Date: Thu, 23 Feb 2006 21:37:02 -0800
From: christopher. <christopherrluu@gmail.com>
Subject: breaking through part 3

This is fiction.  I don't know Jake Gyllenhaal and my little story doesn't
imply anything about him or his sexuality, but I'd do just about anything
to have him all to myself.  Feedback is greatly appreciated and any writer
will tell you that they live for it; I'll answer every single one.
Questions, comments, loved it or hated it?  Shoot me a message at
christopherrluu@gmail.com.

Thank to everyone that sent me a message about the last chapter.  Like I
said, writers will do just about anything for some feedback.  So Jake won a
BAFTA, lets keep our fingers crossed for the Oscar.

Part III

     "The title of Lewis' poem 'There's a Certain Slant of Light' shares
more than just its title with Dickinson's classic.  Both were published
without the poet's knowledge, and both poems resonate with readers'
emotions.  A new voice in poetry, Lewis captures the raw emotion of love
and showcases its often-contradictory facets.  Refreshingly passionate
without the cliche, there's a certain something about Lewis that makes him
unforgettable."

     "Who wrote that?"  Chris asked.

     "New York Review of Books," Jake said, setting down the newspaper,
"who's a hotshot now?"

     Chris blushed, "When can I live this down?  'Thank you' isn't enough?"

     "Give me another week, I have to enjoy it while I can."

     "Don't be an ass."

     "Don't be ungrateful."

     "What about this: Gyllenhaal and emerging writer Christopher Lewis
walk the red carpet side-by-side for the latest from director Jeunet.
Sources say Lewis is in talks with mega- producer Scott Rudin for an
adaptation of his novel Independence Day," Chris read, "there's a picture
of us, too."

     Chris handed the magazine to Jake, "Look how cute you are," Jake said,
"we should put this up on the bulletin board, too."

     "If you didn't notice, they took my stuff down to put up the little
league schedule."

     Chris' phone vibrated in his pocket, causing him to jump a little,
"It's Vivian, she's probably calling about the picture.  Or the review,
maybe.  I bet she's never had so much on her plate."

     "Do you get the New York Times out there?" Jake heard Vivian say.  She
had an unusually loud phone voice.

     "Yeah, but I don't read it.  Jake got the Review of Books though, did
you see that?"

     "There's bigger news, you're on the bestsellers.  I.D. is the number
three paperback."

     "You've got to be kidding me," Chris said.  Even he couldn't believe
it.  He glanced at Jake, who looked just as surprised as he was.

      "I'm getting calls from all over.  People want to talk to you.  We're
going to have to set some stuff up.  I'll call you back with the details."

     Jake leaned over, bringing their lips together.  Chris brought his
hand up, caressing Jake's jaw as his tongue rolled into Chris' mouth.
"Congratulations," Jake whispered when they broke apart.

     Chris' phone vibrated again, it startled him every time, "It's an
unknown number."

     "Leave it," Jake said, grabbing the phone and setting it down on the
table, "we were busy anyway."  Chris smiled, letting Jake pull their mouths
together again.  Whoever it was would leave a message if it were important.

***

     "I'll be right back," Jake shouted from the entryway, "I'm getting us
some coffee."  Jake shut Chris' door behind him.  Not having to lock the
door was definitely one of the best parts of living in Santa Barbara.  Jake
loved just showing up at Chris' house anytime and being able to walk right
inside, no locks, bolts, or keys necessary.  Jake put his hands into his
hoodie pockets, his sunglasses blocking out the early afternoon sunshine.
Another plus was being able to walk just about anywhere; Chris didn't even
have a car.  The two of them could walk to Starbuck's blindfolded.  They
did it at least once a day, sometimes three or four.

     "Jake?"

     Jake turned around, he usually wasn't recognized in Santa Barbara, and
even when people did know who he was, nobody cared.  Jake glanced around
and saw someone coming towards him wearing a striped sweater.

     "What are you doing here?"  Jake finally recognized the guy as Topher
Grace.

     "I moved here," Jake said, "you?"

     "I'm looking for your friend Chris, Scott's secretary said he lived
out here?"

     "Yeah," Jake hesitated, "you have to talk to him about the movie?"

