Date: Sun, 14 Jan 2007 00:42:07 -0800 From: christopher. Subject: Breaking Through part 33 Usual disclaimers apply, this is all fiction. No implications are made about the celebrities mentioned. This is intended for adults, so if you're not allowed to read this, don't do it. Author's Note: head on over to the Gyllenhaal Chronicles site for the latest on this story and the other Jake stories on Nifty. It's a great place and I'm really grateful for all the people I've met there. Sign up at http://groups.msn.com/TheGyllenhaalChronicles/_whatsnew. A special thanks to everyone who's written to me from the very beginning and to those just starting. I know that the story's taken a lot of twists and turns, good and bad, but thank you so so much for sticking with me through it all. As always, e-mail can be sent to christopherrluu@gmail.com or on MSN messenger with that same e-mail address. I'm on all the time, don't be afraid to drop me a quick message. Award winner for "Best Non-Boy-Band Story Award" at Nifty's Boy-Band Awards for 2006. Part XXXIII "I didn't think we'd be back here so soon," Chris said, sinking down into a squat, he could feel the cool bricks against his back, even through his suit. Jake looked around, silent as he just watched Chris, barely noticeable trembles shaking his entire body. "You better get in there, you're the first one, right?" Chris shrugged, "What does it matter?" "The quicker you get in there, the quicker we get home," Jake said, offering his hand. Chris took it begrudgingly, letting Jake pull him up. "This is stupid," Chris said, smoothing his jacket. He looked Jake over, his crisp black suit perfectly and neatly combed hair a striking contrast to his usual carefree and tousled appearance. There were only a few occasions that called for the two of them to be dressed like this, award shows, weddings, and funerals among them. Chris just wished that it didn't have to be the latter reason that got them into their suits this time. "You okay?" Jake said, back of this fingers grazing Chris' cheek, lifting his chin so that they were eye-to-eye. "I will be," Chris said. "You want to go inside? Sit down?" Chris could hear the murmur of the crowd coming from inside the church, the low whispers and hushed comments from the upper crust of San Francisco. He wondered why they were even there. Nobody knew Alec the way he and Jake did, Chris was sure they only knew Alec as the Ivy League, blue-blooded socialite, heir to the Clarkson empire. They didn't know the struggle he'd gone through to find his own voice, the same struggle that brought Chris and Jake into his tangled mind and his desperate threats. "I don't think you have a choice," Jake said, suddenly standing up straight, his hands reaching for the buttons of his jacket. Turning around, Chris saw Winnie, Alec's mother, dressed in mourning black, eyes shielded by large sunglasses, her stride still as confident and commanding as Chris remembered. "You know, Alexander's father was a great man. He gave so much to the community, nurtured so many." Jake looked away, but Chris nodded, attention rapt, "So that's where Alec got it." "Alec always wanted to help," Winnie continued, "and he helped so many people. Selfless, he was. Right out of school all he wanted to do was help people who wanted to get their names out, never wanted anything for himself." Jake did his best not to roll his eyes, kept them firmly glued to his shoes as Chris straightened himself, "Thank you for everything you've done, Winnie, but I think that it's for the best if this was the last time I involved myself with...you and this entire thing." Perking up, Jake stepped closer to the both of them, his hand gripping Chris' shoulder firmly, "Let's get inside, Chris, they're waiting." Chris turned around, ears searching for the sound of the organ or the hum of the crowd. Finding neither, he knew Jake was right. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Clarkson." "You got the flowers we sent?" Jake asked, pulling Chris inside. She only nodded, sunglasses still hiding any emotion she may have been showing, "I hope they did whatever flowers are supposed to do." *** "Hey," Chris said, smile wide as he saw Jake walking down the beach, the wind gently blowing his hair back. Chris' smile faded when he saw the serious expression on Jake's face, his jaw tight and his brow furrowed. "What's going on?" Chris asked, hand gripping Jake's bicep. "I don't even know," Jake said, a nervous smile on his face, "either it's the greatest thing for us or the shit just hit the fan." Atticus trotted up to the both of them, eyes bright and tail wagging. Chris leaned down to scratch behind his ear, his own expression concerned. Jake was never so vague, didn't ever seem so confused. "He died. Car accident," Jake said, eyes vacant as he stared out over the ocean. Chris' eyes shot to Jake's, his breath catching and his entire body frozen. He didn't know what to say or what to do. Atticus let out a loud bark, seemingly echoing across the empty beach, bringing both of them back to reality, Chris practically shivering as he let the news sink in. "What does that mean for us?" he whispered. "I don't know," Jake said again, pulling Chris up and wrapping his arms around him, "Chris, he's gone. You don't have to do anything now. You can forget about everything." "No, it can't," Chris said, clutching at Jake, "I...I just...he died?" "It's over." Jake held Chris, the cool wind blowing against both of their faces, Chris shivering as he thought about what it really did mean for him. With Alec gone, there would be nobody to get in the way of his writing and more importantly, his distribution. But with Alec gone, a lot of other writers wouldn't get their big breaks. Alec may have been an asshole to him and to Jake, but to other people, Alec was the person who gave them their one chance in the