Date: Mon, 28 Aug 2006 22:19:23 -0700
From: christopher. <christopherrluu@gmail.com>
Subject: breaking through part 27

Disclaimer: This is fiction.  This story implies nothing about the
celebrities mentioned.  This is my story, don't copy it.  This is intended
for adults, so if you're not allowed to read this, don't.

Author's Note: A big thanks to everyone who responded to the last chapter.
Sneak peeks for my story and other great Jake stories can be found at the
Gyllenhaal Chronicles group:
http://groups.msn.com/TheGyllenhaalChronicles/_whatsnew.msnw.  It's a great
place for fans of Jake fiction, give it a visit.

Breaking Through is an award winning story (though probably not for long
with all the great stories popping up), 2006 winner of "Best Non-Boyband
Story" in the Nifty Boyband Story Awards.

Feedback can be sent via E-mail to christopherrluu@gmail.com or you can
just tell me on AIM with my screen name babyofthe1980s.  I'll answer all
E-mails and try my best to keep you interested in my conversations.

Part XXVII

     Papers were spread out all over Maggie's coffee table, Chris' schedule
for this and that, promoting his book, promoting himself, really.  There
were a dozen scenarios, Vivian working with Knopf to get everything from
just two stops: New York and LA, to an entire cross-country tour.  Chris
tossed that schedule right into the trash.  He was famous, but he knew he
wouldn't be drawing crowds in places like Miami and Dallas.  Sighing, he
had no idea what to do.  Jake's movie was driving him crazy, he didn't know
when it was going to be done, even Jake didn't know.  Sure, they had a
shooting schedule, but it was revised so many times that nobody paid any
attention to it.  More than anything, he wanted Jake on this trip with him,
but the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that Jake wouldn't
be.  His book was almost ready, final revisions done, final checks on
everything still happening, he was sure.  He was also sure that reviewers
were already ripping the stories to shreds.  Everything was coming
together, Vivian was working overtime trying to get everything to happen at
once.  His second Esquire magazine cover, his morning talk-show
appearances, other magazine articles; she wanted them all out at the same
time.  She wanted Chris on every literate person's mind.  Chris was more
than a little scared.

     "When you used the bathroom last, did you leave your contact solution
out?" Maggie asked, sitting down on the floor next to Chris.

     "Yeah, sorry," Chris said, quickly trying to straighten the mess he'd
made.

     "No, I'm sorry, I spilled it all."

     Chris let out a chuckle, sighing as Maggie rested her head on his
shoulder, "I'll get some more later."

     "Looks like you're going to be busy for a while," Maggie said,
glancing at the itineraries.

     "I miss home," Chris said, "I've never been this long without sleeping
on my own bed.  I miss the beach and I miss my studio.  I don't think what
I do here, anywhere really, is as good."

     "This is your bed," Maggie said, stroking Chris' arm, "nobody else
sleeps on it.  And Jake said he'd take you down to the other house, there's
a beach there."

     "It's not the same."

     "I know," Maggie said, "but what can you do?"

     Peter sat down next to the two of them, Chris between them, "We have
to get out.  I'm going crazy."

     "You guys can," Chris started.

     "No, don't even try, you're coming," Peter interrupted, "get your ass
up."

***

     The air was crisp, the leaves starting to be veined with red and
orange, tinges of yellow on their edges.  Autumn was Chris' favorite time
of year, even though back in California, the only signs of the impending
season was the back-to-school rush and the slightest chill in the air.
Chris loved wearing coats and scarves, loved the way everyone looked
bundled up.  Winter was great for that too, but summer and spring just
seemed too easy.  He always fell back on his routine of t-shirts and
flip-flops.  The other thing about summer was that he'd never really had a
good one.  School was a distraction from how unconventional his life had
been, growing up without parents, and he used to hate being different.  Now
he had a family though, so summer wasn't so bad.  He just remembered biking
with Jake and spending time at the beach with Peter and Maggie.  Fall
though; he'd always love the fall.

     Peter's fingers scratched at Chris' messy spiky hair, a smile on his
face, "Get out of your head, Christopher."  They arrived at the park and
Chris shoved his hands back in the pockets of his coat, unsure if they were
going to turn or go straight into the green hills of the park.

     "We should get some coffee," Chris said, "or something to eat, I don't
know."

     Maggie wrapped her arms around one of Chris', "It's been nice having
you around, you know.  I just wish you'd have a little more fun."

     "I do," Chris said, "I like riding my bike and just walking around.
I'm not bored."  The more Chris thought about it, the more pathetic it
seemed.  He had the greatest city in the world right there and all he was
doing was sitting around doing the same things every day.  The museum
curators knew him by name, people he saw walking their dogs waved at him
when he sped by on his bike, he saw the same ducks on the lake every time
he jogged.  He thought it was nice, but then again, he realized he'd
slipped back into routine.  He hated it and loved it at the same time.

     "There's more to life than what you and Jake have," Maggie said, "you
have him and you have your writing, but there's more; there's a lot more."

     But Jake and writing seemed like all he needed.  Other things were
nice, but those two things were really all he needed.  He started thinking
about it, but Peter's word interrupted him, jarring him from the inside
out.

     "You think it's all you need, but it's not," Peter said, practically
reading Chris' mind.

     "Do you ever get sick of him always spouting out this advice," Chris
asked Maggie, smiling as he shook his head.  She laughed, Peter blushing
slightly as they walked down the street.  Fall was here and he had his
family.  His book was ready to go.  The only thing missing was Jake.

***

     Jake pulled on a sweater, smoothing the soft fabric over his chest,
pulling on the sleeves a little, pulling down on the bottom just a little
more.  It seemed short, a little tight.  Chris was right, he was probably
wearing Chris' clothes more often than his own.  He started taking it off,
but it was already stretched out.  He could see Chris now, grabbing it and
putting it on, fabric stretched out and sleeves too long for his leaner
body.  Chris loved Jake's muscles, loved everything about Jake's body, he
just didn't like them when they were in his clothes.  But he was guilty of
wearing Jake's clothes too, loving the smell, loving how they seemed to
envelop him in comfort.  Jake liked seeing him in his old hoodies, wearing
his t-shirts around the house when they were back at home, loved taking his
clothes off of Chris even more, though.

     "I was just thinking about you," Jake said, hearing Chris open the
door.  Right on time, that was one thing about Chris that would never
change, if there was a set pattern to his activities, he'd do everything
with clockwork precision.  Nothing could stop him.

     "I missed you," Chris said, wrapping his arms around Jake's chest,
resting his cheek on the middle of Jake's back, "you smell good."

     "I just got out of the shower," Jake said, turning around to face
Chris, their foreheads pressing together.  There were those eyes, the same
brown ones he missed so much, "I got your message."

     "And?" Chris' voice was full of false hope.  He sounded desperate, but
he was.

     "We're supposed to finish next week, but you know how this is going.
I can't make any promises on your schedule because everything's still up in
the air up here."

     "Then I'll move everything," Chris said, grabbing Jake's shoulders, "I
don't think it would matter."

     "You can't do that," Jake whispered, his cheek rubbing against Chris',
his hands wrapping around Chris' waist, "it's been this long already.  I
know you've been pushing things back."

     Chris felt his heart fall to his feet, "I have three stops next week.
San Francisco, LA, and New York.  That's it."  He felt Jake hold him tight,
"The book comes out the week after, these are all special events, so I
don't know how it's going to work with the sales and stuff, I'm sort of
just following orders," he would have kept talking, nervously babbling if
Jake hadn't stopped him, lips crashing into Chris' as he held him, trying
his best to let Chris know that things were going to be okay, they'd been
through enough to know that this would be nothing.

     "Whatever," Jake whispered, "don't even think about it right now."

     If there was something that could make Chris forget, it was Jake.  He
opened his mouth the tiniest bit, Jake's tongue sliding between his lips as
he ran his hands down Jake's chest and back up again, his mind fuzzy, body
completely engrossed in everything Jake was doing.  Jake could make him
forget about it, but forgetting about something didn't solve it.