     "That and some other things," Topher said, "have you seen him around?
He's not picking up his phone."

     "I think he's working on his next book right now," Jake said, "he's
been really busy."

     "Damn.  I really wanted to touch base with him.  I thought maybe
coming up here would show him that I'm serious."

     "Come again?  Serious about what?"

     "I don't know.  I just know that when I talked to him at Rudin's
office, I could barely resist kissing him, it took everything to stop me
from shoving my tongue into his mouth."

     Jake's hands formed fists in his pockets.  He couldn't believe what he
was hearing.  He realized that it was far from common knowledge that he and
Chris were seeing each other, but hearing Topher talk about Chris that way
made his pulse race and his body bristle.

     "I'm gonna get some coffee, I have a bunch of stuff, you know?"

     "Yeah, yeah," Topher said, "maybe I'll see you around, I'm in this
shit-hole for a few days."

     Jake watched him walk away before rushing down to Starbuck's.  Chris
would wonder what was taking so long.  Olivia had his order ready only a
few seconds after he came into the door.

     "Someone else came in asking about Chris," she said, "the guy from
that TV show."

     "I ran into him a block from here," Jake said, "I don't know what he's
doing here."

     "He was cute," Olivia said, smiling, "I hope he comes back in soon."

     Jake thanked Olivia and started back towards the house.  He was
seething.  The walk home would do him good.

***

     "We should order in tonight," Jake said, "Chinese or Thai?"

     "Thai," Chris said, pulling the menu from a drawer, "but maybe we
should go there?  It's nice out."

     "You're not tired?"

     "I've been sitting down all day, I feel all stiff."  Jake walked over
to him, softly kneading his shoulders.  Chris sighed, feeling his shoulders
loosen with the slightest touch from Jake, "That feels really good."

     Jake leaned down, kissing the back of Chris' neck, "That feels even
better."

     "You always smell so clean," Jake whispered, his hands sliding down to
Chris' arms.  Chris loved the way Jake's stubble scratched against his
skin.

     "Shit," Chris said as his phone rang, "this number I don't recognize
keeps calling me."

     Jake stopped, "Ignore it."

     "Whoever it is, they've been calling all day," Chris said, setting the
phone down.

     "I'm starving," Jake said, "I'm going to call the restaurant."  The
sudden change in mood hit Chris like a bullet train.  Something was going
on.

     "Hey, what's up?"

     "I'm just hungry," Jake said.  He looked tired, his eyes dull, "I just
need some real food in me.  We're both running on caffeine right now."

     "I'll go get the food.  I can take my bike.  It'll be faster than the
delivery people," Chris said, "maybe you should take a shower or
something."

     Jake pulled off his hoodie, throwing it onto a chair.  "I'll be quick,
we can go to the restaurant.  Could you call them and cancel the delivery?"

     "Yeah, no problem," Chris said.  He watched Jake walk to the bathroom,
his steps slow and deliberate.  When he heard the water start, he reached
for his phone.  It vibrated as he opened it to call the Thai restaurant.

     "Hello?  Christopher Lewis," Chris said.

     "Hey Chris, it's Topher.  It's weird talking to someone with my name,
sort of."

     "You've been calling?  Sorry I didn't pick up, I don't usually answer
numbers I don't know."

     "It's alright, we're talking now.  I'm up in Santa Barbara and I want
to talk to you about the movie."

     "Well, I'm going out to dinner with a friend, maybe tomorrow?"

     "I don't know any restaurants around here, is it okay if I join you?"

     Chris wasn't sure.  Something was up with Jake and he figured the two
of them should be alone to talk about it.  "Yeah, that's fine, I don't want
you starving or anything.  Milpas and Mason.  I think we'll be there in
twenty minutes."

     "Awesome, see you there," Topher said, his voice suddenly full of
excitement.

     Chris shut his phone, suddenly remembering that he meant to call the
restaurant.

     "Is it okay if I borrow a sweater?" Jake asked from the bathroom.

     "Borrow whatever you need," Chris said, "sweaters are in the bottom of
the dresser.  Topher Grace is meeting us at the restaurant.  He said he's
in town and doesn't know where to eat."

     Jake walked out into the living room pulling a black sweater over his
head.  It stretched over his muscled chest and his black boxer-briefs were
low on his waist, "I was hoping we'd be by ourselves."

