Date: Thu, 13 Apr 2006 22:08:30 -0700 From: christopher. Subject: Breaking Through part 12 This is fiction. I don't know Jake Gyllenhaal and my little story doesn't imply anything about his sexuality, but I'd do just about anything to have Jake all to myself. Feedback is greatly appreciated and any writer will tell you that they live for it; I'll answer every single one. Author's Note: Thanks for all the positive feedback regarding the last few chapters. This is a special double-feature type post, two chapters in one fell swoop as a thank you for those of you who keep up with the story and because I want the good stuff to get out sooner. I'm still writing, you're still reading, it's a pretty picture in my head. Feedback can be sent to christopherrluu@gmai.com. I have an AIM screen-name, and it's babyofthe1980s. I'll talk your ear off, but after the online equivalents of awkward silences get more and more frequent, I'll make up a lie about having to write, having to go to the bathroom, or just abruptly leave. I'm not rude, just stricken with ADD. So that's fair warning to anyone wanting a real-time conversation. Take the chance, who knows, I may be quite cooperative. On with the story! Part XII Jake pulled his shirt down, wishing that photo stylists didn't always expect him to be sexy. He looked straight into the camera, making sure that his eyes focused on something, reciting the Pledge of Allegiance in his head so he didn't look vacant. He heard snaps and moved, the Journey songs on the stereo helping him a little. Chris always played Journey when he cleaned the house and it always brought a smile to Jake's face to see him dance around as he straightened the magazines on their coffee table or vacuumed around the sofa. When he smiled, the snaps sped up and he looked away, his hand scratching the back of his head. "Great, let's go for look four," Mario said. It was the same photographer that shot Chris for his Vanity Fair shoot, Jake hoped that the pictures would turn out as well as the amazing black and white photos that he did for Chris. Jake and Chris were surprised to find that people were actually interested in the magazine, it could have been the morning shows and it could have been Oprah, but in the end, people read the article and it led to more magazine interviews and more articles. Chris was doing an interview with Interview Magazine right now, Jake remembered, and Topher Grace was writing the article. The last place Jake wanted to be was on a soundstage while his buddies were probably having a good time. He took a deep breath and trotted over to the wardrobe area, pulling his shirt off over his head. He saw the wardrobe girl eye him and he grinned, grabbing a wrinkled button-up shirt from her hands. "Thanks," he said, making her blush. She slid a jacket over his shoulders and handed him a scarf. He threw it around his neck and she pinched and pulled at it as Jake buttoned up the shirt, deliberately leaving the top buttons undone the way Chris liked. He glanced in a mirror and messed up his hair a little more, wondering what fashion spreads had to do with acting at all; but it was part of the job. Back in front of the camera, Jake sat on the ground and kicked his shoes off, Mario nodding from behind the camera. It must have driven the wardrobe crew crazy to see his perfectly pressed suit being wrinkled and his designer Italian loafers being flung across the soundstage. He looked up at the camera from the floor, doing his best to be pensive and intelligent looking, laughing inside at how ridiculous it seemed. Hundreds of frames for the five or six pictures in a feature, one if he got delegated to a shorter one and he was worried about looking smart. He leaned back and let the scarf unwrap, falling over his shoulders and exposing a hint of chest. Mario snapped away and Jake grinned, mischievous and playful now. If he could get this done, he might be able to catch the tail end of Chris' interview. Mario Testino was notorious for being quiet on the set. Jake watched him over the camera, nodding in approval when he nibbled on his thumbnail, leaning back on one hand. Mario was also notorious for subtly sexy photographs, Jake had to admit that Chris turned out surprisingly steamy in his Vanity Fair spread, even though Chris thought the pictures seemed too close up, like everyone was staring at his pores or up his nose. Jake's weren't so close, but he unbuttoned one more button on his shirt, grabbing his scarf and pulling it across his neck. Mario snapped quickly, the flashes going off in Jake's