Kurt stalls at the closed door, his hand on the handle, and closes his eyes, listening to the cacophony of the crowd beyond. The cheers had started up in earnest when Harmony had exited just a few minutes before and he basks in the familiar noise, poised to join in.
It's his last night, the last night that he will get to experience the mixture of lingering adrenaline and utter exhaustion after baring his soul to a rapt audience. He had been a nobody just a couple of years ago — making do as a chorus member and a couple of secondary roles in off-off Broadway shows to pay his rent — when he got his big break in the Broadway revival of The Boy From Oz as Peter Allen. The crowds that lingered at the stage door those early days had been much smaller, but Kurt cherishes the memory of their enthusiasm in his performance and their eagerness in getting his signature on the playbill that displayed his face. He'll never forget the moment when he stepped out of the subway tunnel in Times Square to be greeted by his laughing face from fifty feet above. More than ten years after escaping Lima and pounding pavement with more rejections than successes, he had made it. Following in the shoes of Hugh Jackman had been intimidating, especially as an unknown actor but, slowly, word about the play trickled out as he channeled Peter's frustration and growing awareness. The reviews had been glowing, and his surprise win of Leading Actor in a Musical Revival at the Tonys caused a surge in attendance and the number of people lingering at the stage door increased dramatically after that. Kurt now spent nearly an hour each night after the play signing autographs and posing for pictures with fans who clamored for his attention.
Tonight, it comes to an end. The show is closing after an impressive twenty month run and in two weeks time, rehearsals for The Greatest Showman will start: a microcosm of the circle of life as experienced on the Great White Way. Already, the stagehands have started striking the stage, tearing down what has been home for the last two years. Kurt lingered at the end of the stage after the final curtain call, trying to capture all of the senses and memories of this place before it disappeared. He'll come back tomorrow to clean out his dressing room, but by then, the set will already be gone. Theater doesn't allow for dithering in one's nostalgia.
So Kurt centers himself in this moment, breathing in the familiar sights and smells, and then pushes open the door. The cheers and applause are deafening in the warm summer air—loud and overwhelming and just for him. He doesn't stop the grin that spreads across his face, overwhelmed with emotion, as he holds his hand up for silence. The noise slowly dies down before he projects his voice and addresses the crowd.
"Thanks so much for coming here tonight and supporting my fellow cast and crew who have worked so hard over the last several months bringing this show to life. And thank you, so much, for your support of me. Whether tonight was your first night attending the theater, in which case, I hope I made your first time good—" he winks and swivels his pelvis—a move he has perfected over the last several months of gyrating in tight pants "—or your 100th, in all seriousness and from the bottom of my heart: your love and support has been my motivation. It has meant so much to me to bring Peter alive for you every night. Thank you."
He presses his hand to his heart, before raising it again. "As you know, it's our last night. So I hope you ask for a massive sum of money when you put this playbill for sale on eBay." He winks again and steps forward to those fans straining against the barrier, his bodyguard at his side, a looming shape that quails any threats.
The signing goes quickly—his signature has become a barely decipherable scrawl. He pauses for a few selfies, particularly for the young boys who remind him of himself as a bullied teenager longing for an escape.
"Kurt! Kurt! Over here! Kurt!" He has come to recognize the voices of his more… fervent fans and he suppresses a tiny sigh before grabbing the man's playbill. Chandler's been to the play (or at least the stage door line) nearly every night. At first, Kurt had been intensely flattered by the adoration — hearing that he was better than Hugh Jackman never hurts the ego — and he had nearly slipped him his phone number one particularly lonely winter night before his logical brain had wrested back control. The novelty has worn off over the last few months, but he keeps his smile firmly in place. "Hi, hi, thanks for coming."
"I couldn't miss your last day!" Chandler chirps. "I brought something for you." Chandler thrusts him a picture frame containing a photo collage of his playbill photo, surrounded by gold stars and pics of him on stage sliding across the floor in those cursed gold pants, another of him accepting his award on Tonys night and another—Kurt squints.
"Is that me in my cheerleading costume?"
"Yep!" Chandler confirms with a bounce. "YouTube has all of these treasures from your younger years."
"That's, uh, great."
Kurt hands it over to Bruce who examines it grimly, always on the lookout for the bomb threat, Kurt supposes. "Thanks, it's lovely." He hands back the signed playbill.
Chandler keeps his arm out. "Will you make it out to me? Just for tonight?"
"Er, sure."
"It's C-H-A-N-D-L-E-R." He spells out his name as he does every night. Kurt suppresses his eye roll. "I'm graduating in a couple of months from NYADA myself and you've been such an inspiration, I can't even tell you. Maybe one day, we'll be in a musical together. Can you just imagine?" He giggles as he clutches his now signed playbill to him.
"That would be nice," Kurt replies politely. "Good luck, it's a tough world out there."
"I know! But if you made it, there's hope for us all. Oh, and—" Bruce starts nudging Chandler further back "—look behind the frame. You can call me anytime, really, I—"
Kurt gives a relieved wave and turns back to the thinning group. "Hi! Thanks so much for coming tonight!"
"Kurt, might I steal you away from your dashing companion for a moment? There's someone that I'm dying for you to meet."