     "I couldn't just abandon him," Chris said, running his hands over the
soft cashmere of the sweater, "we can make it quick."

    "Did I leave a pair of my jeans over here?" Jake asked.  The last thing
he wanted to think about was Topher Grace putting the moves on Chris right
in front of him.

     "Yeah, I put it in my closet, far left.  Can you grab something for me
too?"

     Jake walked into the bedroom, sitting down on the bed.  'What the hell
is going on?' he asked himself.  Chris wasn't going to run away with
Topher, abandoning what he and Jake had.  And Topher wouldn't have the
balls to flirt with Chris right there; after all, he had a career to think
about too.  Jake grabbed a jacket for Chris and went back to the living
room.

     "Thanks," Chris said, giving Jake a kiss on the cheek, "we'll have the
rest of the night to ourselves."

***

     "The food looks great," Topher said.

     "Yeah, we come here all the time," Chris said.

     "'We?'  So you guys spend a lot of time together?" Topher asked,
struggling with his chopsticks.

     "Yeah, Jake was new to the area too, so I've been showing him around
and he's showing me around LA when I need to go down there," Chris said.

     "That's cool, really cool," Topher said.  Jake watched him closely,
noticing the way he listened almost too intently to what Chris said, the
way his gaze was fixed on everything that Chris did.

     "So this is a business dinner?" Jake asked, squeezing lime onto his
pad thai.

     "I just want to make sure that you consider me for the character of
Kent.  Your book is one of my favorites, I recommend it to everyone, so
even though I know it's still pre-pre-production, but keep me in mind.  We
can get to know each other better, I'm sure that you'll think I'm good for
the part," Topher said, finally getting used to his chopsticks.

     "I haven't even thought about anything but writing," Chris said, "it's
cool that you're thinking about it, but I don't even know if I have a say
in who gets to play who."

     "He's a good character," Jake said, "really good."

     Chris blushed, he wasn't used to the compliments, even if they were
from Jake.  But Chris couldn't help but notice the tension that was
floating around between Jake and Topher.

     "I feel like when I read Independence Day, I got to know you," Topher
said.

     "I hear that a lot at signings," Chris said, "I tried to put myself
into the characters."

     "Topher," Jake interrupted, "did you read Chris' poem in the New
Yorker?"

     "Passionate and raw.  I loved it," Topher said, his eyes wide.

     "I wrote it as a thank you," Chris said, "a thank you for bringing me
out of my shell."

     Topher was stunned for a second, "that person should be flattered.  I
know I would be."

     "I'm sure he appreciates it," Chris said, glancing at Jake.  He
noticed a light blush under Jake's deep-set eyes.

     "He?"

     "Yeah, I don't like to shout it from the rooftops or anything, but
it's who I am."

     "Cool, cool.  I think it's brave of you to even be telling me."

     Jake didn't know why Chris was being so candid with Topher, they'd
only met twice before.  Jake wondered how much willpower it was taking for
Topher to hold back right now, what would trigger his defenses to burst?

     "I'm used to it, growing up here it's like a small town," Chris said.
Topher slid his hand so that it grazed Chris'.  Jake noticed Chris' hand
jerk away, his other hand blindly reaching for Jake's under the table, "I
love it though.  Home's home."

     "Speaking of which, I think it's time to get going home," Jake said,
stretching.  Chris noticed Jake's sweater, his sweater, ride up as he
stretched, showing the slightest sliver of stomach.  It made Chris shiver.

     "I'll grab a cab, my hotel is downtown," Topher said, it was obvious
to him now that he had intruded on something.  How could he have missed it
at the premiere?  It was clear now, the way they looked at each other, the
way they interacted.  He was stupid for even coming up here.  Chris wrote
Jake poetry, for Christ's sake.  There was no way he'd be able to crack
that.  He wasn't a home-wrecker, but if he could get in on the Independence
Day project, there might be a way.

     "You have to call the cabs here, they don't wait around like they do
in the city," Jake said, "I have a card in my wallet I can give you."

     "Thanks, buddy," Topher said, "are you guys going to walk?"

     "Yeah, my place is just a few blocks down.  Jake is just a little
further," Chris said, shaking Topher's hand.