     "You can see Alec again," Jake said, pulling away, "I wonder what's
going on with that guy."

     "Yeah," Chris said, not even listening.  He just didn't know how Jake
could say no.  He'd been coming up every weekend for months.  In theory,
they had a few days extra in case the movie ran long and Jake was still
just dismissing the idea.  Sure, he deserved a break, but Chris deserved to
have Jake by his side during something like a book release.  Chris worked
all the time, but this was the only real work that he did.  He could write
anywhere, he wrote no matter where they were, but promotion was the only
thing that he couldn't budge on.  He was in someone else's hands.

     "Maybe I can catch the tail-end of your tour.  You're doing New York
last?"

     Chris nodded, pulling away from Jake's embrace, "Whatever you can do."
It was just too much to deal with right then, he had to get his mind off of
it.  "Did I leave one of my sweaters up here?"

     "I'm wearing the black one and the blue one's on the chair in our
room."

     He ran his hands over the hem of Jake's sweater, feeling the soft
cashmere under his fingertips, hands sliding up Jake's arms past suede
elbow patches, up to his shoulders.  Another ruined sweater, but he loved
seeing Jake in his clothes, even if he'd never even had a chance to wear
them himself.  "I can't wait until this is all over.  I just want to sleep
in my own bed."

     "I know," Jake said, "I know."  He pulled Chris to him again, taking a
deep breath.  "Hey, cheer up."  Jake hated when Chris got like this, when
they only saw each other on the weekend, it wasn't worth it to be in a bad
mood.  But what made it worse was that Jake knew exactly why Chris wasn't
happy and he wasn't doing anything about it.

***

     Chris watched the luggage go around the carousel, the gravity of the
situation weighing on him.  The morning shows went fine, but they
definitely could have been better.  Vivian and Maggie had both said that he
seemed a little distant, that they could tell he had other things on his
mind.  He looked good though, brand new gray Prada suit courtesy of Maggie
and Peter in his garment bag, he was just waiting for his white suitcase to
come by, but it seemed that arriving at the last minute before take-off
meant waiting the longest for his luggage.  He finally saw it roll down the
conveyor belt and he grabbed it, white leather scuffed and banged from
countless trips.  He gripped it in his hand and turned around, startled
when he saw Alec right there, pulling him into a hug.

     "Hey, I can't believe it's been so long."

     "It's good seeing you again, Alec, thanks so much for picking me up."

     "It's nothing.  I can't believe you have another book coming out.
Take a break, Chris.  You have to give other people a chance."

      "When it comes out, I have to get it out there.  I have to eat, you
know.  Bills to pay."

     "No Jake this time?  He had enough of San Francisco the first time?"

     "He's working," Chris said, suddenly aware of how alone he was.  There
were people milling around the airport, hundreds, maybe thousands of them,
but he felt like he was the only person without the person they needed.  It
made him sad, it made him angry, it made him realize how selfish he was.
"And I don't think he's into the whole book thing.  He reads, but he's not
the kind of person that would go to a signing or a reading."

     "Not even yours?"

     "He's gone to most of them.  He's just busy."

     Alec could feel the disappointment in Chris' voice, saw his hunched
shoulders and down-turned eyes as they walked out of the terminal.  "Same
hotel as last time?"

     Chris nodded, wanting this entire ordeal to be over.  The last thing
he wanted was to be alone.  "Thank you so much for getting your mom to set
this all up.  I know people are going to show up if her name is attached."

      "Don't say that.  Your name's enough to get half the city into a
room."

     Blushing, Chris thought about it as they waited for Alec's car to pull
up.  He had such high hopes for the book, he was so proud of it.  But a
part of him wanted Jake at the signings with him; he was a part of it,
after all.  He imagined Jake there, signing the book right along with him,
their legs brushing under the table as they smiled for the fans and signed
the book together.  But Jake didn't really give it a second thought after
he'd sent in his introduction.  The book was Chris' to him, even though
Chris had thought of it as a collaborative effort.  Jake had inspired most
of the stories; and truthfully, almost everything Chris wrote had something
to do with Jake.  Everything he did, it seemed, was for Jake.

     When the car came, Chris opened the door, not letting the driver get
it for him.  He'd never get used to that sort of thing.  If he could do it
for himself, he would.  It was dusk, his favorite part of the day and he
was in San Francisco, his favorite place; and all that he was missing was
Jake.  He blinked hard, thumb and forefinger grabbing the bridge of his
nose.  He had to get that out of his head, Jake wasn't going to fly out and
take everything away.  This wasn't a fairy tale.

     "Everything okay?" Alec asked, face concerned.  This wasn't the Chris
he'd met before, he didn't need to ask, it was obvious that there was
something bothering him.

     "Just tired," Chris said, "I'll never get used to the long flights."
He let out a little chuckle, if there was anything he was used to, it was
flying.  He'd been doing it so often he could probably fly a plane.  It was
just that he was further from Jake than he'd been the entire summer,
physically and emotionally.  Jake was usually more open to what he wanted,
but he seemed more concerned with finishing the movie than Chris.  "Do you
know someplace nice for dinner?  Somewhere I can just get some good food."

     "You're in San Francisco, Christopher, all of them are good.  But if
you want good food, real good food, just come over to my mom's house.  Her
cook is amazing."

     Chris smiled, maybe there was something he could get used to.  Jake
did all the cooking at the house.  Apart from sandwiches and salads, Chris
was useless in the kitchen.  He loved sitting on the counter and watching
Jake, movements graceful and quick as he chopped and mixed.  It was the one
place they were the most perfect.  Jake was completely engrossed in the
food and Chris at the same time, quick glances to Chris' eyes, fleeting
kisses as he waited for things to reduce and simmer; Chris completely
captivated by every movement Jake made, every look he got and gave, knowing
that he'd be getting a full stomach from the person that filled his heart.
"Sounds great," Chris said, "I just need to take a little break, get my
bearings straight and I'll head over there."

     "I'll make sure mom sets and extra place for you."

     The streetlights were just starting to turn on when the car pulled
into the roundabout in front of the hotel.  Chris opened his own door but
wasn't quick enough to get his suitcases before the driver pulled them out
of the trunk.  The hotel was just like he remembered: stately, like it'd
seen a lot of things, happy and sad, like it had experienced everything.
What Chris was going through was nothing new to it.  The Omni had seen it
over and over.  Broken hearts were nothing new.

***

     Chris ran his fingers over Jake's chest, smoothing the soft hairs
under his fingers.  Jake's fingers were running through his hair and Chris
settled against Jake's body, feeling the warmth of Jake against him.  "I
can't believe it," Chris said, "is it really over?"

     "It's in the can," Jake said softly, "it's a wrap, it's done.  It's
finished."

     "I don't believe it.  I can't believe it," Chris said, hand stopping
right between Jake's pecs.  He watched it, hand slowly moving up and down
with every one of Jake's breaths, "I almost got used to all of this."

     "You won't miss it, believe me," Jake whispered, resting his hand on
top of Chris'.

     "I can't believe we're going home," Chris said, nuzzling his lips into
Jake's neck, "I'm going to pack up our stuff as soon as we get up.  I can't
wait to get back to our bed in our house.  I just..." Chris stopped,
letting it all sink in, "home."  He smiled and Jake held him tight, lips
coming together, Jake's tongue sliding into Chris' mouth as he slid his
hands down Chris' back.  This had been the hardest movie he'd ever done.
It was the most emotional, the most jarring, and without Chris he knew he
wouldn't have been able to do it, without Chris he'd be just like the
characters in the story: cold, heartless, emotionless androids.  Chris gave
him heart and Chris would never know it.

     "Home is where we are," Jake whispered, "as long as we're together."

     The morning light shone into Chris' room and he groaned, that same
dream fading from his head again.  Day or night, it seemed to find its way
into his mind, like a wish he was too afraid to make out loud.  If he
didn't stop talking about dreams, he was going to go crazy.  After this
tour, after LA and New York, he had to find something new to write about.
He rubbed his eyes, heart heavy.  It was so perfect, like something out of
an old movie; something that would never ever happen, even when Jake
finished his movie.  He sighed, hoping that today would cheer him up,
nothing planned but a signing in the evening.  He had the morning to
himself.  He could go the City Lights or go to the park, anything really.
But more than anything, he wanted to see that spot, right near the lake
where he and Jake had their moment.