world of publishing. It was the weirdest position he'd ever been put in. Jake's hand ran up Chris' back, pushing his head down lightly to rest on his shoulder. He could feel Chris' heart racing. "We're going to be okay," Jake whispered. "I know we are, I've always known," Chris said, "but what about...me? What am I supposed to do about this?" "That's up to you, babe," Jake said, fingers weaving into Chris' hair, both of them aching for the connection, relishing the contact, "it's all you. They want you to go to the funeral. I told them you'd call them back." His voice was low and quiet, soothing, calm, and measured. Chris nodded slowly, holding onto Jake tighter. "I don't know what to think. Is it wrong to be glad that he died?" Jake shook his head, "You didn't kill him. It was a freak accident, Chris. And there's nothing wrong with feeling relieved." "Really?" Chris asked, his own brow furrowed as he pulled away from Jake, "I'm not fucked in the head?" Jake shook his head again, "He was an ugly person. It wasn't up to us." "Why do these things always make everyone religious?" "We need stories to survive. We need them to explain things we don't understand. That's why you write, isn't it? To get things out that you can't explain?" "I still can't believe it," Chris said, shaking his head, "come on Atticus, we've got to get home." Jake gripped his shoulder and Atticus trotted beside them, Boo a few paces behind. "Just when things were going okay," Chris groaned, "it's always too good to last." *** Chris twirled his rings around his finger, his eyes turned to the sky, Jake leaning against the cool bricks of the church beside him, "Nobody should go like that." "There isn't a way anyone should go. I'm pretty sure it just sort of happens," Jake said, buttoning his suit again. On and off, it was a nervous twitch for the both of them. "You shouldn't have to do this. Sometimes you have to stand up for yourself." "I want to. I don't hold grudges. He wanted it." "He wouldn't have known either way." "Nobody knows what happened. They all think he was the greatest guy. Wrong place at the wrong time, that's all. You know all about that." Jake stepped closer to him, "I'm more into right place at the right time." Chris smiled, shaking his head, "I can't believe I'm doing this. I write books and stories, not eulogies." "You won't be writing many," Jake said, "I think we really do have to get in there. No more hiding." "I want to go home," Chris said, "how come whenever I get comfortable, something like this happens?" "Just read your thing and we'll be done," Jake said, sensing the nervous energy pouring from Chris. He could almost see Chris shaking, could feel him falling apart. "Jake, I...this isn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to die. His dad wasn't supposed to die. Why did this have to happen?" He was breathing hard now, trembling as Jake grabbed him, holding him steady. "Chris, don't...not right now. You've got to be strong and get through this. You can't back down now." "It's like it's too easy," Chris said, shaking his head, "it's too easy for us. It can't be like this." Jake held him tight, brought their eyes together, "Nobody said that anything would be easy. Take it where you can get it." "Too easy," Chris said, grabbing both of Jake's hands in his own. "You said you wanted to be better, remember? Make this better. He fucked with both of us. You get to make it better." "I don't know how. I don't know why the hell I said 'yes,' to this shit," Chris said, tearing himself away from Jake, foot flying up to kick the church, breathing heavy and fists tight. "Christopher," Jake said, voice stern. Chris froze, eyes desperate for an answer, his heart racing, "You're going to be fine. Just get it done and we'll go home." "I miss the dogs," Chris said, shaking his head. "Please," Jake said, "just go up there." Chris nodded, blinking back the tears as he walked through the open doors of the church, Jake just a few paces behind him. He stopped and straightened himself, eyes fixed on the two coffins, closed shut, a spray of white lilies on each one. He let out a long breath and walked down, steps determined, posture severe. He reached inside his pocket to pull out his speech, hoping it was what he needed to get out and what the people filling the pews needed to hear. Sitting down in the back, Jake watched as Chris marched down the aisle, wishing that this wasn't the occasion he'd get to see the act. Chris looked confident and strong, but Jake knew that underneath--there was always something underneath--he was falling apart. Jake sat back, fingers tangling together as he watched, waiting to hear exactly what Chris had prepared. Chris walked up to the podium, desperately searching for Jake. He found him and their eyes locked, Jake mouthing a quick "you can do it" before Chris shut his eyes and said a silent prayer. He was never particularly religious, but right then, he needed all the help he could get. Everyone looked tired, energy low and faces sullen. Chris took a deep breath and grabbed the podium with both hands, steadying himself against the whirlpool of emotions in his mind. He'd talked to everyone about the situation. Jake had been quick to tell him to just stick to his guns, to tell Alec to fuck off; Chris had expected it from him, but when they both cooled down and he called Maggie, called Peter, called Jake's parents and got down to thinking, it was so much more complicated than any of them could see. But everything flew out of his head, every word of advice and every single idea he had just disappeared when he saw how everyone looked. It was obvious that Alec had only revealed his true nature to him and--mostly by proxy--to Jake. Everyone else that knew him, all the people sitting there waiting for Chris to do something, those people only knew Alec through his good works, his community