Date: Tue, 2 May 2006 20:14:29 -0700 From: christopher. Subject: Breaking Through Part 16 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 you send. Usually, I'm quite prompt about it, too. Author's Note: Thanks to everyone for the supportive words and for being so patient for this next chapter to come out. I hope it lives up to the delay, I can't wait to hear what everyone thinks about it. As always, feedback can be sent to christopherrluu@gmail.com. Not much else to say, just to enjoy the story. Now on with the show: Part XVI The rain kept Chris inside the trailer. It was better to be bored and dry than damp and miserable. He was reading voraciously ever since he got back, trying to fill his mind with anything but the memories that seemed to be flooding his head since Professor Chapman had threatened him. He'd already gone through everything he'd brought and was scouring the catering area for old copies of Reader's Digest and any other magazines he could find. He'd have to drag Jake to another bookstore later. When thoughts of Stanford and graduate school weren't in his head, he'd been thinking about the dream. He thought about it and tried to figure out what it was, hoped that it was nothing more than a combination of too much emotion and too little time. Together, the two distractions really gave him little else to think about, he could hardly concentrate on anything long enough to string together a coherent sentence on paper. "Chris, you've got to get out of here," Topher said as soon as he opened the door. He didn't have to check to see if Chris was there, he knew it without even having to think about it. If Jake was on set and Chris wasn't watching his takes, then he'd be somewhere on set and most of the time that meant he'd be in the cast trailer. "Jake has two more scenes today. He's on point. Amazing stuff." "Cool," Chris said, "did everything go okay for you?" He put the magazine down and ran his hands over his face, sitting up straight. "Finish early?" "Yeah, everything was good," Topher said, "everything's still good with you though, right?" Chris was waiting for something to happen, another threat or any other sign that things would get crazy again, but so far, everything was all clear. He was confident that his sudden show of certainty and self-esteem shocked Professor Chapman, and if that didn't, the names he threw out would. Chris nodded, "For now." "Not that you do, but if you need to talk, I'm here," Topher said. Chris heard it from just about everyone, but talking wasn't something he did much of in regards to things in his head. He wrote them down. "I know you are," Chris said. It was what people liked to hear, Chris noticed. It always garnered a satisfied grin and set people at ease. Topher was no different. "Do you ever have really weird dreams?" Chris asked, hoping to maybe flesh something out of the craziness. "Doesn't everyone?" Topher said, watching as Chris gathered his things, stacking and straightening the magazines on the flimsy coffee table. "Monsters keeping you up at night?" "Not like that," Chris said, not sure where he wanted the conversation to go. "Just stuff that I normally don't think about. I guess there's just too much stuff going on." "You need to relax," Topher said, you're always working. Being stuck in this trailer isn't good for anyone." Chris lived and breathed inside his work, Topher was convinced he was more comfortable in his created worlds of fiction than he was in reality. Jake didn't agree and Topher knew that nobody had a better view of Chris' inner workings, but he stuck to his opinion. "I guess emergencies shake everything up though, right?" "It was just really rough. Going down there brought a lot of stuff up that I wanted to forget about," Chris said. "Do you want to go back to the hotel? Jake can meet me there, I guess. I just can't be here anymore." *** "What are you doing?" Jake asked, watching as Chris was threw clothes into his suitcase. "He sent a package to the hotel today," Chris said, voice shaky. Topher was leaning against the back of the couch, his face confused. Jake shot him a questioning glance and got a shrug in response. "He wrote up a press release. He said he'd leak it if I didn't give him what he wanted. Fuck, I thought this was finished." "I'm going with you," Jake said, "I don't care, I have to." He grabbed Chris' arms to stop him. He could feel the blood coursing through Chris' body, his heart beating faster than Jake could remember, his body shaking. "We'll get the next flight down, Chris. You can't just let him scare you like this over and over again." "I can't do anything about it," Chris said, "even if it's not true, just the accusation can ruin everything I've worked for." Jake glanced around the room and saw it lying on the table, bright yellow post-it right on top, "What is it worth to you?" emblazoned in thick black pen. Jake shook his head as he read it over, Chris sitting on the bed with his face buried in his hands, quiet sobs escaping him even though he tried to hold them back. Quietly, Jake sat down next to him and pulled him close, letting the tears soak into the shoulder of his shirt. He ran a comforting hand up and down Chris' back. "I'll tell everyone you had something to take care of," Topher said, "you guys should get down there as soon as you can." "I'm so fucked," Chris said, "once was bad enough." "This is going to be the last time, Chris. I'll make sure." Jake said. He knew Chris could see right through it, that he was just saying what had to be said. Neither knew what it would take, but Chris knew Jake would do whatever he could. He just didn't know what that was. Topher watched, saw that they really would have done anything for each other. The connection was deeper than anything he'd seen before, ever experienced himself. If Jake would stop an entire production for this, it meant something; he was putting his livelihood on hold. Watching them sit there, Chris' body, racked with sobs, hunched over and finding comfort in Jake's presence and strength, it hit him hard. He wanted it. *** "It's funny how sometimes I'll make it rain when bad things happen in my stories," Chris said, "but in Seattle when it's always raining, what are