eyes. He blinked and smiled, shaking his head to clear the bubbles in his vision. Jake fell onto his back, staring up to the camera, a questioning look on his face. Mario paused but took a few pictures, tilting his head to examine Jake's positioning. He nodded, and grabbed the camera off the tripod, getting down onto his stomach to photograph from the ground. Jake stared into the camera, imagining Chris on the same set a few months ago, so nervous he couldn't move, forcing Mario to just take close-ups. Letting his lips curl into a slight smile, he blinked as the flashes kept going off, Mario muttering something under his breath about his back. Jake shrugged and looked up at the ceiling, sighing, if Chris could turn out amazing pictures without even trying, why did he have to think about it so much? *** "We've been talking for almost two hours and I don't think any of this is magazine material," Topher said, smiling. Chris loved the way Topher always lit up when he smiled. It wasn't just his mouth, his entire face seemed to shift with the movement. "You're in charge, I'm just answering the questions," Chris said, breaking a piece off of his croissant. It was his second and he was working on his third cup of coffee. "We should get some real food," Topher said, "maybe the change of location will spark my lackluster interview skills." "We should wait for Jake, he'll be done soon," Chris said, "he'll be hungry after the shoot." "You're the most patient person I know." "Jake wouldn't agree with you on that one," Chris said, grinning. "Your pictures turned out amazing," Topher said, "you looked really vulnerable, really...um, real, I guess." Chris nibbled on his croissant, pulling out the soft layers and leaving the crust on the plate, "I didn't know what I was doing. But I keep getting compliments on them. I know Jake's going to look great. He doesn't take one bad picture." "At least he's got that going for him," Topher joked. "Hey, he's got an Oscar," Chris said, feigning anger. "Don't remind me." "You deserved one, working with my shitty script." "Your shitty Oscar winning script. But what can you do? When it's you up against Dustin Hoffman, you don't have a chance." Chris nodded, glancing at his phone. "Let's head over to Urth, it's our little place. I'll send him a message." "I'm impressed, are you going to go into rocket science next?" "Shut up," Chris said, gathering his things, "I can check my e-mail on this too, which is why my publicist got it for me, I think. Urth is just a few blocks away, I'm pretty sure. I'm bad with this whole LA thing." Topher clicked off his tape recorder and stuffed it into his pocket, "I know where it is." Chris pulled his sunglasses on and led Topher out of the coffeehouse, "So the other time, I was dating Natalie and Maggie. What are they going to write about you? I can check the gossip columns on this thing too." "That I lowered my standards." "I don't know why we're friends sometimes. Remind me," Chris said as the walked down the street. Chris hated that LA was loud and crowded, that cars sped down the street and everyone was separated by metal and glass. Nobody talked to anyone else and everyone was on the lookout for celebrities and anticipating Thursdays, when the trash rags came out. "Because Jake's boring. Too brooding, really," Topher said. Chris punched him lightly on the shoulder. "See, he's making you violent." Topher's deadpan delivery always made Chris giggle. Rolling his eyes, Chris put his hands back in his pockets. It was hot and stuffy, no cool ocean breeze like it was back at home. Instead, they breathed in exhaust and smog. "What are you working on right now?" "This is what you should have been asking me when the tape recorder was on, not what my favorite color is or my favorite movie quote." "See?! I can't do it when the thing is on. I can talk to you like this but throw in the pressure of someone writing it down and I'm a mess. Writing is your job, not mine." "You learn to deal," Chris said, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. "It's Jake," he said, turning to Topher, "we're going to Urth." Nodding like Jake could see him or feel it through the phone, Topher and Chris kept walking. "He says he's almost there. He'll save us a table." "And provide stimulating conversation, I'm sure." "Stop it," Chris said. "I'm just getting it out of my system before we meet up," Topher said, his grin stretching from ear to ear. He joked about Chris and Jake's relationship all the time, but Chris knew it was lighthearted. He and Topher grew