service, all the things he did for writers here on the west coast. It was so stupid, Chris thought, what desperation did to people. He knew firsthand. *** "I wish I could be better for you," Chris said, hoisting himself up onto the counter; his legs swinging slowly under it as he watched Jake pour his methadone. Jake ignored him. making sure that the dose was exact. He had to keep it up, even though he knew it was just sugar water. Chris didn't know, and that was the point. For as long as he had to, Jake would go through the motions, play the little game because it was exactly what Chris needed. Jake thought about telling him all the time, wanted to just grab him by the shoulders and shake him, tell him that he'd been on the placebo for months, but he never did. He and Dr. Riley had decided to let Chris choose when and how much. A full dose for days he felt bad, a half-dose for good days--today was a good day. "I like you how you are," Jake said, sliding the tiny cup over towards Chris, "but this how it's got to be." "For now," Chris said, "maybe after the whole San Francisco thing blows over I'll be better." "Whenever you want," Jake said, watching as Chris swallowed, tossing the little cup into the trash. He chased it with a big glass of water and leaned over to give Jake a kiss on the cheek, fingers running over morning stubble. "Thanks, for everything," Chris whispered. Jake only nodded, pressing their foreheads together, his fingers running through Chris' hair, already turning lighter from the bright sunshine and warm weather. He glowed again, was tan and vibrant both inside and out. It was like those days they'd just met, the days they were still getting to know each other. "You packed for the both of us?" Jake asked, eyes closed, his hands wrapping around Chris' back, their bodies coming together, warm chests pressing against one another, Chris' lips grazing Jake's as he nodded. "I can't believe it," Chris said, "I don't know if this is good or bad...I just don't know. You told me that day and I swear I almost passed out." "It's both," Jake whispered, "what's that called in those books you write? Dramatic irony?" Chris smiled, his eyes still closed, his hands running up Jake's arms and his entire body relaxing as he settled into the embrace, "Whatever. It's too complicated for that stuff." "No," Jake said, "you just always make things more complicated than they really are." "Things are never how they look. There are always things going on under the surface," Chris said. "Not with me," Jake said, smiling, pulling Chris even closer, "what you see is what you get." "That's what you think," Chris said, kissing Jake's forehead, "I see inside, I see under, around, behind, I see everything. You know there's things about you under there." "Like what?" Jake asked, kissing Chris' neck, lips sliding across his collarbone. Chris paused, body tingling as Jake's teeth nipped at his skin, "Like how you ride your bike to forget about things...I mean...think about things. You like the freedom, not the exercise." Jake chuckled, realizing that he didn't even know that about himself, knew that Chris was exactly right. "What else?" Thinking hard, Chris rested his hands on Jake's shoulders, gripping the firm muscle, feeling Jake relax against him, "How about you tell me something?" Jake shook his head, "You keep talking. But tell me about you. I want to know what's under here." His fingers tangled in Chris' hair as he brought their lips together. "I love you," Chris whispered, pulling their bodies together. "No, don't do that. Tell me more. Talk to me." Chris let out a long sigh and held Jake tight, "I'm so scared, Jake," he said, voice soft and quiet. Jake only nodded, held Chris tight as he felt Chris shudder, felt him tighten up. "Now that this whole thing's going on...what am I supposed to do? I don't know how to do anything but write. I can't do anything else." "Stop," Jake said, "don't kid yourself. You can do anything. I know and you know." "But I don't want to do anything. I only want to write." "Then you're going to write. They can't do anything about that. They can fuck with the system, but they can't stop you." "But they make it hard." "Then I'll make it easy. Or at least I'll make it seem easier," Jake said, finally kissing Chris, tongue sliding against Chris', lips soft and slick, warm, "I'm here." "You're always there when I need you," Chris said, "even when I don't think I need you you're there." "It makes it easier for me and for you, believe me. I need you." *** Chris stood frozen, hating public speaking, hating that he was going to have to say what he had written down, hating the entire thing. Winnie came running up, her heels clicking on the floor of the church. She pulled the microphone over to herself, clearing her throat quietly before turning it on. "Obviously, Mr. Lewis is very nervous, very overcome with the same emotions that all of us here are facing within ourselves," she said, voice soothing. He didn't know how long he'd been standing there, but seeing Jake out there in the pews, blue eyes warm and face calm, sent a wave of relief through him. He could do it. If Jake believed in him, he could do it. "Sorry," Chris whispered to Winnie, resting his hand on hers. She nodded, a knowing smile on her face as she stepped down and Chris took his place back behind the podium. Chris buttoned his jacket and stood up straight, letting out a quick breath and pulling the paper from his pocket, already wrinkled. He looked up and out over the pews, "Alexander Clarkson wasn't Alexander to me. He was Alec, someone who pulled writers out of obscurity and helped the established writers that he respected find their voices without worrying about funding and publishing red tape. Alec helped me not only with my own projects in the world of literature, but with my own charities and causes. Selflessly, he