you supposed to do? It would just be an bad thing after bad thing." It was sunny in Palo Alto, it always was, and as Jake and Chris walked through the campus, neither knew what to expect. Chris held tight onto Jake's hand, no worries about photographers on a college campus. The students were too busy getting to class and worrying about papers or parties to pay any attention to them. Chris had a packet in one hand, something Vivian had express mailed to him to use as a threat. It was nothing more than page after page of legal jargon, but Chris hoped that it would be enough. "Focus, Chris. What are you going to do up there? You have to be stern, you have to stand your ground. He's going to keep getting you down here if you don't," Jake said, his face serious. Chris was looking straight ahead though, he didn't see. Jake had never been more worried for Chris, for once, he didn't think he could do anything. Swooping down and saving the day was something that happened in movies, he couldn't just fix everything even if he said that he was the inspiration. It was his word against the professor's and he was nothing. He figured if Chris' word wasn't enough, his meant even less. "When I think about it, I just freak out. I can't think about it," Chris said before he came to a stop. He looked up at the English building, once welcoming and now imposing. Jake noticed Chris' short breaths, his hand tensing, his heart racing. "I'm such a mess," Chris said, leaning against a planter. "No, you're going to do fine. Nail his ass to the wall," Jake said, "I'll be right out here when you're done." Jake pulled him tight, nose in his hair, "You just have to remember that you didn't do anything wrong." Jake wanted to feel Chris relax, knew that all it usually took was a tight hug and a few words like that, but this time it wasn't enough. Chris was still tense, still anxious. "Come with me, just wait in the hall," Chris said, almost begging. "I'll kill him if I go up there," Jake said. Chris thought that maybe that was the route to go, it'd be faster and finish things off, playing psychological games with James wasn't going to be easy. He let out a long breath, "Promise?" "Where the hell am I going to go?" Jake asked, surprised. "No, promise you'll kill him if you go up there?" Chucking, Jake pulled Chris a little tighter, "Go, come on. Get this over with so that you don't ever have to come back." Chris nodded, pushing his sunglasses into his hair before pulling away. Jake's hand lingered on Chris' until he couldn't hold him back any longer, fingers trailing over Chris' as he walked away. Chris walked through the doors and gave him one last look. Jake didn't say anything and waited for Chris to, but nothing came out. Just a weak wave and a slight smile, hands slipping idly into his pockets as he turned around and went inside. Jake sat down on the steps, a million different images flashing through his head. He was almost positive Chris hadn't told him the entire story, not because he was holding back but because he didn't want to relive the most painful parts of it again, but they were all adding up to one awful picture after another. Chris was strong, he knew that for sure, but he didn't know what Professor Chapman was capable of. "Welcome back, Christopher," James said, getting up from his chair, "good to see you again." He offered his hand but Chris didn't take it. He sat back down and straightened himself, cool and collected as always. "I have this for you," Chris said, handing him the packet, thick with page after page of things Chris couldn't even begin to understand, "my lawyer suggested that you read that over, get some council if you don't get some of it." He stayed standing even though James motioned towards the chair. Stern eyes looked back at him, cold as ice, but he stood his ground. James took it in stride; taking the packet, felt its heft in his hand, "I'm sure it's nothing of consequence," he said, tossing it in to the trashcan under his desk, "I told you last time why I wanted you here. You can't imagine what went through my head when I saw you walk out." "I thought it would be the last time I'd see you," Chris said. "It only made me want to get you in here again," James said, his hands folding on the desk, "it was like you challenged me to get you back," he huffed with satisfaction, "and you're right back where you started." "No, I'm not," Chris said, "and that packet was important. Don't treat it like it's nothing at all." "You mean don't treat it like I treated you? You're nothing, Christopher. I hear you don't even have a publisher anymore." It was a low blow, but James had no tact, it didn't matter. "I'm entertaining offers," Chris said, just to say it. He wasn't nothing. "What do you want?" "Nothing that you haven't given me before," James said, a smirk on his face. It was almost too easy, he didn't have to do anything more than send an idle threat and Chris came running back from wherever he was. He thought there'd be more of a challenge after their last meeting, but it seemed like Chris was reverting back to his graduate school persona, he was even dressed the same: dark jeans, white t-shirt, it sent a chill of familiarity down James' back. "Let's get this straight, James. When I was in school, I thought I needed you..." "Same old story, same old story," James interrupted. "I don't want to hear it." He stood up and stared at Chris, cold eyes boring right into his own, "sit down." Chris' body was so shaken by the sudden change, the interruption hitting him so hard that he almost fell down to the chair automatically. He couldn't believe it himself. A smile spread across James' face and Chris tried to get back up, but a harsh glance from those icy eyes had him glued to the chair. His breathing quickened and he gripped the armrests, knuckled whitening. "Wasn't so hard, was it?" "Professor, you can't do this," Chris said, not realizing his mistake until James closed his eyes, his body shivering at the sound of the word "professor." "It's too easy," he sighed. *** Jake soaked up the sun, nervously fumbling with his phone. It'd been over half an hour. He'd give anything to hear what was going on, to be able to see it. He'd already paced around