     "Hand shakes?  Come on," Topher said, pulling Chris into a hug.  Chris
felt Topher's hands roam a little further than they should have, his body
stiffening as Topher pulled them closer together.

     "Here's the number," Jake said, handing a card to Topher.  It killed
him to watch the discomfort in Chris' body.  "Have a good night, man."

     "See you guys around," Topher said.  Chris didn't know if his
expression was one of defeat or fatigue.  In all likelihood, it was both.

     Jake and Chris walked down the street, and when Chris turned to look
back, he noticed Topher, standing in the pool of streetlight, his shoulders
hunched over as he waited for his cab.  Jake kept his eyes forward, the
last thing he needed was a reminder of the uncomfortable tension that
marked the day.  He was ready for a fresh start.

     "Are you as tired as I am?" Chris asked.

     "Exhausted," Jake said, throwing an arm over Chris' shoulders.

     "You can keep that sweater, it looks better on you than it does on
me."

     "It's a little small, isn't it?"

     Chris ran his finger across the trace of skin that showed at the
sweater's hem.  "It's perfect."

***

     "You're just wearing a t-shirt?" Chris asked.

     Jake shrugged, "I just follow orders.  This shouldn't take more than
half an hour."

     Chris glanced inside the warehouse, it was nothing fancy, just some
bright lights and stool.  "I have some phone calls to make, I'll wait out
here."

     Jake pulled Chris into a kiss, "How do I look?"

     "Like the guy I fell in love with," Chris said.  Jake blushed, his
hands at Chris' waist, "don't let them shave this off," Chris said, running
his hands over Jake's stubble.

     "I better get in there," Jake said.  Chris watched Jake walk into the
room, make up ladies powdering his nose and playing with his hair.

     His phone shook in his pocket and he struggled with its buttons,
"Sorry Vivian, I still don't know how to use this new phone you got me."

     "You touch the screen, Chris.  Green phone picks up, red phone hangs
up," Vivian said, her voice full of excitement, "I've got big news for
you."

     "About the second book or the movie?"

     "Look at you, did you ever think you'd be able to say that?"

     "I'm at a photo shoot with Jake for some magazine, so I'm not the one
in the spotlight."

     "He'll be proud of you if he knows what's good for him," Vivian said,
"I just settled an advance from Houghton for your next book.  They're
practically wetting themselves with excitement."

     Chris had to surpass a laugh, "I'm not even on their feature roster."

     "With the movie and you out and about with Jake all the time, they
billing you as the kid that's bringing in the Hollywood crowd.  People that
are interested in movies are interested in you too, at least that's' what
they think."

     "Hold on, I'm my phone is shaking," Chris said.  He looked at the
screen, "new message" flashed across the screen.  "What am I supposed to do
with a new message coming in?"

     "You're supposed to let me finish, and then you can check it."

     "So what's the news?"

     "The advance is in six figures," Vivian said, "and Mike White is
interested in the screenplay."

     "Wait, what?"  Chris couldn't believe it.  His first book's advance
was barely enough for a down payment on his house, and now he was getting a
small fortune for his next one?  It wasn't even done yet.  It didn't even
have a title.  "Who's Mike White?"

     "Ask your boyfriend, White's the guy who wrote The Good Girl and
Orange County.  He's a fan, says he'd let you have say on everything.
Rudin is all go, they just need you to approve it."

     Chris looked into the warehouse; Jake was sitting on the stool, his
expression serious.  "Sounds good, can I get back to you on that?"

     "Yeah, I don't know who did it, but it's already been leaked to
Variety.  They're printing it tomorrow.  You're going to have to make up
your mind soon."

***

     Jake dropped a huge manila envelope onto the coffee table. "The
pictures are here," he said before sitting down next to Chris, "it's time
for thumbs up or thumbs down."

     Chris rifled through the photos, each one only slightly different from
the one before.  Jake looked intense, his eyes focused on the camera in
almost every picture.  The black and white Jake staring back at him was a
stark contrast from the goofy, lovable guy he saw every day.  Jake was a
chameleon, popping in and out of character whenever the situation called
for it.

