Date: Fri, 26 May 2006 18:05:41 -0700
From: christopher. <christopherrluu@gmail.com>
Subject: breaking through part 20

Usual disclaimers apply.  This is fiction, I don't know them, I'm not
implying anything about them, don't read this if you're jailbait, you know
the drill.

Author's Note: A special thanks to Carter who read both drafts of this
chapter and got back to me really quick with the feedback.  Proofreading is
a dirty job.  Thanks to everyone who wrote in pleading for answers,
suggesting various tactics for killing the vulture that broke Chris and
Jake up, and telling me just how to lose yourself without leaving a paper
trail.  It's all quite fascinating and I loved reading every single email.
I hope that this chapter is everything you guys wanted and more, but if not
send a message to christopherrluu@gmail.com and I'll get back to you.

I am making the big switch from PC to Mac soon, so there may be a slight
delay in the posting of the next chapter while I try to figure anything
out.  Send me tips on that too, I'll need it.

Thanks to everyone who nominated me for the Boyband Story Awards 2006, I'm
up for Best Non-Boyband Story, votes can be sent to Jason Phillip at
bsbisstill1@yahoo.com.  Tell him something like "Christopher's story is too
awesome not to win an award."  Thanks.

Part XX

     Jake walked through the terminal slowly, he had almost an hour to get
across the airport before he had to get on another plane; there wasn't a
rush.  He dragged his suitcases behind him, hoping that he hadn't left
anything behind in any of the hotels he'd been staying in.  It didn't feel
like it, they were so heavy, laden with sweaters and jeans shoved in with
the suits that he'd been wearing for publicity things.  They'd all be
sorted out back at home.  He didn't want to think about it though; it was
something Chris always did, Jake remembering how he'd meticulously separate
clothes ready to be sent to the dry-cleaners, another mound of whites, and
another huge stack of jeans and other dark things.  It was a ritual Chris
did every time they got home, his own way of marking a homecoming.  Jake
had switched his flight, getting the earliest flight home he could to try
to catch Chris back at the house.  It was a stretch, with so many flights
going out with so many places for possible layovers, but he just got the
quickest route: London to New York to Los Angeles.  Last minute
ticket-buyers couldn't be choosy, but it was easy enough, and when Jake
stepped out of the shower that morning to see Chris' white luggage gone, he
just wanted to get as far away from London as he could.

     He wanted to kill Topher, his fists clenching every time the thought
came to him.  Chris had never been so vulnerable before, and just swooping
down for the kill, Topher transformed from a noble friend to a vulture in a
single heartbeat.  Chris slipped out of Jake's fingers and fell right into
his lap.  He reran the situation over in his head over and over, wondering
what he could have done differently, what he could have said so that things
didn't turn out the way they did.  Every minute detail was still there in
his head, from the mistakes he'd made to the words Chris shot back, he
could recall everything in vivid memories.  He sighed; the flight and the
layover gave him time to run it through, but the image of Chris lying on
Topher's bed, hand and body naked under the white sheet, that was what kept
popping up.  He didn't have to ask what had happened, it was all right
there in front of him.  It was the last thing he wanted to imagine, but it
was what kept coming up in his head, whether he wanted it to or not.

     Jake sat down; even walking slowly he'd managed to get to the terminal
early.  Everyone around him was so busy that nobody paid him any attention;
he was just another guy waiting for another plane, another guy with his
iPod and book, nothing special.  He wondered how many other people were
hoping to get home to avert disaster, how many of them were fidgeting
absentmindedly because they had to get home to tell someone that they'd
fucked up, how many of them were angry and scared at the same time because
someone they loved fucked up.  He didn't know what to expect, he just
wanted to get Chris back, he knew that much.

***

     Chris couldn't stand to even look at himself, slinking out of bed and
stumbling to the bathroom, he averted his eyes from the mirror.  As the
cold water streamed down his body in the shower, he shivered, knew for
certain when he felt the ache in his muscles and the soreness all over that
he'd signed his fate.  He didn't have any more tears to cry, knowing that
Jake wouldn't want anything to do with him now.  Resigned, he shook the
water from his hair, hoping that Jake wouldn't be in the suite when he went
to get his things, if he couldn't even stand to look at himself, he didn't
want to see Jake's expression when, if, they ever saw each other again.  It
kept going through his head, how bad he wanted to open the door and go back
to Jake, how Topher said that they needed time apart, and then what ensued,
the mistake that he'd never forget.  He felt his body quivering, sliding
down the wall of the shower as he sobbed quietly.

     "He's going to leave you alone now," Topher said, leaning against the
bathroom counter.  He waited for an answer, but didn't hear anything but
the running water and heavy breathing, "it's just the two of us."  The
sound of his voice sent an uneasy chill over Chris' body.  He wanted more
than anything for Topher to just get dressed and go, wished that the call
time for their press whatever was earlier so that he wouldn't have to deal
with this song and dance.

     Sitting against the cold marble of the shower, Chris waited for a sign
that Topher was gone.  They weren't a couple, they were a mistake, and
Chris seemed to be the only one who realized it.  When he waited and still
didn't hear Topher go, he sighed, "I have to get my things, Topher," he
sighed, "and then I'm getting out of here."

     "Okay, I'll get my things together, too.  Give me ten minutes," Topher
said.

     Chris shut the shower off and reached for a towel, wrapping it around
his waist before sliding the curtain open.  Topher may have already seen
everything, but it didn't mean Chris was going to give him an invitation
for second helpings.  "I'm out of here by myself, Topher."

     "I'm going with you," Topher said, confused, "you don't really have a
place to go back in Santa Barbara."

     Chris hadn't even thought about it, he walked out and picked up his
jeans, the shirt he thought wasn't dirty last night and threw them on, his
hair still wet, "I might not have anywhere to go, Topher, but I have to go.
Santa Barbara is...I don't know, but I had it before Jake and I'll have it
after him.  It's all I've got."

     "Last night, we promised each other," Topher said, following him.  "I
said I'd take care of you."

     "We didn't promise each other anything," Chris said, exasperated, "you
were saying all those things and I kept," he stopped.  "I just lost it.  I
didn't know what I was doing or where I was."  It was the best Chris could
do to explain the weird mind and body separation that he experienced, it
was so strange, so surreal that he couldn't find the right words to talk
about it.  He didn't want it but he wanted it, he hated himself for being
so stupid, for not having more of a backbone.

     "I love you, Chris.  I really love you," Topher said, "I wasn't just
saying it.  I'll love you forever."

     Chris turned to him, saw his green eyes pleading, "I'm sorry, Topher,
but..."

     "No 'buts,' Chris," Topher said, eyes wide and confused, "why would
you go back to that?"

     "Because I love him," Chris said, "I didn't think I would after this,
but it's all I can think about.  I love him."

     "Do you really think he'll take you back?"  Topher spat out.

     Chris froze, "I don't know," he said, "but I know that I can't stay
here.  And I know..."

     "Don't say it, Chris," Topher said, "I'm not exaggerating when I say
that I've loved you since I've met you."

     "I love Jake."

     "He saw you this morning," Topher said, stepping closer, "saw you on
that bed and he couldn't stand to look at you.  He shut the door and walked
out.  I've never seen him look at you like that before."

     Chris leaned against the wall, hand running over his face.  It was
completely plausible; he just didn't want to believe it.  "You're can't
make me love you," Chris said, "I didn't choose to love Jake, it just
happened.  I didn't learn to love him and he didn't make me love him.  I
just love him, I can't explain it.  And now that I don't have it, it's all
I want."  Turning around, he couldn't bear to see Topher anymore, shutting
the door behind him, he was more lost than ever.

     He stepped out into the hall and slinked over to the room he'd shared
with Jake, sliding the keycard into the slot and grateful to hear that Jake
was in the shower.  He ran in and looked for his suitcases, not caring
about anything but what he'd already packed.  Grabbing his computer, he
breathed a sigh of relief, everything else was secondary; clothes, suits,
shoes, they could all be bought again, but his computer had his entire life
on it.  He slid it into his bag and threw it over his shoulder, walking
into the bedroom, he noticed that the bed was in perfect condition; Jake
hadn't slept in it at all.  He reached for his suitcase and pulled it out
of the bedroom, the shower shutting off as he rushed out.  He wasn't ready
for Jake yet, especially after what Topher had said.

     He barged back into Topher's suite, suitcases left in the entryway as
he stormed in, "I forgot my ring."

     "If that's all you're here for, it's on the table," Topher said, not
bother to look away from the window, "go get him.  But if you walk out that
door again, Christopher, I won't be here.  I'm done waiting for you."

     "I never meant to give you the impression of anything, Topher.  We
were just friends, you were my best friend," Chris said, "I trusted you
with everything."

     "Impressions?" Topher said, finally turning around, green eyes intense
and focused, "last night was more than an impression.  Just know that I
promised to love you and I will, even if you don't love me back.  I
wouldn't have hurt you the way he did."  It may have been true, Chris would
never know, but he knew for sure that Topher wouldn't have been able to do
what Jake did to him: inspire him, give him the support he needed, show him
a new way to look at things he saw every day.  Jake did so much for him and
Topher was only offering love, not knowing that there were so many other
things that went with it.  "What has he given up for you, Chris?  All I see
is you doing things for him and this is what you've gotten.  You left home
for him, followed him around the country and go to all these things for
him.  What does he do for you?  Think about it, it's all you."

