The Bond Will Be Televised
Cameras catch the fire we fake,
Lips meet fast and kingdoms shake,
We burn in HD, hearts on loan,
The world turns soft when we're alone.
— Filming Smoulders, Abaddon’s Vassals
SCENE: SNL Writers' Room, Rockefeller Center — Thursday, 2:17 PM
The SNL writers' room smelled like sweat, cold pizza, and barely-contained panic.
Scripts were scattered across the long table, half-highlighted and full of red-ink notes like "too horny for prime time" and "can we say this on live TV??" Someone in the corner was crying over a keyboard. Probably the intern.
Steve sat stiffly in a chair with his name taped to it, holding a script titled "Soulmates Anonymous" that was either a comedy sketch or a thinly veiled hate crime.
"This is—" Steve started.
"—A masterpiece," Eddie said, leaning on the back of Steve's chair with a grin. "Come on. You get to wear a fake mustache and pretend you're not devastatingly hot for four minutes. That's comedy gold."
"I kiss you in this sketch."
"You've kissed me before."
"It's a rehearsal kiss. That's different."
"Oh no," Sapphire chimed in, seated three chairs away and currently applying lip gloss in a shard of enchanted mirror. "It's very gay. Very confusing. Very watchable."
Steve looked like he wanted to die.
Chrissy stormed into the room with four garment bags, a tablet, and an energy drink. "Okay! Costume fitting in twenty. Robin's here from Paris. Prepare for chaos."
As if summoned by name, the door burst open and in flew Robin Buckley—combat boots, leather jacket, and a "VAMPS FOR CONSENT" pin crooked on her collar.
"STEVE HARRINGTON," she shrieked. "YOU LITTLE BITING BASTARD."
Steve stood, bracing himself just in time for her to launch into his arms.
"Why are you here?" he asked through laughter.
"I came to make sure your soulmate isn't secretly a werewolf," she said, then turned to Eddie and gave him a long look. "...Nope. Not a werewolf. Just a slut."
Eddie beamed. "Hi."
Robin turned. Froze.
Her gaze landed on Sapphire, still seated like a Roman goddess in a pantsuit that defied physics. Sapphire met her eyes, slow and deliberate, then winked.
"Oh my god," Robin whispered. "You're real."
Sapphire smiled. "You must be the other half of Steve's brain."
"I have so many questions about your makeup."
"And I'm prepared to answer all of them."
Chrissy clapped her hands. "Okay! Back on task. Eddie, Steve, you have sketch blocking in fifteen. Robin, you're on coffee duty unless you want to join the musical rehearsal."
"I want to touch the wigs," Robin said, immediately wandering off toward the costume department.
SCENE: SNL Stage, Rockefeller Center — Friday, Sketch Rehearsal, 3:42 PM
The first sketch rehearsal was worse.
It started okay. Eddie nailed the timing. Steve managed to deliver his lines without combusting. They made it to the soulmate confession parody beat, where Steve was supposed to dramatically say, "You felt like lukewarm disappointment," right before they fake-kissed.
Except they didn't fake it.
Eddie stepped too close. Steve's voice wavered.
And then they actually kissed.
Soft. Real. Unplanned.
The stage went silent. One of the interns dropped a clipboard.
Steve pulled back half a second later, eyes wide. "That wasn't—uh—"
"That wasn't in the script," the director said flatly.
"Oops?" Eddie offered.
Sapphire, watching from a folding chair beside Robin, whispered, "Ten bucks says that goes viral before it even airs."
Robin whispered back, "Twenty says they forget we're even here."
SCENE: SNL Backstage Dressing Room — Friday, 4:18 PM
Backstage later, Steve sat with his head in his hands, a lanyard around his neck and a wig cap halfway off.
"I've lost control of my life."
"You lost control the second you Bonded on a glam-rock Satanist in front of a cellar full of witches," Robin said cheerfully. "Now lean into it."
