Date: Sat, 9 Jun 2018 23:04:22 -0700
From: christopher <breakingthroughstory@gmail.com>
Subject: Breaking Through 24

A very big thank you to all of the readers who have taken the time to send
kind messages for the story. I very much appreciate it. Please send any
feedback, complaints, and correspondence to breakingthroughstory@gmail.com.

The usual disclaimers apply. This is fiction.

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Chapter 24

"Jesus, Chris. You can't just stop like that," Armie said, doing his best
to balance himself on his feet. He looked around to see what had made Chris
literally stop in his tracks and spotted Jake at a table right on the edge
of the deck. He was having a glass of red wine and talking to a
dark-haired, stubbled companion.

"Sorry. Sorry," Chris said. "I just didn't expect that." The two of them
were in Santa Barbara again, having lunch at Stearn's Wharf. The Harbor was
a tourist favorite, but with the best views of the harbor, Chris and Armie
would risk the crowds. It seemed they weren't the only ones.

"So, that's Dan, I assume," Armie said. They'd never met the architect that
Maggie had talked about and neither of them had done anything to find out
more about him. He was long and lean, Chris noticed, and his dark, thick
glasses gave him an air of sophistication. Chris didn't know that Jake
still came up the coast, adding one more layer to the surprise.

"Why does this keep happening to us?"

"Well, go over and say 'hi.'"

Chris took a deep breath and headed towards the table. Jake had scored one
of the best tables at the corner of the deck. "Hey," Chris said as he
approached. "I didn't know you'd be up here."

"Chris," Jake said, his face going from a casual grin to furrowed brow to a
nervous smile. "This is Dan. I wanted to show him what California is all
about. Are you here by yourself?"

Chris offered his hand and Dan shook it with a firm grip. "It's nice to
meet you," Dan said. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Armie is actually here," Chris said. "We're actually checking on the
renovations at the house." He heard his voice trail off.

"That's really great," Jake said. He turned to Dan and explained, "Chris
has a historic cottage. It's in West Beach. Arts and Crafts style. It's
amazing."

"Built after the earthquake in 1925," Chris added.

"That sounds charming," Dan said. "Jake's mentioned it a few times."

"Obviously, I...we can't change the outside. We're just updating the
inside."

"Hey," Armie said, putting his arm around Chris' waist. "Table's
ready. Nice seeing you, Jake." He shook Dan's hand and introduced himself,
"Armie Hammer."

"I've also heard a lot about you," Dan said.

"We should sit together," Jake suggested. "The table is big enough. Sit
down."

"It's fine," Chris said. "We'll be talking about the house and I'm sure Dan
doesn't want to talk shop. Enjoy your time here. As an unofficial
ambassador, Santa Barbara is happy to have you."

First the Oscars, now on his home turf, Chris just had to accept that the
shadow of Jake Gyllenhaal wouldn't ever be that far from his own. After he
and Armie had gone to their own table, which was thankfully on the other
side of the huge deck, talk turned to the house, just as expected. They'd
hired an expert to return the exterior to its former grandeur, stripping
layers of old paint and painstakingly replicating the original colors,
which Chris remembered his grandpa saying was a dusty green. The trim was
white and a deep red-brown, a change from the beige and brown that it was
while Chris was growing up.

Inside, Armie decided to smooth down the walls and paint the interior a
clean, bright white. That way, Chris' midcentury furniture would stand
out. Plus, the bathrooms would be brought up to date so Armie wouldn't have
to duck under the showerhead and the toilets wouldn't run. It was tough to
handle the entire project from L.A., but the city of Santa Barbara had
guidelines for what they could and couldn't do. Those rules made most of
the decisions for Armie and Chris, since there was no going against the
historical society's mandates. It would be a change from the tiny picture
in "Architectural Digest," but the designer assured both of them that the
result would be worthy of any magazine.