     "He loves me, Topher," Chris said.

     "Stop saying that.  It doesn't mean anything because I love you too,"
he interrupted, "and I'd do anything for you.  I'd give you anything and
I'd give up everything."

     Chris walked into the bedroom, Topher's words too heavy for him.  He
looked desperately on the table and found the ring, teetering desperately
on one edge.  He slid it back on and looked at it for a second before
quickly sliding it off and putting it in his pocket.  He'd destroyed
everything the ring had stood for, he couldn't wear it anymore.

***

    Sliding his phone back into his bag, Chris leaned back in his cramped
airplane chair, it was more a reflex than anything else, he couldn't get
reception thirty thousand feet up.  Slowly, he willed himself to relax, to
stop thinking about what he'd done and how Jake was the last person to
deserve it.  Neither of them was right, and in the beginning, neither of
them was wrong, it seemed like a tiny mistake that blew up in their faces,
spread like a drop of ink in water.  He couldn't fix it, the problem he'd
created didn't have a solution and what had happened between he and Topher
didn't help the situation at all.  He shook his head, rubbing his temples
as he tried not to think about what Jake must have thought of him.

     He undid his seatbelt and got up out of the seat, six hours in an
aisle seat would drive him crazy if he had to sit practically still the
whole time.  He reached up to the overhead compartment, holding down the
hem of his t-shirt when it rode up, a sliver of skin exposed to anyone's
prying eyes.  Unzipping his carry-on, white like the rest of his luggage,
he pulled out the first sweatshirt that his fingers touched.  Yanking it
out, he threw it on and shut the bin, the familiar feeling of the fleecy
fabric bringing him some sense of comfort.  He looked at it closer and
realized it was one of Jake's, even though it started to get pointless
differentiating his clothes from Jake's because they wore each other's
things so often, but from just the smell of it and the way the cuffs were
worn, Chris knew it was one of Jake's favorites.  Sitting back down,
ignoring the sleeping forms around him, he brought the sleeves to his nose
and inhaled Jake's scent, eyes closed.  He wondered if he'd ever get the
chance again to just lie in bed, the smell of Jake all around him as he
nuzzled at Jake's neck or ran his hand in lazy circles over his chest.  He
remembered the days when they'd just lay there for most of the morning,
Jake's fingers in his hair as he drifted in and out of sleep.  That's what
the smell brought back, not the angry words they threw at each other, but
the times they were happy doing nothing at all.  "If I just lay here all
day," Chris would whisper, "would you lay with me and just forget
everything?"  Jake would smile, nodding as he kissed his neck, bringing a
smile to Chris' face every single time.

     "Nuts?  Pretzels?  Potato chips?"  the flight attendant asked,
smiling.  Chris glanced around, there was almost nobody else awake, "maybe
a beverage?"

     "No, no thanks," Chris said, "maybe later."

     "I'm the only one on duty right now, and I plan on taking a break, so
you should get it now," she said, smile unwavering even though her tone was
terse.

     "Water's fine," Chris said, slinking back in his seat, "thanks."

     "There you go," she said, handing him the bottle, "you're welcome.
Have a good flight."

     Chris shoved it into the pocket of the seat in front of him as she
walked away.  He got up again, still fidgety and anxious.  He walked slowly
to the bathroom, his legs shaky from sitting down for so long, doing it
more to move than because he had to go do anything, the plane practically
silent around him.  As he walked down the aisle, careful not to bump into
anyone's seats or elbows, he thought about how he'd manage back at home.
He half-expected all his things out on the front yard, the locks changed
and Jake nowhere to be found.  Everyone he trusted couldn't be trusted
anymore; he was on his own again, wondering why he'd ever even let someone
in if this was where it ended up.  He only trusted one person now: himself,
and even that was questionable at the moment.  He'd let Jake down, Maggie
wouldn't take his side through this, and Topher had gotten the wrong
impression.  Three people that he had trusted with everything had all been
lost in the span of two days.  He pushed a curtain aside, walking through
the galley and seeing the flight attendants, some tired looking and others
napping, before getting to the bathroom.

     A dim figure was walking away from him and he swore it looked like
Jake, same broad shoulders, same half-hearted posture and messy hair,
"Jake?" he said softly, his breath catching and his heart racing for the
split second.  There was no reaction and he shook his head, he was going
crazy.  He turned to the bathroom stall to see it occupied, the bright red
letters keeping him at bay.  A splash of cold water would be good, he
thought, anything to see if he could still feel.

     He leaned against the wall opposite the door and waited, watching the
knob and waiting for it to shift to vacant.  He shoved his hands into the
pockets of the hoodie, slouching.  There was so much going on in his head
that there wasn't anything cohesive at all, too many swirling thoughts and
crazy questions that nothing came together to make one that made sense.  He
had a wallet full of travelers checks, he could go anywhere and nobody
would know, images of Big Sur flashed through his head, nobody would think
to look for him there.  He could go to Seattle, he could go to San
Francisco, he could go anywhere because he didn't have anything to hold
onto anymore.  Santa Barbara would always be home, but it had Jake, too.

     "Chris?" he heard, head shooting up.  There they were, broad
shoulders, lazy posture, two days of scratchy stubble, and deep blue eyes.
He couldn't believe it.  "You're here."

     "You...I can't, I can't believe we're on the same plane," Chris said,
still leaning against the wall, eyes tearing and his breathing shallow.
This was the one situation he hadn't imagined, hundreds of thousands of
planes and here he was, looking right at Jake on his shitty last-minute
flight.

     "I had to get home, I didn't know if I'd ever see you again."

     "I didn't think you'd want to," Chris said, eyes on the floor of the
plane.

     "No, I'd never want that.  I need you."  Their voices were both quiet,
low.

     "We never got to say goodbye, I sort of just ran out on you," Chris
said, wanting more than anything to run his hand over Jake's cheek, to hold
his hand one more time and feel the skin against his own.

     "I know," Jake said, "but was it because you didn't want to or because
you couldn't?"

     Chris hated himself right then, hearing Jake say the words, knowing
that Jake could read him like a book.  "I don't know.  I don't know
anything anymore."

     "Well," Jake said, letting out a long breath, "if this plane goes
down, at least I got to see you this last time."

     "Jesus, Jake, why are you talking like that?"

     "Because that's how I feel.  There's no ground under my feet right
now.  When I saw you walk out on me and then I saw you on his bed, my world
crumbled, Chris."

     "I just didn't think you'd ever want to see me again," Chris repeated.

     "Stop saying that," Jake said, stepping closer, hand lifting Chris'
chin, their eyes meeting again, Chris felt like he was drowning in the blue
depths, a soothing wave going through his body at the contact of Jakes skin
on his.

     "I have this for you," Chris said, averting his eyes and fumbling to
reach into his pocket, fishing the ring out.  He and Jake stared at it in
the dim cabin lights, "I don't think that I deserve it anymore."

     "No," Jake said pushing it back to Chris, "it's yours."

     Chris grabbed Jake's hand and put it in his open palm, the physical
contact sending a shock up his arm. "When do we talk about us?"

     "I didn't think there was an 'us' anymore," Jake said as he stepped
closer and pulled Chris into his arms, feeling the barrier break, feeling
Chris' body shake as he sobbed into Jake's shoulder.

     He ran a hand over Chris' warm back, his nose nuzzling into the
familiar locks of Chris' hair as he just let it happen, let Chris' heart do
what it needed to, "I'm so sorry," Chris said through the quiet sobs, over
and over, the words spilled out because he didn't know what else to say.  A
flight attendant poked her head around from the galley, and Jake threw her
a glance to let her know that it was fine, "I did it to make you mad.  I
wanted to hurt you because I hurt so bad."

     "I know," Jake whispered, "and it worked.  But I know he was part of
it too.  And I wasn't helping anything."

     "No, I just...as soon as I didn't have you, I knew it was a mistake.
I slept with him and it was just one mistake after another," Chris said,
holding Jake tight, holding him because he thought that at any minute, Jake
would just shove him away and turn around.

     "We all make mistakes," Jake whispered, everything rushing back to him
at once, the familiar feel, the familiar smell, everything was good again
when he had Chris in his arms, "you know that."

     "Tell me," Chris said, "tell me you love me."  His words slow and
deliberate, like he was trying to pull them all back in as they were
sliding out, it was something Jake asked all the time, a little game they
played because he knew Jake liked to hear all the different ways he could
answer, but Chris had never ever asked it, seriously or just for fun.  He
looked at Jake, eyes pleading as he waited, every breath seemed to stretch
out forever.

     "When you turned around and left, I couldn't breathe, I could barely
stand.  I more than love you," Jake said, hands holding Chris tight.  He
felt Chris' hands slide up to his shoulders, an uncertain, unbelieving
smile on his face, "that's why you always answer that and not me.  I can't
find the words to tell you."