the building, looking into the windows to see if he could get a glimpse of something, but he couldn't see anything but the glassy reflection of the cloudless sky. Every minute seemed to drag and even though the campus was nice to look at, Jake was getting restless. *** They sat there for what seemed like an eternity, calculating moves in their heads, words chosen with precision for maximum effect. It was like a mental labyrinth of traps and Chris was afraid that he was tripping over every single one; he wasn't gaining ground and felt like he was slipping with every word that came out of his mouth. James had a satisfied look on his face the entire time, he looked so commanding that Chris was almost too scared to talk. He was scared that James might have been right: maybe nothing had changed after all. He watched as James reached for his telephone, "Julie, cancel my afternoon class, I have something urgent to attend to." He didn't flinch, his voice unwavering as he lied and completely ignored Chris. He hung up the phone, "I don't mind a little resistance, Christopher, it makes it more...fun when there's a challenge." "I'm not here to play," Chris said, "I'm here to make sure that you don't threaten me anymore. I'm serious, you might not think I am, but this is real. It's not a game." "It may not be the kind you're used to, but it's most definitely a game. You remember how it used to be, don't you? You used to hang on my every word, you were my best student." *** Jake paced up and down the stairs outside the building, peeking into the door to see if Chris was coming down the stairs, hoping that he was just waiting for James to read over the stuff Vivian had sent. He couldn't imagine what was taking so long. He couldn't because he didn't want to. *** "Other students needed more persuasion," James said, "but you were a dream." James walked out from around his desk and Chris could see that he was aroused. It sent a spark of fear through him. He watched as James' smooth steps brought him around the desk and chairs, his hands quietly shutting the door, the soft click of the lock being turned seemed to boom in Chris' ear. "You were so willing to learn, so eager to please. You had nothing to lose, after all. Still don't, I suppose." "I have the world to lose," Chris said, "you know what accusations like this do." "Do you? If the golden boy falls from grace, what comes next? You could write a novel about it." "A novel that nobody would want to read because I'd be branded for life," Chris said, "I've worked hard to get where I am and I'm not letting some twisted teacher get the best of me and take it all away." Chris fumbled over his own words, hearing how pathetic he sounded, how miniscule it seemed to make him when he heard himself almost begging for mercy. He had a lot to lose, more than James would ever know. "Metaphor or simile, Christopher: a horse is set free from his stable, runs free for years before being captured and believed to be a mustang, a bronco his whole life. A taste of freedom filled him as nothing else could, an insatiable hunger created by nothing." "I already said I wasn't here to play games," Chris said, feeling his body bristle with aggravation. "What's the first rule of character development? How does a writer create someone out of nothing at all?" Chris stood up, the palms of his hands on the desk as he leaned in closer to James, "Once and for all, James, I'm not going to play this with you anymore. If you need to feel mighty and powerful, find something else to do. You're sick." "You don't know anything about me, Christopher. Choose your actions carefully," James said as he leaned back in the chair, "or everything you've worked for will tumble like a house of cards." *** Jake had walked into the building and was wandering the halls, reading bulletins and event notices tacked on corkboards as he walked down the narrow halls. He recognized the poster of Chris and Natalie's literacy campaign, a post-it attached to its corner, "Vandalism will result in punishment under the student conduct code." The office directory was posted too; he looked it over and walked down the corridor, every single door labeled with a brass plate. Most of them were closed, but a few were open, professors busy with students or typing at their computers and grading papers. He imagined Chris walking these same halls, in those very offices as a student, young and naive to the world outside of academia. He walked up to the closed door labeled "Chapman" in capital letters and tried to listen but couldn't hear anything. He leaned up into the door and pressed his ear against it and there was nothing but dead silence. Confused, he leaned in even closer, ears catching a faint murmur through the wood. *** "I made you, Christopher, whether you believe it or not," James said, his voice breathy against Chris' stiff neck, "whether you admit it or not." "I made myself, James. Wrote my ass off for what I've got. Even if you try to take it away, I'll know that I did it. I made it on my own." It was a feeble attempt and Chris could see it barely did a thing to James. He seemed to revel in the fact that Chris was grasping at straws, trying anything to get the upper hand and struggling with every effort. James leaned in, inhaling deeply at the nape of Chris' neck from behind, "Don't move, don't make a sound." Chris couldn't even if he wanted to, everything was happening so fast. James was suddenly behind him, hands on his shoulders and nose at his neck. He was so scared he couldn't move, could barely breathe. He gasped as James' hands moved down his chest and it took every ounce of concentration for him to bolt up out of the chair, knocking it and James to the floor. "You little fuck," James said, almost yelled. Chris heard a slam at the door and he snapped his neck in its direction. James' fist landed in his stomach and he doubled over. His mouth opened in a silent scream, the surprise and the pain hitting him all at once. There was another slam at the door and Chris looked at it again, his salvation on the other side. "Chris!" It was Jake. The noise from the chair must have set him off, Chris heard thud after thud, Jake's shoulder against the wood of the door. He