Date: Fri, 12 May 2006 22:25:13 -0700 From: christopher. Subject: breaking through part 18 Usual disclaimers apply. This is fiction, it doesn't apply anything about Jake Gyllenhaal's sexuality or preferences, Topher Grace's, or anyone else mentioned. Don't read this if you're not allowed to, the character of Christopher Lewis is fictional, if you want to use him in a story of your own, ask. Feedback is greatly appreciated; send it to christopherrluu@gmail.com Author's Note: Thanks for the letters and ideas. Keep them coming, good or bad, I love hearing the suggestions and then working them out not only in my head, but in continuous, gadfly-like annoying e-mails. It's like a collective creative process, I love it. So let's keep doing that, read and reply. On with the show: Part XVIII "Hey, where's Jake? We were supposed to meet in the lobby half an hour ago," Chris heard, still face down on a hotel bed. He didn't know how Topher had gotten into the room, but even before his eyes opened and he could say anything, he was falling asleep again. "Chris? Do you know?" "He leaves notes on the table out there, I don't know where he is," Chris muttered, pushing himself up and pulling a string of satisfying cracks down his back. He grinned, but when he saw Topher's exasperated look, he quickly rummaged around under the sheets for his underwear, finding them somewhere near the foot of the bed. It was obvious what he and Jake had been doing, Topher didn't how long ago, but they were doing something right there in that bed. A streak of jealousy ran through his body. He watched as Chris' lithe body moved under the thin sheets, watched as he threw them off his body, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he headed out to see if Jake had left a note somewhere. Topher couldn't help but stare, eyes locked on Chris' lean chest and tight boxer-briefs, silver pinky ring glinting in the early morning light. "Topher, he said he went to get bagels," Chris said, yawning, "he also wrote that the schedule got changed around for today." "Fuck, nobody ever tells me these things," Topher said, sitting down on the bed. Chris came back in, slipping under the sheets again, bunching them up around him. It wasn't as warm as it was earlier and he couldn't find a comfortable position with Topher weighing down one side. "He'll be right back," Chris said, stretching his arms above his head, "I'm sure he'll get the changes to you." "You sleep through our early morning interviews?" Topher asked, "I thought you'd be there with us the other morning." "I had a lunch with another writer that day," Chris said, another long yawn pulling his words into long, almost incoherent sounds, "Jake taped them for me if you want to watch them." He gave up trying to go back to sleep, it was rude and Topher was going to talk to him whether he wanted to or not. He pulled the sheets off of himself again, heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Topher tried not to look at Chris' butt as he walked by, but as Chris leaned over the bathroom counter to brush his teeth, other hand lazily scratching at his shoulder, Topher thought his heart was going to stop. "Chris, they ran out of your sesame bagels," Topher heard, followed by the sound of the door closing and the click of the lock. Topher walked out to the living area, only now realizing that he hadn't gotten a suite at the hotel. "Grace," Jake said when he saw Topher, "we've got the morning off. Satellite interviews in the afternoon, did you get the message?" "Nope," Topher said, leaning against the back of the couch, "but I guess it's better late than never, right?" The sarcasm almost dripped of his every word. Chris wandered out, a white t-shirt and gym shorts on. He gave Jake a quick kiss on the cheek before reaching into the brown bag, "What did you get me then?" "Poppy seed," Jake said, reaching in for the cream cheese. "There are a few extra ones, Topher. Do you want blueberry or plain?" "Plain's fine," Topher said watching as Chris spread the soft cheese onto both his bagel and Jake's, "Were you guys out last night?" Chris reached for Topher's bagel too, "We went to Maggie's house," he said, "nothing crazy." Topher nodded, "There was a party Emmy and I went to, a few of my buddies, you guys should have come." "Maybe next time," Jake said, taking a big bite out of his bagel, "we have twenty five interviews tonight. Can you fucking believe it?" Chris nodded, the equation of five minutes times twenty-five meetings running through his head. He had two hours to write something that might be what Esquire was looking for, he just didn't know what they were expecting, his first meeting with them wasn't until later that day. Pulling his legs up to his chest, he found his ideas still too cloudy to come together. Jake had been clean-shaven every day of the movie shoot, Chris sort of thrown every time he felt the smooth skin on his own, but today he had his beard back, trimmed neatly for the cameras today. Chris was glad, even though Jake had scratchy stubble by the end of the day's shoots, he didn't like change. Topher had the beginnings of a beard too, Chris noticed. It looked good. "So are we going to meet up after the interviews or are you guys coming back here?" "I'll call you," Jake said, Chris grabbing his phone from the middle of the table to make sure it still had some power left. "It might run long, you know how Grace can be long winded." "Me?" Topher interrupted, "I'll be lucky to get a word in with you." Chris saw Jake smile, leaning back in his chair. Topher had a point. He watched silently as Jake finished off his bagel, brushing the crumbs off his dark t-shirt. Topher hated that Chris was engrossed with every little thing that Jake seemed to do, it was like there was nobody else in the room, nobody anywhere if Jake was somewhere in sight. He had gotten used to it once, he remembered a time when it was cute, but after a year, Topher found that it lost its novelty. *** Chris trusted four people. He could count them on one hand: Jake, Maggie, Vivian, and Topher. He thought about it, and maybe he could add Peter to the list, could maybe add Natalie, but he didn't see them often enough to know for sure; Vivian's relationship with him wasn't really about trust, it was more of a mandatory mutual looking out for one another. That made it three. He looked out at New York, feeling more