     Jake leaned in, lips grazing Chris, still not sure how everything had
ended up, movements careful, wary.  Chris pushed forward, lips hungry for
the familiar feeling of scratchy beard and soft lips again.  It sent a
relaxing pulse down his entire body, Jake's warm body sliding against his
own, their bodies settling together, every groove and curve falling right
into place.  "When I'm with you, Jake, everything's right," Chris
whispered, eyes still shut.  Jake rocked their bodies slowly, Chris head
settling on his shoulder again, "I'm not walking out on you ever again."

     "And I'm not letting you go," Jake said, "get that back on your
finger."  He took the ring and slipped it slowly back onto Chris' pinky,
both of them breathing heavily in the silence of the plane cabin.  Jake
reached up, wiping the tears from Chris' face with his thumb, "Now
everything's the way it should be again."

***

     "You're always doing chores when I'm up here," Topher said, his tone
cautious as he walked slowly towards Chris, "hiring people is the way to
go, trust me."

     "What are you doing here?" Chris asked, dropping the two trash bags he
was holding beside the trashcan.  He wiped his hands over the seat of his
jeans, "If Jake sees you out here, he'll kill you."

     "And I'd deserve it," Topher said, "so everything's cool between you
two?"

     Chris' hands went straight into his pockets, "We do what we do best,
pretend it never happened and don't talk about it."

     "Good, it's nice to know you're normal," Topher said, "I came to say
that I'm sorry."

     "You said we'd never see each other again," Chris said, "and you
seemed pretty serious about it."  He couldn't look Topher in the eye.

     "I couldn't leave it like that," Topher said, "I'm really sorry.  I
just had one more question though, I know I don't deserve an answer, but I
deserve to have it heard."

    "Topher, don't do this," Chris said, taking a step back, surprised to
feel the rough stucco of the house against him.

     "One thing and I'll be out of your hair," Topher said, "I just want to
know, if it was me who met you first, would Jake be the one standing here
begging to be friends again?  Would it have been me in the house waiting
for you?"  He put his hands up, shrugging as he stepped backwards, the
confusion melting from his handsome face.  "I'll see you around, okay?  I'm
really sorry."  He really was classically handsome, Chris noticed, tall and
lean, dark hair and strong features.  It was what had drawn Chris to him,
what made Chris trust him all along.

     "Wait," Chris said, surprised the word even came out of his mouth,
"you can't just do that."  He saw Topher stop, but he just stood there, not
turning around.  He only stopped for a second though, he just kept walking
when Chris hesitated.

     Chris wished he hadn't heard it, wished that Topher had left after
'I'm sorry.'  Topher may be out of his hair, but now he was spinning
through his head.  He walked back towards the house, the tail end of sunset
casting a struggling golden glow everywhere.  "Get lost taking out the
trash?" Jake asked, chuckling from the front porch.

     "Hold on, just watch for a second," Chris said, eyes pointing to the
horizon.  Jake looked, the sky quickly turning from yellow to red and
orange before settling on the dark purple of night.  He wrapped his arms
around Chris as their eyes focused skyward, it wasn't the first time they'd
done it, it wouldn't be the last, but Chris was always enamored by how fast
everything happened, "There's something really romantic about how fleeting
dawn and dusk are, don't you think?"

     "You never stop," Jake said, smiling.  He took in a deep breath,
holding Chris just a fraction tighter.  "This was what I was scared of
losing, me and you just being together doing things like this."  He pulled
Chris back inside the house, the brightest stars already peeking through
the velvety purple sky.  "It's so good to be home."

     They'd thrown out all their dead houseplants and Jake rifled through
the mail that nearly filled the entire entryway while Chris separated the
laundry out.  Chris muttered something about decay under his breath; their
house was dying as their relationship seemed to deteriorate too.  It was
like Faulkner, Greene, too easy, Chris thought.  Smiling, Jake couldn't
help but think that as soon as they got new plants, things would be back
the way they should be, even if it still seemed a little edgy.  "When you
moved up here, you probably weren't expecting this, were you?  That you'd
be in and out and have some crazy person living with you."

     "I just wanted some peace and quiet," Jake said, smiling, "I never
thought I'd find you, crazy or not."

     "What would you have done if we hadn't met?" Chris asked, suddenly
serious.

     "Why are you asking?  I don't think about these things."

     "Just answer," Chris said, almost pleading.

     "I'd be waiting for the day I'd meet someone who's smart," Jake said,
kissing Chris softly on the lips, "someone who could deal with how stubborn
I am," another kiss, "and I wouldn't even realize what I'd been missing."
He pushed Chris up against the hallway wall, his hands sliding to Chris'
back as his kisses got deeper, tongue carefully skimming its way between
Chris' lips.  The feel of Chris' warm body against his sent a ripple
through his body, he'd never needed it more, never felt as hungry as he did
right then, Chris' supple body pressed to his, hands reaching up under
Jake's thin t-shirt, "Why?"

     "I was lonely before you got here," Chris whispered, "I didn't know it
until you came up here and I realized that life wasn't about...solitude."

     "I'm here," Jake whispered, pulling Chris closer as he spoke, their
foreheads pressed together as Chris eyes almost bore into his own, "you're
not alone anymore.  And you're not running anymore.  I found the stuff in
your bag.  You were going to run again."  Chris kissed him harder, hand
yanking Jake's t-shirt up over his head, pushing any thoughts of separation
out of his mind and Jake's.  Jake grinned, pulling Chris towards the
bedroom.  Chris shivered when he felt the familiar feeling of their own
sheets, their mattress, the smell of the bedroom, his body tingling as Jake
moved on top of him, their hips grinding together.

     "I...I just," Chris panted, "I can't lose you again.  I thought that
if I came home and saw this, saw what we had, I'd just break down."  He
felt like he didn't deserve it, Jake's hands on his body, lips against his;
he still saw himself as the one that messed up.  They were both at fault,
both guilty of miscommunication, but he was the one that went further.
Jake didn't go and further it, didn't dig his own grave.  He didn't know
how or what to do, but he had to somehow make it up to Jake.

     "I would have found you, I'd have gone to every corner of every city
looking for you," Jake's fingers slid down to Chris' jeans, fingers hooking
into the belt loops.  He felt Chris' fingers slide up his back and across
his shoulders, the touch barely registering, fingers only just grazing over
goose bumps as his hands moved down Jake's arms, hands meeting hands.
"Tell me what you want," Jake whispered, "tell me what you need."

     "I don't need anything but you," Chris said, his voice low, fingers
grazing Jake's jaw as he brought their lips together again.  "I need you.
I need you inside me...I need you all over me.  I just need you with me."

     "Anything," Jake said, suddenly bombarded with images of Topher on top
of Chris just like this, Topher's skin against Chris, their bodies
connected just like this, their skin together, their lips together.  He saw
Topher's lean body on top of Chris', Topher's fingers tangled in Chris'
hair as he moved with Chris's every action.  He blinked, trying to get the
picture out of his head, but the only thing that replaced Topher was the
image of Chris on the bed, prone body still under the thin sheet; that very
same picture of Chris' bare hand, the ring and the promise nowhere to be
found.  "Just tell me when you're ready," he whispered, his throat suddenly
dry.  Chris' forehead wrinkled, it seemed clear enough when he wanted it,
especially since his erection was pressing up against Jake's, but they
hadn't done anything since London, nothing more than those few intense
kisses.  He shrunk away from Jake, feeling smaller than he'd ever felt.  He
nodded and let Jake pull their bodies together, nose nuzzling the back of
his neck.

     "I'm so tired," Jake whispered, "it's been a long day." He settled his
body against Chris' feeling the warmth and letting his eyes shut, "It's so
good to be home."  He turned around to face Jake running his lips over
Jake's jaw, up to the spot he knew Jake couldn't resist, but Jake pushed
Chris' head to his shoulder before he could reach.  Chris ran his hand over
Jake's chest, still not sure what had just happened.

***

     There was something very reassuring about walking the streets of Santa
Barbara and knowing exactly where everything was.  Jake remembered when he
was the new guy in town, wondering where to get this and that, but now he
was practically a native, knowing exactly where to go when he was looking
for good broccoli or fresh pasta, which supermarkets stocked the best lamb
and the place Chris liked to get Indian or Thai take-out, and in the
process, learning every single shortcut between.  It was overcast in the
morning, but like every day, the warm rays of the sun broke up the pesky
clouds, revealing a brilliant blue sky just before lunch.  He already had
one bag of groceries hanging from his hand, he just had a few more stops
before he'd be done for the day, hoping that Chris would be done with his
writing.  He seemed set on it, determined to really clear his mind when
Jake left, so he left him to it--no objections.  If Chris needed to work,
he'd leave him alone.

