by Laura Stone
“Seth? Have you—oh,” Oliver said, coming up short at the sight of Seth, leaning against the kitchen counter with a tie around his shoulders.
“This?” Seth asked, smirking.
“Honestly, I don’t think I can tie it; my hands are shaking too badly.” Oliver looked down at his hands; they were trembling as though he had coffee jitters, even though he’d only had the one cup. Everything depended on today. On him.
“Here, let me,” Seth murmured, draping the tie around Oliver’s neck, flipping up his collar and tying the knot with deft fingers. Oliver closed his eyes as Seth worked, breathing deeply and slowly, letting Seth’s calm allay some of his own fears. Seth smoothed his tie and collar, took Oliver by the lapels and pulled him in for a kiss.
Oliver sagged against Seth, holding him at the hips to keep himself upright. Seth pulled back, biting his lip and blinking rapidly. “It’s going to be fine,” he soothed. Oliver had the thought that Seth was trying to convince himself, too.
Sighing, Oliver laid his head on Seth’s shoulder and let himself be held. If this was it… He understood better, now, why Seth had asked for them to just let the time in England be about them reconnecting and nothing else. It had been a vacation from their responsibilities, and now, faced with the big decision that would determine their relationship’s fate, he just wanted to go back to the dream-world they’d let themselves hide in.
Seth didn’t have to get to his appointment with his vocal coach until later that morning, so he was still in his pajamas. Oliver lifted the back of Seth’s shirt with one hand, needing to feel his warm, smooth skin and using the contact as a touchstone that could center him. Seth melted against him with a sigh, holding Oliver tightly against him.
“Quit stalling.” Seth pulled back after a moment, but there was no real aggravation in his voice. “I don’t want you to be late and make a bad first impression.”
Seth was being brave about this, so Oliver squared his shoulders and inhaled sharply, trying to smother the nervous butterflies and simmering panic that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his gut and only intensified at the watery smile Seth gave him as he drew the flat of his hand down Oliver’s blazer. Seth looked away after a moment and stepped back to lean against the loveseat.
Oliver exhaled slowly, grabbed his briefcase by the door and was just about to say goodbye when Seth spoke first.
“Oh! Wait just a second.” Seth dashed over and rummaged through a drawer in the kitchen. “If you get finished early and I’m not here, or if you stay late and I’m at the theater.” Biting his lip and suddenly looking a little shy, he pressed something metallic into Oliver’s hand. A key. “It’s the spare.”
Oliver looked down at the small brass key; the actual weight was inconsequential, but it felt incredibly solid and monumental laying in the palm of his hand. “Thank you. And you’re sure it’s okay for me to just come in if you’re not here?” He knew he was babbling; he couldn’t help himself. “I can keep myself busy or go for a long walk, or meet you somewhere–”
Seth shut him up with a kiss and cupped his cheek, a soft smile on his face. “Just… make yourself at home while you’re here.”
Oliver pressed their foreheads together; he wanted to make this a home with everything in him, and he understood why Seth would be nervous. Oliver could never regret the time that he and Seth had shared since he stepped out of the shadows on Forty-fifth Street; and he couldn’t imagine how empty his life would be had they not reconnected. But if Silver was wrong, if Oliver simply couldn’t stay here when the better option was being offered overseas, he had no one to blame but himself for pushing things to where they presently found themselves.
There would be no question that this heartbreak would be his fault, and his alone.
He pressed a soft kiss to Seth’s cheek, memorizing everything, his scent, the way he looked just out of bed, the feel of him against Oliver’s hand. Just in case.
Oliver leaned in to kiss him one more time. “See you later?”
Seth nodded, biting the end of his thumb. “Babe?”
Oliver paused in the doorway and looked at Seth, his breath catching at the sight of him. Longing, want, fear; Oliver recognized all of Seth’s emotions from his own reflection just moments before. “Yes?”
“I really hope this is the right place for you.” Seth’s voice was barely a whisper as he tried to keep himself composed—for Oliver.
Oliver’s throat worked, trying to swallow the bitter, awful lump that kept him from saying anything more than, “Me, too.” Seth looked away and nodded. Oliver stood there with the door open, forcing himself to breathe calmly. Part of him just wanted to pretend that they didn’t have to be adults with responsibilities and stay there.
Instead, he turned to the open hallway, walked over the threshold and carefully shut the door behind him.
It was when the elevators shut, blocking the view of Seth’s front door, that he realized Seth hadn’t said goodbye. He clutched the key in his hand, eyes squeezed shut, and held onto it like an unspoken promise.
Chapter Twenty
Oliver checked his watch, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for his train. He’d already wasted half an hour not paying attention to which direction the car that he’d boarded was going and ended up near Harlem before realizing his mistake. Seth said that he’d leave his apartment at five; it was just past four now. Oliver was tired after walking all day, talking with program directors, adjuncts, TAs and even meeting a young lady in one of Silver’s programs for LGBT teens.
His mind was racing with all of the possibilities, coupled with the differences in the school’s approach compared to Cambridge. Dr. Jones had hinted for a definitive answer but graciously agreed when Oliver politely said that he needed a night to sleep on such a big decision. She understood that this would be life-changing for him.
