Work Text
SCENE ONE -
From blackout, enter LOGAN. The white envelope he holds is mundane enough that you'd think it were junk mail... if it weren't for the look of abject horror written plainly on his face.
LOGAN
(disbelieving, reading off the envelope)
"From your Secret Admirer..."?
He reels back as if he's been slapped.
LOGAN (cont'd)
No way. Absolutely not. This cannot
be happening.
The spotlight presses in on LOGAN from all sides. The entire world seems to hold its breath in anticipation. He's about to reveal something of the utmost importance.
LOGAN (cont'd)
This letter, it's... it's...
After an eternity, LOGAN finally lowers the envelope to speak.
LOGAN (cont'd)
It's unbelievably tacky.
Lights up. LOGAN is standing in the living room of a cramped (sorry, "cozy") shared apartment. Despite how small the apartment is, the two young men who live here haven't had any difficulty making their house a home; various fanciful little toys and trinkets cover the surface of their coffee table, lamp stands, bookshelves... There's a considerable amount of Disney merchandise. An armchair sits off to the side. In the middle of the mess sits a comfortable, albeit cheap, couch (sorry, "loveseat"). In the middle of the loveseat sits ROMAN, blending in quite nicely with the messy environment around him by looking every bit the hot mess. Those were definitely not the words he was expecting to hear.
ROMAN
Wait, what?
LOGAN
You honestly couldn't come up with
anything better than "secret admirer"?
If looks could kill, LOGAN would be dead on the spot. Alas, "death glare" is unfortunately just a name. ROMAN goes ahead and shoots his roommate a withering one anyway.
ROMAN
(defensive)
Well, I wasn't about to put my name on
that thing. What else was I supposed
to write?
ROMAN realizes what he's said a second after LOGAN does. It's a second too long.
LOGAN
What else, you say?
ROMAN
Hold on -
How about "From the Hapless,
Lovestruck Fool?"
I didn't -
"From the Dedicated Dimwit"?
That's not what I -
Or perhaps "The Vapid and
Slow-witted One"?
ROMAN
Holy jumping frijoles, Logan, do you
ever stop talking?
Apparently, he does.
ROMAN (cont'd)
I didn't mean literally, and you know it.
Apparently, he doesn't.
LOGAN
But you did ask for my honest critique. Or
is this not what you had in mind when you
asked me to proofread your... handwritten
confession of devotion?
ROMAN
It won't kill you to say the words "love
letter" out loud, you know. And actually, I
meant the writing itself. I thought that
much would go without saying.
LOGAN
I'm afraid I don't quite follow.
Which is a lie. LOGAN knows exactly what he's doing; he's just being difficult for the sake of being difficult now.
LOGAN (cont'd)
Does the writing on the envelope not
count as writing? I can't say I agree. In
fact, whatever you write on the envelope
could make or break your entire message.
Have I not stressed enough the
importance of first impressions? Not to
mention --
ROMAN
(like he's got a headache coming on,
which may have been exactly what
LOGAN was aiming for)
Stop overthinking and just read the darn
thing, Encyclopedia Brat-annica.
LOGAN considers arguing, but decides against it; he's messed with his roommate enough already. Clearing his throat, he carefully opens the letter.
LOGAN
(reading out loud)
"My dearest --"
Before he can get out another word, a cheap couch cushion hits him square in the face. LOGAN glares at ROMAN, who has already armed himself with a second cushion in a (not very successful) attempt to appear threatening.
LOGAN (cont'd)
Hey!
ROMAN
Not out loud!
LOGAN rolls his eyes -- what difference does it make? -- but shuts up nonetheless. Despite himself, he is curious to read about his friend's "secret flame". He settles into the armchair and pulls out a red pen as he returns his attention to the letter in his hands.
Spotlight on LOGAN; the rest of the stage is plunged into blackout. A set change may occur here, in preparation for the upcoming kitchen scene. Meanwhile, accompanied by the sound of a quill scratching paper (yes, a quill; need I remind you that this letter is unbelievably tacky?), a recording of ROMAN'S VOICE starts to play.