     He'd noticed that Chris seemed more than a little distracted, granted
they'd hit the worst possible speed bump in their relationship, but Jake
was also pretty sure that they'd both managed to get back on track.  When
he thought about it though, he and Chris had taken every possible shortcut
to get a resolution--Chris apologized profusely and he tried not to picture
Chris and Topher in bed together.  It was almost too easy, but since things
seemed to be going smoothly, he wasn't going to question it.  He couldn't
think of anything stupider than re-introducing a conflict that had ended,
even if it had settled on the shakiest of terms.  He needed time alone,
too.  Kissing was fine, he could kiss Chris for hours and still want more,
but when they were close to more last night, he couldn't focus on anything
but Topher and it scared him.  He had Chris now, he kept telling himself
that, but he still couldn't push the image out of his head--Chris on the
bed, breathing slow and steady under that sheet, his pinky as bare as the
rest of him.  The Chris he loved in someone else's bed.  His worst
nightmare a reality; shaking himself, he figured it would run its course,
Chris wouldn't put himself in that situation again.  He wouldn't let it
happen.

     Walking into the wine shop, one of his favorite places, he glanced
around to see that it was empty, not surprising--it was a weekday morning,
after all.  Grabbing a bottle of his favorite red, he wandered the store,
eyes scanning the green bottles and the cards bearing their descriptions
underneath.  It was like a library of possibilities, a place where people
came to get something special or something for everyday.  Jake waved at the
clerk, who by now knew that he always bought the same bottle of red just
about every week.

    He felt his phone in his pocket and smiled when he saw that it was
Maggie, "I would have called you but we've been really busy."

     "I saw the pictures of you guys in the airport together.  If you know
they're going to be stalking you, both of you could have gotten some sleep
and maybe washed your faces before getting off.  You looked like shit.
Other than that, is everything good?  Tell me about London."

     "It was a long flight, but we're great," Jake said, holding in a
chuckle and grabbing a bottle of sparkling wine for Chris, "London though,
it wasn't so great."

     "Rain?"

     "Rain, yeah," Jake said, putting Chris' bubbly wine back and grabbing
different one, "and we got into a fight."

     He could almost hear Maggie's breath stall, "Fight?  Really?"

     "I don't want to talk about it right now," Jake said, "but things are
good."

     "That was quick," Maggie said, hesitant, "how did he take it?"

     "I don't want to talk about it," Jake said, settling on a bottle of
Italian sparkling wine, something that would go with the breakfast or
brunch he planned on making that Sunday.  Chris always ordered mimosas when
they were out of town.  "It's still sort of strange."

     "If you guys are fighting, or just being civil and pretending not to
fight, don't you think something nice would put you back in his good
graces?"

     "It's not me that has to get back on anyone's good side."

     Maggie was silent and Jake wasn't surprised; if someone asked him,
he'd probably choose himself as the one most likely to mess up the
situation, but everyone seemed to be wrong this time.  "Really?"

     "Give me more credit than that," Jake said, shaking his head, "I said
I didn't want to say anything, but if you're not going to drop it, I'll
just say that there was a fight and we were both pretty heated and then he
went and..." Jake paused, looking around the store as he let his thoughts
catch up with his words, "he went and looked for someone else to confide
in.  And then he slipped up."

     "'Slipped up?'" Maggie asked.

     "Use your imagination," Jake said as he carried the three bottles he'd
picked out to the counter, "I'll tell you more about it later.  It gets me
all screwed up when I think about it.  I can't anymore."

     "Call me later, I'm serious," Maggie said before she hung up.

     A few minutes later, Jake was laden with bags, one from the wine shop,
a few from the grocery store, and now he had one from the bakery, his hands
too full to do anything but walk back to the house.  Sunglasses on, the
sun's bright rays lit up the streets with a cheeriness he missed in the
gloom of New York, Seattle, and especially London.  As he walked along the
beach, he saw a few kids, school the last thing on their minds as they
braved the waves and soaked up the sunshine.  He didn't know how far along
Chris would be when he got home, but it looked so inviting that he'd have
to drag Chris to their spot whether he wanted to or not.  He kicked open
the front door to the house after struggling with the knob, dropping all
the groceries on the kitchen counter, walking around to look through the
window to see if he could see Chris in the detached garage that they'd
converted to his studio.

     He smiled, instead of seeing Chris locked up in the studio, he was
lying on a beach towel spread on the tiny patch of lawn between the house
and the studio, shirt off and surf shorts slung low on his waist as he
typed, the waistband just skimming the crack of his ass, sunglasses
covering his dark eyes.  Even the most die-hard workaholics couldn't resist
the bright sunshine, Jake thought, shucking his shirt and tossing it on an
armchair.  He shuffled out to the yard, lying down next to Chris, lips
grazing his cheek.  This was the Chris he fell in love with, this is
exactly what he needed to push the awful pictures of him and Topher out of
Jake's head, replacing them with this--tan skin in under the warm sun, skin
supple and lips soft.

     Chris smiled, shutting his laptop and sliding it aside, his hand
running up Jake's hairy chest as their lips came together, "Can those
shorts get any lower?" Jake asked, his lips on Chris' ear and his hand
sliding down Chris' back.  His dark hair was warm in Jake's fingers, their
lips hungry for contact as Jake slid his tongue into Chris' mouth, greeted
with an eagerness that only egged him on.

     Rolling over so that he straddled Jake's chest, Chris could feel the
heat of the sun on his shoulders, his skin already warm from laying out and
writing, "I think they could get pretty dangerous for the right person,"
Chris said, undoing the drawstring, the fabric loosening and sliding ever
so slightly lower.  He leaned down to kiss Jake, their tongues coming
together as Jake's fingers traced the contours of Chris' sides, hooking in
the waistband of his shorts.  Hands on his ass told him to scoot up, knees
planted firmly in Jake's armpits as soon as his shorts were thrown aside,
the thin fabric floating a few yards away as Jake's tongue lapped at Chris'
balls.  Chris gripped at Jake's shoulders, eyes shut behind dark sunglasses
as Jake licked up his cock, hand cupping his balls as his tongue traced the
subtle ridge of his cock head.

     Letting out a long groan, Chris looked down at Jake, eyes fluttering
open as Jake's tongue flicked the head of his cock, he had to shut his eyes
again, fearing sensory overload would make it end too quick.  Jake slid his
tongue over velvety stretched skin, taking a few inches of the shaft into
his mouth before he felt Chris thrust slowly, his movements subtle but
forceful.  Jake complied, letting Chris' hips push his cock deeper into his
throat, hands running to the sides of Jake's head to control the movements
with what little restraint he had left.  Jake's hands ran up Chris' thighs,
hands sending shudders through Chris' body, his hands cradling Jake's head
as his lips moved up and down his length.  Jake pulled off, licking long
strokes up Chris' shaft as he felt it get thicker, hotter with every slick
motion.  Chris gasped, his hips pushing forward again, begging to be back
inside the warm confines of Jake's mouth.  Chris brushed soft fingers over
Jake's forehead, digits tangling in the thick hair as Jake engulfed his
cock again, pulling the breath out of his lungs, their eyes met through the
dark lenses, but Chris could still see the craving in Jake's blue eyes as
he pushed his cock in and out, Jake's heavy breathing and the heat of the
air around them surrounding his body in a haze.  He reared back, eyes shut
tight as they turned skyward and his entire body went rigid, Jake's tongue
pulling one long lick up his shaft, drawing out the first shot of cum,
searing white shooting into his mouth, his instinct told him to swallow it,
the salty-sweet fluid sending him into a heady daze as Chris' shots kept
coming, his body buckling as he rolled to the side, breaths heavy and
labored.  Jake rolled on top of him, their lips coming together as Chris
ran his hands down Jake's sweaty back, the taste of his own cum lingering
in Jake's mouth.

     He reached for Jake's cargo shorts, he could feel his hard cock
through the thick material of them, but Jake pushed him away, "Later," he
whispered between kisses, bringing Chris' hand to his chest, his heart
beating a million times a minute.  Jake rolled over again, both of them
staring up at the bright blue sky, "I have to cool off after that," he
said, voice pulling as he stretched his arms above his head, hands wiping
the sweat from his brow.  Chris reached for his shorts, getting up to put
them back on, Jake's eyes scanning his lean body, muscles long and
graceful.  His cock was hard and he started to reach for Chris again,
figuring that they'd be just as hot no matter where they'd be, but he
stopped when he heard Chris start, settling on just watching the play of
muscle under skin, Chris' lithe body enthralling no matter how often he saw
it.

     "I'm done for the day," Chris said, pulling Jake back to his feet.
Their chests came together, Chris' lips at Jake's neck, "So we can cool off
together."

***

     Chris sat at his computer, a satisfied smile on his face as he sent
his finished story to Vivian.  It was fleeting though, his eyes caught
Jake's moving form in the house, they hadn't done anything after the
afternoon on the lawn, not that Chris hadn't tried to.  Jake seemed to be
eager one minute and the next he'd be distracted by something and just want
to lie there.  Chris had never been so frustrated with him before, he knew
it wasn't something he could push, it wasn't his place.  Shutting the
computer, he leaned on his elbows, watching as Jake threw together a
sandwich and ate it leaning against the counter.