     Jake hadn't called him, not since he'd gotten into the city, but Chris
figured that these last few days of shooting would be the most grueling,
everyone glad to finally be done.  He and Jake weren't the only people
involved, he wondered how many other people were as miserable as he was,
how many people couldn't even think straight because they were so
distracted with loneliness.  A movie had hundreds of people involved, and
if everyone was sad, Chris wondered how Fincher could live with himself
knowing that he was doing that to so many people.  He wanted perfection and
he was willing to make everyone a walking zombie to get it.  Jake sounded
drained every time he called during the shoot, Chris just pictured everyone
like that, lifeless, sapped of all energy.  It was scary.

     And right on time, like Jake could read his mind, Chris heard the
shrill sound of his phone vibrating against his night table.  "Morning,"
Chris said, trying to sound peppy, morning grogginess overshadowed with
excitement, "I'm in the same suite we stayed in last time.  Same bed, same
view, same everything."

     He could hear Jake chuckle, "Hey, I'm going to be back in New York
after the shoot, so we can meet up there, spend some time all together
before we go anywhere."

     "Yeah," Chris said, stretching as he threw off the sheets, "that's
fine.  I left a lot of my clothes over there anyway."  It wasn't like he
could do anything about it.  He didn't have anything to do after this
promotional stuff, just sitting back and praying for this book to sell.

     "I miss you," Jake said, "and I really...I just don't know how I would
have gotten through it if you weren't just...you.  You're just you and
that's all I need."

     "I love you," Chris said, holding in a yawn, needing to just throw it
out there.  He knew that Jake knew, but he had to say it.

     "I love you, too.  You don't know how much."

     There was a long silence, Chris hanging on those words as long as he
could.  They were so close to what he dreamed.  "Remember Alec?"  He asked,
hearing Jake's soft murmur of a response, "he's being great, getting me fed
and going to all my events."

     "He's a good guy," Jake said, just happy to hear Chris' voice, to
sense that he wasn't completely miserable, "stay out of trouble though.
You know how the photographers were, there's a billion places for them to
get you in 'Frisco."

     "I'm behaving," Chris said, "I'm too drained to get into trouble."

     "We're almost done," Jake said, taking a deep breath, "we've been
through worse, babe."

     "Don't call me that," Chris said, "you know I don't like it."  He
could only remember one other time Jake said it, way back in the beginning
when he didn't know any better.  Either way, it just made him feel weird
and he hated it.  It wasn't cute and it wasn't sweet, not to him.  He
wasn't a baby and Jake wasn't his dad.  "But yeah, we've been through a lot
more than just three-thousand miles.  Finish that movie so that I can wake
up next to you again."

     Jake sighed, a smile on his face just thinking about how nice it would
be to have that again.  Chris wasn't the only one that missed it, "Lunch is
over, I promise it'll be worth it.  We didn't go through hell for nothing."

     "Alright," Chris said, heading towards the bathroom.  It was so
strange having an entire suite to himself.  He didn't know what to do with
all the space.

     "Tell me you love me," Jake said, stopping Chris in the doorway, one
foot on cold tile and the other on the warm carpet.  He could almost see
the smile on Jake's face.

     He leaned against the doorframe, a smile on his face as he ran a hand
through his messy hair.  "You're the reason I put up with the things you
do," Chris said, laughing lightly, "no, you're why I write, Jake, I just
realized.  Everything's for you because it's what you give me.  I love you
because you inspire me, I want you to know that."

     "I do, because I love you right back," Jake said, his voice soft, "I
love you so much."

     An hour later, Chris was out on the street, hands shoved into the
pockets of his coat.  It was colder than he remembered, the cool ocean
breeze blowing against his face.  He walked past a newsstand, stopping only
briefly to glance at the covers.  No Jake, just the same models smiling
from the fashion magazines and the same headlines as always on the news
magazines.  He turned to walk again, but stopped, his own face staring
right back at him.  Esquire was out, his interview and an excerpt printed,
bold headline in the right column.  He couldn't believe he'd made the
cover, much less the feature article.  "In His Wildest Dreams," it read,
Chris' crooked half-smile on the cover, brown eyes warm and hair stylishly
messy.  He grabbed one, figuring they sent the preview issue to their house
in Santa Barbara.  He imagined Jake looking at that same magazine, smiling
as he flipped through the pictures, usually right there over his shoulder
telling him how cute and handsome he looked, but no, Jake was in Canada
still.

     "Just the magazine?" the man asked, obviously irked by Chris' leafing
through the magazine.

     It hit him hard.  Jake was doing great things and he was doing great
things, but they weren't experiencing them together, "Yeah," Chris said,
"just this."  He reached for his wallet, pulling out the money.  He handed
it to the man, something behind him catching his eye, "I'll take a pack of
those, too.  The white box...I mean the silver one.  The silver box."  He
couldn't believe he was doing this again, not after Jake had already told
him twice not to.  He just needed a distraction, something to fog his mind
from everything.  It was easy to fall back on bad habits.  "And one of
those lighters, and a newspaper too.  The Times, I guess."  He grabbed
everything, hoping that he could just forget everything.  If he got lost in
the news, maybe he could forget about how much it sucked to be somewhere he
loved without the person he loved.

     Setting everything down on tiny cafe table, Chris tore open the pack
of cigarettes and lit up, the clumsy movements starting to show
unfamiliarity.  The smoke filled his lungs and he just let out a long
breath, feeling the haze settle already.  Sitting back in his chair, he
opened up the newspaper, throwing the sports and business sections aside.
He didn't care about that stuff, fingering through the current events,
hoping that there was something that could take his mind off of his own
situation.  He grabbed the culture section, frozen when he realized a
review of his book was right there on the front page, a cartoon of a person
dreaming about jumbled words beside the article.

     He took a sip of coffee, needing the caffeine to deal with the sudden
sensory overload.  He didn't want to read it, knowing that they probably
tore his book apart, picking out everything he did to set his book apart:
stories ending abruptly without an ending, stories with no clear
beginnings, little visual vignettes that had almost no point, shifts in
time and tense, things that he did to try and make everything dreamlike,
they'd take all that and say it was ridiculous, things that new writers did
to get attention.  He put it aside, he'd read it when he was in a better
mood.  Taking another drag from the cigarette and another sip of coffee, he
just let his head settle, Jake needed to finish the shoot, that was
priority one for the both of them.  Chris didn't know what would happen
after, but anything was better than what they were going through right now.
He grabbed the review, looking at it again.  He couldn't feel any worse, he
figured.  The review couldn't touch him if he could barely feel anything at
all.

***

     Jake packed up the last of his things, the after-party was an
afterthought, everyone had been on the set long enough already.  If he
could, he'd have helped tear down the futuristic sets himself just to know
that the movie was done.  It felt good, it always did to have something
done, but for once, he realized that there were more important things to
think about.  He threw his clothes, dirty or clean, he was past caring,
into his suitcases.  One to ship back to Santa Barbara, one of stuff he'd
wear when they went to the Hamptons.  He needed a break, needed to take
Chris away from everything that had torn them apart.  No more Hollywood, no
more New York literary scene, nothing but the two of them.  He couldn't get
out of there fast enough, he never wanted to see this hotel room ever
again, it never felt like home.  It was nothing like what they had in Santa
Barbara, but Jake could recall having rooms that felt homey just because he
had some of Chris' stuff around.  A packed suitcase and a few books
definitely didn't make it seem like Chris was around at all.