ROMAN'S VOICE
My dearest,
Some say that familiarity breeds
contempt. With this sentiment, I could
not agree less.
After all, you have been a
constant presence in my life for as
long as I can remember, and I find it
hard to imagine that I could ever
be contemptuous of one as wonderful
as you.
It’s always been the little things that got
me. Nervous habits and the like. Things I
don’t think that you’ve noticed about
yourself. Or maybe that you don’t think
I’ve noticed.
But I have -- (chuckle) -- oh, I have,
and every one of them makes me
fall a little more in love with you.
For one, you fidget as you think.
With what you're holding, what you're
wearing, whatever happens to be
nearby. You used to play the piano, and
though you quit long ago, I can still
catch you tapping out songs on an
imaginary keyboard from time to
time. Your eyes are sharp when you
work, but soft when you wonder.
And when you wonder, the world stops to
wonder with you.
The recording fades out. The red pen hasn't touched the paper once. Beat, then LOGAN looks up.
His eyes are soft.
SCENE TWO -
LOGAN gets out of his armchair as the lights go up again. He looks over to ROMAN, who is standing in their kitchen, engrossed in reading the ingredients label of a bag of chips he's just pulled from the cupboard. He doesn't notice LOGAN approach -- feet moving slowly, but mind racing a mile a minute -- until LOGAN reaches forward to give him a tap on the shoulder. With a shout, ROMAN throws the chips away from him and spins around, grabbing a harmless plastic knife off the kitchen counter and assuming a comically bad fighting stance. LOGAN grimaces.
LOGAN
Calm yourself. It's just me.
ROMAN
Sweet cheese pastries, Logan,
don't sneak up on me like that!
I almost took out your whole face
just now.
He gestures with the knife as he speaks, very nearly missing LOGAN's face quite a few times more until LOGAN, not too fond of the idea of death by plastic cutlery, grabs the knife and sets it carefully back down onto the kitchen counter himself.
LOGAN
Forgive me, my liege. Next time
I'll be sure to ask for a royal escort
to announce my arrival via trumpet
fanfare.
ROMAN
(matching his sarcasm)
Oh, hardee har har, aren't you hilarious.
Is there an actual reason you're here,
or was it just for kicks that you decided
to come scare the stuffing out of me?
ROMAN bends over to pick up his so-cruelly-neglected chips. LOGAN leans casually on the counter beside him, tapping an idle rhythm on the countertop and definitely not admiring the view. Seriously, he's not. We haven't gotten to that part of the script yet. As he taps, he scrutinizes his roommate carefully . It's only been, what, two minutes? There's no way he's forgotten about the Handwritten Confession of Devotion already...
LOGAN
Oh, nothing much. I thought you might
be interested to hear that I have
finished proofreading your letter, is all.
Nope, turns out that he really is that forgetful. THE VAPID AND SLOW-WITTED ONE (er, that is, ROMAN) freezes.
LOGAN (cont'd)
(carefully nonchalant)
Of course, if you aren't interested in
hearing what I thought, then...
LOGAN starts walking back in the direction of the armchair. The sight spurs ROMAN into action: chips lying forgotten on the ground, he springs forward to grab LOGAN by the wrist, then spins LOGAN dramatically around to face him, because he's just that extra. However, he misjudges the distance between them and the two of them end up much closer to each other than is appropriate, with ROMAN's other hand on LOGAN's back, pulling him close. If the director thinks it appropriate, go ahead and cue romantic music and lighting. ROMAN seems to have forgotten how to form words. The whole situation is like something out of a really awful fanfiction.
hey, hold up.
After an uncomfortably long pause, LOGAN places his free hand on ROMAN's chest and takes a step back. The embrace (and the moment) ends just as abruptly as it began. When ROMAN begins delivering the next line, it's as if he's protesting the fact that LOGAN moved away, but he catches himself and changes direction quickly.