     Jake idly flipped through a magazine, probably an old Esquire that
Chris hadn't put away yet, maybe something else, but he was just looking at
the pictures, not staying one page long enough to actually be reading
anything.  Chris let out a long sigh, he wasn't stupid; Jake took him back
but hadn't let him back into his heart all the way.  He twirled the ring
around his pinky as he watched Jake through the window, still flipping
pages, pausing to scratch his shoulder and finish off his sandwich.  He
glanced up as he finished, their eyes connecting through the windows and
Chris waved weakly, a smile on Jake's face as he mouthed, "Do you need
anything?"  Chris shook his head, not sure if Jake had actually asked and
he just couldn't hear or if he had actually just mouthed it.  Chris
motioned for Jake to come into the studio and Jake headed over, sliding
open the back door and crossing the grass.

     "What's up?" Jake asked, leaning over and kissing Chris on the
forehead.

     "I just miss you, what are you doing in there?  Busy?"

     "No, do you want me to stay out here with you?"

     "Would you?" Chris asked, suddenly excited.

     "Just let me get my iPod," Jake said, and Chris slouched again, if
Jake was listening to music, there'd be no way to talk and no way for him
to figure out what was going on between them.  He nodded and watched as
Jake walked back towards the house.  Chris opened his computer again, the
familiar hum greeting his ears as Jake walked back across the grass, shirt
off.  The sun shone on his body, muscles moving under his skin as he moved
across the grass and into the studio again, iPod already in his ears.  He
sat down on the couch and fiddled with his music and Chris just opened up a
new document.  He wouldn't be able to start anything new with this weird
tension between them; he was surprised he could finish his last story.
Jake was usually what drove the ideas out of him, they were swimming around
in his head, but Jake seemed to always fish them out in the right order,
even if Chris didn't realize it.  It just happened when they talked, when
he watched Jake's mannerisms.  Little things like how Jake lifted his
t-shirt to scratch at his stomach, how Jake licked his lips right before
taking a drink, things like that always sparked something inside him.  But
lately all Jake had been doing was listening to music and reading, he
couldn't work with that.

     He watched Jake over the top of the computer, he could smell Jake's
body and practically hear his heart beating.  The screen was still blank,
he didn't know how long it had been idle, his attention focused on Jake's
arms and chest instead, the way his toes tapped to some silent beat that
Chris couldn't hear.  He shut his computer and Jake glanced over at him, a
questioning look on his face.  It probably hadn't even been enough time to
get through one song, Chris thought, but he walked around the desk and over
to Jake, leaning down to straddle his hips.  He ran his hands up Jake's
chest, feeling the silky skin stretched over tight muscle.

     Jake yanked the earphones out of his ear, hands coming to Chris'
shoulders to halt any further movement, "Done?"

     "Taking a break," Chris said, almost whispered.  Jake grinned, pushing
himself up so that they were both sitting upright, chest-to-chest.

     "Do you want to take a walk or something?  It's really nice out," Jake
said, hands sliding down Chris' arms.  As much as he wanted to just throw
Chris down onto that couch and tear his shorts off, everything reminded him
of that morning in London, no matter how he tried to distract himself.

     "Okay, we can walk and talk, right?"

     "Anything you want," Jake said, pulling them both up off the couch.
Chris didn't know what was worse, having Jake and not having things back
the way they were or not having Jake at all.

***

     Jake opened the door, finding the house dark and quiet.  He quietly
shut the door behind him and walked down the entryway, stopped right in his
tracks when he saw Chris asleep on the couch, Dean had driven up to talk
about upcoming projects and their meeting had definitely run late, but it
was still too early for bed.  Jake tossed his jacket over a chair and put
down the bag of Indian take-out that he picked up before he turned to
Chris, surprised to find that he was wearing a white button-up.  Confused,
he looked around and realized that the house was uncharacteristically neat;
he could smell the faint aroma of cooking, but the kitchen was just as
spotless as the rest of the house.

     "Chris," he whispered, shaking Chris' shoulder lightly.

     Chris stirred, a muffled groan coming from his throat as he ran his
hands over his face.  He saw Jake's confused expression and shot upright,
"Jake, I...oh God.  I swear I'm not narcoleptic."

     "What's going on?  Why are you dressed up?"

     "I just wanted to...I made dinner and I just wanted you to know that
things were good," Chris said, shaking his head, "but I can't even do that
right."

     Jake pulled him up and led him into the dining room, already set with
two candles that were waiting to be lit, Jake's favorite red wine already
set out, "What did you make?"

     "That vodka pasta stuff that you like," Chris said, still disappointed
in himself as he sat down on one of the chairs.  He rested his head in his
hands, fingers kneading at his temples.  He'd worked hard to get the entire
house nice and clean before doing the things he knew Jake liked, making his
favorite pasta, getting his favorite wine, putting his favorite flowers on
the table.

     "No, this is perfect," Jake said, opening the pot that was slowly
simmering on the stove, the kitchen filling with the deliciously fresh
smell of pasta sauce, "I didn't know that the meeting would run so long."
Jake ran his hands down Chris' shoulders, lips kissing the back of his neck
softy, "I didn't know you could cook."

     "I can't," Chris said, leaving out the fact that it was his third
attempt, the other two going straight down the garbage disposal.  "The guys
at the restaurant on Manchester gave me the recipes."

     "Chris, I can't believe you did this.  I'm such an ass for not
calling," Jake said, noticing that Chris had even taken out the nice dishes
to use.  Jake dished out the pasta, opened the oven to see the garlic bread
toasted; that's what he had smelled earlier.  "I love this, love
everything.  I love you."

     "Sit down, I'll do that," Chris said, getting out of his chair, but he
stopped when he saw that Jake was practically done.  He poured two glasses
of wine, taking a sip before Jake put a plate in front of him.  "I wanted
it to be special."

     "It is," Jake said, leaning over to kiss Chris, the tangy acidity of
red wine still lingering on Chris' tongue.  Chris reached up, fingers
grazing Jake's scratchy jaw line.  He thought it was enough to make
everything that Jake liked, give him a break, but he couldn't even get that
right, "Everything's perfect."  Jake watched as Chris idly poked at his
pasta, looking let down and disappointed.  "What's going on?  What are you
thinking?"

     Chris sighed, "I don't deserve you, don't deserve any of this.  Not
after what I did."

     Jake knew he should have said something, anything to affirm that he
and Chris were still like they used to be, but he couldn't even convince
himself of it.  Silently, he took a sip of wine and reached for Chris'
hand.  It was noncommittal enough, but he knew Chris craved the contact, no
matter how vague its intentions.

***

     "You know what happened right?  I don't have to tell you?" Chris
asked, carrying the tray of food to a little table near a window.  Just
knowing he could see the ocean gave him a sense of comfort.

     Maggie nodded, noting every nuance of Chris' voice.  He was scared, he
was unsure, disgusted with himself, she could see it all.  "I got the main
idea," Maggie said, picking up her fork.

     "So he hates me now, I guess he just feels sorry for me because I
don't have a place to go."

     "No, I'm sure he's just still confused.  You are too.  You just have
to give it time."

     "I don't think he wants to give me the time of day, he just sort of
blows me off over and over.  I tried to get him to just sit down and talk
to me but he was more interested in the wine he was drinking that talking."

     "He's talked to me about it, Christopher, it's not like that."

     "It's how he makes me feel," Chris said, "like I don't even matter."

     "You know that's not true."

     "It's just how I feel," Chris said, completely ignoring the food in
front of him, "are you staying in LA or New York right now?"

     "LA, why?  He's just confused, I'm sure.  Just give him time."

     "Time?  I can't stand the way he looks at me.  It's like he's just
waiting for the right time to tell me that it's over.  Can I use your
townhouse?"

     "No," Maggie said, shaking her head.  "I'm not letting you run away
from this.  You two have got to work it out."

     "I'm trying to," Chris said, "you know how stubborn he can be."  His
voice was soft now, resigned, almost defeated.

     "You're the only one that's ever been able to deal with it," Maggie
said, "ever.  If anyone can get through to him, it's you.  If he didn't
want this, you'd know by now.  We all would."

     "I don't know what to do," Chris said, eyes focused on the steady
waves in the ocean.

     "Actually, you're the only one that does.  You just have to figure it
out."

***

     Chris was frantically e-mailing and calling David Remnick, the editor
of the New Yorker.  He'd met him once or twice, accepted an award from his
own hands and got a few letters of congratulations from him, but even after
all that, they weren't what Chris would call best friends.  Granted he was
busy with the magazine and everything, but Chris was desperate for anything
short of having to fly to New York and knock on his door.

     "Thank you so much for talking to me," Chris said, his heart racing as
soon as he saw the name pop up on his phone.

     "Christopher, you know that the magazine isn't a public forum.  We're
not accustomed to granting favors."

     "David, please," Chris said, practically begged, "I worked really hard
on that story.  I know that it's a lot to ask, but I need you to rush it."

     "Rush it?  We haven't accepted it yet.  We're still reading it over.
We like it, but I can't guarantee anything."

     "I have to have this out as soon as possible.  It's not for me, it's
for someone else.  Please, please, I need you to print it this week."