and more comfortable with it with every visit, sort of feeling what people were talking about, the energy that seemed to seep from the asphalt and get New Yorkers through harsh winters and unbearable summers. Chris felt the wind whip around him, and he gripped his pen tight, tourists milling around him, pictures snapping and languages he couldn't recognize filling his ears. He wanted to people watch and the top of the Empire State Building seemed like the perfect place. Chris had already written a few ideas down, but people kept interrupting him, asking him to take pictures, huge smiles beaming through tiny digital screens. Chris felt the spark, he just wasn't sure where it was taking him or where it would lead. He trusted those three people to be down there on the street if he wanted to jump, he knew that if he needed something, they'd drop everything and rush to him if only he'd ask. He glanced at his watch, Jake's watch, loose on his wrist because he forgot that his watch was dead. He'd been up there for two hours and hadn't written one cohesive sentence. Shutting the journal, he slipped it into his pocket, heading towards the elevator. It was bright, but even the sun was different in New York, more whitish yellow and less gold, Chris noticed. Sliding past the tourists, he was glad he didn't get recognized, he saw two photographers he thought might be following him, but he stayed calm, ignoring them as he ducked into a bakery, breathing heavy and pulse racing. He hated it, never knew what to do if Jake wasn't there with him to take the hit. He loosened his tie, unbuttoning his shirt as the elevator slid down its tube, the weird weightless feeling pushing up his feet as it came to a stop. Jake and Topher would be at halftime if they were running long, which Chris was almost sure of. He pulled his phone out again, scrolling through some of the stuff Jake put it, hoping that he still had the address to Maggie's townhouse. He was a little overdressed from his meeting, but maybe he could get back to the suite and put on something comfortable. "Hey buddy," Peter said as he shut the door behind Chris, the house smelled like lavender and he could hear Maggie rustling upstairs, "Jake told us about everything, it's really good to hear." Chris smiled, "Yeah, everything's really good." Peter led him into the kitchen, the smell of coffee lingering in the air with the lavender, "Jake made it a big deal, you know how he is." Peter nodded, Chris noticing his long, lanky build in his t-shirt, different from Jake, different from him, a perfect fit for Maggie though. He was handsome, easygoing, and so warm that Chris couldn't help but love him like he loved Maggie. "I'm really excited to read the stuff you're writing for the magazine. I just did a shoot for them, maybe we'll be in it together." "I'm sort of stuck," Chris said, "I don't know what they want. They said I could write anything. They're being really cool about it." "Then you can write anything," Peter said, eyes fixed on Maggie as she walked into the kitchen, joining them at the table. "He's worried about having too few boundaries, Mag." "Crazy," she said, "you could balance your checkbook and people would want to read it." Chris didn't want to tell them, but he was using them, soaking in their mannerisms, the subtle looks they gave each other and the way they seemed to say everything they needed to say without talking. He wanted to write something for them, a thank you for everything they'd done for him, but he wanted to make it really personal, more intimate than anything he'd ever tried, he wanted to write something as elegant and quirky as they were. "Let me see it." Chris yanked it off his finger, it wasn't something he did much except when he did the dishes or washed his hands, always holding it tenderly between his lips when it wasn't on his finger. Maggie held it up to the light, "This isn't silver, Chris, Jake went all out. It's really cute." "Wait, what?" Peter asked, snatching it out of her hand. "Oh," he said, feeling its weight, "platinum." Surprised, Chris looked at it closer after Peter slipped it back on his pinky, "He goes all out for everything, I guess." Maggie noticed that there had been a subtle change in Chris, Jake had mentioned something about him talking about what was in his head more often, only sometimes it wasn't with Jake. She wasn't sure what he was talking about, Chris talking to the beach sounded ridiculous, but she was also sure that she wasn't getting the entire story. Jake had been too frantic. "Jake is going to be working all afternoon, what are you two doing?" "Babysitting," Maggie joked. *** "What are you doing out here on the stoop?" Jake asked, taking a seat next to Chris. He leaned his head against Jake's shoulder, "People watching," Chris said, though there weren't that many people to watch in Maggie's quiet neighborhood. Jake's interviews ran an hour late and Chris wasn't surprised. "And Maggie didn't give me a key, so I couldn't get back in." He had planned to write something while they were out, but when he sat down to do it, nothing was coming out. As if cued, Maggie and Peter rounded the corner, groceries in hand, a cigarette sticking out of Peter's mouth. He spit it out as soon as he saw then, grinding it under his boot before Jake rushed up to help them. "Sorry Chris, didn't think we'd be that long," Maggie said as Chris grabbed the loaf of bread from under her arm. "You guys are staying for dinner, got it?" Peter opened the door and Chris went in last, glancing over his shoulder to have one last glance of New York, trying to feel the beat of the street, the energy of the asphalt, but instead, he felt the love that he got from the people he trusted. Inside, he sat at the kitchen counter, he and Peter watching as Jake cooked and Maggie helped, journal open but nothing coming out. Peter glanced down at the blank page, "You write about us?" "Not you," Chris said, Jake and Maggie freezing for just a moment to hear the answer too, "just whatever comes out from listening and watching you. Sort of like what happens when musicians jam. Whatever comes out comes out and you have to go back later to polish it up." Jake pretty much knew how it worked, but hearing Chris say it only made him think about things he'd already read. "I'm not going to write that I saw you pick your nose or anything, Peter, don't worry." Peter's