And Oliver would never make this call without Seth; he’d finally learned that. Although this choice was his to make, he wanted anything that had to do with their life to be decided upon when they were together. Even if it was something as simple as getting rid of that ridiculously small loveseat, he thought, grinning.
Sure, he knew he was giddy from the whole shiny-and-new aspect of Silver; but he still had to contend with the idea of giving up his project if he came here. He’d put so much into it, and the thought of just handing it over to anyone except Moira… he just didn’t know if he was ready to do that. Talking to Seth would help get his thoughts straightened out.
The train pulled in, and Oliver did the on-off dance with the other passengers. The doors shut and the announcer came on. It seemed that they would have to wait for a new operator, so there would be a delay of eight minutes before they pulled out.
He groaned and covered his face with one hand. It was four-fifteen, and he had to get all the way to Brooklyn and then walk two blocks. He’d be cutting it close, but he was determined to see Seth and offer support before he left for his first performance back; it was the least Oliver could do.
* * *
He double-checked Seth’s carefully-written instructions for getting to the apartment from the subway and walked swiftly to the building, sighing with relief when it came into view. It was just a few minutes after five; surely Seth had waited a few minutes? Oliver didn’t bother waiting for the elevator but raced up the four flights of stairs, taking them two at a time as his briefcase banged against his leg. He fumbled out his key when he found the door locked and pushed in calling, “Seth?”
The apartment was dark, though.
“Damn it.”
He set his briefcase down by the door, moved to drop his key in the dish on the console and felt a shiver of déjà vu race through him as he watched his hand pull back. He shook himself out of a false memory and crossed to where Seth had left him a note on the kitchen counter.
Oliver,
I’m so sorry we’re not crossing paths, but I just can’t be late. I’m feeling rusty and paranoid and need to ge
t there and get into character. Call the theater—if you’d like to come back, I’ll save a ticket for you at the front? Otherwise, I guess I’ll see you when I get back, around 10:30?
<3
Seth
Oliver smiled at the heart doodle, thinking of all the notes they had passed in French class or choir. God, he’d loved this boy—this man—since he was sixteen. And he realized with a pang that he would until he was sixty, and beyond.
He felt grimy, and took a few minutes to freshen up. After enough time had passed for Seth to make it to the theater, he called but was told, “Mr. Larsen is in performance mode, and has said that he will mix rubber cement into my concealer if I even think of disturbing him.”
“Just tell him that—”
“No, you don’t understand,” the woman said, getting almost hysterical. “He said never.”
Oliver breathed out sharply. “Okay, but… um, this is his—I’m Oliver? Oliver Andrews?”
“Oh! Oliver!” she sing-songed, embarrassing him. “Yeah, I got a ticket up here for you. You coming? If not, I know some people I can scalp—”
“Yes, I am,” he said, cutting her off. “Thank you very much.”
“No problem, sweetie.”
He hung up the phone and sighed. It wasn’t that he minded seeing Seth perform again, not at all; he just had wanted to wish him luck beforehand. Well, at least now he had plenty of time to clean up and change.
* * *
Oliver took his seat just as the lights were dimming, his playbill in hand. He’d tried not to take one but, then wondered if Seth had maybe changed his bio. Plus, now he could get the star of this particular show to autograph it a little more personally, he thought, smiling to himself. He squashed the thought that it still might end up yet another token of a relationship he’d once had with Seth.
After the applause died down and the orchestra began the opening number, Oliver forced himself to relax completely; he told himself to forget about his looming choice and the stress of the past several months and simply let himself enjoy the performance. There was time enough afterward to work through everything.
Seth was somehow even better than Oliver remembered. Now that Oliver was no longer having a panic attack from seeing his ex after several years, he was able to appreciate subtle touches to the performance, nuances he hadn’t picked up on before.
And as before, Seth held the audience in the palm of his hand as he loved and lost and loved once again. Oliver realized at one point that he had been sitting with his mouth slightly open for some time and snapped his mouth shut, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. Fortunately, they were all just as enthralled as he was.
During the intermission, Oliver took the opportunity to flip through his playbill. It was the same bio as before, the same picture of Seth looking sleepy and coy and so fucking sexy that Oliver couldn’t wait for the show to be over and take him home and show him what that picture did to him.
He smiled as he skimmed the bio, his heart giving a tripping thump at “to his first duet partner, who made him believe he could finally get here.” He was going to make a point of finding the answer to that mystery later that night.
As the second act drew to its emotional close, you could hear a pin drop. Oliver smirked to himself. He would bet all the money in the world that David Falchurch never had an audience like this, if the reviews he’d read were accurate. This was where Seth belonged; this was his. Seth had set his sights on Broadway and, through all of his hard work, had been able to make a name for himself. This was Seth’s dream, and he’d achieved it.
Oliver was so proud of Seth and all that he’d accomplished. The dreams they’d had for themselves back in their little town—they mattered. Even though some of Oliver’s dreams had changed, his still mattered, too. And Seth was the one person in his life who really understood that. He shook himself out of his thoughts as he realized the last lines, where they declared their undying love for one another, were being delivered by The Fair Youth and William.