ROMAN
(flustered)
No! No, I'm -- er, I'm listening! I'm
all ears. My entire being is ears.
Seriously, you have no idea how all
ears I am right now. I'm like Argus
Panoptes, if he were covered with
ears instead of eyes. You know,
that guy from Greek Mythology? It's
a really interesting story, actually,
remind me to tell it to you sometime --
(off LOGAN) Right! The letter. Yeah.
What did you think? Pretty good, right?
Behind the bravado lingers real nervousness. For one reason or another, ROMAN really, really wants to the answer to be "yes". LOGAN takes his sweet time responding.
LOGAN
Well, surprisingly enough, yes.
ROMAN ad-libs an excited, if over-the-top, reaction.
LOGAN
Let me finish. There were one
or two basic spelling and grammar
mistakes: "fidget" isn't spelled with a
"j", and there were a few commas
where there should have been periods,
and so forth. But content-wise? I have
to admit, I was impressed. After the
whole "secret admirer" ordeal, I
can't say I was expecting too much,
but your writing held a remarkable
degree of sincerity. Anyone reading
that letter would be able to tell how
passionate you are.
LOGAN hands the letter to ROMAN, who seems astounded. For good reason; it's not easy to win LOGAN's approval, much less his praise.
LOGAN (cont'd)
Go ahead and send this one out. Or
don't. Do with it what you will. But
know that if the person who receives
this doesn't respond, they're an
irredeemable fool not to realize
how lucky they are to have you.
ROMAN
(awestruck)
I... thank you, Logan.
He stares at the letter as if seeing it for the first time. Perhaps hearing his roommate's opinion has somewhat changed his own.
LOGAN
(offhandedly)
There's no need to thank me for
stating the obvious.
LOGAN begins to exit, but stops and turns before he's fully off.
LOGAN (cont'd)
Oh, and Roman? One more thing.
ROMAN stares at LOGAN as if seeing him for the first time. Energy crackles between them, their gazes intensely charged with a thousand intangible emotions. One of them -- it's unclear which one -- wants to reach out, and not just in the physical sense, but something is stopping them. They're both waiting for the other to make the first move.
Beat. LOGAN's gaze travels to the ground at ROMAN's feet.
LOGAN (cont'd)
Those chips expired a month ago.
Exit LOGAN. After a moment, exit ROMAN, to the opposite side.
SCENE THREE -
Lights up on LOGAN at a nice desk off to one side of the stage, perhaps with the desk lamp on, typing away on his laptop like the Very Serious Hardworking Fellow he is. He's in the zone. A day has gone by, as shown by a simple costume change. LOGAN's study is very neat, a sharp contrast with the chaos of the living room. His massive wooden bookshelves are organized by colour and carry no trace of personality. The only hint of human existence, besides the human himself, is a plastic bottle of water (almost empty) and a plate (empty). Surprising no one, it looks like the Disney merch adorning the living room was all ROMAN's doing.
ROMAN
(off; sing-song)
Oh, Lo-gan!
LOGAN jumps. There goes "the zone". He sits back in his chair and calls out in no particular direction.
LOGAN
(irritated)
What do you want, Roman?
Enter ROMAN, holding a new envelope.
ROMAN
Well, you did such a great job proofreading
the first letter I wrote, so I was wondering
if you could maybe... (off LOGAN) Hey,
what's with that look you're giving me?
LOGAN
(incredulous)
You didn't write another letter already,
did you? It's only been a day!
ROMAN
Er... what if I told you I did? (off LOGAN)
Look, there's nothing wrong with being a
little extra passionate! You said as much
yourself when you gave me back the
first one. You said it was a good thing!
LOGAN
Actually, I said it was easy to tell how
passionate you are. You're putting words
in my mouth.
ROMAN
(frowning)
So does that mean you won't help
me proofread this?