strove to nourish and develop the voices that he respected and revered. His acts did not go unnoticed, not by people like me, who looked to him for advice and for guidance, for opinions and suggestions. He proudly carried his name and did everything that he could to bring fresh new voices into the mainstream. He wasn't afraid of new ideas and he wasn't afraid to go against the mainstream trends of fiction. He was never afraid and that is what I, as both a writer and a person, admired the most in him. Fearlessly, he went for everything he wanted. I admired that from the moment I met him." Chris paused, watching the faces in the audience. They were eating it up, every single one of them. He locked eyes with Jake, who only nodded, biting his lip. It made him nauseous to be spouting out all this false praise. It was even worse to know that everyone believed him. "And fearlessly," Chris continued, "Alec asked me to help him with something most of you did not know. After helping so many, he came to me for help himself. He wanted to write, too. And fittingly, I think that his words should be the ones that we all hear today: Running scared has gotten me nowhere With every uncertainty I grow weaker and weaker But as more and more happens we grow and we change With those words I think that we live with the memory of Alec in our hearts, to change and grow with everything that we face. I'll miss you Alec." There was more, but for once, Chris' penmanship, always perfect, always precise, was unintelligible. Chris gave up. If he couldn't even sort of his own thoughts, nobody would be able to. Chris stepped down as the organ started playing again, footsteps taking him straight down the center aisle. He didn't look back, shoved the doors open and went out to the light, his facade finally cracking as he let the tears stream down his face. If Alec wanted his work, that shitty poem that he wrote on the plane up was all he was going to get. He felt Jake's arms around him instantly, Chris melting into the embrace as quiet sobs shook his body. Jake's soothing hands ran up and down his back as the tears flowed from his face. Alec, even through all the threats and the blackmail, was a friend. "You did good, Chris," Jake said. It was good, but it wasn't what Jake would have done. Jake wanted Alec's family to realize what he'd done, but that only meant that Chris took the high road. It might not have been the noble thing to want, but it was what Jake knew he deserved, "real good." Shaking his head, Chris wiped away the tears, straightening himself as he heard footsteps as people filed out of the church. "I can't believe I got through that bullshit," he said, voice still shaky. "Come on, let's get you home," Jake said, "this is enough for one day." *** Chris ran his hand gently over Jake's cheek, touch fleeting and feather-light as he took a deep breath, a soft smile on his face. The hazy morning light fell across the both of them, golden and pure as Jake's eyes fluttered open, signature crooked smile on his lips as he pulled Chris tight to his body, tangling their legs further as they both sought the warmth and comfort. "Morning," Chris whispered, kissing Jake softly, fingers pushing his hair back. They were in their bed, wrapped in their sheets, and neither of them could be happier. Jake slowly slid his hand down Chris' back, reaching between their bodies to wrap around Chris' hard cock. "Really good morning, isn't it?" he asked, mischievous grin appearing on his lips. He felt Chris shudder as his hand spread his legs open, fingers tracing behind his balls up to his hole. "Yeah," Chris groaned, nodding frantically as two of Jake's fingers slid in, a long hiss following fast after. He arched up, wrapping his arms around Jake's neck as his fingers rocked forward, scissoring as he pulled out. "Keep going, Jake," Chris gasped. "I'm not stopping," Jake grunted, "not ever." He leaned down, kissing Chris deeply, his tongue sliding out alongside Chris' their hearts already beating fast, a thin sheen of sweat already slicking their bodies. Chris groaned, writhing under Jake's body. He gripped the sheets in his hands, knuckles white as his whole body tightened with the addition of another finger. Jake's lips connected with his neck and slipped lower, trailing across his collarbone, his fingers still sliding in and out, tips bending right onto Chris' prostate, sending jolts of lightning straight up Chris' spine and out his mouth, soft grunts filling Jake's ears. Jake nipped at Chris' skin, their bodies moving together as Jake moved lower, tongue darting across a nipple, rough stubble rasping against Chris' stomach, muscles tensing under Jake's touch. Chris let out another grunt when he felt Jake's tongue dart across the head of his cock, a shiver running through his body as Jake's fingers combined with the wet warmth surrounding his dick. Breath catching, Chris grabbed at Jake's thick hair as he took more and more of his cock in, fingers moving faster in his hole. Gripping Jake tight, he felt his toes curl, biting his lower lip as he tried his best to keep from cumming. Jake licked a long torturous trail up Chris' cock, fingers jabbing in hard and fast now as he gripped Chris' hips tight, mouth taking his cock in deep just as Chris shot, thick spurts of cum filling his mouth. Chris' body was tight and rigid, his breath stalling as he rode out the waves of sensation, feeling every single jolt shake him from head to toe. "Goddamn," Chris groaned, shivering as Jake gave his sensitive cock one last lick, his whole body still tingling. "I love watching you," Jake whispered, their bodies coming together, Chris' hands still tangled in Jake's hair as they kissed, Chris' legs wrapping around Jake's waist, their cocks sliding together, Chris' already getting hard again, "but it's even hotter when you shoot and I'm deep in