     "I didn't know they were still shooting when I came in to tell you
about the deal," Chris said when he got to the back of the stack.  There
behind the serious pictures, there were a few pictures of Jake and him
together.  In the first picture, he was just a blur, Jake's eyes marked
with surprise.  The next showed Chris throwing his arms around Jake, and in
the third, Jake was practically smothering Chris.

     "Can I keep this one?" Chris asked, holding up the last picture.  The
two of them were kissing, their eyes shut.  Chris' black sweater against
Jake's white t-shirt, Jake's hands on Chris' back, it was the most natural
picture in the entire stack.

     "I guess you jumped in all excited and he wanted to capture that,"
Jake said, "it's awesome."

     The coffee table was littered with pictures of Jake, but he looked
more alive and vibrant in that picture than he did in any of the others.
He grabbed the picture and slid it on top of the others, bringing Chris'
hand to his lips.

     "See what you do to me?" Jake asked, kissing Chris' fingers, "it's
like night and day."  Chris studied the pictures on the table: the serious
pictures sat under the one he just looked at, the one where Jake was
staring intently at him, not at the camera.  Jake looked genuinely happy,
genuinely intensity.  The other pictures looked staged in comparison.  "But
that's not all you do to me," Jake said, bringing Chris' hand to his
erection.

     Chris pulled Jake's body tight against his own, their mouths crashing
together.  It was becoming familiar to now, the way Jake's tongue liked to
slide against his and the way Jake liked to alternate between long, deep
kisses and lighter, softer ones.  It drove Chris crazy every time his hand
crept up Chris' shirt, his fingers drifting across his skin.  "You make my
head spin," Jake said, his voice breathy, "and I can't control myself."

     Pulling off his shirt, Chris let Jake's hands run over his skin,
desperate for any contact he could get.  Jake's shirt followed, and Chris'
mouth attached to Jake's neck, nipping at the soft ivory skin.  Chris felt
hands at his shoulders, encouraging his soft nibbles and kisses.  He loved
the soft hairs on Jake's chest, the way Jake shuddered every time he kicked
right below Jake's ear.  Jake's hands slid down to Chris' pants, his
fingers running over Chris' rigid cock.  He felt Chris' body buck on top of
his and the slightest interruption on his neck.  Chris got off Jake, his
pants falling into a pile at his feet, and Jake sat up on the couch.  "Come
on," Chris said, starting towards the bedroom.  Jake pulled his pants off,
following right behind Chris.  Jake grabbed the waistband of Chris'
boxer-briefs, pulling his back against his chest and kissing Chris' neck.
Chris whipped around, their lips meeting as Jake pulled down Chris'
underwear.  "We can never make it to the bedroom," Chris gasped when he
felt Jake's fingers at his hole.

     "I told you I can't control myself," Jake said, his smile sinister.
Chris pulled their mouths together one more time, his hand squeezing Jake's
cock through his underwear.  Jake groaned, his body shivering.  Chris
pulled Jake into the bedroom, their bodies falling onto the bed.  Chris
felt Jake's hard cock on his thigh as Jake pressed his nose into the nape
of Chris' neck.

     Chris let out a low grunt when he felt Jake's mouth on his nipple,
sending shivers down his back.  Chris' hands cradled Jake's head, one thumb
stroking the spot under his ear with urgent passes.  "Fuck, Jake," Chris
groaned when he felt Jake's tongue trace the length of his cock.  Every
time Jake came to the head of his cock, Chris thrust his hips, yearning for
just a little more stimulation.  Already, Chris' breathing was uneven and
labored, his body flushed.  Jake pulled up, kissing the skin right around
Chris' bellybutton.  Chris' hands pulled at the sheets, letting out a gasp
when he opened his eyes and saw Jake licking at the head of his cock again.

     Jake took Chris' cock into his mouth, his right hand reaching up,
creeping towards Chris' asshole.  Pleasure rushed through Chris' body, his
back arched and his eyes slamming shut again.  Chris felt another finger
slide up his hole as Jake released his cock again.  His tongue trailed past
Chris' balls, joining his fingers at Chris' hole.  His breathing grew to
shallow, needy gasps when he felt Jake's tongue snaked into his hole,
unable to articulate anything past "yeah, fuck yeah," his hands flew to
Jake's hair, pushing him deeper.