lunged at the knob and could almost feel the cold metal on his fingers when everything was gone. Black replaced color, cold replaced sensation, and silence replaced everything. *** Chris blinked his eyes open and saw the ceiling, the bumpy texture of it confusing him at first. He lifted his head and panicked, he was splayed across James' desk. Sitting up, he faced resistance, his head throbbed and his stomach ached so bad he could barely sit up. At first, he thought it was all a dream, wished that it had been when he realized he was still in the office and that this wasn't just a crazy dream. It was a nightmare. Jake sat in a chair, his head hung limp and Chris shuffled towards him, "What does he mean to you?" he heard. He froze. He was afraid to look behind him, but he slowly turned around, James was leaning against the window, nursing what he assumed was a bruised jaw. "He put up a good fight, you must mean a lot to him." Chris glanced back over at Jake, he was breathing but wasn't moving. He shot his head back around to James, "That was a cheap shot you took." "Shakespeare's only good for one thing," James said, "and you experienced that firsthand." "What the fuck do you think you're doing," Chris asked, exasperated, "he's not part of this, I don't even know him. He probably just heard the chair fall over." "Don't lie to me, Christopher. He knew your name; he was yelling your name. Fucker throws hard punches but was too riled up to think straight." "What did you do to him," Chris asked, trying his best to hide the panic in his voice. He had gone from thinking he had a little control to losing any semblance of it at all. His head hurt so much he could barely think straight, eyes unfocused as he blinked quickly. It was too much at once. "He'll survive. Physically, at least," James said, snickering softly. "Leave him out of this. Leave him out of it and I'll do anything," Chris said, gasping for air as the blood coursed through his body. He sat up straight, hand flying to his head for some comfort. It didn't help. "Anything?" James asked, taking a step towards Chris. He spun around on the desk, feet to James. He tried to remember anything about protecting himself but his mind was drawing a blank. Everything seemed hazy and fuzzy, out of focus. "Don't tempt me." "Take one more step and I'll fucking kill you," Jake said, his voice low. Chris turned his head in time to see Jake raise his head, eyes fiery, his arms tense against his restraints. Chris looked closer to see a bandana holding Jake's wrists together behind him. The same bandanas held both his ankles to one of the chair legs and Chris panicked, struggling to get off the desk. Chris remembered them vaguely, realizing that they'd always hung on the wall of the office, tacked by their corners on the plain white walls. "Don't move," James said, but Chris struggled to get to his feet, ignoring him. "I said freeze." The tone told Chris he was serious. It was two against one though, if he could get Jake out of that chair, they could do something. He didn't know what, but they could. "Don't listen to him, Chris, you can do whatever you want," Jake said, pulling hard at the bandanas. "I've never forced you to do anything," James said, calmly walking towards the desk. Chris could hear Jake struggling still, "I've never forced anything on anyone. Consent was never in question." "Get the fuck away from him," Jake yelled. Chris slid down the desk, sending pens and papers off the edge as he backed away from James and towards Jake. "Best friends is what they call you in the papers, in the magazines. It's what you say in interviews, isn't it Christopher?" Chris didn't know what to say, didn't know what was going on because there was so much happening. "Answer me." Jake watched, helplessly pulling at the rough cloth that held him back. If he could get his hands on the asshole, he'd beat him into a bloody pulp. It killed him to see Chris there, more scared than he'd ever seen Chris before, more confused. "No!" Jake yelled, "you're just...just stop. Don't listen to him, Chris." James walked over to him, strides quick. His hand flew across Jake's face and Chris jumped backwards. Jakes eyes went wide, Chris didn't know if it was from disbelief or pain. "I swear if you lay one hand on him," another slap and Chris flew towards him, the sound of skin on skin replaced by an echoing thud through the room as Chris knocked James to the floor, struggling with the bandana around Jake's ankles. His clumsy fingers were shaky, his breathing ragged. He knew it was pointless to even struggle when he felt James grab his ankle, pulling him across the floor of the office. "Know your place, Christopher," James said, his eyes narrow and his voice raised. It was the first time Chris saw him lose his composure. Ever. The shock of it making him freeze for the slightest moment, but James took advantage, pinning him up against the bookshelf, wrists above his head. He heard Jake grunting, the sound of the chair against the floor. He tried to look but James pulled his head to face him eye to eye. "Tell me what you'd do if I hurt him. What would you do if I hurt him? What would you do to save him?" Chris didn't know what to say, his mind was spinning. If James hurt Jake, he was pretty sure he'd be helpless to do anything, so he shot his arms out, pushing James away, every ounce of energy he had sending James away, stumbling backwards and falling over, tripping over his own two feet. "I told you before, I never needed you. You made me think I did but I didn't." He bounded up at Chris, slamming his back into the bookshelf again, but this time pulling back, watching as Chris slid down to his knees, books tumbling from the shelves as his body knocked at them. His hands went up to cover his head and James stood there, towering over him. "Who did you dedicate your latest work to?" James asked, looking in Jake's direction. "Sometimes things are so glaringly obvious nobody notices." Chris didn't say anything, his body still trying to sort out all the pain. James grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt, "Questions need answers." Jake looked at Chris, his mouth tight, eyes pleading. "Jacob," Chris said, his voice