Chapter 2 #2
the production, and they suspended their breaths as he sang to him of his regrets. The phrase “you could hear a pin drop”
never seemed more fitting. As the stage revolved and the middle ring lowered, slowly taking both him and Bastien down below
it, away from the sight of the audience, he sucked in a breath and tried to hold back his own tears. Bastien looked at him,
moving again now he no longer needed to be seen as dead, and frowned, but no words could be spoken, not when the epic story
above them continued to unfold.
He moved then, from the lowered platform to the steps leading back up to the stage where his next entrance awaited him.
Bastien watched him move, then reached out his hand to touch his shoulder, a simple show of support despite not having the words to convey anything further.
Sometimes Jonah wished he could love Bastien the same way Achilles loved Patroclus; they played out their love night after night, the end always the same, always horribly tragic for them both, but their bond lived on long after their deaths.
Bastien sang like a nightingale; he spoke with a lyrical flair and always brushed his teeth before a show, something his first cover, Lucian, never did.
Offstage, Bastien always brightened a room, he illuminated it with his smile alone, and more than once Jonah hung onto his every word like a puppy dog, only to snap himself out of it to remind himself Bastien had a rather lovely boyfriend who he’d been with for six years.
Which is why, when Jonah met Edward, he hoped he might find the love he felt he needed in him.
Maybe he, too, could have what Bastien had.
He didn’t want to admit to himself the ache in his chest came not from Edward leaving, but more the reason behind it. For someone else. He thought of the comment section beneath his headshot announcing his casting as Achilles and recalled the words written
there:
Who is he?
He’s fucking ugly, he can’t be Achilles.
Why isn’t Dexter Ellis playing Achilles?
He looks like a twat.
Bet he can’t sing.
The social media manager turned off the comments. They tried to protect him from the keyboard warriors and members of the
Dexter Ellis fan club, and when previews started, he showed them he was worthy of the role. But now, even with the Olivier
Award with his name on it and the six other awards spread across the company, the familiar stirrings of inadequacy reared
their ugly head again.
He’d been chosen to play Achilles. The casting team picked him out of God only knew how many other actors and handed him the leading role on a silver platter.
No one mentioned Dexter or the stunning reviews he received before the show found its way to the West End.
But Edward offered himself to Jonah, too, or, more accurately, Jonah laid himself out bare to him, told him about his life back home and the anxiety that liked to knock at his door in the middle of the night.
Edward didn’t run back then, he wrapped Jonah in his arms and kissed him and made him believe they could be something.
A quiet and safe corner in the loud and intrusive city of London.
But now he’d thrown Jonah out into the cold without giving him so much as an inkling their relationship was crumbling.
So why wouldn’t Colbie do the same? She ruled the production with an iron fist, her words cutting with a stone-turning stare.
If she believed Jonah was being upstaged, she would pull Achilles out from under him once his contract ended and lock the theatre door.
As the cast took their final bows, Omari to his left, Bastien to his right, Jonah looked out to the audience and forced himself
to smile. A standing ovation, something they received often, cheered in front of him, and for a moment he allowed the applause
to take over his senses; it numbed the anxiety and all thoughts of Edward and Dexter. As they left the stage, the roar of
the audience continued, an overwhelming show of support for them all, and Bastien took Jonah’s hand into his as they walked
to their dressing rooms.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, always the empath, always sensing the slightest change in Jonah’s demeanor, the complete opposite
to Omari, who would notice his mood then talk about skin peels.
“They released the new cast names by email earlier,” Jonah said, as they stopped in front of their dressing room doors. He
saw Bastien’s expression fall, the usual dimples in his cheeks fading to leave behind an expression not usually worn by the
man.
“Oh shit, really? Anyone we know?”
“A few I recognize. Dexter Ellis’s name sticks out the most, though.”
Bastien’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of the name. “What? Really? He didn’t mention it when I bumped into him at the Olivier
Awards.”
“He was at the Oliviers?”
Bastien shrugged slightly. “Yeah, came over and introduced himself to me. Didn’t mention he’d been working on the production
again. Did the email say the roles?”
“Are you talking about the email from Colbie?” Omari asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere to insert himself into the conversation.
“Yeah,” Bastien said, smiling at Omari, who looked as fresh as someone who’d just come from a spa day despite performing onstage
for two and a half hours.
“We’re getting Dexter Ellis!” Omari grinned. “I can’t wait to see that man stretching before me in warm-ups.”
Jonah couldn’t help the scowl pulling at the edge of his lips. “We don’t need to know about your stretching desires, Omari.”
“Hey,” the taller man said seriously. “I’m dance captain, I take stretching very seriously.” He emphasized his words by reaching his hands up above his head, exposing his biceps from his costume almost
intimidatingly. “I will see you babes later,” he said as he dropped his arms and yawned. “Need to get myself changed and home
for my beauty sleep.” He kissed them both on the cheeks then left them in the corridor after disappearing into the dressing
room he shared with other members of the ensemble.
“You don’t think Dexter’s going to cover Achilles, do you? What if they want to give him Achilles once my contract ends?”
Jonah asked Bastien when they were alone once again.
Bastien shook his head and smiled at Jonah fondly. “No, Jonah, come on. Lennon’s still here, and he’s still covering our roles.
Dexter’s probably going to be Hector. Stop worrying, you’ll give yourself wrinkles.” A fond silence settled between them before
Bastien rolled his eyes and ruffled Jonah’s curls. “Right,” he said, breaking the silence to push open his door. “I’m going
to check out the email myself then head for stage door to meet all of my adoring fans.” He fluttered his eyelashes and framed
his face between his hands with a smirk. “See you out there, darling.”