you." "Then what are you waiting for?" Chris said, voice breathy and dry. Jake shook his head, grabbing Chris' hand and pulling him up, both of them on their knees, lips coming together one more time. Jake's hand slid down Chris' back and Jake let out a startled grunt when he felt Chris' hand grab his wrist, bringing his fingers lower. Jake pulled away, eyes locking on Chris, blue met brown in a fiery exchange and Jake grabbed Chris' arm, pulling him up off the bed, the two of them stumbling together as Jake headed to the bathroom. He clumsily turned the water on as Chris sucked on his neck, hands sliding through the soft hairs on Jake's chest. "Get in," Jake whispered, motioning to the shower. Chris ignored him, engrossed in the smooth skin and hard muscles, fingers sliding over Jake's stomach as Jake pushed him into the shower. "Fuck that's cold," Chris said, the spray shocking him. He reached to adjust the water as Jake kissed the back of his neck, the warming water sliding down both their bodies, slicking the path of Jake's hands down Chris' arms. Jake pulled Chris to him, their lips crashing together under the hot spray, the bathroom quickly filling with warm steam, their wet bodies sliding together as their tongues did the same. Chris' hand wrapped around Jake's hard cock, a groan echoing through the bathroom as Jake's eyes slammed shut, his arms pulling Chris to him. "I can't," Jake groaned, "have to get in you." He pushed Chris hard against the tile, Chris grunting as Jake's fingers slid in again, his foot kicking Chris' legs apart, his chest pressing against Chris' back as he stretched Chris' hole. "Just get in me," Chris groaned, pressing his forehead to the cold tile, water pouring down between him and Jake, his breathing was hard and labored, the steam suffocating as Jake bit his shoulder, hands gripping his hips tight as he pushed in. Chris groaned, the same burning stretch spreading through him as Jake slid in, thick cock hitting his prostate differently than Jake's fingers did, filling him one second before making him whimper for more as Jake pulled out. His hands desperately groped at the wall, looking for anything to steady himself, but Jake was doing it for him, each firm thrust bringing their bodies together, bringing them closer and closer to orgasm. "So fucking good," Jake groaned through his clenched teeth, his thrusts steady and hard, his dick desperately needing to feel the velvet grip of Chris' chute. He could feel Chris' reactions, every twitch and every shudder getting him even hotter, the water intensifying the sound of skin on skin, Jake's knuckles white as he slammed deep and hard. "God, Chris...so good," Jake whispered, lips right on Chris' ear. Chris shuddered, his whole body drowning in the sensation in his ass mixing with the pounding water and Jake's lips on his ear. It was all too much as he shut his eyes, biting his lower lips as he spread his fingers out on the tiles, steadying himself as Jake thrust faster, his body slamming against the cold tile, a shock jolting through his body at the cold, Jake's cock sending flames up his spine, his head spinning and his cock hard and dripping pre-cum. "Jake," he groaned, voice dry and strained, "I'm close...I'm going to cum." "Shoot for me," Jake grunted, punctuating each word with a firm thrust, pulling Chris' head around so that they could kiss again. Chris' lips quivered against Jake's, both their bodies shaking as Chris let it go, cum splattering the shower wall as he stroked himself, his chute squeezing Jake's cock tight. "Fuck," Jake groaned, thrusts still strong and steady as Chris' chute convulsed around him, practically pulling the cum from his own cock. He held Chris upright, felt every single spurt right on his dick, heard Chris' groans and felt his body finally relax, melting right into Jake's embrace as he kept his thrusts going. Chris' head leaned back, satisfied daze on his face as he felt the constant in and out suddenly become more erratic. Jake gripped him hard one last time, slamming home and pushing him hard against the wall as he came, searing shots of cum spilling into Chris' ass, the familiar warmth spreading through his body. "Shit," Chris moaned, feeling Jake fall limp against him, both of them breathing heavily, Jake's lips desperately sliding to Chris, "so fucking good." Jake could only nod, still catching his breath as he pushed his hair back, reveling in the soothing warmth of the shower. "Let's get cleaned up," he whispered, reaching to adjust the shower head, the water aiming right at their bodies now, Chris' hands on Jake's shoulders as they kissed again. "Why?" Chris asked, hand sliding down Jake's stomach, "I'm just going to get you dirty again." He grinned, pressing his forehead against Jake's. He could feel him getting hard already, felt Jake shudder and watched his eyes flutter shut. "Don't provoke me," Jake joked, hand slipping down to Chris' ass. He pushed Chris against the shower wall again and remembered why he loved having mornings free for things like this. The rest of the world could wait, as he slipped deep into Chris one more time, feeling him tense, watching every muscle in Chris' back react to the dull ache one more time, he wished he could do this forever. *** Exhausted, Jake hoped Chris remembered to pick up a bottle of wine for dinner. He pulled the hem of his t-shirt up and wiped the sweat from his brow, the bright afternoon sunlight making him squint, even through his dark sunglasses. He vaguely recalled Chris saying something about hiring people to do the yard work, but as he pulled his gloves off to see the yard impeccable, knowing that it was all his own hard work that got it that way, it filled him with a sense of pride he rarely got a chance to feel. He groaned as he pulled his shirt off, sticky and dirty with sweat and grime. On second thought, maybe he'd