However, the trip wasn't just an excuse to head to the Central Coast. It
was also a break from filming the PBS series. Chris and Armie had been busy
crisscrossing the state to film the docu-series. And although Armie had
only been in one of the four episodes that they'd filmed so far, he was
happy to be traveling alongside his husband for such an important
gig. Halfway through, Chris thought they deserved a break from the
grind. The crew appreciated the sentiment, too, and everyone took a week
off to reconvene with their families. All the while, Chris and Armie were
in contact with the designer, the contractors, and the historical society
to make sure everything was running smoothly.

Chris was grateful for the distraction, which kept him from trying to crane
his neck over in Jake's direction. As he worked on his cioppino, he
wondered exactly what it'd be like to step into the house he grew up in and
not recognize anything. It was time for a change, but he was genuinely
afraid that doing it all in one fell swoop would be overwhelming. And
although Armie was the one that insisted they say hello, he didn't look
over his shoulder even once. Whatever Jake was doing with Dan, both Armie
and Chris would be oblivious.

Seagulls cawed overhead and the sun started to dip in the sky by the time
Armie had finished his second beer and Chris had steeled himself to the
realization that he'd be walking into what amounted to a brand-new
house. As they walked out of the restaurant, dodging beach cruisers and dog
walkers on the pier, Chris reached for Armie's hand and squeezed it
tight. Thinking about Jake and Dan together didn't necessarily make Chris
jealous or sad, he was actually glad to see Jake with someone, to see him
genuinely smile, and to know that they were in a place that included
cross-country trips.

"Ready?" Chris asked as they pulled up to the house.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Armie said, opening the passenger door
before Chris even shut off the car.

"How did they manage to keep the wisteria up on the porch like that?" Chris
asked, taking slow steps towards the house. It looked fresh all around,
from the roof to the window trimming and columns to the walls
themselves. Even the picket fence had been replaced; the faded white gone
and redwood slats in their place.

"They know what they're doing," Armie said. He unlocked the front door,
which was completely refinished and gleaming and the two stepped inside.

"Oh wow," the two of them said, nearly in unison. The house was bright. The
stuffy, slightly oversized furniture was gone, replaced with most of the
things from the Glass House. The hardwood floor had been sanded and
refinished, providing a darker contrast to the new white walls. It was
inviting now, not foreboding. Chris looked inside, running his fingers over
the doorframes and windowsills. It was not at all unfamiliar, he could
still feel the spirit of the house in everything and the as Armie walked
down the hall, Chris even heard the familiar squeak of the floorboard.

"It's so different," Chris said. "But it's not."

"I like your things in here," Armie said. "I didn't think it would, but it
looks really nice."

Chris walked from room to room, noticing all the changes and checking to
see what was the same. Unfortunately, his Wolverine sticker didn't make it,
until he saw it in a tiny wooden frame hanging above a light switch in the
spare bedroom. When he made his rounds and found himself in the kitchen, he
saw Armie in the backyard, pulling a tarp off of the patio furniture.

"I like it a lot. Thanks for encouraging me," Chris said. "It was time."

"Keep going forward, even if your heart is telling you to look back," Armie
said.

"You know I hate it when you quote my own work to me," Chris said, coming
up behind Armie wrapping his arms around his chest. He rested his cheek
against Armie's shoulder blade and smiled, breathing in the subtle scent of
cologne and eucalyptus-tinged air.

"PBS is loving all the footage," Armie said, leaning back. "You've got the
golden touch."

Chris' arms went down lower, hooking around Armie's waist. "It's
nothing. Just talking to kids and teachers. It's like when I'm on the panel
at UCLA."

"The house is phenomenal," Armie said. "The whole world is yours right
now. Honestly, I can't believe I'm the one going through it with you."

"Stop," Chris said. "It's just all happening at once. I wouldn't have ever
even thought of it if you weren't always encouraging me."

"You deserve it. You deserve it all. You're so talented. You're so driven
and focused. I've never seen anything like it," Armie said as he turned
around. He pressed his lips to Chris' and pulled their bodies together.

"We're already married, you don't have to keep flattering me."