low. He suddenly felt ashamed that it was so easy to decipher. James slapped him across the face again, Chris still too overwhelmed to let out a sound. His kneed burned against the carpet and his entire body was overcome with a dull ache. "Finally where you belong, Christopher. It took you long enough," James said. Chris' body hurt all over and he was too spent, too exhausted to do anything but slump over. James' fingers tangled in his hair, pulled his head back so their eyes met again, "Familiar? I wonder what he'll think of you after all this. You're worthless." "I'm not worthless," Chris said softly. He felt the sting of James' hand against his cheek before he felt the scratchy carpet against the other. He didn't scream or yell, still couldn't believe that this was all happening. "Get up," James commanded. Chris struggled to his feet, stumbling once, James' hands grabbing his arm and pulling him up so that he was on his knees. Chris drooped against the bookshelf again, eyes turning pleadingly in Jake's direction. James' hand grabbed his hair, turned his head to look at Jake, "He can't help you. The only person who can get this over with is you." Chris felt the sting of tears at his eyes, his jaw shuddering, "What is the headline going to read? Hollywood star kills English professor? Would he jeopardize his career like that? Think about it Christopher, it's quite simple. Do you remember game theory? Survival of the fittest? Nobody would sacrifice themselves in the end. They say they will, but they don't." "I'd do anything for him, asshole," Jake said, "he knows that." "Do you believe him?" James asked, turning Chris' head back up to face him, "would he stop me if it meant he'd lose everything? Would he put you before him?" James reached over to his desk for a pair of scissors, running the cold metal across Chris' fiery cheek. "Even if he would, what can he do now?" Chris' eyes went wide as James opened the scissors; sliding it down under his collar and cutting a straight line slowly down the center of his t-shirt. Chris recoiled but James pulled him forward, pulling the thin material from his body. Chris fell back against the bookshelf like a rag doll, shivering and scared. He watched as James pressed the fabric to his face, inhaling deeply, "Nothing's changed." He balled up the t-shirt and threw it back at Chris. "You're worthless. Are you ready? I think we've taken this far enough. I trust you remember the procedure." "Don't let him break you down, Chris, stay strong for me," Jake pleaded. He watched in horror as Chris got up, his expression resigned, exhausted. "Promise me you won't hurt him," Chris said, his voice barely audible and his eyes unfocused. "This is the last time. Do anything you want, I won't try to stop you." "Chris! You don't have to," Jake said, "just get away. Get the hell out of here." "You'll never hear from me again," James said, running his hand over Chris' smooth back. The bruises hadn't appeared yet; he could almost forget how much convincing this had taken. "But after this, you may be begging me for more. Unzip. Leave them around your ankles. Keep your underwear on." Chris reached for his fly, unbuttoned and let them fall to ground. Both palms on the desk, he lowered his head, motionless as James' hand ran down his spine to cup his ass. "Just like I remember." "Get your hands off him," Jake said, his voice almost a growl. James shot him a look, "You're like a broken record. He asked for it. Didn't you hear him? 'Do anything you want,'" he said, a wicked smile painted across his face. It all happened so fast Chris couldn't even feel it, motions almost automatic. He reached for something, found a stapler, a mug, or a paperweight and slammed it hard against James' temple. It was all a blur. He grabbed the scissors and lunged for Jake, struggling with his pants as he cut through the bandanas and Jake helped him to his feet. James was writhing on the floor, hands clutching his head as Jake reached for the door. Chris eyes' widened, grateful that he saw a familiar face on the other side of the door when it swung open. "Chloe, call the police," Chris panted, stumbling out into the hallway, pulling Jake with him. Jake was pulling away, wanting to get back inside the little office but Chris' weak pulls were enough to keep him from it. She'd heard the ruckus and called them before Chris had stumbled out of the office, she didn't know how, but she could sense something was wrong. "Tell them everything you told me last time." James was struggling to get back up but stumbled and knocked his head against Jake's overturned chair, his movements sluggish and clumsy. "I can't believe...what the hell just happened," Chris said, his entire body shaking as he fell to the ground, slumping against the wall. Jake was panting, his entire body tight and his skin flushed red with fury as campus security rushed through the hall, past he and Chris and into the tiny office. Jake pulled Chris to his feet, throwing Chris' arm over his shoulder and Chloe's on the other side, "Thanks so much, I don't know why you were in that hallway Chloe, if you weren't there, who knows what would have happened." Jake shushed him, "Let's just get out of here. You did good in there, Chris." They made their way down the stairs, real police officers rushing past them. They stumbled through the building and out into the sun, the brightness of it shocking the three of them. They collapsed onto the grass, Chris regaining his breath and clutching his head. Jake held his shaking body tight as he watched the officers dragging James out, legs flailing and obscenities flying from his mouth. They'd have questions and he knew that he was the only person that saw it all. If James said anything from prison, it would be nothing more than a feeble attempt for attention. Any reputable media would disregard it and Jake breathed a sigh of relief when the doors to the squad car finally shut. "You three okay?" an officer asked. Jake nodded, not trusting himself to say anything just yet. "We're going to have to ask you some questions, you should know the drill, it's just like in the movies." *** "You've been in here for a while," Jake said softly, wrapping his arms around