Lights! Camera - ; Tyrus

Scene 16

TJ

I roll out of bed in the morning, absolutely, 100%, overwhelmingly happy.

Because as I hit the cold, wooden floor of Cyrus Goodman's apartment and stand up to see what possibly is the most beautiful man right in front of me, I know something has changed. 

We talked last night, we talked way into the soft, yet cruel, morning hours. But despite that I know we will talk a lot more now. Now when he wakes up. Because years of fighting and miscommunication cannot be made up within a few hours. I don't think it ever really can.

I like Cyrus. I really, really like Cyrus. And I don't want to ever, ever,

And It feels kind of weird. We went through so much already, and now it's ending. But it isn't ending.

We're just getting started.

Cyrus lays on his stomach with his work clothes still on. We didn't have the energy or care to change or do anything except lay next to each other. So close that I could count his eyelashes. So close that he pointed out the details that were still with me when I was fourteen. It's like we were kids again. Like the last few years didn't matter and we just picked up where we left off.

They did matter though. As much as it pains me to say.

But that is behind us now. Acknowledged, respected. But behind us.

I haven't been in a relationship really since Cyrus Goodman. Random flings, sure. But nothing like him.

So I don't know what I'm doing as I exit the bedroom and grab my phone from the glass top table.

Cyrus's apartment is exactly as I thought it would look like: Glass top furniture, dark wood, dark blue highlights, plants, neat and orderly but also with pages of script and notes all over the place. I see a sticky note with lists of names that didn't make the cut in the film. Another one I see a sheet of paper with a pros and cons list with my name on it.

I don't look at the list.

Instead I look outside of the giant windows (with a beautiful view of New York) and spot a cafe right down the street, with an employee opening the grate.

I throw on my coat that was abandoned on the ground last night, and head out the door.

🎬

Cyrus

The phone is ringing. Again.

It's seven fifteen am in the morning and my phone is ringing next to me on the bedside table.

The contact ID reads TJ Kippen. Short and professional. And I'm very confused.

Because last night happened. It didn't happen like everyone else in the world would. But TJ could be calling me to let me down easy. Which is ridiculous, because he says he wants it. I want it. I like him, a lot. And I'm very confused.

I pick up the phone gingerly, looking at the ID again. "Hello?"

"Cyrus!" His voice is just as energetic as it always is. I find myself smiling, despite the fact that I don't know what his motive is yet.

"Cyrus," he repeats, "so, I went to go get us breakfast. But I forgot that I don't have a key."

"You don't have a key." I echo, "you don't have a key."

"Yes."

"To my apartment."

"Yes. Cyrus, are you okay?"

"Yes." I reply.

"Okay, can you open the door then?"

He wants to come back inside. He brought us breakfast. He's saying things like "us" and it makes me feel fourteen all over again.

I slide across my floor and unlock my door. When it falls open, TJ smiles at me stupidly while holding a paper bag (biodegradable, although I don't know what else TJ would use) and two cups of coffee.

"Good morning, echo." He teases. "For a second I thought you really weren't gonna let me in."

"Sorry, it's just... It feels weird, hearing your voice now, and opening doors so that we can have breakfast, and me knowing that you like me. I just don't-" I stop, not wanting to finish the sentence, but TJ looks at me softly as if waiting for me to. I breathe in, continuing, "I just don't want us to end up like last time."

He walks forward and places the food on the table. Then he looks at me, really looks at me. Like last night. "Hey, Cy. I want you to remember that I agreed to every single little thing about you, about this life. And I promise not to pressure you into anything, because we were so young and so stupid. We're older now, maybe not fully, but what I've learnt is that I cannot survive anymore years without you, Cyrus."

"I can't survive anymore years without you either." I smile.

TJ brings his lips down to meet mine, still grinning. I kiss him back happily, cupping his face in my palms.

The coffee goes cold.

🎬

Many hours and kisses later, I drag TJ Kippen by the hands down the busy streets of New York.

"Where are we going?" He asks again, "I feel like you dragging me around like this is a safety hazard."

"Trust me, we're nearly there." I yell over all the people with lives and voices and life.

We cross yet another road flanked with Yellow cabs and drivers and under a building's construction scaffolding. I turn to TJ, "You gotta close your eyes for this part."

"Do I have to?" He looks at me pleadingly, probably thinking I'm going to let him fall down into the sewers.

I kiss his chin. "Yes, come on, or we're gonna miss it."

He closes his eyes after receiving one more kiss (lips this time, he made sure of that) and I slowly lead him down the street.

It feels funny doing things like this with TJ Kippen, luckily we get a day off after what happened yesterday. I don't know what I would do if we had to go back to work knowing the things we know now.

We finally (finally) arrive and I watch as the teal blue lights glow upon TJ, who still has his eyes closed. "You can open them now." I squeeze his hand. I see him open, then stare, then laugh.

"A Broadway Musical? Cyrus is this for real?"

I nod. "They invited me after reading that interview letter. ...What is it?"

TJ covers his mouth with his hands, "nothing, nothing. It's just. I've never seen one before. Cyrus Goodman, is getting me into shows."

"Well we're not inside just yet, starstruck." I let him lead the way for this one. 

TJ is beaming as we hand in our tickets, others around us look just as excited, even taking photos of the regular office box or signs. We're let in to find out seats. TJ doesn't let go of my hand the entire time. I don't either. Because we should feel proud.

"Hey," TJ says as we're seated down. "I'm really happy to be here tonight."

"I'm really happy to be here with you." I reply.

He brings my fingers up to his lips. "Cyrus Goodman, you have no idea." And he squeezes my fingers once more.

The lights dim and the overture rises. I push my knee against his and lean on his shoulder, to prove I'm real. To make sure that this is real.

TJ Kippen, you have no idea.