skip dinner--and by default, the wine--and go straight to bed. With Chris out walking the dogs, his list of chores was pleasantly cut short. "Fellas," Jake said, smile wide through his fatigue as the dogs bounded through the yard, Chris clicking the gate shut behind him. "Have a good time?" Jake asked, answered only by wagging tails and wide eyes. He patted both their heads before Chris walked over and they trotted around the yard. "Got you your merlot," Chris said, kissing Jake softly. Atticus and Boo were busy sniffing at the new flowerbeds, inspecting Jake's work carefully. Jake pulled Chris closer, Chris smiling and shaking his head slightly, "You're fucking gross," he whispered, running his hand over Jake's shoulder up his neck and into his hair before giving him another kiss, this one deep and long. "You like me this way," Jake whispered, running his hand up under Chris' t-shirt. Chris groaned as Jake pulled his shirt off, the dogs suddenly barking and running to the gate. "Someone's here," Chris said, pulling Jake's chest tight to his. "Ignore it," Jake said, grabbing the bag from Chris' hand and setting it gently on the grass before he pulled Chris close again, tongue sliding out against Chris', hands freely roaming Chris' back. Both of them had forgotten how nice it was to just kiss, long and slow, just hold each other and taste each other, to feel everything all at once. "It's got to be someone we know," Chris whispered, half-hearing Jake's request as he ran his hands up Jake's sweaty chest. Jake was absolutely right, he loved feeling Jake all sweaty, no matter how he got that way. His kiss got more desperate, his mind completely blank as the feel of Jake against him mixed with the smell of sweat and Jake's hands on his back. Chris was wrong, if it was someone they knew, they'd have opened the front door and waltz into the house to get a drink, practically oblivious to the fact that Jake and Chris weren't there. If they weren't, they'd be home soon; and if they were, they'd hear something and come out. Topher, Maggie, Peter: they all knew the drill; Chris wasn't even surprised anymore to come home, dogs in tow, to see Topher warming up leftovers and flipping through the New Yorker at the kitchen island. The person knocking at their back gate obviously didn't know the protocol. "Hello?" Chris' heart stopped at the sound of the voice and he pulled away from Jake so fast it startled the both of them. "Jesus, what is she doing here?" "Who is it?" Jake asked, grabbing Chris' hand, thumb running in small circles over the back of it. "Winifred Clarkson. Winnie. Alec's mom," Chris ran his fingers through his hair, eyes darting around the yard for his shirt, "I didn't even know she knew where we lived." He was panicking, "Where the hell is my shirt?" he said, "I can't talk to her like this." "Go inside. I'll tell her you aren't here," Jake said, Chris nodding frantically at the suggestion, kissing Jake one more time before sneaking off into the house as quietly as he could, the dogs following close behind. "I'll give them water," Chris said, "don't worry about it." Jake stepped over to the gate, wiping his brow with the back of his hand before opening it. Winnie stood there, put together in a pastel pantsuit, hair impeccable, shoes matching her bag, everything coming together to exude the definite sense that she had spent hours deciding what to wear. It immediately put Jake off. "He's not here," Jake said simply, moving aside to show her the empty back yard. "Is this how you normally answer the door, Jake?" she chided, "one would question your upbringing." "My gardening suit is at the dry cleaners," Jake said, voice cold, "I'll tell Chris you came by." "It's very important," she said, demeanor still calm and composed, "it involves his future and mine. Clarkson-Potter publishing is ready to make him an offer that will change everything." "Winnie, Alec's funeral was a big deal for everyone. Chris meant what he said--he's stubborn as hell. I'll tell him you came around but he's not going to call you back," Jake said. He could feel the anger coursing through him. The last thing he wanted was for Chris to get caught up in all that again. The parties were nice, the food was great, and the conversation was better than any Hollywood thing either of them had gone to, but it wasn't worth it. Getting tangled in publishing hierarchy and nepotism was something Jake wanted nothing to do with. "I trust he'll get the message," she said, smoothing her jacket. "He will." "Then it's up to him, isn't it? We all have our own free will, Jacob." "Jake," he didn't even try to mask the irritation in his voice. "Your mother did not name you 'Jake.' Just like Christopher is Christopher and my own Alexander, nicknames are for the playground." "Well, Mrs. Clarkson, I really have to be going," Jake said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "maybe we'll see you sipping mimosas as brunch this Sunday? We have a standing reservation at the Four Seasons." With that, Jake kicked the gate shut, shaking his head. People had a way of butting into their lives and Jake was sick of it. He managed to find a way out of the Hollywood scene and get thrust into the literary scene at the same time. Now he knew exactly how Chris felt, surrounded by unfamiliarity, just tagging along to luncheons and events. Somehow, both of them managed to find their way into a sort of middle ground on both fronts. Being in Santa Barbara helped. The world seemed to get smaller and smaller every day and Jake wondered when it would get to the point where he'd have to take Chris and they'd have to find beachfront property on the moon. *** Chris turned on his old library lamp, the green glass glowing above a pool of bright light. His hands carefully traced the edges of the box, wood worn and smooth. It was the one place he kept the things that