     "We're going to see what we can do," David said, his voice softening,
"we've all been so impressed with you in the past.  You realize that we're
going to have to push someone out of the issue, though.  We had slated the
spot for someone already."

     Chris cringed.  If someone had bumped him off the matrix, he'd be
irate.  "I have to get this out.  You have no idea."

     "We go to press today, Christopher, in half an hour.  I need to send
this in."

     "Make an executive decision," Chris said, "it's good.  I know it is
and you know it is."

     "I'd love to, Chris, but that's not how we work.  We'll print it, but
I can't promise you when.  I'm sorry."

     Chris didn't have time to get out another word.  David had already
hung up.  He felt his body shaking, desperate for anything, just a clue to
know if it would work.  Hanging his head, he kneaded his temples, trying to
remember the last time he had a headache that just wouldn't go away.  He
wouldn't be able to sleep that night if he didn't know whether or not his
story would be printed.  The issue would be on the stands tomorrow and if
he could get it just get a hint, he'd give his right arm.  The story had
come pouring out of him as soon as he finished lunch with Maggie, tears
streaming down his face as he imagined what it would be like if Jake really
was tired of him.  He typed though the tears, grateful that Jake was taking
Maggie around town by foot, showing her all their favorite places.  He
didn't even think to read it over before he sent it directly to Remnick,
completely against all the protocol the magazine had set up.

     He shut his computer, completely defeated now, he couldn't do anything
about the story and if he didn't have that, he didn't have anything.  If he
could do anything before, it was write.  He knew that, Jake knew that,
everyone did.  But now, he was even questioning his ability to write
something half as good as the things he wrote when Jake inspired him.  If
this didn't work or if it wasn't enough, he'd lose Jake.  He didn't have
him now, he was just biding time with someone distant, almost cold, not the
Jake he remembered.  If this was what it was going to be like, nothing but
cohabitation, he would rather have nothing at all.

     The next morning, Chris woke up after a night of fleeting dreams, only
the slightest caresses of his skin against Jake's instead of the tangled
knot of bodies they normally slept in.  Jake was still asleep, Chris
reaching over, huddling his body against Jake's for just a few minutes to
feel it again, his fingers stroking Jake's arm as he felt the warm skin
against his before Jake rolled over, the plane of his back facing Chris as
he breathed softly.  Chris slipped out of bed and grabbed his running
shoes.  He had to talk to someone, suddenly filled with the desire to get
it all out.  He wasn't used to it, but he'd been doing more talking since
he and Jake had their falling out.  Sighing, he brushed his teeth quietly,
making sure not to wake Maggie in the guestroom.  Slipping on his
sunglasses, he breathed the morning air, still crisp, the fog still rolling
in from the ocean.  He couldn't remember ever feeling feebler or more
insignificant, like an inconvenience that Jake was just bearing because he
didn't want to look heartless, or just like something that Jake was keeping
around until he could figure out what to do with it, he was in limbo.

     Jogging towards downtown, Chris just hoped that it wouldn't be going
on much longer.  He couldn't stand the stale air between them.  He was
doing anything he could think of to get Jake to realize that it was just a
mistake, but everything seemed to look like overcompensation, trying too
hard to impress him when it would just be easier to give up and cruise with
the current situation.  It was awful; he wanted it over.

     Stopping at the bookstore, he saw that he still had another half-hour
before it opened, the employees were milling around inside, straightening
the store and stocking the new magazine shipment.  Chris squinted, trying
to see if he could catch a glimpse of the New Yorker, but the window
display was blocking them.  He subscribed, but it wouldn't come until later
in the week and he had to get it to Jake if the story was printed.  It was
his last chance.

     Slowly, he just kept jogging, the morning sun clearing his head as it
illuminated the streets with a warm glow that he always compared other
cities to.  It was inviting, made everything bright and cheery no matter
what it was, from bakery windows to dented mailboxes, everything seemed
special.  He thought that he could leave it, but now he knew it was
impossible.  Other places were nice to visit, but he always loved coming
home.  Jake was different, adjusting almost automatically to even the most
unwelcoming cities, taking to the Seattle rain just like he took to the
Santa Barbara sun.  Leaning against a streetlight, Chris caught his breath
as the streets started to fill with people, other joggers, early morning
coffee-hounds, and the shopkeepers getting ready for the day.  He opened
the door to the bakery and slid his sunglasses up into his hair, wiping the
sweat off his face with the sleeve of his t-shirt.

     "Good morning," he said, voice breathy even though he'd been standing
outside, idle for a few minutes.  The emotional roller coaster he'd been
riding with Jake was taking it out of him, he could run miles without
feeling this tired before, "I'll just take five, whatever you've got, just
one sesame though," he said as he pointed to the bagels.  It would give
Jake and Maggie explanation enough for his morning departure.

     "We've been seeing less and less of you around," the salesgirl said,
"don't forget about us, okay?"

     "I could never forget about you guys," Chris said, grabbing the bag
from over the counter, "it's just that I've been so busy going all over.
I'd never want to forget."

     "It just happens," she said, "nobody wants to forget things that they
love."

     Chris nodded, realizing that he got almost every piece of advice from
real people, people who lived life just like he did.  "Thanks," Chris said,
"I'll be back, I don't plan on leaving again for a long time."

     Walking back out to the warm sun, he headed back towards the
bookstore.  The door was opening just as he walked by and he dipped in and
rushed to the magazine stand.  Scanning the rack, he saw it.  David Remnick
had pulled some strings, Chris didn't know how many, but there was his
story, "New Fiction by Christopher Lewis," the title right on the front
cover.  He snatched up a copy and hoped it would be enough, it was the only
thing left.

***

     "That's it?"  Maggie asked, her finger swirling around the rim of her
glass.  It was the third time through hearing the story, once from Chris,
once from Jake on the phone, now from Jake face-to-face.  She was amazed at
how similar the stories were, even though they were driven by completely
different emotions.

     "It's not enough?" Jake asked, "what did you expect?  You wanted him
to slap me or throw a drink in my face?  We're not on a soap opera."

     "You punched a wall, that's pretty soap opera," she said, shrugging,
"I figured that it was something between you two and not something from the
outside."

     "It was really nice of you to stay and talk to me even though we've
been over it again and again," Jake said, "and sorry he's running errands,
he'll be back in no time, I already called him."

     "Good, I didn't come all this way to just see you and to sleep on
someone else's bed," she said, stretching her arms above her head as she
yawned, "Did you see the story he wrote for you?  Can you believe it?"

     "That's what I fell in love with," Jake said, grinning, "that's what I
was scared I lost.  But he's back."

     "A return to form by Mr. Christopher Lewis," Maggie said, her voice
triumphant.

     "I don't know what's wrong with me.  I must have been putting him
through hell and didn't even know it," Jake said, "I'm such an asshole.
I'm surprised he didn't get fed up and just go."

     "He wouldn't do that.  He needs an asshole that loves him."

     "Fuck, we must have driven each other crazy."

     "Lighten up on him and he'll lighten up on you.  Yeah, it was a big
deal, but you knew it was a mistake and you know that it's not going to
happen again."

     Jake nodded, the story proved that Chris was sorry for everything,
sorry that he kept things inside, sorry that he took out his frustrations
the wrong way, sorry that he'd crossed the line.  Chris said things to
Jake, that was obvious, but when he wrote things for Jake, those words
meant more than anything Jake could imagine.  Emotional, pure, there was no
censorship when Chris wrote, he just let the feelings flow, and when he
wrote for Jake, he couldn't help but feel that Chris was opening up, a
direct route to all the answers that Jake was looking for.

     The magazine was open on the table when Jake woke up, a post-it stuck
to the first page of the story read "Jake, read this. It's for you."
Chris' narrow writing was as recognizable as always and Jake followed
orders.  Twenty minutes later, he was rushing into the studio, where Chris
was writing an e-mail to thank the editor, and scooped him up into his
arms, their lips crashing together, no words spoken, just Jake's willing
body starving for Chris' again, Chris' heart beating faster than he could
remember.  It was raw, real, just like the story, and all the hurt and all
the loneliness he had felt since London were all worth it to know that Jake
still loved him.

***

     Chris' walked quickly back to the house, one hand in his pocket and
the other one holding the brown paper bag from the same bakery he'd gotten
the bagels at, practically sprinting when he got word that Maggie was
leaving later that afternoon.  He couldn't stop smiling, now that things
were definitely going to be good between he and Jake and both of them had a
big chunk of free time ahead, there was definitely reason to celebrate.

     "Something's definitely got you in a good mood," Chris heard as he
approached the house.  Instantly, his smile disappeared as he saw Topher
leaning against his shiny silver car, "I guess I did need an answer."

     "Topher," Chris said, eyes looking down the street, he could see the
house.  He'd almost made it.

     "Just answer, Chris," Topher said, voice eerily flat, "I need to
know."

     "I really wanted us to be friends, Topher," Chris said softly, "and
you want more than that.  Things finally smoothed out with Jake and me; you
can't just show up again like this.  I can't take it."  He set the bag down
on the sidewalk and shook his head, "You can't keep showing up and
expecting things to have changed."

