meridian_rose

A Steadfast Friend (685 words) by meridian_rose
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Will (TV 2017)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Richard Burbage & Christopher Marlowe
Characters: Christopher Marlowe, Richard Burbage, William Shakespeare
Additional Tags: Angst and Feels, Hopeful Ending, Friendship, Community: 100_tales

Summary: Sometimes Will and Kit are too alike. Sometimes what Kit needs is better served by someone who isn't a writer but who can be a steadfast friend.

For the 100_tales prompt Light.

At AO3 or under the cut.

"You cannot stab someone in the heart and then be surprised when they bleed to death!" Kit gestured, wine sloshing over the rim of his mug.

Will frowned. "Metaphorically," he said, scanning Kit's shirt to be sure any marks were wine and not blood.

"Yes, metaphorically, but also actually! People die of sadness, of heartbreak! I see no light here, only more starless night ahead!"

Will nodded. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Kit repeated. "Not. That. Bad?"

"Yes. What you should do is -"

Kit tossed the cup aside before Will had finished telling him what he should do, wine spilling, the cup hitting the wall and then the floor. "Shut up."

"Kit-"

"Out!" Kit retrieved the cup, rubbed it half-heartedly on his trousers, and refilled it from the jug on the table. He made sure not to look over until Will had gone.

****

"Will's upset."

Kit looked from where he was sat on the floor by the unlit fire, nursing the almost empty cup. Richard sat down opposite him.

"I suppose that's my doing?" Kit said.

Richard shrugged. "You can't be upset with Will for trying to help, but I understand why you got angry."

"Do you now?"

"Yes. He doesn't know when to shut up."

Kit huffed a laugh. "You do understand."

"He's a writer," Richard went on. "He wants to fix things. Like you do. You control the narrative. You think everything is a problem that warrants a solution. Writers. You're all in your heads."

"And you're not?" Kit was genuinely interested now.

Richard nodded. "I'm an actor. I know better than to steer the narrative. I act, I don't direct. I say the words I'm given. I stay in the moment and I feel. That's what you need sometimes, isn't it? To be allowed to feel and express what it is you are feeling."

Kit drained his cup. "Yes. Without censure or judgement."

"Without being told what you should feel or do. I understand. What you need is to find a way to express the pain. I guess writers usually write but," Richard said, eyeing scattered papers and broken quills on the floor nearby, "that isn't always possible. What do you need, Marlowe? Right now, in this moment?"

Kit considered the question. "To be alone."

Richard gave a wry smile. "Then I will leave."

"But later," Kit said, as Richard got to his feet, "if I were to come by the theatre, we might talk?"

"You could talk," Richard agreed. "And I would listen, for actors must learn not only to speak their lines to but hear the words spoken by other actors."

Kit nodded. "You cannot stab someone in the heart and then be surprised when they bleed to death," he said experimentally.

"Of course not. Such a grievous wound must have consequences."

"The blood flow may be stemmed?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. The one wounded, do they want to live? That can make a difference. Is the pain too much to bear? Can the wound be healed? I know loss. I know it hurts. I know there can be no healing without will-power and time and hope."

Kit looked away. "I may happen by the theatre later."

"I will be there."

When he heard the front door close, Kit let himself weep. He'd cried more than anyone would think appropriate, but he still had tears to shed. Will had tried to look for sunlight but Richard had understood that Kit was still trapped in the dark beneath the storm clouds. That he was still bleeding and that words of encouragement were not enough to stem the flow, not yet.

Kit rubbed at his face. Richard Burbage; he'd underestimated the man. Actors only spoke the words he and Will and others wrote for them, or so he'd assumed. That had been foolish. Richard took those words and lived them, made the audience see and feel them as he did. That was a gift of its own.

Richard would stand at Kit's side in the dark and only when Kit was ready would he accompany him back into daylight.