were too precious to even put into the safety deposit box at the bank. Stuff that was worth more than money ever could. He opened it and picked up the hospital bracelet they'd cut off of him in rehab. Setting that aside, he picked up the next thing, a copy of the key to his old place. And then he picked up what he'd been looking for: the watch Jake had given him that last Christmas--his grandpa's watch. He remembered exactly what his grandpa did. The watch helped figure things out, his grandpa would say, holding it in his hand and feeling the gears shift inside. Chris went through the motions, opening it and shutting it again, holding it in his hand. "Fuck," Chris said, flipping the watch open again. Thirty seconds. He clicked it shut again before setting it down on his desk, staring at the polished casing, the chain shiny. It was a game, he knew it, but he wished that he could get something out of it. "Time helps you figure things out," Jake said, Chris' head snapping to the doorway, "that's what he was trying to get across." "I know," Chris said, slouching back in his chair, "sometimes though, I really wish there was some magic in this thing." "Do whatever you want," Jake said, "whatever." "I already did," Chris said, eyes turning away from the phone. Jake was stunned, but he didn't show it. Stepping closer to the desk, Jake's eyes met Chris', "What did she want?" Chris looked down, saw that he was gripping the edge of the desk. He felt Jake's finger on his chin, lifting up so that their eyes met again. "It was...I..." the words weren't coming, just barely bubbling to the surface because after all the talking and all the thinking, he still didn't understand exactly what was going on. "Let's go inside," Jake said, motioning towards the house, "we can talk about in there." "Work stays out here, remember?" Chris said, grabbing Jake's hand. "It was about work?" Jake asked, eyebrow raised. "Sort of," Chris said, voice still shaky, "she offered me a job...I think...no, I know. She wanted me to be in charge of development or something. I don't even know what that means." "Of her charity? Chris, what does she really want?" "Clarkson-Potter publishing. I thought they only did cookbooks, but I guess they do a lot," Chris could still hear the way she had pitched it, painting the entire thing in nothing but positive light. He had to admit that it seemed like something good, something stable. Jake never said anything, but Chris knew that something regular like an office job, as mundane as it seemed, might be a change both of them could use. He could work from home, Winnie had stressed that--she knew exactly what to say to get what she wanted. "Chris," Jake said, heart pumping faster, "I don't know if that's a good idea." "It's not," Chris said, "I said I wasn't interested." Relief washed over Jake's body, "Come inside," he said softly, "no more of this shit today." "Jake, I don't know what I want anymore." "What do you mean?" Jake asked, taking a few steps back. He landed cautiously on Chris' couch, eyes locked on Chris'. "Nothing's coming out." "You haven't really been one hundred percent since you got home. You probably don't want to be writing anything right now anyway." "Still," Chris said, "I don't know when it'll be back." Jake waved him over and Chris walked to the sofa, steps slow and deliberate. "It'll be back. Don't look for a quick answer, Chris." "It's never been so hard, Jake," Chris said, resting his head on Jake's shoulder. Jake didn't know what to say, but knew that the truth wasn't what needed to be said. The last thing Chris needed to know was that he was leaning on a crutch that didn't even exist. He'd have to come to that conclusion on his own, Jake kept telling himself that, but the more and more Chris struggled, the more and more Jake just wanted to tell him. *** "It's in here somewhere," Chris said, rummaging through the junk drawer. Normal people had one, he and Jake had three, "I thought it was in my studio, but I guess it has to be in here, since it wasn't in Jake's office either." "Where do the dogs sleep?" "Here it is," Chris said, holding out the wrinkled business card, "his name is Dean and he and Vivian got engaged." "What?" Celeste asked, eyes confused. "They had to work together so much I guess something clicked. Vivian said you were good and you'll have to be working with Dean a lot, so you'll have this number memorized in no time." "Vivian trained me. Everything I know I learned from her." "Good. She's the only publicist I've ever had. I don't know how she did it...the whole me and Jake thing. It happened really fast," he paused, not sure how much more to say, "and the dogs sleep anywhere. They have run of the house." Celeste was young, vibrant, someone Chris could see as a friend as well as a publicist. He knew Vivian had chosen her for those reasons, knew that he'd freak out if Vivian hadn't chosen someone perfect. Celeste was just that: hard working, willing to deal with insanity, even had the same type of exotic, soothing-sounding name. She was constantly punching things into her Blackberry, which Chris didn't know how to take. She pushed her red hair behind her ear and looked up at him attentively, "I'm so excited to be working with you. Especially with your new projects." "Nobody is supposed to know about those," Chris said, "Vivian said it'd be your first assignment to get that out to wherever you're supposed to. She said you can call her anytime, she's more than willing to help." Nodding, Celeste finished punching something else into what seemed to be her lifeline and looked up, "I think it's awesome what you guys have. This house is really cozy, the dogs are so cute, and you seem so comfortable." "It's been nice," Chris said, smiling, "thanks so much for coming out here. I know it's out of the way." "It's gorgeous up here." "Dean and Vivian...you can call