Chris' chest, the warm water of the shower beating down on both their tired bodies. "Hotels don't run out of hot water," Chris said, leaning back against Jake. "What happened? I can barely remember." He tried to fit all the pieces together but everything seemed to melt into a blur of confusion. He didn't know how long he was in there, didn't know what happened first and what happened next, couldn't figure out how he was suddenly on his knees one minute and practically flying across the room to untie Jake the next. It happened too fast or happened too slow, he just couldn't wrap his head around the whole thing. "You don't want to remember," Jake whispered, kissing Chris' neck softly, "I don't want to remember." "But you did. You answered all the questions," Chris said, turning his face so that the hot water splashed right on it, steady streams running down his chest. "If you weren't banging on that door when you did..." Jake pressed their lips together; he didn't want to hear about it anymore. He wanted to remove himself and Chris as far from the entire situation as he could. Chris broke the kiss and moved his lips to Jake's jaw, down over to his neck and Jake pulled him back up, their eyes meeting, "What you did today, Chris, I'm never going to forget it." "Nobody's going to find out, right?" Headlines flashed in Chris' head, questions would definitely come up if anyone found out they were in Palo Alto together, that Jake had put an entire movie production on hold and that they'd somehow been involved with the arrest of an English professor. "No, the last thing the university wanted was for this to get out. They said it would be fine if we just kept quiet and they kept quiet," Jake said. It was true, after he answered all the questions from the police and Chris nervously walked to get a t-shirt from the student store, the university officials assured him that this wouldn't leak, that a high-profile alumni like Chris garnered special treatment. Jake was glad to know that universities, like celebrities, had reputations to protect. "Let's get you out of here, you're clean." Dry, Chris walked slowly to the bed, unfamiliar and cold as he slipped under the covers, his body still sore. He knew he'd have bruises the next day, knew that both of them had swollen cheeks. Jake slid in next to him, hand reaching over to stroke his hair, thumb running over Chris' temple. His eyes were tired, but Chris noticed that there was a glint in them, "How could you be smiling after all that?" "Because I know that you're safe now," Jake whispered, leaning in to kiss his forehead, "that you don't have to be scared every time you check your e-mail or the mailbox." Chris gave him a weak smile, still too overdrawn to do anything else. "I didn't think I could do it. Especially by myself." "You did," Jake said, pulling Chris' body tight against his, nose buried in Chris' hair. He felt Chris relax, maybe the first time he'd been relaxed in the past two days, his muscles loosening and his breathing steady. Jake let out a long sigh, letting himself be distracted by the familiar feeling of Chris in his arms and letting his guard down for the first time in that same two days. It was finally over. *** "The sky looks like lead. A leaden sky," Chris said, writing the two words in his journal, staring at the two words and waiting a minute before putting a period after the word "sky." "You really are a writer," Emmy said, looking out the coffee shop window to look at the sky. "It's what it reminds me of," Chris said, "it's gray, yeah, but so is lead." "But that's not what someone would say. People say it looks gray or overcast, not like lead. It's poetic." "It's been like this for the entire shoot," Emmy said, "leaden. Heavy." "Yeah, this whole thing's been a long ride," Chris said, shutting his journal and sliding it into his coat pocket. "For everyone, probably, not just me." "The script is tough. We're all just drowning in the issues and the rain. This isn't just a movie that people are going to forget about. It's supposed to hit hard. It's hitting every singe one of us really hard." "The leaden sky weighs down on everyone," Chris said, "but it makes things possible. Like rain. Rain can wash things away and that's why the story's set in Seattle, right? Rain means you can start over again. That's why I thought the script was so cool." "I'm just glad we're almost done. I'm going to go somewhere warm afterwards, somewhere with endless sun." Chris smiled. Endless sun and warm rays was exactly what he wanted too, but it was home. It was Santa Barbara. "You have no idea how much I just want this to finish. Then I can go home, Jake and I can relax and just not do anything." "I heard my name," Jake said, running his hand slowly over Chris' shoulder blades as he sat down, "heard the word 'relax.' You don't know how to relax, Chris. You're working whether you notice it or not. Hey, are you going to eat the rest of that?" Chris rolled his eyes and slid the rest of his croissant towards Jake. "Love you." "Done for the day?" Chris asked, hopeful. He'd been spending less time in the cast trailer and more time behind the cameramen watching Jake work. It was a nice change, but he always felt like he was in the way when they were moving around, even when he stood back. "I want to go to that museum you were talking about." "Yeah, Topher's shooting some stuff for the rest of the afternoon and I've got nothing," Jake said, "but I've got some revisions I have to go over. I'll do it tonight." "Now who can't relax?" Emmy said, grinning. *** Chris gasped, his body tensing as Jake's fingers slid deeper inside him. "Breathe," Jake whispered, his voice calm. He shifted, feeling Chris tense around his finger as he steadied the both of them, Chris' legs thrown over his shoulder. Chris opened his eyes to see Jake's face, eyes intense and concentrated as he looked down at where his two fingers disappeared into Chris' body. Chris' fists were twisting the sheets in their grip, his knuckles white as he let out a long, slow breath, trying his best to relax. Jake pressed his fingers in deeper, feeling Chris loosen up. Feeling a smile on his own lips, he stroked his cock with his free hand, pre-cum slicking the