     He ignored the knock on his door, just wanting to get everything put
away as fast as he could.  There was an uneasy feeling in his stomach, he
knew he'd disappointed Chris and it just wouldn't go away.  San Francisco
was special to both of them, especially now.  It was where Jake really saw
what Chris' world was like, how respected he was in his field, but more
than that, Jake finally saw Chris in a place he was sort of comfortable.
He wasn't in his element; Jake was pretty sure Chris never felt like he was
completely comfortable anywhere but when they were together.  Jake's hand
brushed something velvety and he pulled it out, surprised to find the box
he kept his rings in underneath his hoodies.  He opened it and slipped the
silvery rings onto his fingers.  Now that he wasn't shooting, he could wear
them all the time like Chris did, like they were meant to be worn.  He
heard more knocking, knew it was bad form to be so antisocial, especially
after a shoot like this, but he only had one thing on his mind.  Chris
needed him and he needed Chris.

     "Jake, Christopher is in the gossip magazine this week," he heard from
the other side of the door.  He walked over, slowly opening the door.  He
thought it was a PA, but when he saw the hotel concierge, he figured
everyone involved with the movie was getting wasted together still.  After
parties could run into the morning, as long as there was still alcohol,
there'd be people.

     "He's in it all the time.  Is it something good or bad?" Jake asked,
taking it from her hands.

     "Nothing big, I just thought you'd want to see it," she said, "every
week for this entire time, I just think that's awesome that he'd do that.
Not everyone could go through something like that."

     "He's something special, that's for sure," Jake said, flipping through
the pages.  Jake knew Chris hated being in the magazines, but it had become
a part of both of their lives now, they couldn't do anything about it.
"He's in San Francisco right now."

     "Yeah, he's just doing normal stuff, I don't know why they'd be
following him," she asked, leaning against the doorframe as Jake looked for
Chris' picture.  He found it and scanned it, eyes darting around the page
from caption to picture and back.

     "Because he's not with me, they're probably going to say we had a
fight and we're mad at each other or something.  They always figure out
something to write," Jake said.  Chris was sitting at a cafe, cigarette in
one hand and coffee in the other, newspaper spread out on the table,
sunglasses obscuring his eyes, but Jake could tell from his expression that
he was oblivious to the camera, he was always tense when he knew they were
around.  But he could also tell that Chris wasn't happy.  He looked sort of
listless, Jake noticed, like he didn't know what he was doing.

     "I just wanted to let you know," she said, "but I see that we won't be
seeing much of him around anymore.  Or you."

     "On my way out, yeah," Jake said, shutting the magazine, his finger
holding the page, "thanks for showing me, I'll have to tell him."

    She leaned in, giving Jake a hug, "It's been nice having you here,
really.  You two have been the nicest guests.  The kitchen staff loved when
you cooked down there, we all loved having you."

     "You guys were great," Jake said, feeling a little guilty for not
giving the hotel a chance to even feel homey.  It just left a bad taste in
his mouth, too many sad days alone, too many goodbyes.  "Thanks for putting
up with the two of us."

     Jake watched as she walked down the hall, a jovial trot to her steps
towards the elevator.  Jake shut the door and threw the magazine onto the
table, his fingers flying to his temples, trying his best to massage away
the headache he knew was coming.  Chris only smoked when he his bottom,
when he had to just forget about everything, Jake knew it and Chris knew
it.  He just hated that Chris had to hide it like that, sneaking away and
doing it in secret.  Everyone had vices and bad habits, but not everyone
had photographers following them to document them.

     He reached for his phone but stopped himself.  Chris didn't need to
hear it, especially when he was busy with book signings and interviews.
Jake grabbed the magazine and tore it in half, the sound of paper tearing
echoing through the quiet room, his breathing heavy as he threw the scraps
of paper into the trash can.  The worst part was knowing that Chris smoked
because they were apart.  Chris was doing things he hated doing because
Jake pissed him off, plain and simple.  It only made Jake pack faster.

***

     "I'm so glad you're here," Chris said, throwing his arms around broad
shoulders, smile wide.

     Peter hugged him back, holding him tight, "You have the most
ridiculous people setting up your appointments.  New York to San Fran to LA
and back to San Fran?  And then back to New York for more?  They're not
thinking this stuff through."

     "I don't care anymore, I just show up where I have to.  But I can't
believe you're here."

     "I needed a break too," Peter said, "and I figured you wouldn't mind
some company."

     Chris nodded, "I have Alec's driver, he'll take us anywhere."

     "I'm starving," Peter said, taking his carry-on bag out of Chris'
hand.

     "I'll take you to this amazing pizza place, I go every time I'm in
here."  Peter smiled, glad that Chris wasn't the wreck he pictured.  He
didn't smell like cigarettes, either.  Jake must have been overreacting.
"I'm glad you're here."

     "Me too."

     "I missed having a babysitter," Chris said, seeing right through
whatever Jake, Maggie, and Peter had concocted.  He didn't mind the company
though, liked that they really cared enough to send someone to check up on
him.

     Peter dropped his bags by the couch, throwing his coat over the back
of it, "They gave you a whole suite?"

     The ride to the hotel had been quiet, Chris filling Peter in on most
of the things he'd been doing, telling Peter all about Alec and what his
family did for the entire publishing community, but now that they were
alone, things sort of relaxed, they fell into their familiar cadence, Chris
feeling the tension melt away.  "I sort of requested it," Chris admitted,
"it has some good memories."

     "Let's get something to eat, get your mind off of him."

     "That never happens," Chris said, leaning against the sofa, "I don't
remember what it's like not to think about him all the time."

     Peter sat down next to him, arm coming up around Chris' shoulders,
"That's not true.  When I see you writing, you're into that, your head is
completely in whatever you're doing."

     It was true, Chris thought, but he was too embarrassed to tell Peter
that Jake really did come into his head when he wrote, it was just more of
what Jake did to him, what Jake made him feel and not Jake himself.  "I
should call and get you one of those rollaway beds."

     "Sofa's fine," Peter said, sliding his arm off Chris' shoulders to pat
the cushions, "I'm not picky.  But Jake's worried about you, you know
that's sort of why I'm here."

     Chris stiffened, letting out a long breath, "He's always worried about
me."

     "We're all worried, I know this isn't what you expected, but it's
going good, right?  Your book is going to fly off the shelves."

     "It's too early to say," Chris said, leaning against Peter again,
"reviews are out this week.  I'm scared."

     That was something Peter knew he couldn't control, critics were
something he did have experience with, something they all dealt with, so he
knew the feeling.  "What can you do?"

     "Nothing."

     "Exactly," Peter said, "so let's get going.  When this is over, it'll
be worth it.  The ends will justify the means."

     "Don't talk like that," Chris said, chuckling lightly, "you sound like
a fortune cookie."

***

     Jake shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, shivering as he
walked away from the house.  He needed coffee, needed to stretch his legs a
little after sleeping on the squeaky sofa-bed.  It was good to be away from
the set, away from working.  He just wanted to get as far away from all
that as possible, it didn't seem worth it yet, he'd put himself and Chris
through hell--and for what?  He hadn't even seen a cut of the movie yet.
The dailies seemed good, but without having a chance to see everything all
come together, it seemed like he wasted over four months.  He'd never felt
that way about a movie before.  There was just something about the entire
thing that bothered him, the environment they were in, the way everyone on
set was sort of cold and isolated, and even the script in general, it
didn't have the fun because David Fincher had been more of a slave driver
than a director.  Everyone was walking on eggshells for the movie and Jake
just needed to loosen up.

     New York wasn't nearly as laid-back as Santa Barbara, few places were,
but Jake managed to find his way through the village, a quick cup of coffee
warming his hand as he just walked, hoping Peter was keeping Chris out of
trouble, glad that in just one more day, they'd be together again.  The
thought alone brought a smile to his face.  He could almost feel Chris'
hand in his own, his thumb running over the thick callus on Chris' middle
finger.  He got a chill just thinking about it, he wanted it bad, wanted
everything to be back to normal.

     "Whoa, Jake," he heard, "buddy, slow down."

     Jake turned around, his body reacting on reflex even though his head
was somewhere else.  A tall blonde walked briskly towards him, scarf
bouncing off his chest as his steps slowed down.  "Hayden," Jake said,
smiling, "it's been forever."