Chrissy poked her head in. "Final dress rehearsal in an hour. Wig team is ready for Steve. Eddie, stop trying to rewrite the sketch to include tongue."
"I regret nothing," Eddie shouted back.
Sapphire breezed past them, slipping a fur coat over her stage outfit. "We're going to own this stage. And if not, at least we'll look incredible while crashing."
Steve looked at the mess around him—scripts, glitter, chaos. And, somehow, it felt okay.
This was ridiculous. Exhausting. Loud.
And it was his now.
SCENE: SNL Main Stage, Rockefeller Center — Saturday, 11:29 PM
The stage lights were blinding.
Steve stood just off-camera, mic taped to his chest, makeup powdered over his still-glowing soulmate mark. A little voice in his earpiece whispered the countdown:
"Live in five... four..."
He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff.
Eddie stood behind him, bouncing on his heels, vibrating with chaotic energy. He was already in costume—tight leather pants, a fake goatee glued to his chin, and a ridiculous velvet cape for some reason.
"You ready?" Eddie asked.
"I'm a vampire with anxiety being filmed in HD," Steve muttered. "So no."
Eddie grinned. "You're gonna be perfect."
Sapphire, now in a glittering crimson suit and thigh-high boots, strutted past them on her way to the opening monologue. "Deep breath, boys. And if all else fails—make out. It works for ratings."
Robin, somewhere backstage with a headset and a clipboard, yelled, "BREAK A LEG, YOU GAY DISASTERS."
The audience roared.
Live.
SKETCH ONE: "Soulmates Anonymous"
The scene was a faux-support group for people dealing with soulmate drama. Eddie played a dramatic bard who was mad his soulmate didn't recognize him from a dream. Steve played a buttoned-up guy who just found out his soulmate was "emotionally devastating and inconveniently hot."
The lines went fine. The timing hit.
Then came the final beat.
Steve turned to Eddie—script in hand, cue clear—and said, "You felt like lukewarm disappointment."
Eddie was supposed to gasp, grab his chest, and fall backward. Comedy.
But instead, Eddie paused. Looked at Steve. Really looked. And said:
"You still feel like everything."
Not in the script.
The audience gasped.
Steve blinked. Stared at him.
And then—fuck it—he kissed him.
Right there. Live. Messy. Soft. Not for the bit. For them.
The crowd exploded.
Offstage, Sapphire whispered, "That's going in the promo."
Robin screamed into her headset. "TOLD YOU. SUCK IT, NETWORK!"
LATER: The Musical Performance
Eddie took the stage with his guitar. Sapphire on backup vocals. Steve standing off to the side—out of frame, but visible if you were looking.
The song was new. Unreleased.
Eddie hadn't rehearsed the last verse. He just stepped into the mic and said:
"This one's for the boy who Bonded me in front of Paris and never looked back."
Steve covered his face.
The cameras did not cut away.
FINAL BOW
The cast lined up. Applause thundered. Eddie and Steve stood at the end, side by side, still breathless. Sapphire in the middle, grinning like a starlet-turned-matchmaker.
Just before the credits rolled, Steve turned to Eddie and said, "You're such a menace."
Eddie took his hand. "And you? You're mine."
The screen faded to black.
SCENE: Hotel Room, New York — Saturday Night, Post-Show
The hotel room was dim, lit only by the glow of the TV playing the SNL rerun in the background. Eddie's guitar leaned against the wall. A bouquet of enchanted flowers from Sapphire sat on the nightstand, still humming faintly to themselves.
Steve was in bed, curled into the blankets, hair flattened on one side, soulmate mark half-hidden beneath the collar of an oversized hoodie. His eyes were half-lidded, but he wasn't sleeping.
Eddie sat beside him, shirtless, barefoot, one knee pulled to his chest. He hadn't stopped moving since they got back. Energy still fizzing under his skin.
Steve finally broke the silence. "You didn't warn me about the song."
"You didn't warn me about the kiss."