entire length. Jake couldn't keep his hands off of Chris at the museum, couldn't keep his lips off of Chris in the elevator up to the suite. He was craving the feel of skin on skin, Chris' lips on his own and his lips on Chris' collarbone. Chris let out a low groan and he almost melted, the sound hitting deep inside him. Chris bit his lip, Jake's finger pressing at his prostate, sending jolts over his entire body. He felt like he was on fire, his entire body tingling as Jake pressed inside him over and over, and every twist of his fingers or slight crook at the knuckle shooting an almost overwhelming shudder over his body. Chris knew that Jake could give him exactly what he wanted; he was just drawing things out, quietly reveling in the fact that he could elicit a reaction with the tiniest movement. "Jake," Chris groaned, almost gasped, "just...fuck," Jake pulled out and twisted his fingers, crooking them and pulling another moan from his lips, "just keep doing that. Keep doing that." He let Chris' legs slip down off his shoulders and leaned in, Chris' lips crashing into his. He'd never seen Chris so hungry for it, hands running down Jake's chest to stroke his cock, groaning as Jake scooted their bodies together, wrapping Chris' legs around his waist. Fingers still buried inside Chris, he kissed his collarbone, their bodies slick with sweat. Chris felt the head of Jake's cock at his hole and he arched his back, neck long and curved, Jake's lips moving up as he felt Chris push down onto him, gasping at the sudden sensation. Jake pressed his forehead against Chris' shoulder, slowly inching in, feeling Chris hold his breath. "Breathe," Jake whispered, eyes still shut as he just felt Chris' body sheathe his entire length, the tight muscle squeezing every inch of his cock, his entire body stiffening as he pulled out, every muscle moving towards one thing, every push and pull sending a grunt or a groan out of his lips. Chris gripped at Jake's shoulders, kissing him again, tongue sliding into the warmth of Jake's mouth as he shuddered with every thrust. Jake's hips thrust forward, long smooth strokes eliciting groans with every movement, no matter how big or small. Chris was like a sponge, soaking up every sensation, reveling in the jolts going through his body and just waiting to let it all out. Jake shut his eyes, losing himself in the feeling and just letting their bodies move together, Chris' back arching and his head thrown back, Jake's hands desperate for any touch of skin and his lips crashing hard against Chris'. Slowly, he could feel it rising inside him, his heart was beating fast and his hands frantic. He thrust quicker, harder, losing control of hi entire body when Chris ran an idle thumb over his nipple, fingers gripping his shoulder. He felt Chris shudder under him, body tensing and jerking as Jake watched him shoot, felt him shoot when the muscles pump his cock, soft whimpers reaching his ears as he kissed Chris' jaw, holding his body steady and slowing his thrusts down. Graceful, poetic, it was all that, Jake thought, long lines and smooth arches, his eyes shut and kept pushing, Chris' body reactive and sinuous under him. He felt a tingle in him, expanding into a deep and fiery burn that seemed to wash over him and he let it go, rode it out and felt himself shake and jerk, Chris' lips at that spot under his ear and his hands on his back. Chris was panting, breathing erratic as he felt Jake roll off of him, pull their bodies together as he ran his hands over Chris back. *** Chris felt a weight on him, leaden almost, his mind kept turning to that metaphor. Heavy, gray, and cold. But it was different. As it settled on him, he saw that it wasn't lead, it was warm, soft, and supple. Jake's lips on his neck, hands running down his sides as their bodies almost melted together. He felt Jake lift his legs, "We just...last night," Chris panted, eyes still shut. "I can't keep my hands off of you," Jake whispered, "can't stop myself." He threw his head back, the familiar feeling of Jake's cock at his hole again. He groaned when Jake slid it in, one deft stroke and he was back to where they'd been last night, Chris' back arching, an encore performance. His hands grabbed at Jake's neck, their lips coming together again. He grunted, Jake already moving quick and hard, it was exactly what they did a few hours ago but it was so different. Chris' entire body ached, but he ignored it, pushed it out of his head as Jake rolled him over and he pressed his forehead into the bed, fingers tangling in the sheets as Jake thrust hard, teeth biting lightly at the back of Chris' neck. Chris panted, groaned because his head was spinning and he couldn't even string together a simple, "I love you." Jake reached down, hand wrapping around his cock and he couldn't even remember his name until Jake whispered it in his ear, long and drawn out, more like a breath than a word. Jake moved quick and fast, desperate for more but franticly rushing to release. He wanted it to last forever but wanted to cum so bad, wanted to feel Chris' ass squeeze around his cock again and watch him tense and collapse onto the bed again, bodies tired but satisfied, drowning in the soft glow of the morning. He thrust hard, hands steadying his body on Chris' waist, gripping hard with every push. He pulled Chris' head back for a kiss, tongues pushing against each other and Chris reaching behind him to feel Jake's neck, feel how tense he was. He fell back on the bed and just felt awash in the sensation of Jake's cock pushing into him, pressing at his prostate and making him want to cum even though the thought hadn't even entered his mind yet. Jake's scratchy cheek rasped against his own, his breathing long and hard in Chris' ear. Everything was so fast and sudden, Chris gripped at Jake's shoulders, hands running down his back looking for something to steady himself on, but Jake's movements were fluid and languid, every thrust smooth and quick. Chris could barely breathe, it was really too much to take first thing in the morning, Jake's body on top of his, his arms stiff and his entire body tingling as Jake thrust forward, oblivious to everything but the coupling of their bodies. Chris felt