smile was warm, his eyes wrinkling at the corners when he smiled and grinned. He and Jake were brothers now, which sort of made Chris and Peter brothers too. He wrote 'brothers' in his journal, Peter's eyes focusing intently at his hands, not Jake and Maggie's. "So from that one word, what's going to happen when you're at your computer?" "Magic," Jake interrupted. "No, well, sort of," Chris said, explaining his writing system to Peter as he watched Jake and throw together a salad as Maggie slid something into the oven. Peter listened closely, nodding as Chris described how words grew out of one another organically in his head, how one thing sort of led to another. Jake leaned over, fingers messing up Chris' hair when he thought things were getting too serious, reminding him that he wasn't at a seminar--he was with friends. No, Chris thought, he was with the family he'd been missing for so long. Chris set the table, recognizing the wine glasses as his and Jake's gift from the wedding; the glasses were simple, but they were heavier than he thought they looked online, he was glad that they were using them. He set the four places and lit the candles before he felt Jake hugging him from behind. Straightening everything one last time was forgotten as Jake's nose went burrowing into his neck, "I'm so glad you're with me on this press tour," he said, "I'd be going crazy without you." He turned to kiss Jake, hand running over his jaw, thumb running over the stubble he loved so much. He wanted to be with Jake more than anything, but he had never felt so distracted before, getting to know Peter better and dealing with magazine writing, both totally different from anything he'd done before. He missed the beach already, missed the smell of salt lingering in the air. "You'd be doing just fine," Chris said, "I'd be the crazy one." "Enough of that," Peter said as they separated. Chris blushed, turning around to make sure the table looked okay. Jake threw an arm over his shoulder, lips grazing Chris' temple. It settled Chris' racing mind, bringing him back to what was important--what was happening right then and there. Maggie brought out the food, Peter right behind her with a bottle of wine, and as they all sat down, Maggie's smile couldn't be any bigger, "You guys have no idea how happy this makes me," she said, "I've got all my boys together." Chris loved it, he'd spent such a long time finding a place where he fit in, a place where he was comfortable, and he was pretty sure he'd found it right at this table with these people, "Ok, tell me how he did it, Christopher. I want every detail." Peter poured everyone a glass of wine and Chris leaned forward, Jake's smile sparkling in the candlelight, "So I was working and when I walked back into the house there were all these candles, white ones. It was more candles than I've ever seen..." *** Chris stared at his computer, hands at the ready, his journal open just inches from his right hand. Everything was just like it'd be in the studio back at home, but here he was, sitting in his pajamas even though he just had lunch, the New York skyline right out his window and all he had was a blank page, cursor blinking and not a single word coming out. Getting out of the chair, he pushed the room service cart out into the hall, getting away from the computer to let his mind get into the mode it was normally in. He sat back down, the stark white word-processing screen still there with noting on it. Chris reached for his phone, no word from Jake, not that he was expecting anything. He tapped his fingers on the table, left hand reaching up to scratch his head. Groaning, he shut the laptop, elbows slamming on to the table, face in his hands. He let out a long sigh, all this so foreign to him that he didn't know what was going on. He flipped through his journal, nothing really catching his interest from the past few days. Shaking his head, he stood up, pulling off his t-shirt. He needed a shower and he'd go out to the city. Maybe today would be the day that inspiration struck him, he just had to get out there and let it happen. An hour later, he was sitting in Central Park, the splashing sound of Bethesda fountain ringing in his ears as he sat there, helping tourists take pictures and writing what he hoped would come together and mean something, Esquire wouldn't like it if he just sent in his people watching observations. They wanted something witty, something clever, and more than anything, something that made people buy the magazine. His name wasn't going to be enough; he had to back it up with a piece that made people want to read the second piece and then the third one. It was more pressure than he was used to and he hated it. He wanted to write what he wanted, not what sold magazines. He hoped that he could find something that did both, but sitting there with nothing coming out wasn't getting him anywhere. He got up and headed towards the street, the fountain crowd was too noisy, but as he looked down to put his journal away, he slammed into someone, both of them flying to the ground, Chris landing hard on his ass. "Jesus Christ," he said, getting back to his feet, "watch where you're going." "Chris? No way." It was Eric. Chris never ever thought they'd see each other again, even though he'd searched for an e-mail address when his book was coming out. "Your last name isn't De la Coeur," Chris said brushing the dirt off his ass, "I tried to get you to do my new book." Chris let it fly out, forgetting all about pleasantries. "Pseudonym," Eric said, "Miller is too boring. I didn't know you had a new book out, I'm not into that scene anymore." "Released a few weeks ago," Chris said, "I found another artist to do it." "What are you doing back in the city?" "Working," Chris said, the last thing he wanted to do was bring up Jake, "I have to get going. I hope everything's good with you." "I would have done it if you asked," Eric said, "are you still fucking Donnie Darko?" "I've got to go," Chris said, rolling his eyes. Jealousy and bitterness still seemed to be Eric's trademarks and Chris found it disgusting, childish at best. "Sorry for bumping into you. I really am." "Fuck, Chris, we literally run into each other and you just leave? Come on, running back to Jake?" "Shut up, Eric," Chris said, his voice petulant, "I have to write, you go back to your cereal boxes. I don't have