Steve rolled his eyes. "That's not a real defense."
Eddie grinned. "It's a hot defense."
Steve made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. "You're lucky I'm in love with you."
Eddie looked over, mouth parting slightly. "Yeah?"
Steve met his gaze. Serious now. "Yeah."
The bond pulsed low and steady, warm against both of their chests.
Eddie leaned back, finally letting himself breathe. "I thought I'd panic. After the lights went down. After the show. After everyone saw..."
Steve reached out and gently tugged him under the covers. "But you didn't."
Eddie slid in beside him, cheek against Steve's shoulder. "No. Because you were there. You're always there."
Steve ran a hand through Eddie's hair. "I meant what I said on air."
Eddie snorted. "Which part? The fake soulmate insult or the very real kiss?"
"The part where I looked at you and didn't see the stage, or the cameras, or the world watching." Steve paused. "Just you."
Eddie was quiet for a beat.
Then, softly: "I've been performing my whole life. Pretending everything I wanted was just another bit. But with you..."
Steve kissed his forehead. "You don't have to pretend anymore."
They lay there, tangled together, the city humming below, the world outside already catching fire again. Hashtags trending. Clips looping. Fan art being conjured in real time.
But in here?
It was just them.
The show was over. The magic wasn't.
SCENE: Hotel Room, NYC — Sunday Morning, 10:13 AM
Robin sat cross-legged on the couch in a stolen hoodie, hair in full post-show disarray, phone screen glowing at max brightness. She scrolled. Paused. Scrolled again. Then groaned like she'd been personally victimized by the internet.
"Steve," she yelled toward the bathroom, "you're trending worldwide again, and I hate it here."
Steve, mid-toothbrush, muffled, "Why?"
"Because the memes are too good and I'm emotionally compromised."
— Screenshot: Twitter/X trending page —
[TOP TRENDING WORLDWIDE]
1. #EddieAndSteve
2. #SoulbondingLive
3. "You still feel like everything"
4. Steve Harrington (Real)
5. SNL Soulmate Kiss
— Tap to next story: @snlbehindmagic —
[FAN Q&A HIGHLIGHTS]
Q: Was the kiss scripted??
A: No.
Q: Is the mark real?
A: Yes.
Q: Are they dating or just soulbonded?
A: It's complicated. And iconic.
Q: Will they kiss again?
A: Do vampires bite?
— Robin's phone vibrates.
Twitter notification.
She taps it.
@bitemebettergirl: STEVE HARRINGTON JUST BIT ME THROUGH THE TELEVISION
@glampyrediva: Eddie Munson looking at Steve like he personally conjured the moon. I'm not okay.
@fangclubdaily: Meant to be funny and I ended up crying at a soulmate confession delivered through sketch comedy.
@chaoticbiwizard: "You still feel like everything" will be in queer lit textbooks by 2030. Mark my words.
— Image carousel: memes
— TikTok open. Sound auto-plays.
[KISS SCENE — LIVE AUDIO]
— Reddit open in another tab.
Thread: "Is this the most iconic live soulmate branding in recent memory?"
Top comment: "Better than the 2013 blood-pact proposal. And I stand by that."
— Tumblr post reblogged 91k times:
Eddie: 'You still feel like everything'
Steve: *kisses him like the war's over*
Sapphire: *kisses girl, vanishes into fire*
Robin: *screaming backstage*
The gays: thriving
Me: sobbing into my garlic knot
— @TheBlueVassal pinned tweet:
"What happened on stage was not PR. It was not marketing. It was magic.
Eddie and Steve are not your fantasy. They are not your projection. They are not here to perform intimacy—they are living it.
Love isn't always elegant. But when it's real? It doesn't need to be.
— Sapphire"
— Text from Chrissy:
"Rolling Stone just dropped: 'They Bond. We Felt.'"
Robin dropped her phone face-down on the couch. "I need a potion. Or a nap. Or to kiss Nancy just for balance."