closer and closer every time they met, and Chris knew that Jake and Topher were getting along better than the ever had before. He was glad too, because both of them meant a lot to him. Smiling, Chris walked beside Topher, he couldn't wait to ask Jake about working with Mario, the craziest photographer if not the craziest person he'd ever met. "He's a looker though. Did he give you that?" Chris looked down at Topher's finger, pointing at his right hand. "This?" Chris asked, raising it up, "it was on the dresser at home, I just put it on." He spun it around his thumb, the shiny square silver ring catching the light. "I don't know where he got it. It's cool though, huh? I don't normally wear jewelry but I figured that I was looking pretty plain today." "No, you look good. You always do. But you don't want to be reading about pending engagements anytime soon, do you?" Shrugging, Chris followed Topher around a corner. He could see the familiar brown metal furniture and the plain canvas umbrellas. Whenever Jake and Chris came to LA, they'd always stop by this specific cafe because Jake liked their bread and Chris was in love with their coffee. Whether Jake admitted it or not, he was as comfortable in routine as Chris used to be. "Just the three of us. It's like Oscar week again." Chris saw Topher nod, "While it was happening, I thought it was pretty bad. I hated all the press and all the questions. All the waiting sucked. But now, it's more about how much we got to see each other. Remember how goofy we were? We were the rowdy kids in with the grown-ups." "We were the frat boys in with the old birds," Topher said, "I loved it." Chris saw Jake walking briskly down the street towards them, his hands in his pockets. Speeding up, Chris practically ran to him, Jake pulling him into a hug. Topher caught up and Jake gave him a strong pat on the back. "I'm starving," Jake said, resting his sunglasses on the top of his head. They sat at a table on the sidewalk, the cool shade doing nothing to stop the drops of water dripping off their glasses. Chris ran the tip of his finger around the rim of his glass, the condensation falling down in steady rivulets. "How was the shoot," Chris asked, watching Jake spread creamy butter onto his bread. "Lousy," Jake said, shaking his head. He took a bite out of his bread as Topher reached for the butter. Chris was getting really good at ignoring the cameras across the street. Generally, they left before they finished off the first breadbasket, but once in a while they'd linger. Today, the heat must have gotten to them, because Chris watched as they all left, one by one. It was a smaller group anyway, they were probably more concerned with what Brad Pitt was doing. Jake was making sure he'd be nothing more than an actor that just happened to eat. No parties, no clubs, not much shopping, and definitely no drunken table dancing. Pictures of him spreading butter wouldn't be worth much, even with Topher and Chris with him. They were old news. Readers wanted to hear about severed relationships and dissolving friendships, not that the three Oscar frat boys were still friends. "You guys are so cute it makes me sick," Topher said, "no matching rings or engraved watches and you don't call each other 'baby' or 'honey,' but goddamn you two are so perfect for each other it's just sick." Sarcasm was something Topher fell back on a lot, but Chris loved it. Deadpan comic timing was Topher's specialty and Chris couldn't get enough. They both looked at him, "It's not all pretty, believe me," Chris said. *** Chris looked up over the monitor of his laptop. He could see Jake in the house, stretching his arms above his head, lazily scratching at his chest. Chris watched the smooth motions, the way Jake's muscles moved under his skin. Resting his elbows on the desk, he watched Jake straighten this and that in the living room, a lazy smile on his face. The early morning sunlight shone into the house, making everything glow with a yellow pureness. Chris reached for a pen and wrote that down, hoping to use it somewhere in his story. He kept watching Jake through the window, the buzz of his cell phone on the desk shaking him from his reverie. He didn't recognize the number, but he absentmindedly reached his finger towards the animated green phone flashing on the screen. "Ingrid Sischy, editor of Interview magazine," came a voice, low but still feminine. It surprised Chris, "I need to do some fact checking." "Sure thing," Chris said, his eyes back on Jake, did magazine editors do that now? He usually got an