     "Things have changed, Chris," Topher said, "things between us, things
between me and Jake, even things between you and Jake.  Nothing's the same
as before, you can't pretend like they are."

     "I live in pretend," Chris said, "every minute I sit in front of that
computer, I'm not here.  I'm in my head."

     "But when you're not in front of that computer, things happen.  Things
you can't control happen."

     "I can control this much," Chris said, grabbing the handles of the bag
again, "I thought maybe we could still be friends after what happened.  I
knew Jake wouldn't like it, but I thought that maybe it could work, I
actually needed you because I don't have anyone else, but then you come
back and you don't see that what you want isn't what I want."  The words
were fast, slipping and sliding into each other, but every single one got
its point across, hitting Topher hard.

     "Jesus, I'm so stupid," Topher said, fingers fumbling with his keys,
"I can't believe I keep doing this to myself."

     "I'm sorry," Chris said, grabbing Topher's hands, "I'm choosing Jake,
pretend or not, it's me and him."

     "I'd die for you!" Topher said, exasperated, "why can't you see that?"

     "That's not what I want to hear, Topher.  Jake knows that.  Love isn't
about dying--it's about living.  Jake lives for me and I live for him."
Chris turned around, Topher's hands sliding out of his, "I'm going to be
okay and you're going to be okay.  Promise me that you'll be okay."

     "I can't make that promise, Chris, you know that."

     "You'll be okay," Chris said, nodding, "I know you will."

     "I can't live if I don't have you, Chris."

     "Yes you can, you've done it all this time."

     "Don't walk away from me again," his voice was soft, barely audible.
The defeat was evident, he was just grasping for anything now, trying to
keep Chris with him as long as he could.

     "You'll be okay."  Chris turned around, bakery bag still in hand as he
headed towards the house.  He didn't look back to see if Topher was heading
home or to see the tears rolling down his face.  Topher felt like something
had been ripped out of his chest or he'd just gotten punched in the gut, he
could barely breathe, Chris' body blurred by the tears as he watched him
walk away, steps determined and quick.  There he was, walking away,
practically running away into Jake's arms, this time for good, every time
for good he realized now that he looked back.  He wiped away the tears, the
back of his hands glistening in the waning sunlight.  He hoped Chris was
right.

     "Finally home," Maggie said when she heard the front door open,
"whatever you got better be good."

    Rushing inside the house, Chris' smile came back when he saw them in
the kitchen together.  "It's so good to see you, Maggie," Chris said as he
took her into his arms.

     "Christopher, tell me you have all these short stories done and I can
read them."

     He smiled, about to say something before Jake interrupted, "You're
hugging the wrong person."

     "I got your favorite," Chris said, pulling himself out of Maggie's
arms and grabbing the bag he'd put down, "chocolate with white icing, but
just a half-dozen."  Jake's face lit up, pulling Chris' body up against
his, back to chest, his scratchy chin resting on Chris' shoulder as he
nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

     "Cupcakes," Jake explained.

     "Cupcakes?" Maggie asked, "that's it?"

     "They're not just cupcakes," Chris said.

     "Whenever we're down, whenever one of us or both of us was you
know..."

     "Sad," Chris said, rolling his eyes.  Sometimes the best word to use
was the easiest, the first one that came to mind.

     "We'd go to this bakery and we'd get cupcakes and a coffee and it'd
always cheer us up," Jake said, arms wrapping around Chris' chest, nose
settling into the crook of Chris' neck, "no matter how bad things seemed."

     "Bad reviews meant a whole dozen," Chris said, smiling, "really bad
reviews meant two."

     "And just half this time?" Maggie asked, popping open the box to
reveal six perfectly iced white cupcakes.  She pulled one out and ran her
finger through the frosting, bringing it to her thin lips.

     "Yeah," Chris said, "because this isn't as bad as I thought it would
be."

***

     Chris bolted out of bed, his breathing shallow and his heart racing,
Jake letting out a muffled groan as he rolled over onto his back, "What's
going on?" he said, expression furrowed with confusion.

     "Bad dream," Chris whispered, letting out a long breath before slowly
settling back down onto the bed, sliding Jake's arm up so that it wrapped
around his chest, their bodies pressed together again, "I'm okay."

     "Sure?" Jake asked, nose nuzzling into the back of Chris' neck,
inching closer to the edge between sleep and consciousness.

     "I'm going to get some water," Chris said, nodding as he slid out of
Jake's embrace, the cold floor sending a chill up his back as he walked out
to the kitchen.  The bright lights stung his eyes, and as he blinked and
reached for a glass, he couldn't get the dream out of his head, same one
he'd had in Seattle, same one he had over and over again since.  His hands
ran through his hair, the faintest trace of sweat on the dark strands
before he rested his palms on the granite countertop, eyes closed as he
leaned forward and took deep breaths.  He forgot why he'd even come out,
his mind still racing and his heart pounding in his chest.  He turned on
the tap and bringing the cold water up to his face, realizing after the
fact that the shock would probably keep him up the rest of the night.

     Shaking his head, he dried off, goose bumps covering his arms and
shoulders.  He leaned forward again, eyes closed, the dreams kept getting
more and more vivid, he could almost taste the salt of the sweat on his
tongue, the searing touches on his back, his cock hard every single time he
jolted out of bed.  He sighed, finally realizing that he'd come out for a
drink when he saw the glass on the countertop.  Filling it up with water
and taking a few big gulps, he felt the chill of the empty house around
him, wishing he'd grabbed a t-shirt or something on his way out.  Rinsing
out the cup, he watched the water swirl around the sink, eyes fixated on
the downward spiral.  He shut his eyes, trying to calm down and jumping a
little when he felt arms wrapping around his waist.  He felt the soft hairs
that dusted Jake's chest on his back, scratchy beard against his shoulder,
warm body chasing away the goose bumps and chills.

     "What's going on?" Jake asked, hands running down Chris' chest and
coming to a stop on his hips.

     "I'm just..." he couldn't finish, Jake's lips kissing his neck softly,
pulling Chris' body tighter against his.

     "I'll push those bad dreams away," he whispered, almost singing the
words like they were part of a lullaby, his voice was low, soft and
soothing, "let's get you back to bed."

     Chris turned around, resting his forehead on Jake's shoulder, same
soothing hands on his back as their chests came together.  He knew that he
and Jake had something he'd never felt before.  If anyone could really
chase those dreams away, it was Jake, who always knew what to say to relax
him, what to say to calm him down even if the world was falling apart
around him.  "I'm just still swimming in ideas.  As soon as I get them out
I'll be good," he said, fingers tangling with Jake's.

     "Tomorrow," Jake said, pulling Chris back towards the bedroom, "I
won't let those dreams back in tonight."  The way he said it, there was
something about the certainty and confidence in his voice, it just all came
together and he really believed Jake could do it.  Maybe he was a hero
after all.

     Back in bed, Chris wrapped himself with Jake's arm again, feeling like
he was exactly where he liked to be, completely surrounded by Jake, the
sheets faintly scented with both their bodies, Chris picking up the musky
smell of Jake as he breathed deeply, settling against Jake's body, the
place he'd been missing for so long.  He was back in there and had a
feeling that this would be the last night that he'd jolt out of bed from
that dream.  From here on out, he had no reason to think about Topher,
especially when he was tangled in Jake's long limbs again.  He felt one
last kiss on the back of his neck before he fell asleep, Jake's steady
heart beating against him.

***

     Chris' eyes were shut, the warm salty water splashing up around his
and Jake's bodies, his hands tangling in Jake's hair again, Jake's stubble
rasping against his flushed cheeks. Jake pulled their bodies together,
their foreheads meeting just as their eyes did.  They were away from the
surfers, the body boarders, the girls tanning on the beach; they were in
their own little corner of the world, the secluded part of the beach just
beyond the rocky jetty that Jake had found one morning and that they went
to every time they needed to feel the sand under their feet, the warm water
surrounding them, or the sun shining down on their bodies.  Chris wasn't
going to say anything about the strange stress that had developed, the
uneasy feeling that both of them seemed to have; it was because he felt so
secure in Jake's arms, felt like if he lost that, he wouldn't be able to do
anything again, not breathe and not feel, forget writing.

     "I'm sorry for everything," Jake said, "for everything that I said,
that I did."  His eyes were intense and thoughtful, Chris' skipped a breath
hearing it, his body tightening for just an instant and relaxing again.

     "You didn't know," Chris whispered, his hands resting on Jake's
shoulders, where they always ended up when he needed support, "but there
was no way you could have.  I should have told you a long time ago."

     Jake silenced him with a kiss.  Suddenly, all the tension seemed to
melt away with those simple admissions and just hearing them, Chris
suddenly felt lighter, felt his head settle, and more than anything, felt
like his heart was exactly where it was supposed to be.  Jake felt him
relax in his arms, hands sliding down to Chris' lower back, feeling the
steady pulse under his fingers.  "I'm so in love with you," Jake said, his
voice low, "I can't see myself with anyone else.  Ever.  I'm yours."