"I'll stop when you stop being so amazing."

Chris settled into Armie's body, his hands moving in slow circles across
Armie's back and his head resting on Armie's shoulder. It was the longest
quiet moment they'd had in so long, he couldn't even recall the last time
they'd just been this close. Flying across the state and driving from city
to city put them in close quarters, but both of them were so concerned with
call sheets and daily schedules to just be with each other. As Chris felt
the warmth of Armie's body, the thought of reading up on his next
prospective interview and researching education methods disappeared from
his overactive mind.

"We carved our initials in the pier right here," Chris said, kneeling down
and inspecting a post in the wooden railing. "It's not there anymore. Good
and bad."

"It's good to know that some infrastructure gets taken care of," Armie
said, offering his hand and pulling Chris upright. Armie had asked to see
the places Chris spent his childhood, from his old school -- a private
Catholic school, complete with uniforms, nuns, and Bible study -- to the
Santa Barbara library right off of State Street and now, the pier. They
even walked by the newsstand that Chris worked during high school, which
was now an organic fruit stand, proving that print journalism really was
having a hard time and Californians really were all about healthy
eating. Chris even explained how during his sophomore year, his best friend
had killed himself, something that most of his fans knew about from his
first book. Armie didn't know where the lines blurred when it came to fact
and fiction, but he did recall Chris mentioning it in passing.

"We used to come to the pier after school to get corndogs and Coke," Chris
said. "No soda in my house growing up. Kids always find a way, but my
grandparents probably knew."

"Did you keep coming after he died?"

"I would still come out here," Chris said. "It's hard not to when you live
so close."

"You couldn't catch a break," Armie said. "You went through a lot of loss
so young. It was nothing like that for me."

"We can't all be as lucky as me," Chris said, leaning on the railing, his
eyes looking down at the dark, rippling salt water below. The roar of the
crashing waves became a dull hum in the background and the reflection of
the lights on the water, some coming from the oil rigs offshore and others
from the boats out night fishing, made for an entrancing combination.

Armie leaned on the railing right by Chris, rubbing his back with one
hand. "Nobody should have to go through their parents, their friends, and
their grandparents passing so early in their lives. It's a lot."

"It's not something I think about," Chris said. "There wasn't much I could
do about it."

"I saw that they had a special case of your books in the library," Armie
said.

"That's silly," Chris said. "I'm not a local hero. They just did that and
sent me a certificate saying I was an exemplary citizen. It's not a big
deal."

"There's something about this place," Armie said, reaching for Chris'
hand. "I can tell why you keep coming back."

"We come back because it's not so hectic," Chris said. "When we're here,
everyone knows not to call or email. It's a bubble that the rest of the
world can't get into."

"Little do they know, we still get cell reception and Wi-Fi."

"I think they're fully aware that we just ignore everything when we're
here," Chris said. "It doesn't take more than a few straight-to-voicemail
calls for people to stop trying."

Armie leaned in and kissed Chris' temple. "Do you regret moving away from
all of this?"

"No. It's better to be away. That way, this place is always special. Home
is in L.A. This is like coming back to a fantasy. There are bad memories
and good ones, happy ones, sad ones -- it's a lot. I like clear
divisions. But I have you to keep it all together. I'd go crazy without
it."

"You deserve more credit than you think," Armie said.

Chris didn't respond, still soaking in the familiarity and the nostalgia
that was all around him. He was glad there was a lot of happiness to show
Armie. Sure, there was a reminder of tragedy every time they came up, but
now that Armie could see that there were plenty of good times to temper the
bad, Chris could breathe a little easier, could let down his guard when it
came to talking about himself and what he'd been through.

"There's a hotel bar that I want to show you at the Biltmore, but I know
Jake will be staying there, so we probably don't want to hang out there."

"Things went fine earlier," Armie said. "But it's up to you."

"When it's clear, you can see the Channel Islands from the lobby. Maybe we
can go for brunch, where we'll see him for sure."