     "What are you doing here?  Surf's not up today?"  He laughed, white
teeth flashing between thin lips.

     "Hanging with my sister, waiting to head up to the Hamptons later."

     "Your friend, the writer guy...sort of tall, dark hair and brown eyes?
He showed up to the opening of my play.  He came backstage.  He said he was
pretty into it.  He's a really nice guy, said you'd really like it."

     "I should check it out," Jake said, "I'm just sorting things out right
now, sort of figuring out what to do next."

     "Come either tonight or tomorrow, the understudies do a night a week,
so don't go to those."

     "I can't believe it's been so long," Jake said, laughing lightly, "I
remember when plays were our thing.  Both of us lost in London, getting
wasted on the weekends."

     "We've both come a long way, haven't we?" Hayden said, laughing as he
reached for Jake's shoulder.  He gripped it, squeezing firmly, "I'm glad I
saw you, surprises happen all the time, huh?"

     "Every day, I guess," Jake said, pulling Hayden's hand off of him,
shaking it firmly.  He went walking to clear his head, not be reminded that
he was away from Chris.  Hayden had remembered a lot about Chris too, like
he'd taken a good long look.  He didn't know why, but it made him mad.
Chris wasn't hard to look at, but to actually hear someone describe him in
such detail, to know that someone was actually taking in all the details,
that hit him the wrong way.  Shaking it off, Jake just kept walking, trying
to just forget it.

     Turning a corner, he grabbed his phone.  Chris didn't put his schedule
in Jake's phone, and Jake was pretty sure that he'd be doing something,
anything to make sure his book was what people were going to be talking
about this week.  San Francisco was a place where people talked about
books, not celebrity tabloids.  Even if he wasn't on TV or doing an
interview, just being seen with Alec, going to lunch with people who were
in the know, that would be enough to get his name out there and that's why
it was so important for him to be there.  He thumbed through his messages,
nothing new from anyone, but he knew that there was one in there that he'd
kept for a reason, something Chris sent him that always made him smile.

     Jake felt a pair of thin arms wrap around him, whoever it was had
probably sprinted to him and he didn't realize it, looking at his phone
instead of the world around him.  She was breathing hard and held him
tight, short brown hair pressed against his chest.

     "Where's your boy?" Natalie asked, feeling Jake pull away.

     "Is everyone out in the city today?" Jake asked, confused, "I must
have missed something being away for so long."

     "What?" Natalie looked lost, "So where's Chris?  I was going to call
him, but I guess if you're here he won't want to do anything."

     "No, he's not here, he's doing stuff in San Francisco.  I'm waiting
for him to get back."

     "His new book is amazing.  Sort of scary, did you notice?"

     Jake hadn't, but he was the most biased person when it came to Chris'
writing.  Everything he wrote seemed amazing to Jake, the way he put words
together, even when he wrote the grocery list, it seemed like he thought
long and hard about it.  "I...yeah, it's not like anything else he's done."

     "Do you want to get something to eat?  It's been a while since we've
gotten a chance to spend some time alone."

     "I'd like that," Jake said, nodding.  Maybe Natalie could fill him in
on some of the things she and Chris had been doing, maybe she could take
his mind off of how guilty he felt.

     "We had a photo shoot together a few weeks ago," Natalie said as they
walked, neither knowing for sure where they were going, "he seemed sad, but
when we started talking about you, he cheered up.  He's just...I don't
know, he's sort of somewhere else when he's got you on his mind."

      Jake thought long and hard, wondering how it could be that someone
could be like that.  How could Chris be sad because Jake wasn't there, but
happy at the same time just thinking about it.  Jake wasn't like that,
thinking about how much they were apart made him more frustrated than
anything else.  There were times he questioned why anyone would put up with
it; Chris deserved better than a part-time boyfriend, better than someone
that gave him more angst than happiness.  It was what Chris did, though,
when he needed something, he went into his head to get it.  He could live
entirely in memories and recollections, Jake couldn't.  Jake needed to feel
things, to know that things were there for real.

     "He's really sad?"  Jake asked.  It was so obvious, really.  Chris
could fake it, probably did fake it when Jake asked him how he was.

     Natalie's brow furrowed, "He's head over heels for you, Jake.  How
couldn't he be a little sad?"

     "He puts up a strong front," Jake said, "I think we both do."

***

     Peter stepped out of the bathroom, watching Chris toss the extra
pillows onto a chair, throwing the turndown mints onto the bedside table.
"I called for an extra blanket and stuff, they put it out on the sofa,"
Chris said, throwing the top comforter onto the floor, leaving the crisp
white sheets on the bed.  He walked around the bed, pulling the carefully
folded sheets out from under the mattress.  Peter watched his practiced
movements, it wasn't the first time he'd done it, he made it look
effortless, actions almost automatic.

     "So did I do my job today?" Peter asked, sitting on the bed.

     "What do you mean?" Chris said, pulling his shirt off.  He threw it
next to his open suitcase and it landed in a heap, joining all of his other
dirty clothes.

     "Kept your mind off of him?"

     "Yeah," Chris said, "you actually did.  Did you like the places I took
you?  Did I do my job?"

     "I saw that line wrapping around the block.  I don't think that little
bookstore is built to handle crowds like that."

     "It's a landmark," Chris said, letting himself fall back onto the bed,
eyes fixed on the ceiling, "Jake loved it.  I love it.  It's one of my
favorite places in the entire world.  There's so much history on those
shelves."

     "You're working hard, that's for sure.  That hand must be aching.
Your cheeks must be sore, just watching you there, do you know how many
people you made happy?  Everyone was there to see you and they all got what
they wanted."

     Chris blushed, covering his face with his hands.  He never thought
about it like that, not once.  Having Peter there, even if he was just
hanging out, it really helped.  He was glad someone was there, someone he
really cared about, because part of him wanted to show Peter that he was
successful, that even though there were some things he did need help with,
there were parts of his life where he knew what he was doing.

     "It was nice having you there, you don't know how much it means to
me."  Chris didn't know what it was, hero worship, admiration, deep
respect, probably all of the above, but impressing Peter really meant
something to him.  He looked up to Peter like a big brother, loved that
Peter actually treated him like he really was his big brother, so knowing
that Peter was proud, it made everything worth it.

     "You did good.  When this book goes through the roof, you'll know it's
because of you."  It was a scary though, because it also meant that if it
didn't sell, it was his fault, too.  Peter seemed to sense it, throwing in
an amendment before Chris could say anything, "Not that it won't.  Presales
alone are going to get you on the bestsellers, right?"

     "I have no idea," Chris said, "I don't want to think about it.  That
and the reviews, I just can't."  He let out a long yawn before he could
finish the thought; he was grateful for it, really.  He didn't want it to
ruin the mood.

     "It's late, I'm going to let you bask in your glory."

     "Don't," Chris whispered, pulling on Peter's arm, "this is going to be
really weird."

     "Weird?  What are you talking about?"

     Chris sat up again, turning to face Peter, taking in his soft eyes and
stubbly face, light dusting of downy hair over his chest, "Is it okay if
you stay, not for the whole night I mean, but I think I might need someone,
just until I fall asleep."

     Peter pulled him into a tight hug, fingers running through his hair, a
chuckle coming from his throat, "I'm here for whatever you need."

     He needed Jake, it'd been too long and he didn't think he could stand
one more night in a cold bed.  He slipped under the sheets, pulling Peter
under with him, curling up next to his warm body, "If this is too freaky,
just tell me."

     Peter shushed him, pulling him tight, Chris body slowly fitting into
the curves of Peter's chest, head resting in the crook of his neck, hand
resting on his other shoulder.  It was his favorite way to fall asleep with
Jake, lulled to bed by a steady heartbeat, surrounded by warmth and
comfort.  Peter's hand rested on his back, instinct telling him it was what
Chris needed.  "Thanks for this, Peter," Chris whispered, "I really miss
him."  It took everything not to cry, every ounce of willpower to suppress
even the slightest tear or sniffle.  It was close, but it just wasn't the
same.  Nothing compared.

