. Things will be better one day.”
Todd can do nothing but weep himself dry.
Once his tears have stopped and his back begins to ache, he sits up slowly and finds his way into Neil’s arms. The warmth of his chest is grounding; solid and real. Todd breathes. His heart is lighter, now, relieved of the pain of carrying his woes and worries alone.
He knows, one day, people like them will not be forced to hide who they are from the world. Todd has never been one to get his hopes up, but change is inevitable. The only question is whether they’ll be around to see it happen.
And maybe that doesn’t matter, ultimately. Todd may not live to walk the streets of New York and see men or women holding hands like lovers do, like something natural and precious. Still, he will know that kind of love so long as he has Neil. He will never be satisfied until the shame subsides, the fear squashed to nothing, but he must think of their safety first. Half-alive is better than dead.
The thought does little to comfort Todd as he settles back into bed, Neil’s arm tight around his waist. Neil holds him close as he drifts back to sleep, snoring softly against Todd’s neck. Todd lets his eyelids droop. Having him is enough. Things will get better somehow.
He takes a deep breath. Little by little, they will figure something out.
His headache has passed, and sleep comes swiftly.
Things will get better.