intern or a copy editor calling him about things like this. "E-mail? Fax? What do you want?" "Anything's fine," Chris said, watching Jake pull his boxer-briefs up a little bit, the fabric must have loosened up while they were sleeping, they didn't seem to want to stay on his waist, "did everything turn out okay?" "Good article, just making sure you remember everything you said. We have a tape but sometimes the interns fuck it up." He hadn't thought about the article since Topher and he had talked it over at Urth the other day, but it was the last thing on his mind now. He watched as Jake moved around the living room, it was nothing new for them to be apart first thing in the morning. Chris usually wrote after his jog, sometimes they ran together, sometimes Jake would spend the morning on the phone or reading scripts. Jake wasn't a morning person, but Chris had always been the most productive before noon, Jake seemed to adjust though, their two rhythms now almost a perfect match. Chris's eyes met Jake's across the yard as he shut his laptop. Smiling, Jake motioned for him to come back over. "I'll take a look at it," Chris said, "I'm sure everything's fine." Before she could say anything back, he set the phone down. The grass was still wet as he walked across it to get back to the house. Jake smiled wider, pulling Chris up against his skin, rough jaw against his smooth cheek. Chris' hands ran up Jake's chest, gripping the back of his neck as he brought their lips together. Jake's kisses were everything from light and soft to deep and rough. Chris' eyes fluttered open and he pressed their foreheads together, blue meeting brown. Chris heard the fax machine hum in the next room as Jake pulled their lips together again. Thoughts flew in and out of Chris' head, the interview, the stories, breakfast, but nothing stayed longer than a second, everything coming back to Jake's lips on his own. Jake ran his hands up under Chris' thin t-shirt, his fingers trailing over his warm back. He felt Chris' hands drop to his shoulders, relaxed fingers brining goose bumps to his skin. "Shit," Jake whispered, Chris heard the house telephone and Jake's cell phone go off at once. Chris pulled him back, but when it rang again, they broke apart, frustrated. They weren't the only ones with plans for a busy morning. "I'll get the cell." Chris watched every muscle in Jake's back, tight and tense, as he hurried down the hallway. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed the telephone, "Hello?" He didn't try to hide his aggravation. "Whoa there," he heard. He couldn't place the voice and he was already irritated. He heard Jake in the office. Chris caught bits and pieces, but didn't know what it was all about. "You two busy today or are you up for some of the scene down here?" It was Topher, "I don't know what's going on. I wanted to get some work done today." "I tried to call your phone, but you weren't picking up. Get your work done and get down here. There's free food, I know you can't say no to that." Chris smiled, hopping up onto the counter, the cold marble sending a chill through his back. "What is it?" "Fashion show benefit something. I don't know, I just don't want to go by myself." Jake came out, wrapping his arms around Chris' waist. "I'll see what's going on. Do we need to call someone? Tickets or something?" Jake was nipping at his neck, hands resting on the small of Chris' back. "You probably got something if I did," Topher said. "Call me." Chris set the phone back on into its base, wrapping his arms around Jake's neck. "Who was it?" "Maggie," Jake said, "she said to meet her at some fashion something tonight in LA." "That's what Topher called about, too." Chris said, pausing. "Do you want to go?" Jake asked, their eyes meeting again. "If Maggie and Topher are going to be there," Chris said, "it shouldn't be so bad." Jake rested his chin on Chris' shoulder, pulling him forward so that their chests pressed together. Chris wrapped his legs around Jake's waist and ran his hands down his back, "Fuck phones." *** Vivian and Dean didn't find it necessary to tag along to something like a charity fashion show, so that meant that Chris and Jake didn't have anyone to push them through the press. Chris looked out the car window as Jake talked to the valet; it was crowded and loud, he could see the flashes of cameras going off through the crowd. Jake grabbed his hand, squeezing it firmly. Chris opened the car door and stepped out, hands going straight into the pockets of his dark jeans. He looked down the red