his body shudder, eyes shut as he felt a burn inside him, a tingle slowly spreading over him. Jake ran a soothing hand up his back, gripping Chris' shoulder. Low grunts were all that he could get out of his mouth, all that Jake could hear apart from his own. The room was flooded with a golden glow, the thin curtains diffusing the morning sunlight across their bodies. Jake watched the muscles in Chris' back, watched them tense and relax as with every move he made. He bent down, lips nipping at the back of Chris' neck again, his hips moving in slow quick jabs and long slow strokes. He froze, catching his breath and blinking quickly. Chris craned his neck around, jaw slack and eyes glazed and heavy lidded. Jake pulled him up, their lips connecting again as he continued thrusting, a soft whimper coming from Chris' mouth. He felt Chris shiver and tense, his hand halting on his cock as his muscles tightened, Jake feeling the squeeze around his cock. Chris came in hot spurts onto the bed, strain and pleasure covering his face. Jake thrust hard, holding Chris tight around the chest as they moved together, Jake plunging deep with every stroke until his eyes slammed shut and his mouth let out a low groan, Chris body practically melting onto him when he froze and shot, thick ribbons of cum shooting into Chris as they both searched for each other's lips, Chris hand grasping Jake's in his own, fingers tangled together as they fell to the bed, a mass of limbs and bodies. *** "Welcome to the Knopf family." Chris took her hand, gave her a firm handshake as she smiled. They'd flown all the way to Seattle to meet him, to congratulate him and finalize everything. Vivian was on conference call, but Chris could tell she was relieved to have Chris at a publishing house that would appreciate his work. After all, her livelihood depended on him having a publisher. "We're expecting great things from you, Mr. Lewis." "I'll do my best," Chris said. He couldn't wait to tell Jake that he was at a place that supported him, a place that would let him throw out his ideas, no matter how crazy they were. He pulled his tie loose as he walked down the hall of Random House's satellite office, he'd never felt more proud of himself. Writers needed readers and they needed publishers. He was a lucky one--he had both and he had Jake. He pulled out his phone, Jake's number didn't need to be memorized, it was on speed-dial, "I'm in." "You're awesome," Jake said. Chris could almost hear him smiling, "and the signing bonus?" "Negotiated it up, just like you said I could do," Chris said, "so dinner's on me tonight." "I'll take care of dessert though," Jake said, his voice low, mischievous, "but you can order second helpings." "Freak," Chris said, rolling his eyes at both Jake and incessant drizzle. He pulled out his umbrella and opened it, the familiar snap almost second nature to him now. "So when you're done for the day, I'll be back at the hotel. Counting money and deciding what to buy with it." "You're amazing, Chris," Jake said, "and you've got the guts to prove it." "Get back to work, you can compliment me later," Chris said, "love you." Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Chris shivered, the even the cold of Seattle rain couldn't shake his good mood. He really did have everything he'd worked hard for, it wasn't just a silly idea he'd given himself to justify the long nights of writing and constant editor's notes. People cared about what he had to say. *** "A package came for you, Mr. Lewis," the front-desk receptionist said as Chris waved. He liked to get to know the hotel workers when Jake was on long shoots, but they all had such different schedules that he rarely saw the same one twice. "It was brought up to your suite right away." Chris walked up to the counter, "Do you remember who it was from?" "It came from Stanford University," she said, "Palo Alto, California." She smiled, proud that she remembered. Chris' heart skipped a beat, his eyes growing wide, "Big or small?" "Really big," she said, a glint of concern in her eyes, "you weren't expecting it?" "No," Chris said, "thank you though, thank you." He practically ran to the elevator, slamming his finger against the button for his floor, tapping it impatiently as the doors slid shut and he felt the car rise. He was shaking again, his entire body numb as the elevator slowly rose. He cursed the fact that suites were higher up, wanted to scream when the elevator stopped at a floor, the door sliding open to reveal an empty hallway. He pounded the "door close" button and they swooshed shut. He already has his keycard out, his fingers so sweaty he could barely keep his grip. He ran down the hallway, fumbling with it as his clumsy fingers tried to slide the thin plastic into the slot. Rushing into the room, he looked around, it was like it always was: messy and disheveled, his and Jake's hoodies and sweaters thrown across every piece of furniture. There he walked around and saw it, a bouquet of peonies on the coffee table. Modern glass vase and over a dozen huge blooms perfuming the entire suite as his breathing slowed. He grabbed a note off the table beside it, noticing that whoever delivered it had cleared the dirty coffee cups and magazines from the table. It was official Stanford University English Department stationary, the same little cards that professors would write notes to students on when they deserved congratulations or earned an accolade. He fumbled with it and read the note: "Dear Christopher, best of luck with your writing, we were notified by Knopf of your new position among their esteemed roster of writers. Stanford University is proud to list you as a noted alumnus and know that we will only hear great things from you in the future. Sincerely, the English Department." It was signed by the professors that he had studied with, every single one of them except James Chapman. It was final then, he thought. He'd never ever have to worry about packages, e-mails, or letters from James again. He leaned down to smell the flowers, clean, powdery, and fresh. Sighing, he sat down to just look at them. All that trouble, all the heartache, and all the games were done. --- Feedback? christopherrluu@gmail.com