Alex and Theodore ✓

for patience

act three:

i
There is something to be said for patience. If you lack the will to wait for what you want, you will never get it. Alex sits in a cafe nursing a cup of Earl Grey. Darla is next to him, with her dark curls and pretty smile. Darla who has been waiting for him for years. Alex, who only wants Theodore. He scolds himself. A new Theodore comes along every so often. They're in and out of the theater. Theodore. Theater. Thespian. They're in and out of the theater, and they never stay for long. Always off to something bigger, something better, something more fantastical. Alex has never had the guts to ask them to stay. Alex doesn't think they would even if he asked. Even if he begged. In the end, he will always be average and they will always be extraordinary. Darla is average, just like him. Except she isn't. She has a voice like honey and eyes like daydreams. She has toffee skin and the loveliest ideas. She is everything that Alex should want. Alex doesn't want her. Alex doesn't want a girl even if she's the most un-average girl in the world. Alex wants a boy. One boy. Theodore.

ii
Alex is tired. Alex is tired of these thespians and their fleeting existences. Alex is tired of always being the designated driver. Alex is tired of being average. He's tired - in short - of being Alex. Because what is Alex, if not average? Who is Alex without his routines? Who is Alex without his dependability, his steadfastness, his quiet sadness that creeps in only when the world has gone to sleep? Who is Alex if he is not nursing a cup of Earl Grey tea and pretending that one day he will look at Darla and want? He will never want. He will never want Darla the way he wants Theodore. He will never look at Darla and think I want to love someone that extraordinary. Because Darla is extraordinary to the barista who is trying to catch her daydream eyes, but Darla is average to Alex. Perhaps, then, it's all a matter of perspective. Perhaps Alex is not average to people like Darla. Perhaps, Alex thinks, the lesser think of him as extraordinary. Alexander instead of Alex. Flighty instead of steadfast. To others, he is an Alex who is gone in the morning. He is an Alex whose dark hoodies and blue jeans are magical, wonderful, beautiful. But if the lesser think of Alex as extraordinary, that is not enough. He wants the greater to think of him as extraordinary. Or, not even the greater, but one. The greatest. He wants Theodore to look at him and see Alexander. He longs, one night, to look at Theodore and see Theo.

iii
Theodore sweeps into Alex's dressing room only a day later. He's laughing, peering out the door. He doesn't even know that Alex is here. His face is dramatically caked with highlighter. Alex reaches out and brushes a finger over Theodore's cheekbone. Theodore freezes, he turns. His dark eyes catch Alex's, and Alex thinks to himself that he can see galaxies in them. I want you, Alex wants to say. I want you to see me. I want you to want me. I want you. But he presses his lips tightly together instead. I didn't know you were here, Theodore apologizes. Alex asks if Theodore might possibly want someone to show him around the city. I know all the best bars, Alex offers. Theodore smiles. His dark eyes crinkle at the corners. Alex's thumb is still on Theodore's cheekbone. Sure, Theodore says. Alex's vision turns to stars.