anything to say to you anymore." "You walked out on me over and over and I still want to talk to you. Think about it," Eric said, "do you still drink coffee?" He was determined, Chris had to give that to him, but Chris didn't want anything to do with him anymore. When he called Parsons for some contact information, they didn't have his name on record and he gave up. He didn't press even though he knew Eric would create an amazing cover. Eric may have wanted to catch up and talk, but Chris felt the tickle of an idea in his fingers, the anger from the entire situation filling him with the traces of ideas, something he could work with for sure. "I never ever think about you, Eric," it sounded cold and heartless, "sorry, but it's the truth. It didn't mean anything." "I'm not letting you walk away from me again," Eric said, turning his back, "now it's your turn to see what it feels like." Chris watched as he walked away, the audacity of it all hitting him hard. He pulled out his journal and sat right back down on the floor, right where he had fallen down. His hand flew across the paper, ink smearing because he was moving so fast, but he had something, something fiery and urgent that just needed to get out. It felt good, he wasn't going to deny it, it felt really good. *** Chris and Jake walked down the street, completely ignoring the photographers that seemed to mill around them whether they were apart or together, going to museums or going for coffee. Jake hated putting Chris through it, but they weren't going to be quarantined to the hotel room. Chris was tense, hands deep in his pockets and posture unsure. Jake seemed to look angry in all the pictures that were showing up lately, dark sunglasses obscuring what Chris knew were fiery eyes. Sliding into a store, Chris let out a long sigh, they weren't as obtrusive as the ones in LA, but they were still there. Chris and Jake liked eating on the patio, but that wasn't something they did anymore because of the photographers, they liked walking around the city, but now that the press caught wind of them, they couldn't even do that. Chris wanted everything to be back to how it was before, but that couldn't happen. Without the intrusive press coverage, he probably wouldn't have gotten the Esquire deal; he wasn't going to kid himself. "I'm at J. Crew," Chris said into his phone, Jake turned to see who he was talking to, not realizing his phone had rung, "hiding." Jake leaned up against a table as he waited for Chris to finish, eye focused outside to see if the photographers had gone, "Topher says that some stuff got switched around again." "Why didn't he call me?" Jake asked. Chris shrugged, "He said that they should fax the changes to the room for Monday." Jake watched as some of the photographers gave up, nothing was more generic than shopping at J. Crew and if Jake could find some sort of back exit, he and Chris could lose them for the time being. Chris followed him, hand running over the soft sweaters as he walked past them and out the back, finally getting some semblance of normalcy. The West Village was Chris' favorite part of New York aside from Museum Row, it was quirky and welcoming, completely different from Manhattan proper. Jake grabbed his hand as the walked and Chris could feel how tense he was. He looked up at Jake's face, lips tight and jaw stiff. "Fuck, Chris. If we have to do that one more time I'm going to kill someone." "It's not a big deal," Chris lied. It seemed like the right thing to say, "What can we do about it?" "We're going back to the hotel," Jake said, "I can't deal with this right now." Chris followed, Jake's strides quick and angry the entire way back, it was a long walk but it gave them time to think and to talk, Jake had to deal with the press all day during promotion, he didn't want to deal with them in his off-time. As they got into the elevator, he pulled Chris into a strong hug, "I told you I'd go crazy if you weren't here." Chris opened the door to their suite, tossing the contents of his pockets onto the table as Jake went to the bathroom to splash water on his face. His phone, and his journal all clanged against the wood, his chapstick rolling off the table onto the floor. Groaning, Chris got down onto his knees, hands scrambling under the table for the tiny tube. He grasped it and got up, slamming top of his head against the table and sending papers flying. He rubbed his head as he got up, picking up the faxes and memos that littered the floor now. His eyes ran over them all: meetings, schedule changes, breakdowns for interviews, and surprisingly, some stuff for him. Scanning the papers, he saw that he'd gotten a fax from Esquire saying their meeting went well, a note from Joe Trask wishing him luck and even more surprising, an apology from Eric. He didn't know how Eric found out, but figured the pictures of he, Topher, and Jake leaving the hotel just about every morning would have clued someone in. Chris tossed them all into the trash, distractions would take away from his writing and now that he'd hit his stride, he didn't want anything to obstruct it. Jake came out and helped him straighten up, tossing a bunch of papers into the trash too, "Nothing new, right?" "Just junk," Chris said, throwing some more paper into the trash, "is everything okay?" Jake sat down on the couch, if Chris had to ask, there was definitely something wrong, "You're not happy, are you?" Chris froze, a chill running down his back as he let Jake's words mull in his head. He walked over behind Jake, hands resting on Jake's shoulder as he sat on the couch. "I'm with you. That's all I need." "But you'd be happier," Jake said, "if we weren't in New York. You can say it, you don't have to though, because I can tell." Chris walked around and sat down on the couch with Jake, sighing as Jake pulled their bodies together. "No, yesterday was one of the best days I can remember," Chris said, "and if I was at home, I wouldn't have been able to have that," Jake nodded, their fingers intertwined as Chris kept talking, "and I think I have my first idea, it wouldn't have come to me at home. You don't have to worry about me, Jake. You have your job and I have mine." "This isn't about work, Chris, I just wanted us to be together," Jake said, "there's four more cities after this." "And I'll be there, all four," Chris said, kissing Jake on the cheek, forehead