LOGAN
What? I never said that. Look, there
you go, you're doing it again. This is
all just very sudden, is all. Usually,
when a man strikes your fancy, it
means I have to sit through hours
and hours of one-sided gossip, often
to the point where I know your crushes
better than I know you yourself. But
until yesterday, I hadn't heard a peep
about any romantic endeavours for
months. This time, I don't know a
thing about this new "secret flame"
of yours.
ROMAN
(to himself)
You'd be surprised.
LOGAN
Pardon?
ROMAN
(immediately)
Nothing. So... what exactly are you
telling me?
LOGAN
I'm telling you that yes, I'll help you.
Because I'm not sure I like not knowing
things, and because what kind of
roommate would I be otherwise?
ROMAN perks up as LOGAN holds out a hand, with what might actually be a genuine smile on his face.
LOGAN (cont'd)
"Bros before long-handled-gardening-
equipment-used-to-break-up-the-
surface-of-the-ground", as they say.
ROMAN
(affectionately)
That doesn't make any sense.
He hands over the envelope. Just then, ROMAN notices the empty plate and water bottle.
ROMAN
Goodness me, how long have you been
holed up in here? Did you even have
lunch yet?
LOGAN, already starting to open up the envelope, pays no heed to his roommate's chiding.
LOGAN
That doesn't matter.
ROMAN
Oh yes, it does. Aren't you the one always
nagging me about "three meals a day"?
LOGAN
(as if this is a perfectly normal thing to
say to your same-aged roommate)
Do as I say, not as I do.
ROMAN grabs the wheeled office chair on which LOGAN is sitting and pulls it away from the desk, snatching away the letter as he does so.
ROMAN
Oh, no, you don't. I'm not about to let
you read my extraordinarily-important
letter on an empty stomach. Your advice
wouldn't be reliable at all!
He puts the letter on the desk, out of LOGAN's reach, maybe gives it a gentle pat or two. He's doing this for the letter's sake, not his roommate's. Obviously.
LOGAN
(deadpan)
How considerate of you.
ROMAN
I know! Come now, you're going to eat
something. Don't even try to argue.
LOGAN
Really, this isn't necessary --
ROMAN
(shrewdly)
We can make Crofter's crêpes.
LOGAN
On second thought, that doesn't sound
like such a terrible idea after all.
ROMAN
(triumphantly)
I knew you would see reason.
ROMAN tries to wheel LOGAN offstage, but LOGAN pushes him aside and gets up himself. Exeunt.
SCENE FOUR -
Enter LOGAN, with a little bit of Crofter's still on his cheek. He sits at his desk, wipes off the stray bit of jam, and begins editing with his red pen. ROMAN'S VOICE can be faintly heard, but the recording is too quiet for the audience to hear what's going on. Once the brief recording has faded out, LOGAN gets up to hand the letter to someone offstage -- and receives a third letter in return.
LOGAN
Again?
He returns to his desk to edit the third letter. Before he can finish, however, someone offstage taps him on the shoulder, then hands a fourth letter to him. An eyebrow goes up, but he accepts it without complaint.
That's when the letters start coming thick and fast. First one, then two, then too many to count; more and more invisible stagehands pile them up on his desk, on the ground, in his hands. Snippets of ROMAN'S VOICE start playing, overlapping over each other into a steady crescendo...
ROMAN'S VOICE
(ad-lib some of your own, and use some
of the old ones as well. Here are
some examples to get you started:)
...I love taking you to movies, because
your features look so different...
...hard to imagine I could ever be
contemptuous of...
...sometimes when you're thinking hard
I can see your tongue stick out...
...the light from the movie screen makes
everything so much gentler...
...you let me paint your nails, and
you pretended to hate it, but...
...sharp when you work...
...you were so careful not to let the
colours chip...
...three meals a day...
...those thick frames hide so much
kindness...
...I wish you would admit it to
yourself...
...soft when you wonder...
(etc. etc.)
...and at the center of it all, spotlight on LOGAN. He's struggling to keep up, moving faster and faster, maybe even editing three letters at once, but there are so many voices and only one of him. Fingers tap violently against the table. As the cacophony grows, so does his panic.