***

     "Did you ever get through my piece?" Alec asked, setting down his
fork.

      Chris looked up from his plate, the entire city of San Francisco in
the windows behind Alec as he glanced over.  It had all been going so well,
Peter was in the city with him, Jake was still in his head and his heart,
but he lived knowing that they'd be together in just one more day.  Alec
got them a reservation at the most amazing restaurant, right up on top of
the entire city, they were eating amazing food and now Chris just wanted to
crawl under the table.  "I started to get back to you on it, but all these
things got in the way," Chris said sitting up straight, eyes darting over
to Peter, who seemed oblivious.  He was oblivious, Chris realized, "I think
I started a letter somewhere back at home."

     "Well you can just tell me now," Alec said, "you're leaving tonight,
we might not have a chance."

     Peter perked up, sitting back in his chair.  Chris needed a way out,
needed something to happen.  He prayed for anything, for a waiter to drop
something, for someone more famous than he and Peter to walk in, for an
earthquake, anything to get off the subject.  "So I went to school and all
I did was write, you know?  It was just day after day of writing and
critiques and more writing."

     "Yeah, that's how school works.  Only mine was more math and figures
than figurative language," Alec said, eyes intense, looking right into
Chris'.

     "So I got a really thick skin.  I just...Alec, not everyone can just
write and have something great the first time.  We've all got to practice,
even now I still just write to write, even when I say I'm taking a break I
have to just see what comes out, you know?"

     "So did you like it?" Alec asked, "That's all I want to know.  I can
take it, Chris."

     "Try again," Chris said, "throw it out and try again."

     Both Peter and Alec sat there, taken aback at Chris' words.  Chris was
a writer, he knew how powerful words could be, but even more than that, he
knew how hard it was to get rejection letters and bad reviews.  He wanted
to save Alec the heartache, but it just came out wrong.  He didn't mean for
it to be so blundt.

     "Wow," Alec said, eyes falling to his plate.

     "It's not like that," Chris said before he could say anything, "You
just need to find a voice and polish it up.  It takes time, I'm not saying
you can't or you should stop, I'm saying that you wrote a first piece.  Now
you have to go write.  Keep writing, that's all you do.  It's really all
you can do."

     "Yeah," Alec said slowly, letting Chris' words settle in his head,
"thanks for the reality check.  If I send you stuff, could you do this?  I
want to hear what you think."

     "Anytime," Chris said, hoping that it was enough, "that's what we do.
Constructive criticism is how we work.  I'll get back to you with specifics
and details if you send me anything.  You've done so much for me, it's the
least I can do."

     "Constructive criticism is all I can ask for then," Alec said, voice
serious.  He looked at Chris long and hard, wondering if he knew what his
words meant, wondered what Chris really meant by constructive criticism.
He took a deep breath, willing his entire body to relax.

     "Thanks for this," Peter said, breaking the intensity of the
conversation, "the view here is awesome.  I can't believe it."

     "San Francisco never disappoints.  It's the one thing that never lets
you down," Alec said, turning to the windows, knuckles white as he pressed
his fingers into a fist under the table.

     "It's the hardest place to say goodbye to," Chris said.  He looked out
the windows too, really wanting Jake to be there with him, to see how
beautiful it was.  Jake would have loved it.

     "You're pretty hard to say goodbye to, Chris," Alec said, "it's like
the entire city gets a little excited when you come around."

     "It's nice to come to a place where I know they like me," Chris said,
"you definitely don't get that everywhere."

     "You've earned it," Peter said, "when you work, you really work.  Even
I got a little star struck last night."

     Chris blushed, tearing his eyes away from the bay, the buildings,
getting back into his head.  Peter was being the greatest, Alec was taking
everything really well, and he'd done everything he came to do.  The rest
was up to readers, critics, and his publisher.  He couldn't have done it
any better.  It was out of his hands now and he couldn't describe how much
of a relief it was.  Saying goodbye to San Francisco wouldn't be hard if it
meant getting back to Jake.  "Thanks for everything, Alec," Chris said,
he'd been saying it a lot these past few days.

***

     "Where did you find this shithole?" Hayden asked, looking around the
bar.  It was tiny, definitely not a place where people like he and Jake
should have been hanging out.  Nobody would have cared that they were
there.  How would they get in the magazines if they weren't in the hip part
of town?  This was ridiculous, not somewhere he'd ever go.  It was too
low-key, if there was such a thing.

     "It's nice," Jake said, running his fingers over the cardboard coaster
under his beer, "quiet.  Peter told me about it."

     Hayden looked at Jake, his blue eyes tired, vacant.  He wasn't all
there, "Thanks for coming out to the show.  Sorry I couldn't get out of
there right away."

     "It's no problem," Jake said, his voice flat, eyes still unfocused as
he took a long sip from his glass, "you did a great job.  Seeing you up
there, it makes me sort of miss it."

     "You should give it another try.  It's nice to have a regular schedule
for a while," Hayden said, waving to the bartender, who seemed to be
ignoring him, "there's good stuff out there to do, too."

     Jake thought about it, it would be good for him and for Chris,
actually.  Stability was something both of them needed right now, something
both of them were really missing.  "I remember our tiny little apartment we
shared in the West End, remember how we had to shower with flip-flops on
and we'd wait until the last minute to do laundry?  It was hell but it was
so much fun.

     It was the first time Hayden had seen Jake smile since they'd seen
each other again.  Hayden finally got a beer, guzzling about half of it
before the glass even hit the table.  "It was pretty perfect for two kids
who didn't know any better.  Neither of us could do it like that again, I
guarantee you."

     "Things change," Jake said, "some things just change."

     Hayden's hand rested on Jake's shoulder, "What's going on?  You're not
all there tonight."

     Shaking his head, Jake ran his hands over his face, "It's...I've got a
lot on my mind.  I need some air.  I just need to do a lot of thinking."

     "Let's get out of here, then," Hayden said, chugging the rest of his
beer and tossing a ten on the table, "my apartment is a cab ride away.
You've never seen it, right?"

     "I should get back to my sister's," Jake said, "I'm being bad company
and you're obviously all wound up."

     They walked out together, Hayden waiting for his cab as Jake stood
there, wondering what it was that kept him from flying out to San
Francisco.  He'd had a reason before--he just couldn't remember it.  "Your
place, does it have a bathroom?"

      "It worked last time I checked," Hayden said, grinning, "not like our
London one.  God, I remember that toilet being broken more often that it
working."

***

     Alec waved as Chris and Peter got into the cab and sped down the hill,
his fake smile finally falling from his face.  That manuscript was his
life.  He'd read and re-read it so many times that he could practically
recite it on command.  Chris wasn't an authority, he told himself, Chris
was just lucky to have found a market, to find his voice so early.  Not
everyone had the luxury of going to school for what they loved, most people
studied what they had to, what would put money in the bank or what their
parents told them to.

     He stomped his shoe into the pavement, anger finally bubbling over.
If Chris thought that he was nothing in San Francisco without the help of
the Clarksons, he'd see firsthand what it would be like.  Alec shook his
head, ashamed at how juvenile it all seemed.  Everyone was out for
themselves when it all came down to it.  He'd gotten rejection letters
before, he knew all about those things that Chris had been trying to
protect him from.  He knew, but nobody knew that he did because he didn't
want to be the kid who used his parents to get ahead.  But the more and
more he got rejected, the more tempting it got to be.

     The only problem was his mother, she was too proud to have to pull
those strings for her own son.  Chris was the literary darling of the West
Coast.  Everything he did seemed to resonate with readers and critics
alike.  Alec didn't know how to deal with it.  He sat down on the curb,
waiting for his car to pull around, all he knew was that it was time for
Chris to feel what he felt.  Rejection hurt.  It hurt, it felt like Chris
had torn his heart out and thrown it back at him, laughing as he just waved
his talent in front of Alec's novice attempts at writing.  He'd been
disappointed before, but to hear something like that from someone he
admired, someone he practically idolized, Alec wanted to make sure Chris
knew exactly how bad it could really get when he messed with the wrong
people.