pressing against Jake's temple, "you're stuck with me." "You said you got an idea today?" Jake asked, his body relaxing and his voice optimistic. "Yeah, something I think a lot of people will like," Chris said, "you want to hear about it?" "Are you kidding me?" Jake asked as Chris went over to get his journal, "I'd love to." *** "Hi, thanks for waiting in line," Chris said, "do you want me to make it out to you or just sign?" "For Alexis," the girl said, her voice shaky, "I just wanted to say that you're my favorite writer, I've read everything you've written at least five times, just over and over again." "That's awesome, you don't know what that means to a writer," Chris said, blushing, "To Alexis, All the best, Christopher. How's that?" "It's perfect! Thank you so much," she said, eyes wide as she looked at the page. "This is the last person," Vivian said, leaning over to get right into Chris' ear, "you've already stayed over almost two hours more than you were supposed to." "If they're waiting for me, the least I can do is sign the books," Chris said as he signed the next book, "I don't have anything to do." "The line's only got maybe twenty or thirty, maybe forty more people," Vivian said, "you're almost done." "Then I'm almost done," Chris said, "what's another twenty minutes if I'm already messing up the schedule? Hi, thanks for waiting in line, sorry about that." "I have this poster too, can you sign it?" the next person asked, "my name's Patrick." "Sure," Chris said, unraveling the poster. It was the one of he and Natalie in the library, the same one he ripped from the wall at Stanford, "Wow. This is awesome," he said as he scribbled his name right by his head, tossing the drained Sharpie with the other four he'd dried up on the far side of the table. He handed it over to Patrick as he signed the book. He'd been signing for two hours, his hand sore and his signature getting progressively sloppier. He had smiled for pictures, shook more hands than he could count, and signed everything from DVDs of Independence Day to his Vanity Fair cover and even a Japanese edition of Blue Eyes Blue. He couldn't sign with his trademark fountain pen anymore now that there were more than just books waiting for him. The line moved slowly because he liked to make small talk with everyone, the bookstore staff and Vivian trying their best to speed things along and his newfound loquaciousness just ruining everything they were doing. "Thank you so much for coming." This was the biggest crowd he'd ever drawn, surprising not only himself, but Vivian and the reps from Knopf that she told, too. "I've never known you to be such a talker," Vivian said. "You want me to be just sign books and not even say 'hello' to people?" Chris asked, shaking the next person's hand, "Hollywood teaches you a thing or two." "Your phone is ringing," Vivian whispered into his ear, "it's Jake." "Can you hold the line for a second, he's probably wondering why I'm running so late." Vivian walked down the line, Chris didn't hear what she was saying, but there wasn't panic or hysteria, so Chris wasn't worried. Getting up and taking a few steps away from the line, he put the phone to his ear, other hand fixing his hair, like Jake could see him through the phone, "Hey." "Are you going to be back soon?" Jake asked, Chris could tell he was tired, slightly stressed. "I'm almost done, just a few more people and however long it takes me to get back from Union Square, are you just going to hang out the rest of the night?" "I didn't have any plans," Jake said, "I miss you." "I miss you, too. I'll be done soon. I love you." "Love you, too. I'm proud, Chris, really am." Jake said before shutting his phone, throwing it onto the bedside table. He let out a sigh, arms stretching as he tried to shake the stiffness from sitting down for so long. "Let's get this done," Chris said, a newfound energy coursing through his body. When the last person came up, Chris couldn't sign his name fast enough, posing for a picture, his cheeks tired from smiling and talking. He shook his last hand and Vivian had him in a cab in no time at all, glad to have put a few smiles on peoples' faces, but also glad that he was done. He unbuttoned his shirt, white undershirt underneath letting in some air as the cab sped through Manhattan. Chris thought could never get used to it, the big city and all the people, but after the signing and what the city had given him, literally slammed into him, he thought that maybe New York wasn't as bad as he thought it was. *** Jake had food on the table by the time he was back, the room service at the hotel the best Chris could remember, especially the dessert. "I'm too full, Jake, I can't finish it," Chris said as Jake pointed the fork his way, a huge chunk of chocolate cake on its end. "It's the last bite," Jake said, waving the fork at him, "I had most of it." Chris tried to grab the fork from Jake, but Jake fed him the last bit, Chris reluctantly savoring the rich chocolate. "I'm not going to be able to move for a while," Chris said, leaning back in his chair. Jake loved trying new food, but that usually led to ordering too much for two people, especially when Chris normally didn't eat dessert. "You'll have to carry me to bed." He saw Jake grin, sipping the last of his wine before putting the dishes back on the room service cart, his movements as slow as Chris felt. Chris tossed his napkin onto the stack of plates before pulling his journal out of his bag, sitting down on the couch as he heard the clack of plates as Jake rolled the cart into the hall. "Did you think about your idea story today?" Jake asked, standing at Chris' feet, eyes watching Chris flip through the pages of his journal. "It sounded pretty good, I'd read it." "You don't count," Chris said, reading over what he'd written down that morning before the signing, "but thanks." "I count for something," Jake said, "I'm not nobody." He leaned down, lips passing over Chris' cheek, hands pushing Chris' journal aside as their lips connected, Chris' hand reaching for Jake's neck. He could taste the sweet bitterness of the red wine on Jake's tongue, his eyes closing as Jake moved in closer, his legs spreading apart. He could feel Jake's heartbeat against his palms, his lips frantic as they collided. Chris pulled Jake's shirt off, hands running over his warm skin as Jake kissed down his neck, hands