Kurt smiles apologetically at Adam, as June Dolloway tucks her hand under his elbow and drags him away. It's just as well. Adam Crawford starred as one of the play's secondary characters. Kurt has had a bit of a crush on his stage romance, as he was a sucker for a British accent. Alas, they shared little in common besides a fondness for British comedies and Adam was unfortunately dull as bricks in a one-on-one conversation. But the wee morning hours and the celebratory champagne freely flowing at the after party has Kurt forgetting why a hookup with a colleague—a gorgeous and interested colleague—would be a bad idea. June's interruption saves him the awkwardness of morning apologies.
He gives Adam one last glance and turns his attention back to his benefactress. "Whom shall I charm tonight?"
Having June Dolloway, one of New York City theater scene's most important and visible socialites, as his benefactor has definitely had its perks and challenges. During his sophomore year at NYADA, he had been selected to perform a musical number for her. His chosen song, "As If We Never Said Goodbye," from Sunset Boulevard highlighted his strength of belting high notes most tenors couldn't reach. June had been impressed and Kurt had become her pet project. It was through June's influence that Kurt had gotten his first role on the stage. They had clashed multiple times over the years over differences in opinion. While Kurt was grateful for her support, he refused to be beholden to her. She had faded from his life when he had struggled to get auditions, unhappy that he had not been the success story that she had molded him for, but, since winning the Tony, she had slipped back into his life. He doesn't blame her for her hot-cold attention—she has made her career investing in young performers who will bring in millions in name recognition and she doesn't have the patience to devote time to ones who aren't worth the investment.
Still. It's his after party and he's a little muffled at the expectation to shmooze on his night of glory. But one does not easily deny June when she comes calling.
June pats his arm as she guides him through the mingling guests. "Darling, this one is just for you; I had nothing to do with it."
Kurt comes to an abrupt stop. "That's Ryan Durphy." He hisses dumbly as he takes in the appearance of the famous producer and screenwriter, standing off to the side in a beanie and a tinted pair of glasses.
"Yes," she replies, tugging on his arm again. "He comes to these gatherings every once in a while. Despite being in television," June sniffs in faint disgust, "he is a big supporter of the arts. And he wants to meet you explicitly."
"Me?" Kurt stumbles again.
"You've made quite the impression on several important people. Come now, don't be shy. I taught you better than that." She chastises as she trots him across the room.
"Ryan!" June kisses him lightly on the cheek. "It has been so long, hasn't it? What does it take to get you young folk to pay attention to an old woman like me?"
"Never old, June, never old. You have truly mastered the secret of eternal youth." Ryan air kisses in response. Kurt tries not to stare at the producer legend.
"You flatterer!" June simpers. "Have you met my protégée? Kurt Hummel, Ryan Durphy. You caught tonight's performance, didn't you? Wasn't Kurt magnificent? Truly made for the role."
"Kurt. Pleasure." Ryan's handshake is firm and no nonsense.
"Mr. Durphy. I-I-I'm a big fan of your work, sir." He replies with only a slight stutter revealing his nervousness.
"It's Ryan, please." Ryan studies him intently, raising a glass to his mouth. "You were remarkable tonight."
"I- Thank you."
"I've long been fascinated with Peter's life. June, did you ever meet him?"
June gies a mournful sigh. "A half dozen times or so. Liza and I were close in our younger years. His death was so tragic. Liza was absolutely heartbroken."
"Hmm yes. Men closeting themselves, suppressing their deepest desires for love in order to be accepted by society is always tragic." He pauses, still staring at Kurt deeply. "Are you gay?"
"Y-yes." Kurt stumbles, a little amazed at the direct question.
"And you're out?"
"Since I was 16. All of my friends and family know."
"In Peter's day, that would have been impossible. Even in my day… when I was first starting out, I was told that I should never let anybody know about being gay. It was fine, they said, they accepted me, but others might not. I refused to let others' archaic beliefs define who I was."
"As did I." Kurt agrees. Beside him, June squirms a little. She had not been happy when Kurt had bluntly informed her that he was not going to hide who he was, even if it might affect his prospects. They had argued, extensively, before she had relented.
"Good. This younger generation inspires me." He finishes his drink and plays with the glass stem in his hand. "Kurt, I'm writing a musical."
"Really?"
"There aren't enough musicals or plays about gay people that don't end in suicide or tragedy. There needs to be more and I'm determined to make it happen. It's a complete vanity project, as in I'm vain enough to think that I have the talent to pull it off. I have the financial backers, a duo of eager songwriters, and will likely have a theater at the end of the year. I want you for the lead."
Kurt stares, stunned to his core, certain that he had misheard. "You want me?"
"You remind me of myself when I was younger and you certainly have the aptitude." Ryan hands him a business card. "My cell's on the back. Text me or have your agent do so if you prefer to go through official means and when the play is ready to go, I'll set you up with the casting director. I anticipate we'll be casting within the next six months, so don't be hasty in accepting your next project."
"Thank you!" Kurt enthuses giddily. "I'll be in touch!"
Ryan touches his beanie. "Do. Now if you'll excuse me, these late nights are getting too much for me."
Kurt barely hears June's excited chirping beside him. He, Kurt Hummel, has just been recommended for the role of a lifetime by the king of Hollywood. Kurt digs his fingernails into his palm, the pain steadying him. Not a dream then. He grabs a glass of champagne and drinks it down, as giddy as the bubbles sliding down his throat.
June kisses his cheeks in congratulations and glides away, her work done for the evening, as pleased as Kurt has ever seen her.
Across the room, he catches Adam's eye who raises his glass in response. Kurt sips demurely and winks, never looking away from Adam. It's his night and he's going to celebrate.