carpet, realizing that he and Jake might be underdressed. Jake came up beside him, hand resting on his shoulder. Chris watched Jake run his fingers through his hair one last time and slipped his hand down to the small of Chris' back. "Ready?" "Where's Maggie?" Chris asked. "Should we call her?" "She's probably inside already, we're running late." No surprise there, Chris and Jake were late to everything. "Let's get this show on the road," Chris said, walking towards the bustle of the crowd. He couldn't tell if Jake wanted to be there or not, but he faked it really well, his smile beaming and his eyes sparkling every time they posed for a picture. Chris remembered the first time they did this, photographers wanted pictures of Jake alone, but now that people had a vague idea of who he was, they snapped pictures of them together without a second thought. Chris looked down the crowd, wondering if Topher was inside already too. The length of the red carpet was dotted with photographers, but no reporters this time. Grateful, Chris and Jake hurried down towards the entrance. Both of them knew that they had reputations for being anti-social, but things like this seemed to surprise the press. Fashion shows and charity auctions weren't movie premieres and club openings, but they were something. "There are my boys," Chris heard, Maggie coming over and kissing both their cheeks, "finally made it. You both look like crap, but you made it." "Nice to see you too," Jake said, "it was pretty last minute, so be glad we're here at all." "I didn't know it'd be this kind of party," Chris said, "when is the show?" "I got seats for us. Sorry Jake, but you're sitting this one solo. Chris and I have got some fashion to talk." Jake raised an eyebrow, "Talk fashion? You take him to a few shows during fashion week and now you're making me sit by myself?" "I could only get two seats next to each other. You'll be right across the runway from us though." Shrugging, Chris let Maggie take his hand and pull him away. Jake watched the two of them walk into the next room, Chris glancing over his shoulder as they walked through the mass of impeccably dressed celebrities and socialites. He glanced around, watching for trays of champagne or a familiar face, but found neither. He felt a sigh escape his lips. "Where's Chris?" Jake heard. Topher came up next to him, surveying the crowd just like he was doing. "Maggie took him," Jake said, "where did you get that drink?" "Bar's over there," Topher said, motioning to the far side of the room. "We should get inside though, I think they're starting soon." Jake saw the long line and resigned himself. "I read your interview this morning," Jake said, "I can't wait to see it in the magazine." Topher grinned, "You were there while we taped it." "It's different seeing it on paper," Jake said, noticing that Topher had the good sense not to wear jeans. "Chris said he liked it a lot." "Good," Topher said, "as long as he doesn't think the questions were stupid or something. I'm just glad he likes it. How is everything going between you two?" "Great. Why? Did he say something?" Jake asked, turning to face him. "No, it's nothing like that. He actually just mentioned that he's never been happier," Topher said, "just wanted to know if something really good happened." Smiling, Jake felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. "Hold on one second," he said, turning around. It was a message from Chris. "Listen, do you want to grab our seats in there? Maggie said there were a couple right across from her and Chris. I'll be right there." "Sure thing," Topher said, "I'll see you in there." Jake looked around the room, finally catching a glimpse of the bathrooms. Rushing through the crowd, he threw the door open, a pair of hands instantly on his chest, lips on his neck. Sighing, he wrapped his hands around Chris' body, the familiar feeling, the familiar scent, the familiar taste of Chris' lips on his own made him cock hard as a rock in no time at all. "I'm so bored out there," Chris said, "Maggie knows everyone and I'm just in there waiting." Silencing him with another kiss, Jake pushed him against the cold marble of the sink, pushing him up onto the counter. Jake glanced over his shoulder to make sure the door was locked. He felt Chris' fingers on his shirt, a hand sliding over his chest. Chris nuzzled into his neck, lips and tongue at his ear and jaw. He let out a hiss, his hands reaching for the buttons of Chris' jeans. He felt Chris' hands on his shoulders, his jacket and button-up shirt sliding