     Slowly, Jake's hand ran up Chris' leg, lifting it up as he rose from
his knees.  He saw Chris' eyes, heavy with lust as he scooted up the bed.
Their lips met again, Chris' hands hooking behind Jake's neck.  The weight
of Jake on top of him made him shudder and pant, knowing that soon, Jake's
cock would be in him, pressing into his body.  Chris felt Jake's chest
against his own, the sweaty skin sliding against his own as Jake's cock
pressed inside, a long slow stroke that forced his eyes shut and pushing
the air right out of his lungs.  Grunting, Jake pulled Chris' right leg to
his shoulder, pressing his cock in deeper, forcing a hiss from Chris'
mouth.

     Jake pulled out a few inches, pressing them back inside, watching
Chris' entire body writhe and twitch, every one of his movements touching
something deep inside of Chris.  Jake's slow, controlled thrusts and his
heavy grunts shook Chris as his head thrashed on the bed.  Jake's hands
slid across Chris' chest, the territory familiar, stroking his lithe body,
hands resting on Chris' ass as he thrust deep and hard.  Chris panted,
every thrust hitting him exactly where he needed it.  "Don't stop, Jake,"
Chris said, practically screamed, "don't fucking stop."

     Chris pulled Jake's head down, their mouths slamming together, Jake's
thrusts not losing any momentum or speed.  Jake's face showed his strain,
the muscles of his arms showed clear and distinct with every push forward.
Jake slowly pulled out, shuffling back and bringing Chris to the edge of
the bed.  Chris whimpered when he sunk back in, the sound burning in Jake's
ears.  Back arching, Chris's entire body tingled, he felt every groove and
curve of Jake's cock, every sound and touch seemed to be more than it was,
his body seemed to pick up everything at a heightened level.  He could hear
every strained breath that Jake took, the wet, slippery sound of their skin
coming together at every thrust, his mouth dry, each grunt and groan
stripping his throat, inhibition an afterthought.

     Suddenly, Chris' cock shot a hot sticky load all over his chest, the
room filling with the sound of his strained grunts, "Keep going," he said,
almost begging, his ass squeezing Jake's cock with every labored shot of
cum.  His voice was hoarse and gravelly, and Jake followed orders, his cock
thrusting through the spasm channel of Chris' ass.  He kissed Chris' neck,
knowing that it was Chris' favorite spot, knowing that if he didn't have
something to occupy his lips, he'd be screaming obscenities so loud the
neighbors would come knocking.

     "Fuck, Chris, I'm gonna shoot, it's coming," Jake said, every cord on
his neck taught with tension.  Chris' hands framed his face, fingers
shaking.  His hair was matted to his forehead, his body depleted of energy,
his eyes glazed.  Chris nodded, his hands on Jake's pecs, wanting to feel
every breath.  Jake lowered his head to the mattress, right next to Chris',
and his cock erupted deep inside Chris' ass, "Fuck, God! Fuck."  Chris felt
Jake's body go rigid on top of him, his cock swelling with every searing
spurt of cum.  Chris shot again, his body out of his control, the cum
dripping from his unyielding cock.  Jake groaned one last time when he felt
Chris' ass squeeze his cock.  It took the last ounce of energy he had for
Jake to get back on the bed with Chris, his eyes starting to flutter shut.
He felt Chris' hand trace lazy patterns on his chest before bringing that
hand to his lips, offering just one last kiss.

***

     "Well, there you are," Jake said, sitting down on the chair next to
Chris'.

     "Like you went anywhere else looking," Chris said, his hand running up
Jake's arm to his shoulder.

     "It was just weird waking up and having you gone.  I rolled over and
it was all cold and empty," Jake said, taking a sip of Chris' coffee.

     "I just didn't want to bug you.  I had to talk to Vivian and answer
emails and things.  I signed up to work with Mike White, like you said I
should."

     Jake smiled, knowing that it was his input that made Chris choose
White.  "Directors and actors are next, you've got some homework to do."

     "I've got you to tell me who's good and who's bad.  I don't have to do
anything."

     Jake sat back in the chair, glancing at Chris' laptop; it was open to
his word-processing program.  It always was.  Chris was working all the
time, nothing was ever good enough, he edited things again and again, and
his editor was probably going crazy.  Jake had a stack of scripts he was
going through and not a single one hit him the way others had.