There's something else there, too.
Jealousy.
LOGAN
(muttering to himself)
Get it together, Logan. He's relying
on you, you can't let him down.
Don't you want to see him happy?
He's letting you edit these because
he trusts you. Don't break that trust.
Come on, come on, work faster! Put
aside your feelings. You're doing this
for him, aren't you? Don't be selfish.
Enter ROMAN, running onstage with another letter in hand. He stops dead in his tracks as he sees LOGAN.
ROMAN
(quietly)
Logan?
LOGAN, lost in the flurry of noise and motion, doesn't hear him.
LOGAN
(getting more frenzied)
What is wrong with you? He's your
roommate, nothing more. And you
were perfectly fine with that up
until he started asking you to do
this for him!
ROMAN
(a little louder)
Logan.
LOGAN
(impassioned)
He already has feelings for someone
else! Dammit, why can't you just stop
thinking about yourself for a change?
This was never about you!
ROMAN
(shouting)
Logan!
Suddenly, silence. All at once, ROMAN'S VOICE cuts off, the stagehands delivering letters freeze where they are, LOGAN looks up and sees ROMAN. For a moment, everything is absolutely, breathtakingly still.
Finally, ROMAN breaks the silence.
ROMAN
Logan, what's going on?
He catches sight of the letters piled all over the stage. Surprise, followed by understanding.
ROMAN
Oh. Oh, Logan, it's too much, isn't
it? Why didn't you say anything? I
didn't realise how much this was
stressing you out, I could have
slowed down if you just --
LOGAN
No, it's not that.
Beat.
ROMAN
Then what...?
LOGAN
(unsure how to phrase it)
Roman, I'm afraid it may not be
responsible of me to keep
proofreading your letters.
ROMAN tenses. Another beat.
ROMAN
(quietly)
You hate them, don't you?
LOGAN
What? No! That is not what is going
on here at all!
ROMAN
Then what?
LOGAN
I -- I can't tell you, you'll think
less of me --
ROMAN
I'll think even less of you if you
just up and abandon me like this!
What, you can't even give me a
reason?
Once again, silence, thick and potent. They've locked themselves into their strange little stalemate once again -- neither moving, neither blinking...
Once again, LOGAN is the first to look away.
LOGAN
I assure you, it would be in your
best interests to find someone else
to proofread these letters. I am no
longer capable of providing you with
accurate, objective information, as
I... I have found myself developing...
He laughs. The sound is bleak and tinted with iron.
LOGAN (cont'd)
Let's just say that your love letters
were a little too effective.
Tinted with irony, that is.
LOGAN (cont'd)
(all in one breath)
Anyway, the point is, I really am sorry
that I wasn't able to keep my promise,
but it just doesn't seem fair to you, with
my feelings in the way, and --
ROMAN
(talking over him)
You still haven't figured it out?
LOGAN
I know, I'm --
LOGAN does a double take.
LOGAN (cont'd)
Pardon me?
ROMAN
Was there nothing in those letters that
rang a bell for you? Nothing that sounded
familiar? (off LOGAN) Goodness, Logan, for
someone so smart, you really can be a
blockhead sometimes.
Understanding begins to dawn just before ROMAN delivers his next line.
ROMAN (cont'd)
The letters were always meant for you.
The frozen stagehands come to life; they gently drop their letters and disappear into the wings, leaving ROMAN and LOGAN alone with the spotlight. The world has stopped to wonder.
LOGAN stares at ROMAN as if seeing him for the first time. Which feels awfully familiar, doesn't it? Except this time, when ROMAN reaches for LOGAN's wrist and pulls him in, LOGAN doesn't protest, doesn't step back, doesn't drop his gaze.
LOGAN does smile.
LOGAN
(affectionately)
That was unbelievably tacky.
Cue blackout. At the same time, ROMAN'S VOICE, bits and pieces overlapping just as before.
And in the split second before the stage is plunged into complete darkness, one of them -- it's unclear which one -- makes the first move.