"Are you okay with him and Dan? Seeing them together?"

"He deserves to be happy, too," Chris said, pulling Armie along as they
walked the length of the pier. "And he was smiling, so I assume he's doing
okay." He let out a long breath. "It's serious if he's bringing him out
here. Santa Barbara, I mean. The guy's probably been to L.A."

"It's probably best if you don't think about it," Armie said, chuckling. He
knew the wheels in Chris' head had been turning since lunch, human nature
dictated it. The day's activities were a good distraction, but Armie knew
the subject would creep back in eventually.

"Maybe we should get you a drink," Chris said. "You're starting to make a
lot of sense."

Jake remembered always joking about having a standing reservation at the
Four Seasons -- also known as the Biltmore -- for Sunday brunch. The truth
was, he'd befriended the manager of the hotel, so he and Chris never had a
problem getting in, even when the wait had stretched to two hours, which it
often did in the summertime, when tourists flooded Santa Barbara. And even
though it had been years since he'd come up for brunch, all it took to get
a table was a single call. He sipped his mimosa and listened intently as
Dan explained how he'd read all about the hotel's renovation, which cost
upwards of $300 million and restored it to its 1920s grandeur. It was fun
to see him impassioned, Jake thought, even though Spanish architecture was
worlds away from what Dan did. He was enamored with every inch of the place
and Jake couldn't help but be caught up in it, too.

"It's so different from the city, I can see why you like it, but I could
never live here."

"You get used to it," Jake said. "Then, it's not so bad at all. Everyone
living in New York says they can't live anywhere else, but this place will
change anyone's mind."

"Can you get falafel at 2 a.m.?"

"Better. You can get tamales, dirty dogs, and street tacos. I really miss
those."

"Your Californian is showing," Dan joked. He saw a smile play at the
corners of Jake's mouth, but it transformed into a stiff frown when his
bright blue eyes caught sight of something over Dan's shoulder.

"I'll be right back," Jake said, already halfway out of his chair when the
words came out. Dan turned around to see what Jake had seen and saw Armie
and Chris at the hostess podium.

"What happened to your eye?" Jake asked, his jaw tight.

"Jake, calm down," Chris said. "It's nothing." He had barely gotten his
sunglasses off and up onto his head when he saw his ex-husband barreling
towards him. "I tripped coming up the porch and we had to go to urgent
care. It's just a cut."

Jake moved in to get a closer look at the butterfly bandage over Chris'
left eyebrow. "It didn't need any stitches," Armie said. He reached for
Jake's shoulder, but he shrugged it off almost immediately. "It looks worse
than it is. No concussion."

"You can walk that house blindfolded," Jake said. "What happened?"

"We repaved the front porch. The steps are higher and I wasn't paying
attention," Chris said, his voice low. "Don't remind me of how clumsy I
am. I don't need everyone here knowing I can't walk up three steps."

"Mr. Hammer, your table is ready," the three of them heard.

"Everything is okay, Jake. I'm still the uncoordinated klutz you remember."

"We should get to our table," Armie said, doing his best to soothe the
tension. "Have a nice brunch, Jake. It was nice to see you again this
weekend."

"Chris, be careful," Jake said. "Take care of yourself."

"I'm fine," Chris said again. "See you around."

Jake watched as the host led Armie and Chris to the other side of the
dining room and out to the patio. It was the furthest possible spot from
where Jake and Dan were seated.

"Everything alright?" Dan asked when Jake sat down again.

"He fell. I overreacted when I saw that bandage."

"That concern..." Dan started, his words slow and deliberate. "It's never
going to go away. It shouldn't. You guys went through plenty."

"I shouldn't abandon you at the table, either. Like I said, I
overreacted. Sorry."

"Your omelet is probably cold. Should we head over to the station for
another one?"

"Do you ever get sick of ocean views?" Armie asked, his hand running up and
down Chris' thigh. Chris' eyes were locked on the waves crashing just a few
yards from where they were seated.