***

     Hayden had been right, just a short cab ride and they were at the
steps of Hayden's building, complete with doorman.  The elevator door slid
open and Hayden led the way to his apartment, the hallway dimly lit as they
walked down the winding corridor.  "It's probably a mess, but I think the
cleaning lady came today," he said as he reached for his keys.

     Jake's hand shook, he didn't know why, shoved it into the pocket of
his coat to slow it down.  He didn't know why he was there, he could have
gone home to use the bathroom, there was just something about seeing Hayden
again, especially after so long that just hit his curiosity funny.  There
was something about Hayden, something Jake forgot about since they'd spend
those few months together almost every minute of every day in London.  He
shook himself; London had too many memories, good ones and bad ones, but it
was the bad ones that stuck with him more often.

     "The bathroom's the first door down the hall," Hayden said, pointing.

     Nodding, Jake stepped into Hayden's immaculate apartment, not really
paying attention to anything aside from the emotions hurdling through his
head.  He didn't want to think about Chris, couldn't think about him
because it hurt him to know that he was hurting Chris--and for what?  He
couldn't even remember why.  Splashing some water on his face, he leaned
against the sink, wondering what it was inside him that stopped him from
doing what he knew was right.

     He stepped out, flipping the light switch behind him, walking out to
the kitchen to see Hayden pouring two glasses of wine.  "I'm alright," Jake
said, "I should be getting back."

     "You just got here," Hayden said, handing him one of the glasses.
Jake set it down on the counter without, watching as Hayden took a long
slow sip.  He put his cup down next to Jakes, standing in front of him, eye
to eye.  "Remember when..."

     "Enough remembering, Hayden," Jake interrupted, tearing his eyes away
from Hayden's blue eyes and his blonde hair.  He was the complete opposite
of Chris, Jake wondered why it didn't appeal to him the way it used to.
Hayden looked so California, even though he was the furthest from it, and
Jake had thought once that blond and blue where things he couldn't resist.
Chris changed all that, dark eyes and brown hair, only flecks of blond in
it once in a while, there was just something about it now.  Maybe it was a
part of growing up, maybe he'd grown to look past the surface.  "I don't
know what..."

     Hayden interrupted right back, but it wasn't with words; his lips
slammed into Jake's, his hands furiously tearing at Jake's coat, pulling if
off his shoulders.  It happened so fast, Jake's head was so clouded and it
was vaguely familiar.  It was definitely not their first time, they'd done
it countless times, they never had a relationship, but while they were in
London, they had to occupy themselves somehow.  Those months of honing
their craft and self-discovery were just as charged with sexual discovery,
Jake recalled as Hayden's tongue parted his lips.  His eyes fluttered shut,
hands resting on Hayden's shoulders.  "It's not like you've got anyone
waiting for you at your sister's house," Hayden panted as they parted,
pulling his own coat off, throwing it to the floor as Jake did the same,
the thin sweater he was wearing following it to the ground, "fuck, I never
thought I'd get another chance with you, Jake."

     Jake silenced him, pulling their bodies together with Hayden's belt
loops, their lips coming together again, the feeling of a warm body against
his, reactive and supple, Hayden's lips more assertive than he remembered,
than he was used to.  Pushing his body away, Jake caught his breath,
watching as Hayden unbuttoned his shirt, his body coming into view piece by
piece, more mature than it was back then, more sure, more confident.
Jake's fingers clumsily unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, falling to the
floor as Hayden pushed him backwards, his back crashing into a wall, lips
on his neck, foreign and exploratory, reacquainting himself with what had
been so familiar, however fleeting it was.

     "Damn, Jake, you're fucking amazing," Hayden said, tongue running over
his neck, past his collarbones, fingers pulling down Jake's boxer-briefs,
his thick cock snapping up, Jake's eyes fixed on Hayden's blond hair in his
crotch, lips leaving light kisses at the base of his cock.  "God, I missed
this," Hayden whispered, licking a hot trail from base to tip, a low hiss
escaping Jake's lips, his head leaning backwards, cool wall against the
crown of his head.  Yeah, this is what he needed, curling his fingers in
Hayden's hair, pushing the head of his cock into his mouth, groaning when
he felt Hayden's warm, slick tongue sliding along the underside of his
shaft, the head lodging itself deep in his throat.

     Hayden held in any difficulty.  He wasn't used to Jake taking the
lead, that's not how it worked, but he humored him, opening his throat for
Jake's cock, as thick and hard as he remembered, every hard inch sliding in
and out of his mouth, Jake's balls slapping his chin, the room filled with
the sound of Jake's groans and the his own slurping.  It wasn't like it
used to be, but both of them had learned some new tricks, Hayden was sure,
and he was more than happy to be using them on Jake.  He pulled his hand
off his cock, dripping already, and toyed with Jake's balls, feeling how
heavy they were, pulling off his cock to give them some attention, lips
nipping at the soft skin, tongue lapping at Jake's sac, nose filled with
the musky scent of sweat and his fingers digging into Jake's hip as he
tried to swallow every last bit of his cock, Jake's grunts loud and low as
he thrust hard and fast, fucking Hayden's mouth with a fevered pace,
barreling towards orgasm, needing the release, needing to get some
frustration out somehow.

     Grabbing Hayden's head, holding him still, Jake let the sensation rush
over him, his cock buried to the root in the comforting warmth, his entire
body tingling and numb at the same time.  This wasn't what he was used to
at all, he was pretty sure there was some emotional connection to be had in
this, but he couldn't feel anything but Hayden's hot mouth on his cock, the
waves of sensation all over him.  It was so foreign, like he wasn't even in
control of his own movements, his hips controlled by an animal instinct.
Hayden stroked his own cock again, his fingers slicked with the pre-cum
that dripped down his shaft, a shudder running up his back at the feeling
of his own fingers.  He felt Jake slow down, either getting ready to shoot
or slowing down so he didn't, Hayden wasn't sure if things were still like
they'd been so many years earlier, when Jake would just slam into him and
cum, quick and hard.  Instead, Jake pulled out, breathing shallow and face
flushed, running the head of his cock over the tip of Hayden's tongue,
biceps and abs flexing as he tried to hold it in.  "Come on, Jake, let it
go," Hayden whispered, eyes half- lidded.  He slid a slippery finger up
Jake's crack, the tip of if sliding into Jake's hole.  He felt a jerk on
his head, Jake's dick slamming all the way back into his throat, his cock
pulsing as the spurts of cum shot into Hayden's throat, his finger sliding
all the way in, crooking at the knuckle right onto Jake's prostate, the tip
of his finger prodding the resilient bump, Jake's entire body shuddering as
he came, his lungs gasping for air.

     Hayden got to his feet, wiping spit and cum from his lips as he pushed
his lips to Jake's again.  He was breathy; barely able to stay on his own
feet, the only thing really keeping him upright was the wall behind him.
Hayden smiled, pushing their bodies together, his hard cock rubbing against
Jake's, softening but still stiff enough, the stimulation keeping him hard
enough to still shudder with every movement.  Hayden was taller than him,
he realized, when he pulled away, Hayden pulling him towards the bedroom.
He followed, watching the muscles of Hayden's back, strong and firm, it was
obvious Hayden put in time at the gym.  They landed with a thud on the
mattress, Hayden pulling Jake down on top of him, their bodies colliding,
Hayden's hands sliding down Jake's back.  "Fucking awesome," Hayden
groaned, just feeling Jake on top of him was good enough, their cocks
trapped between heaving bodies, neither sure what to do, where to go next.

     Jake felt Hayden shift under him, rolling them over so that he was on
top, his lips at Jake's neck again, moving quickly down to his nipple, his
hand running over the taut muscles of Jake's stomach.  His hand moved
lower, sliding up into Jake's hole again, meeting more resistance this
time, Jake's body stiffening under his ministrations.  He wanted to object,
wanted to say that he wasn't into that the way he used to be, but all that
came out was a low growl, his head too muddy to form anything intelligent.
Hayden grinned, pushing in another finger, watching Jake buck under him,
his back arching and his cock hard again.