down, exposing skin and muscle. Jake stroked Chris' cock through his underwear, feeling pre-cum dripping from the head already. Chris groaned, his hands tensing on Jake's shoulders. Jake's strokes were strong and fast, his lips moving to Chris' throat. Chris felt himself getting close already, the tension in his neck and the tingle in his balls familiar. He reached for Jake's crotch, feeling his hard cock through the material of his jeans. Jake groaned when Chris reached inside, his hand meeting warm skin and rigid cock. He quickly pulled Jake's jeans open, his cock throbbing in his hands. Jake yanked him down off the counter, their lips crashing together again as he stroked faster and faster. Chris' eyes were shut tight, his forehead resting on Jake's shoulder. Jake reached under Chris, pre-cum slicked fingers sliding into his asshole. Chris winced, biting down on Jake's shoulder, his hands frozen, gripping Jake's biceps. Jake pulled one of his fingers out, lust and apprehension mixing as he slowed down. Jake pulled Chris lips to his own, a distraction for both of them from pain and pleasure. Sliding down off the counter, Chris turned around, resting his forehead on his arms, feeling Jake pull his jacket and shirt up, lips attaching to the back of his neck. Sighing, Chris reached for his own cock, the waves of bliss sweeping up his body. Jake pressed his middle finger back in the tightness, hearing Chris gasp again, but press his ass down, not letting Jake pull out. Looking down, Jake saw his own cock, hard and dripping with pre-cum, swollen thicker than he'd ever seen it before. Groaning, he felt Chris' tight hole clamp down on his fingers, his hand stroking his cock fast and rough. "Come on Jake," he heard Chris whisper, the words ringing in his ear, the entire room felt hot and cold at the same time. Jake pressed his cock inside, feeling Chris' body tense and freeze, his back arching up against Jake's chest. Fabric pressing against skin, Jake pushed his entire length inside, wrapping his arms around Chris' chest. Jake's lips nibbled on Chris ear, "Open your eyes," he panted. Their eyes met in the mirror and Chris let out a long groan, his eyes struggling to stay open as he watched Jake thrust into him, eyes intense, clothes rumpled around his arms. His teeth clenched, his arm reached for the back of Jake's head to bring their lips together again. Chris didn't know how long they'd been in the bathroom, how long Jake had been thrusting in and out of him, but time seemed to freeze. He was lost in the sensation of Jake's thick cock thrusting up into his ass, Jake's lips all over his neck and now, Jake's hands reaching down his stomach to stroke his cock. His entire body tingled, ripples of sensation sweeping from his head down to his toes. Jake spread his legs wider, trying to get his thrusts deeper and harder, Chris' pants and groans getting louder as Jake latched onto his neck, thrusts getting irregular and uncontrolled. He felt Chris' hands reach down to stop his, but it was too late, Chris shot long strings of cum down onto the floor, his mouth open in a silent scream. Jake froze too, feeling the muscles of Chris' ass clamp down on his cock, his eyes shut tight and his head rolled back on Jake's shoulder. Jake kissed his neck and kept thrusting in Chris' clutching chute, the tight muscle squeezing every inch of his cock, every thrust bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Gripping Chris' hips, his fingers dug into his skin, mumbled nonsense escaping his lips as Chris' hands ran through his hair, down his jaw, over his neck, lips hot and wet against his own. His eyes shut, lights flashing on his closed eyelids as he shot, his hips halting, his cock lodged deep inside Chris. Groaning, he rested his forehead on Chris' shoulder, sweat dripping down his temples. He was panting hard, his entire body flushed. Glancing in the mirror, he saw Chris was just as flushed, chest heaving as his eyes fluttered, head resting back on Jake's shoulder. Chris felt the hot cum inside him, familiar but shocking every single time it happened. Letting out a long breath, he felt Jake pull their lips together again. Letting his eyes shut one more time, he lost himself in that last kiss. *** "Where have you been? You missed the first designer," Maggie said, "are you okay?" "I got lost in all those hallways," Chris said, "running around back there. I was panicking." He was glad the lights were low, hoping that she hadn't noticed that Jake was gone just as long as he was. He glanced over the runway, waving