     "You left a script at the house the other night and I was reading it.
What are you going to do with all of these roles flying at you?"

     "I don't know, there's just too much to deal with.  Nothing's good,
but nothing's bad."

     Chris closed his laptop and packed it away, downing the rest of his
coffee.  "Did you want to get anything before we head out?" Chris asked.
Jake shook his head and led the way back home.

     "Hold on, I'm getting a call," Chris said, reaching for his phone.
His finger pressed the green phone, "It's Vivian," he told Jake.  "I'm in
the Daily Variety?  Rudin is talking about the movie already?"

     Chris slid the phone back into his bag and Jake pulled a folded copy
of the magazine from his pocket, "I wanted to surprise you."  Chris let his
bag fall to the floor, his arms wrapping around Jake's waist.

     "I love you so much," Chris said, "I can't tell you that enough."

     "I can't hear it enough," Jake said, "this is a really big deal for
you, Rudin calls you a 'major player.'"

     "Let's drop this stuff off, we have to celebrate," Chris said, the
magazine joining his phone inside his bag.  A few blocks later, Chris left
his bag in the house and they were walking towards the beach.

     "I lied to you this morning," Jake said, his eyes fixed on the
crashing waves.

     "About what?" Chris asked.  He reached for Jake's hand, feeling the
gritty sand between his fingers.  A cold breeze blew past their bodies and
the sun hid behind a cloud.  It all seemed like they were in a movie, Chris
thought, Jake held his hand between his own, letting out a long sigh.

     "I found a great script."

     "That's great," Chris said, relieved.  Where was the lie?  Was that
all?

     "And as much as I can't be apart from you," Jake said, his eyes still
fixed on the horizon, "this is a big deal.  It'll be at least two months of
filming, two months apart."

     "Apart?" Chris asked, "I can't visit you or anything?  Are you filming
in Siberia?"

     "No, no, that's not what I mean.  It's just that when I'm on set, I'm
not myself.  I'm a character."

     "Are you saying that that you're going to shut me out for two months?"

     "No, no," Jake said, realizing how much like a broken record he
sounded, "it's just that I don't know what's going on.  You've got big
things coming, and I've got big things too, how do we fit that together?"

     "What does it matter?" Chris asked, "when it comes, it'll come.  We'll
figure it out if you want to, but right here, right now, it doesn't sound
like you do.  It sounds like you're giving up."

     "Give me more credit.  How do you think I felt when that asshole
Topher Grace came up here looking for you?  I sat there and watched him try
to get into your pants.  I watched him grope you."  His voice was tense and
shaky; Chris had never heard it that way before.

     "And all through that, what did I do?" Chris asked, ripping his hand
out of Jake's, "I'm with you, aren't I?  This isn't about me.  I know what
I want.  I want this, I want us," Chris said, his hands trembling, "You're
just not ready to give it all to me."

     Chris stood up and walked away from Jake, who didn't move.  The sand
kicking up behind him with every step, he didn't look back.  For the first
time in a long time, he felt alone, he felt insecure, and he felt scared.

     Jake didn't know why he said the things he said.  A dam inside him
burst, letting out every doubt he had about what was going on.  Who was he
kidding?  Chris was a writer; going somewhere for two months would inspire
him, not detract from his work.  His head fell to his hands.  What did he
just do?  Why couldn't he just leave a good thing alone?  He got up, the
cold wind whipping around him.  He needed to call Maggie, he knew he'd get
a lashing, but he needed to talk to someone.

***

     Jake stopped ringing and knocking after fifteen minutes of the cold
shoulder.  The door was locked for once, but he could feel Chris inside.
The back gate was locked too; Jake didn't even know it had a lock.  "Chris,
I'm sorry.  I didn't know what I was saying.  I don't want to fight.  I
want us.  I want us again," he screamed at the door, hoping Chris would
hear some of it, any of it, "I'm sorry."