"Give me another thirty-something years and I'll let you know."

"I saw waffles in there."

"There are fresh tortillas, too, unless they took those off the brunch
menu. Lots of Mexican food."

Armie smiled at the server as he set down a French press and a three-tiered
rack with plates of toast, croissants, jam, butter, and miniature
muffins. "Thank you," Armie and Chris said in unison.

"You look sexy," Armie said, pouring coffee for the both of them.

"Black eye, black sweater, nothing too special."

"The tight sweater always does it for me."

"Fitted," Chris said, leaning into Armie's body. If his swelling didn't go
down, they'd have to wait to film the last four episodes. That would delay
production for everyone, so he hoped that a few days would be all it
took. With an entire crew depending on him, the last thing he needed was to
be a problem.

Since he'd been announced as an honorary director at the Hammer Museum and
its accompanying Hammer Foundation, Chris seemed to have more resources at
his disposal than ever before. Coupled with PBS's backing, he had a
dedicated team that worked to get his vision out of his head and onto
digital hard drives. It was the most time he'd ever spent in front of a
camera crew, but he made it a point to always give the spotlight to the
person he was interviewing. Teachers didn't get enough attention. Writers
did, but not for their work to promote literacy. Chris was hoping to change
all of that, to offer a way to not only illuminate the writing process,
which was notoriously secretive and misunderstood, but to show everyone
that storytelling is something anyone can do.

The last stop before Santa Barbara had been Ojai, where Armie had agreed to
be featured at a poetry-writing retreat. He'd struggled to express
anything, falling back on sarcastic jokes and cliches before taking things
seriously and even reading his poem on-camera. It wasn't anything
spectacular, but seeing someone in the public eye open up with struggling
to create something would surely resonate with someone, Chris thought. And
I that inspired even one people to write a poem, he'd accomplish exactly
what he set out to do. That episode was still being edited, but Chris had
seen clips of Armie looking nervous, blushing as he recited his work. It
was sweet and humanizing, taking him off the silver screen and into
something akin to a classroom, a place just about anyone could relate to.

"Did he honestly think that I punched you in the eye?" Armie asked, finally
broaching the issue at hand and snapping Chris right back to the present
moment from his hazy daydream.

"He wasn't thinking," Chris said. By now, Armie had brought back so much
food from the brunch buffet that the table was loaded with waffles, bagels
and smoked salmon, an omelet, and even a shrimp cocktail. There was even a
Bloody Mary on the table, even though neither of them could remember ever
ordering it or even wanting it. "He just saw me and didn't know what to
think. I figured we'd see him here, but I wanted you to see the place."

"It's pretty great," Armie said, leaning back and taking in the view of the
Pacific on one side and the Spanish style hotel on the other. "And the
food's amazing. Being with you is also amazing."

"We haven't been apart at all," Chris said. "It's about time you get sick
of me."

"Not going to happen."

"I'll hold you to that," Chris said, smiling and then wincing as the pain
from his cut shot through him. "Ow."

"You never talk about living here," Dan said, looking around the dining
room, hoping to get a refill on his mimosa. Jake was working on his omelet,
oblivious.

"It was great, but I'd have to drive down to L.A. too often, so it wasn't
practical," Jake said. "It's paradise here, don't get me wrong. It just
didn't work."

"It's beautiful," Dan said. "So different from Los Angeles."

"It's a college town. A retirement community. It's sleepy. It was what I
thought I wanted when I moved here," Jake said. "Same for New York. It's
where I have to be now if I want to spend time with my family."

"Do you think the turmeric-infused mimosa would be good?"

"Definitely not," Jake said, knowing full well that Dan would order it
anyway. There was no point in detoxing via turmeric when Champagne would
undo it right away. Or maybe turmeric was anti-inflammatory? Jake couldn't
keep track of what did what, especially when Dan was constantly
proselytizing the virtues of kombucha, probiotics, and reishi mushrooms.

"Did you think you'd see him so much after the divorce?"