reaching to get Chris' shirt off too, feeling Chris shiver as he kissed down his chest. Shuddering, Chris let his hands rest on Jake's shoulders, his lips kissing and nipping their way down his chest and stomach. Jake unhooked Chris' slacks, the light fabric sliding easily over his skin and down to his ankles. Chris shut his eyes, he couldn't watch, it was too much to see Jake pull down his underwear, lips sliding over his length right before Jake took it in his mouth, a long hiss escaping his lips, fingers clutching at Jake's hair. Slowly, Jake licked up his cock, low pants and groans falling from Chris' mouth before Jake moved down to his balls, Chris biting his lip as it got harder and harder to breathe. Jake pulled off, grasping Chris' hand in his own as he caught his breath, kissing the base of Chris' cock as he watched Chris' head toss from side to side, every muscle in his neck and chest tense. Jake plunged back down, sending chills up Chris' back, tasting pre-cum as his fingers gently tugged at Chris' balls. Chris risked spontaneous combustion and opened his eyes, hands shaky as he looked down to see Jake's blue eyes intense, their eyes locking and Chris freezing, everything rigid and tense as he held Jake still and shot, eyes slamming shut and his knuckles white on Jake's shoulders. His jaw shuddered and his head rolled back, breathing ragged and irregular. Jake smiled, kissing his way back up Chris' chest, shuffling and rearranging their bodies so that Chris was on top of him, his tongue darting into Jake's mouth. His hands ran down Jake's chest, his own still heaving, shaky but limber fingers pulling down Jake's jeans and wrapping around his cock, slippery pre-cum on his fingers and sliding down Jake's shaft. "You still had room for some more," Chris whispered, almost purred into Jake's ear. He saw Jake smile, pushing off his jeans. Chris heard them fall to the floor as he kissed Jake's neck, Jake's own hands running up his back. "I can't get enough of you," Jake said, bringing their lips together again. Chris' eyes shut again, his cock growing hard again as Jake's rubbed up against it, his hands still on Jake's shoulders. Chris groaned as Jake slipped a slick finger in him, "And I can't get enough of this," Jake whispered, nibbling Chris' ear. He worked his finger in, feeling Chris gasp and shudder when he crooked it, his head falling down onto Jake's shoulder. He ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back as Jake pulled them up, Chris straddling his hips. Jake trailed kisses up Chris' chest, lips connecting as Chris sunk down on his cock, his legs flexed as he slowly lowered, holding his breath. Jake watched, eyes wide as Chris' entire body seemed to just mesh with his own, every curve of their bodies fitting together perfectly, Chris' eyes shut and his jaw tight. Jake's hands settled on the small of Chris' back, feeling the tight muscles relax, everything from their breathing to their heartbeats seemed completely synchronized. Jake leaned back, eyes heavy-lidded as he watched Chris move up and down, his cock trapped in the tight channel of Chris' ass and his body tingling with the dual sensation of fucking and Chris' tongue on his neck. Chris' hands ran over his chest, thumbs sliding over nipples as he leaned down, lapping at Jake's neck as his hands felt the slick scratchiness of Jake's chest. Groaning, he felt Jake pull his body closer, lips attaching to his left nipple, a long hiss coming from his mouth as he threw his head back. He was tingling all over, breathing erratic as Jake's cock stretched him open with every movement. Jake's lips moved all over his body, one second reaching up for his neck and the next he felt Jake's tongue darting to tickle his collarbone. He finally had to reach for Jake's face, hands on his jaw as he brought their lips together for just a few seconds before he let out a strained groan, forehead leaning against Jake's shoulder as he tried to absorb all the sensations. Breathing heavily and the entire room weighed down with the moist heat of their bodies, Jake could hardly breathe, hands idly holding Chris' hips as they moved, slow and steady but every so often pausing so that Jake's cock hit him right there, his entire body shuddering and his breath catching. Jake pulled Chris' lips to his own, feeling the smooth skin, warm tongues sliding together as their bodies seemed to run on reflex and instinct, Jake's head falling back on the couch, cords on his neck exposed as Chris kissed them, hands running down his chest and thumbs idly running over nipples again. A bolt shot through Jake, his eyes opening again to see Chris' face, hands sliding down soft skin to his thighs, muscles tight. He wrapped his arms around Chris' back, moving them down, Chris on his back as Jake pushed in, a long groan meeting Chris' short grunt, his cock burying itself again in the velvety heat. Chris eyes shut this time, Jake watching intently as every push and pull elicited a groan or a light squeeze at his arm, Chris hand resting on his flexed bicep. Jake thrust faster, deeper, his eyes feeding his body's need for release, everything from his toes to his head awash with an insatiable need to let go. Chris' hand reached for his cock, strokes determined and quick, hard and rigid as he got closer and closer. His hand froze and Jake watched as spurts of cum shot from his cock, landing on his chest as his asshole clutched at Jake's dick, his thrusts more irregular, stopping to feel the squeeze and thrusting to keep them going, his eyes slammed shut and his entire body went rigid, cum shooting deep into Chris, a shudder moving down the length of his body. Chris clutched Jake's cheeks, mouth desperate for something, anything to bring him back to Earth. His heart raced and he felt like his body was on fire, but Jake's strong frame settling on top of his seemed to slow everything down, his own body still shivering. Chris ran his hands through Jake's sweaty hair, down his neck and settling on his shoulders, broad and tense even though they were calming down. He laid back, relaxing at the feel of Jake nuzzle into his neck, a sigh falling from his lips. *** Chris hadn't ridden his bike back in Santa Barbara for a long time, Jake's had a flat tire and they had never gotten around to fixing it, but when they rented bikes in Central Park and he felt the wind through his hair