     Chris was sitting on the floor of the entryway, his back resting on
the front door.  After he fiddled with the door locks, his kneed buckled.
He'd gotten used to being with Jake, and now that things were rocky, he
wasn't used to questioning what he had.  Sitting there on the floor, he
realized how pathetic it all was, but he couldn't move.  He couldn't muster
the strength to walk away from the relationship that had brought out so
much in him.  He heard Jake through the door, could practically smell him
and feel his words.  He reached up and clicked the lock open, scrambling to
his feet.  He walked slowly into the bedroom, letting Jake decide what the
next step would be.  He'd have to reap what he sowed.

     Jake pushed the door open slowly, half-believing that Chris would be
there to punch him in the face or throw his coat at him, but he was
wrong--the entryway was empty.  His steps were slow and reluctant as he
made his way to the study, where he'd be sure Chris was typing away.
Peeking his head into the doorway, Jake saw him.  Sitting there, head
buried in his crossed hands, he wasn't sure if Chris was crying or not.

     "Chris," Jake whispered, stepping into the room.

     No answer, Chris didn't even acknowledge him.  It hurt.

     "Chris," Jake tried again, "I said I was sorry."

     This time Chris looked up at him, his eyes weren't puffy or red, they
just looked tired, strained with the situation, "I heard.  I heard
everything."  Chris sat up, his back straight, his posture strong, "You
tell me to be strong, that I can do anything, but you'd give up on us just
like that?  Because you think you can't handle characters and geography?"

     "I was scared, I'm allowed to be scared," Jake said, the tension
returning to his voice.

     "But you're not allowed to just give up," Chris said, his eyes glaring
at Jake's.

     "I can do what I want."

     "You don't know what you want."

     "I know now," Jake said, "I want you.  I want us."

     "It's not that easy, Jake," Chris said, "you can't throw that out
there and expect me to just run back to you.  You're as insecure as I am,
you just hide it better."

     Jake stood there, not knowing what to say.  He nodded, shoulders
drooping; slowly, he turned around and made his way out of the house,
quietly shutting the door behind him.  Chris put his head back down; he
couldn't hold the tears back any longer.

***

     The sky was still dark gray when Chris stepped off the train.  It took
an extra hour and was bumpy and boring, but he couldn't ask Jake for a ride
down to LA.  His legs were stiff, but he figured the seven-block trek back
home would fix that.  The more time he spent away from Santa Barbara, the
more he felt like he couldn't be anywhere else.  Things come and go, but
home is home.

     Chris heard his name being called from the other side of the platform,
and without turning around, he knew it was Jake.  It hit him hard, he was
used to hearing that voice every day, just about every minute.  He turned
around and saw Jake there, bundled up in a coat and scarf.  The winter was
just about over, but it was leaving a reminder for next year.

     "I could have given you a ride," Jake said, "it's been really hard
having you ignore my phone calls."

     "You called once," Chris said.

     Jake nodded, looking down at his own feet.  "When you said that I
can't expect to just have you come back to me, I realized how much of a
dick I was being," Jake said.

     "We shouldn't talk about this here," Chris said.

     "I'll take you for ice cream?" Jake asked, stepping closer.

     "It's freezing," Chris said, he couldn't help but smile.  Jake really
was trying.

     "I went over to your house today, but it was empty."

     "You shaved," Chris said, resisting the urge to run his fingers over
Jake's newly smooth skin.

     "For an audition.  Listen, let's just go back to your place and talk
about this, it's uncomfortable."

     "It's just that this is the second time you've started to question
us," Chris said when they reached the house, "I question everything else, I
figured we'd be the constant and everything else would change."

     "I'm not used to it, I'm not used to spending every day with someone
and not getting bored.  I'm not used to looking forward to seeing someone
day after day.  It's been a long time and I'm just sort of waiting for it
to fall apart, it always does," Jake said, he was so confused that his
words were running together, he was stammering, and his eyes were wide with
disbelief.

     "I just didn't expect you to run away," Chris said, unaware of his own
body--it was inching closer and closer to Jake's.

     "I'm sure I would have come back," Jake said, his voice softer.

     "And I'd be here waiting for you?"  Chris asked.

     "Would you have been?"  Jake said, their bodies coming together.
Jake's hands rested on the small of Chris' back and Chris let his head fall
to Jake's shoulder.  It was like nothing had happened at all

     Chris didn't know what to say, so he kissed Jake.  It wasn't a "yes,"
and it wasn't a "no," either. It was open to interpretation, a writer's
secret weapon.

***

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