quickly at Jake and Topher as the music and lights changed. He saw Maggie smile as the models walked down the runway. Chris didn't pay much attention to them; instead looking through the long legs and high heels at Jake, who looked half-interested at best. Jake's eyes caught his own a few times, his lips mouthing 'I love you,' across the fluorescent runway. The music was loud, blaring over the speakers as the models stomped down in their high heels. Jake saw Maggie nodding, Chris trying his best to follow Maggie's commentary on every piece. She talked fast, but so did Chris. "What are we doing here?" Topher asked, leaning over. "Keeping up appearances," Jake said, "and because of them." He motioned across the runway at Chris and Maggie, who were oblivious. "Do you think he'll ever get used to this?" "Are you?" Jake asked. Topher nodded, realizing that there was no way to get used to the incessant photographers and everyone wanting to know every detail of every coming and going of his life. Topher asked, "You guys are good together." "He's not like anyone I've been with before. He doesn't care about who I am. He'd be writing either way." Jake knew Maggie loved fashion, but everything was starting to look the same. He watched as she pointed out details to Chris: hems, shoes, and intricate backs. From what he could see, Chris looked genuinely interested, but still a little overwhelmed. "He dedicated his book to you though, that's heavy." Jake looked over at Topher, eyes stern and serious, "Sometimes I think that maybe he'll wake up and be bored with me. I mean, he's smart...really smart. He's got everything going for him. One day he'll realize that I'm just an actor. A dropout. He'll see that he can do better." Topher was floored. Jake was always the picture of confidence and self-assuredness. On film and off, he exuded a sense of self and identity that Topher admired from the very start. But it seemed like even the bravest had fears and insecurities. "That's not going to happen. You mean the world to him." "I keep my fingers crossed. I'm not going to find anyone like him," Jake said, looking back over at Chris. Topher looked over too, Chris' face was lit up with excitement. There really was nobody out there with the same mix of naivety and quiet devastation inside Chris. Topher couldn't imagine the two of them apart, but stranger things happened every day. "He's not going anywhere." "I'd give anything to know for sure," Jake said, eyes still focused on Chris across the runway. "There's just no way." "I know nothing's going to happen. We all see it. He's different when he's with you. What did he do before all this?" "He wrote. Every day he'd just write and write. He says it wasn't any good, but he'd just sit down and write all day. He's had it rough, no parents, no friends. He's always just been by himself." Topher nodded. Trying to wrap his head around a life that was so routine that routine itself because what made someone comfortable. He'd seen Chris on the set and around town, there were hints of introversion, traces of misanthropic behavior, but he'd always been personable and easygoing. Jake tapped into something, cracked open Chris' shell for the rest of the world. "He just always seemed to be a normal guy. Until he told me I didn't know that he'd gone through so much." "No, he's just careful telling people things like that. I don't think he's used to it. He didn't have anyone to talk to for a while." "I've seen him write it down. He doesn't talk about it," Topher says, "except to you maybe." "He doesn't even tell me everything. His notebooks get it all," Jake said. It felt good to be getting it out. Maggie loved Chris too much to hear this; she'd just be telling Jake he was too critical. Plus, she'd never seen him work. Topher had. He'd seen Chris stress, seen him pulled in every direction and how he managed himself. "He's getting better though, that's for sure." "What do you think they're talking about over there?" "Not this stuff," Jake said, chuckling, "probably books and these clothes." The runway show was finally ending and Jake really had no idea what was going to happen after. Parties and drinking were a given, but he wasn't sure what the next step was. Maggie stood up, clapping and Jake watched as Chris did the same. His shirt and jacket were wrinkled and his hair was messier than it had been earlier in the evening, but he still looked good. Maggie took his arm and they filed towards the exit, Maggie waving Jake and Topher to follow. Dodging the crowd as the walked around the