From a NY Times article about the Oxford University Press crediting Christopher Marlowe as Shakespeare’s co-author for Henry VI:

Mr. Taylor said that the exact nature of the playwrights’ collaboration cannot be certain, but that they did not necessarily work together in person.

So Louis and Harry were just channeling their inner Shakespeare and Marlowe when they wrote Perfect without ever being in the same room.


When Bitty told Jack they should go to sleep, he meant it. He had no intentions of staying up any longer than necessary–despite Jack’s admittedly very sweet and very romantic gesture, it was five in the morning, and Bitty had been asleep, and he was tired. So Bitty got Jack a dry shirt, and a towel to get the worst of the rain out of his hair, and then he promptly suggested that they both get some sleep before they had to get up again. And he meant it.

Now he’s not sure exactly what he was thinking. Because, lying in bed with Jack’s arm wrapped securely around his middle, he’s fairly certain it’d take a hard check to knock him out. If he was tired before, he’s positively buzzing now; his veins feel like they’re pumping pure adrenaline and with every rise and fall of Jack’s chest against his back, an unsettling thrill shoots up his spine. It’s all he can do to keep from letting his legs restlessly kick around under their shared duvet.

It’s just that, Bitty’s not delusional. He loves Jack, he does, and it was so incredibly sweet of him to drive all this way, and to propose coming out to the boys, but–but Bitty knows what’s more important in the long run. And it’s not the boy Jack has been dating for less than a year, it’s not a long-distance relationship that no one can guarantee will last.

It’s not a sad thought–at least, Bitty’s trying not to let it be. It’s just an honest one.

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