and the sun on his shoulders, he was going to make sure that Jake got that tire patched as soon as they got a chance. He loved it, Jake pedaling beside him, the easy movement and the almost instant rush that he got from riding. "Do you know where we're going?" Chris asked, eyes forward, "we've been going for a while." "We can't get lost, it's just a park, we'll end up where we started," Jake said, eye on the reservoir as they sped down the trail, "you can't write while you're biking, but look at all the people we're passing." It was hard not to, there were so many. Chris wanted to ride forever, his head spinning with ideas for his story with every passing sight. "I love it," Chris said, smiling wide. It was the most fun they'd ever had in the city, something they could do together and not worry about the photographers or work. Chris looked around, everything a blur or a streak while they pedaled and whizzed by the trees and the fountains, people jogging or walking their dogs and others tossing Frisbees on the green grass. Coming to a stop across from the hotel, Jake was right, they ended up right where they started. Chris unzipped his tight jacket, using the hem of his t-shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow, he was tired but felt full of energy at the same time. They walked their bikes across the street and returned them to the hotel, grateful for the morning off and that they'd be leaving soon, one city down, four to go. Chris leaned against the cool brass on the rail of the elevator, peeling his fingerless gloves from his hands and shoving them into the pockets of his jacket. He helped Jake with his helmet, running his fingers through sweaty hair, matted from the ride. As the elevator dinged and they got off, Jake grabbed his hand, the entire floor empty except for Topher, who was walking towards them, "That where you are." "People watching on wheels," Chris said, accepting a hug and hoping that Topher knew that he was sweaty and stinky. A hearty slap on Jake's shoulder and he turned around to walk with them, "There was a note on your door, I slipped it under when I saw." "From who," Jake asked, pulling the keycard from his pocket. "E?" Topher said, confused, "it was for Chris, it said 'C' either way." Chris didn't have to see the note to know who it was from. Jake swung the door open and he picked it up: "C-- Meet me at the coffee shop on 59th and Lex. Noon. --E." He crumbled it up and tossed it in the trash. "It's not important," Chris said, tossing his jacket onto the back of a chair. Topher sat down at the table, they had one last stop in New York and they'd be done. Press conferences were easy, fast, and with Jake doing a lot of the talking, Topher figured they'd have most of the afternoon free. "I have work to do anyway." "Are you going to call the person to let them know?" Jake asked, kicking off his shoes. He needed a shower before they'd go anywhere, "It's half past eleven." "They'll get the picture," Chris said softly as Jake walked to the bathroom, "He was supposed to go over stuff with you, wasn't he? We just found out about the bike rentals this morning, we couldn't resist, got all this stuff this morning," he said, motioning to the new jackets and helmets. "No big deal," Topher said, "we're good at thinking on our feet. I'm glad you guys are having fun." "You are too, I heard you went out the other night," Chris said, "publicists talk. I just overhear." "Yeah, it was okay," Topher said, scratching at his own stubble, too lazy to shave that morning, "I know it's not what you're into but you should try it out once in a while." "We went to that club in LA together, remember? I wasn't the best company." "We all have our bad nights," Topher said, smiling, "you just needed a few drinks. And Jake." Topher watched Chris' tight muscles under his thin t-shirt as he laughed, recalling that they'd both been too shy to dance and it was too loud and crowded to even if they wanted to. Jake had been doing voiceovers or something; Chris couldn't remember why he wasn't there. He swore he'd avoid those sort of places forever, grateful Jake was a homebody and preferred watching cooking shows to dancing on tables and getting drunk. "The premiere is tonight, right?" "Yeah, the New York premiere is. LA one is next week," Topher said, "you're coming, right?" Chris had been scarce lately, Topher remembered him saying that he'd wait backstage sometimes, go to Jake's press events just so that they'd be together, but this time around, he was working too, writing and researching on his own while Topher and Jake worked to promote the movie. Chris nodded, suddenly remembering that he'd forgotten to bring nice clothes. He'd have to go get something while Jake and Topher were at the press conference. "You and Jake can't be having all the fun." *** "It drives me crazy seeing you in my clothes," Jake said, arms wrapping around Chris' chest, fingers running over his thin t-shirt. "Mmmm," Chris said, leaning back into his body, "I'd say the same thing, but you stretch out all my sweaters." Jake chuckled, lips grazing the back of Chris' neck. "But they look good on you when you're in them." Jake ran his hands up Chris' arms, Chris completely forgetting about the magazine spread out in front of him. Three cities and three weeks later, he had his first short story in print for Esquire. He hadn't shown Jake yet, he'd only gotten a copy that morning at the newsstand across the street from the hotel. Jake's hands pulled him up out of his chair, turning him around to kiss his lips, "When we get back home," Jake said, "and there's the beach and the sun again, I promise we'll get some time alone without having to get up early the next day." Chris nodded and rested his chin on Jake's shoulder, "and I promise we're going to take a break, just you and me." Chris had heard it before, Jake said he'd take a break but they both knew he wouldn't if something came along. Chris couldn't complain though, he was the exact same way. Sighing, Chris let himself settle into Jake's body, feeling the warmth of his chest and his steady breathing. They'd conquered New York, visited Maggie before the premiere in LA, flew to Chicago for more press, and landed in Seattle as a thank you to the city that helped them out, giving them the setting for what proved to be one of the hardest movies Jake had ever done. He was proud of it, but