me whenever...I'll probably call you hysterical more often than not...I think that's it. Jake should be home any minute if you want to say hi. He said he wanted to meet you." "Overprotective?" "No," Chris said, blushing slightly, "we're all going to get to know each other really well, it's like family. There are barbeques and bon fires and you'll get completely sick of all of us." It was Celeste's turn to blush, "I'm looking forward to working with the whole team." Like a stage cue, Chris heard the front door open and the dogs scamper in, instantly rushing through the house and bursting into the kitchen, jumping up onto Chris' legs and running circles around both he and Celeste. Jake came in a few seconds later, leashes thrown over his shoulder, cut-off shirt showing off his muscular arms, his white teeth flashing as he gave his signature boyish smile. Chris grinned, rolling his eyes slightly; Jake was really laying it on thick, "You must be the new Vivian." "Celeste," she held her hand out, "I'm here to make sure Chris' work works." Jake was immediately impressed by her confidence. He gave her a firm handshake and nodded approvingly, "He's going to drive you crazy," Jake said, pulling Chris into a hug, "but you learn to love him." "So first thing's first," Celeste said, "Vivian didn't tell me what she does with all these things you get invited to, so I RSVP'd the two of you for the HBO arts dinner and this year's Voss water Earth Day benefit." "Lesson one," Jake said, almost choking on the water he was drinking, "we don't do that. Vivian and Dean don't even tell us about those things." "Okay," Celeste said, grimacing, "I'll make sure to call them back. That means the only thing is...Chris has a photo session for GQ." "Did you write something for them?" Jake asked, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "He's wearing something for them," Celeste corrected. "Wow," Chris said, grinning, "I love how being a writer doesn't even involve writing anymore." Jake let out a chuckle, Chris rummaging through another drawer, "You should have a key," he said, "but we never lock the door. Vivian just felt good having one." Jake reached over and found a spare key right away, handing it to Celeste. "Thanks for everything," she said, "I'm really looking forward to working with you." "Me too," Chris said. Now that things were starting up again, having someone so committed to making sure that things went his way gave him some hope that things were going to be calmer this time around. *** "Hey," Jake whispered, running his hand up Chris' arm. "I'm sleepy," Chris groaned, nuzzling closer to Jake's body, eyes still closed. He drew the sheets tighter around the both of them, trying to slip back to sleep. "Today," Jake said, "is our day." He wrapped his arms around Chris, knew that he wasn't asleep. He ran his nose through Chris' hair, hand sliding down his back to bring their bodies even closer together. "Love you," Chris whispered, "sleepy." "No, come one," Jake said, "let's get some coffee. Take a walk. Talk a little." "Now?" Chris asked, running his foot over Jake's, "right now?" "Yeah," Jake said, pulling Chris up and out of bed with him, "come on." An hour later, Chris was still half-asleep, eyes shielded from the world behind his aviator sunglasses, he and Jake walking the familiar path to their Starbuck's. "What's today?" Chris asked, stretching his arms up over his head, tiny sliver of stomach greeting Jake's eyes. "You're still asleep." "I'm walking," Chris said, "had a late night. I was writing." "I know," Jake said, "the late nights are too much, I think. You've got to..." "Chill out? Relax? Stop?" Chris interrupted, "I can't. All this stuff is happening." "Well," Jake said, holding the door open for Chris, "even though we've got all this 'stuff' happening, I managed to remember that we got engaged a while back." Chris froze. "Shit," Chris said, spinning around to face Jake, "I am so sorry. Has it really been that long? A year?" "It's not a big deal," Jake said, "honestly. I know you've been swamped." "No," Chris said, "really, I can't believe I forgot. I just...oh my gosh. And this morning, oh God." "It's okay," Jake said, "we've got all day." The coffee shop was practically empty, the strange time before morning and lunch gave the baristas a breather and made sure that Chris and Jake didn't have to deal with lines or indecisive customers and that they'd get fresh coffee. "Then I'll get you a muffin," Chris said, "they have blueberry. I know how much you like those crunchy things on top." "Deal," Jake said, smile wide, "I love you. More and more every day, I really do." The salty sea wind blew across their faces, Chris sipping his latte as Jake nibbled on his muffin, crunchy bits and all. "How about today I make you the bread salad you like, maybe barbeque something, and we stay in? Pajamas, the dogs, just me and you." "Yeah?" Chris asked, resting his head on Jake's shoulder, "I'd like that." "You know what I'd like?" Chris scooted up, running his nose over Jake's, their lips grazing as he smiled, "Before or after the food? I'm not planning on any writing today." "Not anymore, you're not," Jake said, kissing Chris lightly on the forehead. "Just me and you." "What I really want," Jake whispered, "is to know...do you still want marry me?" Chris felt his entire body melt into Jake, his instincts moving him forward to bring their lips together, the smell of salt and coffee, the feeling of Jake's stubble on his smooth skin, his heart racing just like it was the first time they met, the first time they kissed right there on this same beach. "I mean soon," Jake said as soon as they pulled away. Chris could feel his heart racing, see a tinge of panic in his blue eyes, "I want us to do it." "Me too," Chris whispered, his hand grabbing Jake's, "let's do it." --- feedback? christopherrluu@gmail.com