"Not like this. I figured we'd only see each other with my sister. He said
he wanted to distance himself from the movie industry, but that's not
really happening."

"Does that make you mad?"

"Not at all," Jake said, glancing over his shoulder to scan the room. He
couldn't see Chris and Armie. "I didn't know they'd be up here this
weekend. I didn't expect to see them and we ran into them twice. I told you
it's a small town."

"Charming," Dan said. "I've never actually talked to Chris. I've read his
books, though."

Jake wasn't sure if that was an invitation for conversation, but he knew
that it was probably best if Dan and Chris didn't actually sit down to
talk. Jake had spoken with Armie, but when he thought back to the
conversations, they weren't ever very deep. Small talk was the only thing
the really did, aside from talking about what they'd heard about scripts
floating around, possible roles, and which producers were working on which
high-profile projects.

"Maybe we'll see them at Thanksgiving or Christmas," Jake said, trying to
think of a situation for them to come together again.

"He seems very serious," Armie said. "I thought Jake would be with a
fun-loving, laid-back sort of guy."

'Maybe he needed someone grown-up,' Chris thought. 'Someone stable and
predictable.' He pushed the comparison out of his mind. Jake's motivations
weren't any of his concern. However, seeing Dan in person and speaking to
him, brief as it was, made him real. He wasn't just someone Maggie talked
about anymore. He was a living, breathing man that Chris didn't have to
imagine any longer.

"He's probably nice. Maggie likes him," Chris said. He looked over at
Armie, his golden hair almost shimmering in the sunlight as he ate and
their legs touching under the table. "I didn't think we'd ever meet, to be
honest."

"Really?" Armie asked. "It was bound to happen."

"Not like this, it wasn't," Chris said as he poured himself even more
coffee. "I wasn't supposed to look like I'd been in a bar fight." He'd
moved from savory to sweet, picking at a plate of fruit that Armie had
brought to offset the syrupy waffles and maple-glazed bacon they'd been
eating.

"You don't get preferential treatment. Jake and I are...fine," Armie
said. "I see him all the time."

"You see him for work," Chris said, finishing off the last of his food. He
sat back, feeling Armie's arm behind his shoulders. "It's never not going
to be awkward, is all I'm saying. With Dan or with anyone else, it'll
always be weird."

"It doesn't have to be," Armie said. "Trust me, I know."

"I don't have the charm and charisma of a Hollywood leading man," Chris
said.

Armie leaned in and kissed his temple, making sure to keep it as gentle as
possible. "Forget about it," he said softly.

Chris tapped at his phone as he waited in the lobby. Armie had excused
himself to go to the bathroom and Chris hoped that he'd be able to sneak an
afternoon nap in before the two of them headed back to Venice Beach.

"It was nice to meet you, finally," Chris heard. Dan was extending his hand
and Chris shook it, slightly dumbfounded.

"Sorry," Chris said, scrambling to slide his phone back into his
pocket. "Same, yes. It was good meeting you. Just wished I didn't look like
a mess."

"You look fine," Dan said. "We all have our moments. I hope I'll see you
around."

"Me, too," Chris said. "Where's Jake?"

"Waiting for the valet," Dan said. "I saw you as I was coming from the
restroom. Couldn't just leave without saying something."

"When are you headed back to New York?" Chris asked.

"This weekend. We're going to spend a few days in Los Angeles and then fly
home," Dan explained.

Chris felt a hand at his back and looked over his shoulder to see Armie
standing there, smiling. "See you around," Armie said. "I'm sure we'll see
each other soon."

"It was great to finally meet you both," Dan said. "Can finally put real
voices to the stories I read and the interviews we see."

Armie and Chris watched as he walked towards the door, where Jake was
getting into their rental car. He offered a wave goodbye and a smile to the
both of them before they drove off. "Did I dream that?" Chris asked. Armie
playfully pinched his side and he recoiled, swatting Armie's hand
away. "Wide awake."

"C'mon, it's time to get back to the real world."

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