     Chris felt like he was melting into Jake's body, the waves making
their bodies sway together, Jake's warm body pressed against his, fingers
pushing Chris' hair up off his forehead, "I'm so lost without you," Chris
said, "I want you to know that I never want to hurt you again.  I don't
want you to think that I'm going to just run away from you like I did.  I
wasn't thinking."

     "It's okay," Jake said, pushing Chris head to his shoulder, "it's
done.  It's over.  Right now, it's just me and you."

     Chris glanced at Jake again, eyes warm, the same color as ocean water
or the sky.  Jake leaned in for another kiss, the water sloshing around
them, their bodies pressed chest to chest, every inch of skin craving more,
everything out in the open.  Jake pulled away, grabbing Chris' hand and
leading him towards the shore, the water splashing up to their ankles now
instead of their shoulders.  Jake pulled him down on to the sand and Chris
couldn't suppress a smile, it was too much like a movie, Jake's body on top
of his as the waves washed up over them.  His lips crashed into Jake's,
hands sliding down his back as Jake's tongue skimmed his.  He felt Jake's
lips move to his jaw, down to his neck as he arched under him, warm sun on
his chest, cool water splashing up under him, Jake's hot body all over him,
it was like he was one huge nerve, opposing sensations all over his body, a
foreign whining noise coming from his throat, a surprise to him even more
than it was to Jake.

     "You okay there?" Jake asked, his hand pulling Chris' into its grip,
feeling the tension in his fingers.

     "It's too much," Chris panted, "too much at once."

     "Good," Jake said, lips going right back to Chris' neck, "you're in
for a long ride."

     "Not here," Chris said, "we can't."

     "Yeah we can," Jake said, pulling him up the shore, the incessant
waves too distracting, "remember Big Sur?"  Chris' mind spun, he thought
about it all the time; it was one of his favorite places, even though the
memories were few, it was just him and Jake in the middle of the world,
nothing but the two of them.  "It's like that," Jake said, "this is our
place, too.  Our own piece of the world."  Jake pushed him down onto the
beach towels they had laid out, the water now just a sound in the
background, waves crashing against the sand, not their bodies.  Jake's
fingers yanked at the lacing of Chris' board shorts, the sun already drying
their bodies off.  Chris could feel the grains of salt on Jake's smooth
skin, hands going up to Jake's hair, pulling their lips together as Jake's
hand wrapped around his cock.  His eyes slammed shut, it was easier to
concentrate now, Jake's hand stroking him steadily as his own shaky hands
fumbled to get Jake's shorts down, his body racked with waves of its own.

     Jake's lips ran over Chris', feeling Chris arch under him so that he
could slip his shorts off.  Throwing them aside, Jake felt Chris run his
foot up, grazing the hot skin of his leg as he finally got Jake's cock
free, a shudder going up his back when their cocks slid together, hot heat
and slick skin pushing a groan from Jake's throat.  He'd wanted it bad,
craving the feel of Chris under him, lithe and reactive.  He reached into
the tote bag that held their towels earlier for the tiny packet he'd packed
earlier.  Fishing it out, he held it in his teeth as he yanked his shorts
off, stroking his and Chris' cocks together, Chris biting his lip as Jake
tore the single serve lube open, slicking his cock.  He wanted to be inside
Chris again so bad it almost hurt, he needed to feel the connection, needed
to know that there was a way that they sort of melted together, if only
temporarily.

     "Jake, I need you in me now," Chris groaned, his hand slicking the
pre-cum down and lube down Jake's shaft, surprised to find how slippery it
was.  He pulled his leg up, Jake hiking it up onto his shoulder, kissing
the soft skin of his ankle gently, salt, sweat, and skin mixing on his
lips.  He leaned down, glad Chris was as limber as he was, pushing his cock
into Chris' hole as their lips came together.  Chris' head was thrown back,
shoulders digging into the sand under the towel as Jake slid his slick cock
into him, stretching him open.  He let out a long, slow breath, Jake's cock
stalling halfway in.  His eyes opened, focusing on Jake's, "Keep going, I
can...I can."

     "Right there?" Jake asked, eyes darting to where his cock was sliding
into Chris.  He rocked forward, barely a movement at all, and Chris felt a
shudder rack his body.  A smile came to Jake's face and he repeated the
movement, "You're amazing, Chris," Jake whispered, "I wish you could see
yourself."  Chris' eyes were glazed under heavy lids, his jaw tight as he
squeezed Jake's forearms.  He heard he words, felt the movement of Jake's
lips near his ear, but his entire body tingled, his prostate sending
tremors from his toes to his ears.

     "More," Chris pleaded, the sun warming both their bodies as they moved
on the sand, "Jake, I...oh..." his voice trailed off, incoherent 'ohs' and
'ahs' filling Jake's ears as he slid in further, feeling Chris' hands grip
him tighter as he moved forward.

     Jake knew that Chris expected fingers earlier, some stretching or
something, but he couldn't wait; inching forward, it took every ounce of
control he had not to slam in and saw into the tight channel, every inch of
his length being squeezed in the slick heat.  Jake watched as Chris' hand
wrapped around his cock, jerky motions up and down his length as Jake's
entire cock came to a stop inside him, the entire length inside him as he
took long, deep breaths.  Jake pulled Chris' body tight against his, a
fraction more of his cock sliding inside, Chris' body stiffening to feel it
all inside him, every inch pulsing inside him as Jake licked at his neck,
their lips coming together again as Jake pulled out, tiny gasps coming from
Chris' mouth.

     "Everything's for you, Chris," Jake whispered, pushing back inside,
Chris' muscles tensing with the motion, his eyes shut tight and the
knuckles of his left hand white as he steadied himself on Jake's shoulders.
His thrusts got smoother, long steady strokes in and out.  Chris' legs
wrapped around his waist, their bodies glistening with sweat under the
bright sunlight, Jake's hips moving with a quick fluidity that whipped
Chris' head from side to side.  Jake nibbled on Chris' earlobe, scratchy
beard scratching against Chris' face, hot breath against his skin as Jake
thrust in and out, every thrust stretching him open, every thrust sending
the head of Jake's cock raking over his prostate and sending an
overwhelming shock up his body.

     "I can take it," Chris groaned, "give it to me...fuck, give me
anything, everything."  Jake reared back, slamming back in with a hard
thrust and Chris thought his head was going to shoot off as Jake rested his
cheek on his chest, thrusts erratic and hard, Chris' hand frozen on his
cock as he tried to just absorb everything.  Jake pushed his hand off his
cock and pulled out quick, a loud grunt coming from his mouth as Chris
gasped at the sudden change, Jake flipping him over and pulling him up onto
his hands and knees.  Jake spread his legs apart, knee sliding between
Chris' as he pushed back inside, Chris' head tossing back, Jake's fingers
tangling in the drying, salty strands.  He pulled Chris' head back, their
lips colliding again as he pushed his cock in again, strokes still smooth
and quick.  Jake felt like his entire body was going to shoot out of his
cock, Chris' gasps and grunts sending him into a frenzied series of
thrusts, his hand reaching to stroke Chris' hard cock.  "No, no," Chris
pleaded, his body stiffening as he shot, thick hot ropes of cum flying from
his cock onto the towel under them.  Jake froze, his cock trapped in the
squeezing confines of Chris' ass, eyes closed as his lips nibbled at the
back of Chris' neck, his chest feeling every tightening muscle of Chris'
back.  "Jake, oh God, Jake," Chris groaned, almost whimpered, and Jake shut
his eyes as he heard it, his name coming from Chris' dry throat.

     Chris' forehead rested against the sand as Jake kept thrusting, hard
rough thrusts slamming into him as Jake ran a hand down his spine before
both hands reached up for Chris' shoulders, pulling with every thrust,
Chris' body overwhelmed now, losing all control, not sure whether to go
rigid or to lie limp, his arms shaking as he held his body up and Jake
thrust in again and again.  One final thrust, so hard and deep that Chris
could almost taste it in his mouth and Jake froze.  Chris' head hung slack,
Jake's grunts at his ear as he felt the hot cum shot into him, the familiar
burn of it spreading across his entire body.  Jake's voice was incoherent,
a string of "Chris, Chris, Chris," falling into Chris' ear as he tried to
get his breathing back to normal.  He carefully pulled his cock out,
feeling Chris fall to the sand again, breaths labored and body still
quivering.  He pulled their bodies together, lips crashing in another kiss,
Chris' hands on Jake's chest to feel the quick but steady beating of his
heart.  "Chris, you and me, I just can't," Jake panted, "I can't see it any
other way."  Chris could only nod, lips pressing to Jake's again in
agreement.  He wished he didn't always get so incoherent, that he
practically fell comatose every time.

     "There's no other way," he managed to get out, Jake grabbing his
shorts and Chris' in one smooth motion.  The beach shower would wake Chris
back up, Jake thought, pulling them together again.  He pulled Chris up,
body still shaky as Jake pulled them together under the bright sunshine,
bodies covered in the rough sand, eyes only half-open.

     "There isn't," Jake said, offering just one more kiss, "there's
nothing if there's no us."

---

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