“So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this,” William held Seth’s hand to his lips for a fervent kiss, “and this gives life to thee.”
They embraced, the curtain fell, and the audience rose to its feet, clapping and cheering. Oliver was pretty sure Seth had heard him whistle, if his looking over in Oliver’s direction while laughing and shaking his head was any indication.
Oliver took his seat again as the rest of the audience filed out. He knew it would take a bit for Seth to wash the stage makeup off before he would be ready to go. Plus, he enjoyed hearing the audience say nice things about the show as they left. It made his heart swell with happiness. He was so unbelievably proud.
Oliver followed the tail end of the crowd as they left and made his way outside. It was a pleasant spring night; there was a bit of a queue already at the stage door, and since he knew he would be going home with one of the actors, he didn’t mind crossing the street to be out of the way. Then he realized with a start that he was in the same alcove. It had a perfect view of the door; he watched the orchestra members file out, people from the chorus and then the one person who soured the experience: Brandt, a.k.a. Dough-Face.
It gave Oliver a mean spike of happiness to know that there weren’t many people clamoring for his autograph, not when the actor who played Shakespeare was right on his heels. They barely said two sentences to each other, even though they appeared to be cordial. “William” was probably still mad about having David back for a week instead of working with Seth, someone with whom he had obvious chemistry onstage. If the audiences weren’t responding to David, that meant they weren’t responding for him, either.
Oliver shook his head at the unprofessionalism of sabotaging one’s own show for the sake of bragging rights. He knew that he would never be able to tolerate Brandt, and it wasn’t just because he’d tried to date Seth. Sure, a good seventy-five percent was because of that, but still. The guy was just a jerk.
And then there was Seth. He came out much faster than Oliver had anticipated; the crowd gave a little cheer and held out a jumble of things to be autographed. Seth took it all in stride: smiling, he thanked people for coming and signed his name, steadily moving down the line. He looked up and they locked eyes. Oliver could see Seth inhale sharply, and then visibly sigh in relief and smile.
Oliver grinned back, feeling centered and happy and really ready for autograph-signing to be finished so they could get out of there. He walked across the street toward him, taking his time to allow Seth a chance to see everyone who had waited to shower him with praise. Finally, Seth said loudly, “Thank you all so much for coming! It’s great to be back.”
As a few people in the crowd cheered, Oliver walked over to the partition and held out his arm. Seth beamed at him as he slipped his hand in the crook of Oliver’s elbow, and Oliver wished he could do this every night.
“You were stunning.” Oliver kissed Seth’s cheek. Seth gave him an expectant look, but he just smiled and gave him a tiny shake of the head. “When we get back to your place, okay? It’s still all about you tonight.”
Oliver then pulled something out of the breast pocket of his sport coat, an origami flower he’d made from the tablet on Seth’s counter.
Seth buried his face in Oliver’s neck, his breath catching for a moment. Then Seth gave Oliver a kiss. “So sweet. Thank you.”
Oliver kissed him back and said, “I have absolutely no idea where to go. Lead on.”
Seth laughed and reversed their arms so he could pull Oliver in the right direction. For the duration of their twenty-minute train ride, Seth told him about the warm welcome he’d gotten. (“Liz hates everyone. Everyone. She kissed me on the lips. I had to check the news to make sure the apocalypse hadn’t started.”) How he and Jonathan, the actor who played William, had hugged tightly, Jonathan whispering that his girlfriend was glad that Seth was back so he’d quit pissing her off with his moodiness.
His arm around the back of Seth
’s seat, Oliver rested his cheek on his palm and listened happily to Seth talk all about the show and the cast and crew. He was so clearly in his element, so clearly meant to be here in New York. Seth was exactly where he should be, without question.
“I don’t honestly wish David ill,” Seth said, “I just wish him the best of luck on his next performance on a Carnival cruise.”
“Maybe he can take Dough-Face with him. He could use some ocean air.”
Seth laughed and squeezed Oliver’s arm, the joy of a well-received performance still bubbling in him. Oliver wanted him to keep that feeling as long as he could, so he continued to say nothing about his day, even when Seth grew quiet and gently bumped their shoulders, hoping to coax something out of him. They started to walk the short distance to Seth’s, but then Seth stopped short. “Oh, we should run in and grab something so we have actual food to eat tonight,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it. I had a little bit of time to kill after I got back from campus, so I ran down to the market at the corner and got a couple of things,” Oliver said.
Seth tilted his head, a peculiar smile on his face. “You did?”
“Is that okay? I didn’t want to be a bad guest.”
“No! And of course! I just— ” Seth shook his head and linked their arms again, leading Oliver around the street corner to his place.
“What?” He stopped, forcing Seth to stop and look at him.
He looked over Oliver’s shoulder and worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “I used to have these little fantasies after we broke up. Us getting back together and things like that. You, showing up out of the blue and surprising me with cozy dinners. You’d make little gestures, like you used to when we were kids. Like the flower,” he said, looking at the paper flower in his lapel.
“Seth, you’re blushing!”
He folded his arms, looking slightly embarrassed but unable to stop grinning. “You can be very charming when you put your mind to it, Oliver.”