     "No," Jake yelled.  He thought he yelled, but it came out low and
guttural.  Pushing Hayden off of him, Jake shuffled around, back against
the headboard, his cock still hard, "What the fuck am I doing?"

     "Lube's under the pillow," Hayden whispered, scooting up to Jake,
reaching behind him to get it, squirting a thin stream of it onto Jake's
hard cock, the cold sending a shiver up his back.  He stroked Jake's length
before getting down onto the bed, his own finger sliding up his asshole,
his eyes rolling back in his head and his legs up in the air inviting Jake
to do whatever he wanted.  If he couldn't get things to go his way, Hayden
thought, he could compromise.  Jake moved forward slowly, crawling on top
of Hayden, eyes glazed as he lined everything up, "You need to get a
rubber, Jake."

     Jake fell back to earth, reality striking him fast and hard.  He
couldn't be doing this, what the hell was this at all?  He didn't need
Hayden, he didn't even want Hayden.  "They're under there too," Hayden
said, reaching for one and tearing it open, the strong smell of rubber
wafting up to Jake's nose.  It was so weird, so surreal, it couldn't really
be happening.  Jake felt Hayden's fingers on his cock, the cool rubber
sheathing his length, the feeling so foreign, so numbing that he could
barely register it.  Hayden pulled Jake down on top of him, their chests
slamming together as Hayden guided Jake inside him, Jake sliding in with
almost no resistance, Hayden's head thrown back, back arching onto his
shoulders as Jake slid in, balls pressing against Hayden's smooth ass.
"Fuck yeah, Jake...God yeah," Hayden hissed, pulling Jake down for a kiss.
Jake resisted, pulling his cock out and slamming it back in hard, ignoring
Hayden's insistent fingers, amazed at how little he felt.  He didn't feel
anything inside at all, he felt hollow.  He thrust fast and hard, watching
Hayden's face change from bliss to euphoria, his cock hard and dripping,
his hands furiously stroking his own length.  This wasn't real, Jake was
sure.  Sex wasn't supposed to be like this.  He'd never felt so robotic.

     Hayden let out a loud yelp, followed by a string of low moans and
grunts and Jake realized he was cumming, his hole squeezing Jake's length,
his body rigid as ropes of cum shot up his chest.  He didn't feel anything,
not that sense of satisfaction he usually got, no sense of relief to know
that he'd done something right, he actually wanted it to be over with
already, why wasn't he doing the same thing?  Why wasn't he cumming yet?
"Jake," Hayden whispered, pulling him down again, expecting a kiss,
expecting some semblance of tenderness, but Jake kept thrusting, eyes
blank, brow dotted with sweat.  He finally leaned down, biting the soft
skin of Hayden's collarbone, drawing a deep groan from Hayden's throat.
Jake pulled out, pulling Hayden's let up over his head, pushing him onto
his side as he slid back inside, his hips finding a regular rhythm again.
He grabbed Hayden's shoulder and thrust hard, slamming his hips as deep and
rough.  He felt the familiar tingle in his balls, grateful that at least
that part was the same, and he grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head,
teeth biting his lower lip, frozen as he came, spurts of cum shooting into
the condom, a deep, rumbling groan filling the bedroom.

     "Fuck," Hayden groaned, eyes locked on Jake's chest flexing, his neck
tense as beads of sweat rolled down his skin.  Jake pulled out, falling
onto the bed, breathless.  He ran his fingers over his face, his entire
body slick with sweat.  He was breathing hard, eyes still flashing as
Hayden moved around the bed, pulling the condom from Jake's softening cock
and tossing it to the floor.  Jake was too tired to move, still trying to
regain his bearings as his eyes blinked.  He felt Hayden between his legs,
stroking his cock again and he groaned again involuntarily, his eyes
shutting as he reached for Hayden's shoulders, doing his best to push him
off.  "It's alright," Hayden whispered, "we've got all night."

    Jake's eyes shot open when he felt Hayden push into him, slow but
steady, a burning stretch at Jake's hole.  It'd been too long, he couldn't
even remember the last time he'd done it, but he could vividly remember why
he stopped doing it.  It hurt, that was easy enough to decide, but he felt
vulnerable, hated feeling like there was someone else in control.  Jake
fisted the sheets, biting his lip as he arched backwards, every cord in his
neck standing out as he just tried to breathe, breathe and relax.  Hayden
thrust slowly, not remembering Jake ever being this tight, wondering how
long it'd been since he had sex at all, he was so wound up.  As he pushed
into the tightness, thrust into Jake's clutching asshole, he ran his hand
down Jake's leg, stroking Jake's soft cock, free hand working Jake's
nipple.  Jake grabbed Hayden's wrist, throwing it off of his body.  He
pushed Hayden's hand off his cock, wrapped his own fingers around his
shaft, stroking it with a practiced hand as Hayden's cock rocked against
his prostate.  He hated it, it just felt awkward to him, did he ever like
it?  He couldn't even remember, just remembered Hayden being one year
older, seemingly more experienced, showing Jake all those years ago that
this is how it went.  Now he felt like he was back there, but no, this
wasn't like it was back then, he was confident now, confident in his own
abilities and his own choices.  He had Chris.

     He had Chris.  The thought kept flashing in his head.  It'd taken this
long, taken all this for him to realize exactly what he was doing.  Chris
was waiting for them to be together somewhere, Chris was out there
somewhere without him, Chris was alone and he was dealing with it, dealing
with it better than he was, he was sure of it.  Hayden gave him a hard
thrust, sending him back to the outside world.  His eyes opened to see
Hayden, face a mask of pleasure as he thrust deep and hard, Jake's entire
body still half- numb, the other half more confused than anything else.  He
kept stroking his cock, his head flashing from images of their coupling
back in London to this, to now.  It was so different, he couldn't even
imagine what it had been like back then.

     "Close already," Hayden said, punctuating it with a hard thrust,
Jake's body tensed, not sure what to make of it.  He wanted it to be over
now, not in a few minutes, not as soon as it was good for Hayden, he was
just done with it.  He pushed Hayden off of him, groaned when his cock slid
out, leaving a strange emptiness inside him, an uncomfortable sort of shift
in the dynamic.  He pushed Hayden down onto his back and pulled the condom
off, stroking his cock and biting his collarbone again.  "Yeah, make me cum
Jake, do it."  The words rung in Jake's ears, tearing him apart inside.
He'd fucked up and it'd taken him too long to even see what he was doing.
He gave one last stroke, grateful to hear Hayden's groans of satisfaction,
glad to finally have it done.

     Everything was suddenly crystal clear.  Jake got off the bed, wiping
lube and God knows what onto the sheets as he scrambled out to the living
room, their clothes in messy piles by the kitchen.  He heard Hayden behind
him, breathless as he tried to catch his breath and catch up to Jake.
"Jake, what's going on?"

     "That wasn't supposed to happen," Jake said, pulling his pants on.  He
gave up looking for his underwear, struggling to get his sweater up over
his head.

     "You used to like it," Hayden said, leaning against a wall, still
naked, body still shaking from the orgasm, "you used to really like it."

     "Not that," Jake hissed, "this entire thing.  I do have someone
waiting for me.  I fucked up."  He slipped his shoes on, tripping slightly
as he stomped towards the door, "I fucked up the most important thing I
have."

     Hayden stood there.  He didn't know what to say.  He had no clue Jake
was seeing anyone.  He rubbed his neck where Jake had gotten to it, there'd
be a mark there tomorrow for sure.  "What's going on?  You seemed pretty
willing."

     "I don't know what's going on.  This wouldn't have happened if I did,"
Jake said as he slammed the door shut, throwing his coat on as he waited
for the elevator.  He was even more confused now that he had everything
laid out in front of him.  He'd finished the movie, Chris would be back
tomorrow, he had no reason to do it.  Jake sighed as the elevator
descended, the cold air from the street sweeping past his face as he hailed
a cab.  The worst part was that he wasn't even crying.  He'd lose Chris and
he couldn't even feel it.

---

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