he'd never forget what he had to go through to get that performance. He still didn't know if it was worth it. Chris had been writing the entire time, watching people and writing, sitting alone and writing as Jake, Topher, and Emmy worked publicity. "What are you reading?" Jake asked, glancing over Chris' shoulder, "Dreaming in Digital? Is that your story?" "Hot off the presses," Chris said, reaching behind himself to pick it up. "That picture's awesome," Jake said, eyes scanning the text and then looking at the picture of Chris, wearing a black sweater under a dark suit, looking lean and sharp as he pushed through a revolving door, the faint reflection of paparazzi in the glass around him. It was witty, it was cheeky, and more than anything, Chris looked confident and sure, a wry smile on his face. "You're amazing," Jake said, "really amazing." Blushing, Chris pulled the magazine out of Jake's hands, slipping it back on the table, "You know I can't take it when you read right in front of me." Jake rolled his eyes and let it go, knowing that it was one of the things Chris was most adamant about. He watched as Chris pushed the magazine across the table, "You can read it later. When I'm far away from you." "Hey, everything's okay, right? I know going to city after city isn't your thing, but we got through it," Jake said. "I got two stories out of it, maybe three," Chris said, hand running over Jake's arm, "and I would have been miserable at home without you." Jake leaned in for a kiss, their lips brushing over each other's gently, Chris' hands sliding up to Jake's chest, palms resting on warm flesh, "you inspired me just like you said you would." "The last thing I want to do is disappoint you," Jake said, "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did." Chris pulled away, "I'm going to take a shower. Read it and I'll pack everything up before we have to get out of here. One more stop and we're on our way home." Jake pulled out a chair and sat down, flipping the magazine open as he heard the shower run, Chris had cracked the spine so it opened right up to the story, the glossy picture of Chris facing his story, strong black letters against the glossy white paper, Jake dove in. *** "It's a story, Jake. It's nothing like that," Chris said, struggling to shut his suitcase. "I know how you write," Jake said, pulling the suitcase over and snapping the buckles shut. Chris shot a glance at him, "you write what you've gone through." "These pieces are different Jake, I was looking at people on the street. You were there," Chris said, trying his best to contain the anger that was welling up inside of him. Jake had no right to suggest anything. "The story is like...charged with something that I don't think you've dealt with before." "Jake, just because I wrote about someone being unfaithful doesn't mean that I was or that I am," Chris said, his voice eerily calm, "I've been with you just about every minute of every day." "I know. I'm not saying you did, I'm saying you might been thinking about it and I don't like that." "For the story, Jake, not for anything else," Chris said. They were almost done packing, just a few shoes lying around the suite and coats that they needed to put in a separate suitcase, "I can't believe you're even angry." "I'm not angry, I'm just asking you to explain why you'd write a story like this. I can see the main character in you, but you made him do things you'd never do." "He doesn't do anything. It's all in his head. It's all imaginary," Chris said, "he just feels like he's doing things because he takes pictures for tourists." "I don't want to get into it," Jake said, stomping out to the living room to grab the stray shoes. "You brought it up," Chris said, pulling the suitcase out of the bedroom, "you can't just leave it like this. You've never questioned my writing before, or me." "I've never known you to burn your work either," Jake said, "I didn't read what you wrote in that one." "I told you what was in it," Chris said, watching as Jake tossed their shoes into a duffle bag, "you don't believe me?" "Last time, you gave me the journal and it was just a kiss. What the fuck did you do down there if you had to burn the thing? How bad was it the first time down that you couldn't tell me the whole story?" Chris was taken aback, he didn't want to relive anything that happened in Palo Alto, but here Jake was, pulling it out of him again. "I already told you what happened, Jake, I don't want to go over it again. You said you didn't want to remember, that you didn't want me to remember." "You told me that you filled up that entire journal and then we only talked for half an hour. There was more in there than you told me," Jake said, no longer trying to hide his anger, "yeah, it was hard, I understand that, but you've got to let me in. I saw what happened down there with my own eyes. He does something to you." "I don't want to go there," Chris said, "I don't want anyone to go there." Jake walked up to Chris, his body suddenly seemed towering and overbearing, "Let me in here," he said, finger at Chris' temple; Chris could almost hear the blood coursing through him, "and let me in here," he said, finger trailing down to Chris' heart. Jake had wanted to say that for a long time, it had been bottled up inside him since he'd given Chris the ring, since he'd promised forever, since Chris started divulging information bit by bit. He was impatient, though, he wanted it all at once, wanted to take the pain away from Chris in one moment and not draw it out any longer. Chris didn't say anything. He looked at Jake, blue eyes wide and pleading, tinged with fury. He couldn't stand it, turning around, entire body shaking. Jake had never asked him to do anything he didn't want to do before, never pushed him beyond his comfort zone, and now he was doing just that. Chris didn't like to talk about himself, didn't want to be painted a victim of anything, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was exactly what was happening. He sat down on the couch, feeling Jake's eyes follow him as he buried his face in his hands, breaths coming long and heavy. "I can't right now, Jake," he said softly, "you just have to believe me." "You have a fourteen hour flight to think about it," Jake said, "but I swear by the time we get to London, you've got to be ready." --- Feedback? christopherrluu@gmail.com