runway, Jake pulled Chris' hand into his own, "How'd you like it?" "It was good, what were you two talking about the whole time?" Chris said, running his thumb over Jake's. "You know that guy, talking shop all night," Jake said, "we read for the same part again a few weeks back." Nodding, Chris followed Maggie through the crowd. She seemed to be the only person who knew where to go. Topher stood on the other side of Chris, surveying the crowd as the walked through. "It's for a good cause, remember that," Topher said, "and good causes give us champagne and snacks." A few months ago, Chris would never have even thought about Hollywood parties. He imagined book tours, not Oprah's couch. He thought a few people might notice him, but here he was being photographed just as much as Jake and Topher. He never imagined he'd be a writer that people cared about. He was more than a name on a book. Readers cared about what he wrote, and he was grateful for that, but now he had a crowd that just wanted to know him for who he was. Jake was one of them. Smiling, he looked up at him, suave and handsome, smart and sexy. Everything. He couldn't ask for more. *** "You've had too much to drink," Jake said, grinning. "No, no," Chris said, giggling, "just a little champagne. You had some, too." "You didn't eat dinner," Jake said, steadying him, "let's get you out of here." "I'm glad we came," Chris said, laughing, "I mean there's free socks in the gift bag. We all need socks, right?" Jake pulled Chris' arm over his shoulder, feeling him stumble on his own feet, "You can wear the socks all you want when we get home." Chris was laughing, oblivious to the people around him. Jake had never had to deal with Chris when he was drunk, but it could be worse. At least he wasn't crying or angry--or throwing up. Jake could deal with giggles. He led Chris through the ballroom, scanning the crowd for Maggie or Topher. Stretched as far as he could see in the sea of black suits and strapless dresses, he couldn't spot either of them. "You're the best, Jake, I think you should wear the socks," Chris said, reaching into the bag for them. He arm flailed around in the deep tote bag, miniature lotions and gold foil-wrapped Godiva chocolates falling to the ground. "I can't find them." Chris reached down for the dropped freebies, but Jake stopped him, keeping him upright. "It's alright, we can get them out later," Jake said, "we're looking for the others, come on." "Topher? He should spend the night. Can he? He looked nice tonight. Maggie's really pretty." Smiling, Jake hoisted Chris up, steadying both of them. The last thing either of them needed was a picture of them splashed all over the tabloids--especially if one of them was drunk. Jake was glad that there were plenty of other celebrities to distract from the two of them. "Come on Chris, let's get you on your feet." Shaking his head, he gave up on finding either Topher or Maggie. He figured they'd understand. He kept to the perimeter of the huge room, hoping that they could avoid stumbling into people and keep a steady stride on their way out. Photographers weren't the only ones that spread gossip. Jake hoped that everyone else was getting too drunk to notice them. "How bad is he?" Jake heard Topher over his shoulder. "He'll survive," Jake said, relieved, "just one too many I guess." "I'll give you a hand," Topher said, reaching for Chris. "I'm fine," Chris said, "Topher, you look nice." "We're almost there," Jake said to Chris. "What did he have?" Topher asked, his hand resting on Chris' back. "Just champagne. He doesn't drink much else. We didn't get a chance to eat dinner." "Thanks for coming out. I don't think I could have survived this without you." "See you next time," Jake said, "thanks for listening, Grace. I mean it. Come up whenever you want." Chris shook as he tried to keep his balance and Jake waved for a valet, one arm wrapped around Chris' waist. Topher gave Jake's shoulder a firm squeeze. It was early, so there weren't any photographers lingering outside. Relieved, Jake led Chris into the car and bounded over to the driver's seat. Settling in for the drive home, he grabbed Chris' hand, feeling the warmth, the steady pulse. "Looks like we won't be doing this for a while," Jake said. Chris groaned his agreement, shuffling around for a comfortable position, Jake's hand stroking the back of his neck, "What am I going to do with you?" Chris remained silent, almost purring as he felt Jake's touch on his skin. "What am I going to do without you?" --- Feedback? christopherrluu@gmail.com