Date: Mon, 5 Mar 2007 22:00:22 -0800 From: christopher. Subject: breaking through part 35 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. Part XXXV Chris let Jake handle the cheesy writing. He concentrated on standing still, controlling the shakiness in his body and making sure that he smiled through the nervousness. Jake, of course, was flawless, even with the ridiculous material they were given on the Teleprompters. Chris almost tripped when they introduced him as an Oscar winner; he always forgot that he had one. Staring out at the crowd, he couldn't help but notice that half the audience looked bored and the other half was either drunk or asleep. This late into the show, Chris wasn't surprised. Suddenly, Jake nudged him and he was jerked back into the moment, his careful observations halted by Jake's elbow. "And the Oscar goes to..." Chris said, excitedly ripping the envelope open. He didn't let it fluster him. Only five people really cared and they'd been waiting for over a month. A few more seconds wouldn't do them any harm. Jake grabbed it from him, leaning into the microphone, "Helen Mirren for The Queen." Chris rolled his eyes and clapped, smiling as the crowd roared and Helen came on stage, stately and noble as if she were still in character. Jake pulled him back and as they waited for her to finish her speech, Chris couldn't help but lean in closer to Jake, his eyes soaking in his strong jaw, his blue eyes, and his soft smile. Everything faded away, the lights seemed to dim and Chris wanted to just run his fingers over Jake's face and pull him into a kiss. Another roar of claps sent Chris back to the moment as he and Jake followed the Oscar winner backstage, waving politely as they left her in the press room, ducking behind her strong, confident posture as they found their way around the twisting corridors and hallways of the Kodak theatre. "Hey," Jake said, pulling Chris to him as he leaned against a wall, "what do you say we get out of here. Skip that Vanity Fair party, get our asses in our own bed tonight?" Chris smiled, tangling his fingers in Jake's. He tried to read Jake's expression, found something between fatigue and sincere earnestness. He only nodded, finally finding a chance to pull Jake's lips to his. He could feel Jake relax against him, their bodies seemingly melding together. "Let's get out of here," Chris said when they broke apart, Jake's lips still lingering near his. Jake leaned in for another quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. Jake grabbed his hand again, holding it tight as they wandered through the halls again; they were deserted and their footsteps echoed against the stark walls as Jake led the way, turning here and there, Chris completely lost. One door opened and suddenly they were outside, the cold air brushing past against Chris' skin as Jake fished for the valet card in his pocket. Chris looked around, silently observing their solitude, nobody but the lone valet sitting in his booth, eyes half-closed as he stared vacantly at the tiny television at his station. Chris stood back by the curb while Jake handed him the card, hands in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels. "It's over," Jake said, "we made it through another season." He grabbed Chris' shoulders and looked him in the eyes, head cocked to one side, "What's the matter?" "You look so good," Chris said, grinning. He ran his hands down Jake's chest, "All put together," his fingers pushing Jake's hair back, "all slick and neat." He leaned into Jake, just happy being with him. Blushing, Jake looked away, the beginnings of a smile on his own lips. It was ridiculous that Chris could still get him to blush, he seemed to revel the way the simplest things seemed the most special to the two of them. "Hey," Jake said, eyes sparkling in the dark, "I have the craziest idea." The car pulled up and the valet stepped out, handing Jake the key, "Have a good night sirs," he said, standing up straight, both hands behind his back. Jake fished in his wallet before handing him a tip, "Could you give us a minute?" Jake asked, "take the car around the block or something. It goes fast. Really fast." "Yes, sir," he said, smiling "this car is great, by the way." "It's new...ish," Chris said, eyebrow raised, "and a mess inside. But great if you're into that sort of thing." He got back into the car and just a second later, Chris was watching the taillights round the corner. Chris felt Jake's body at his back, the warmth of his body sending the chill of the night right out of Chris. "I either gave him a huge tip," Jake said, grinning against Chris' neck, "or the dinner receipt." "What were you going to say?" Chris asked, feeling a tingle wash through his body as Jake slid his hands around his waist. "Vegas," Jake whispered into his ear, wrapping his arms around Chris' chest, "me and you. Right now. We can get married and be back before dinner tomorrow." "You're crazy," Chris said, eyes wide as he spun around on his heels, "you're crazy about this wedding...all of it." Jake stepped back, eyes narrow and jaw tense. He shook his head slowly, "Just say it. Stop holding it in." "I don't have anything to say," Chris said, "we didn't go through all this planning, tasting, and looking to throw it away and just do it in Vegas. That's not you. That's not us." "But look at you. You're in that tux driving me crazy," he said, eyes wild as he threw his hands up, "and you don't care." His words were stretched out, every syllable stressed and heavy. "I care," Chris said, voice more defensive than he intended; he reached out, grabbing one of Jake's hands, "what are you talking about?" "You don't care," Jake said, jerking his hand back, "you say it all the time: 'whatever you want, Jake. I. Don't. Care.'" It was like every word hit him like a bullet, hard and severe right in his chest. "I don't care about all that stuff," Chris said, "cake and flowers...I don't think it's a big deal. I only care about you. I wanted you to get everything the way you wanted." "I want you to want things, too," Jake said, expression softening slightly, "it's like everything is about me. You're just not there." The car came back, the valet's face covered with a huge smile. Chris would have given him his left arm for just a few more minutes to say something, anything to get Jake to calm down and for the tension to disappear. Jake didn't feel the same way, hand waving the valet to a stop. Chris sighed, wondering how hard it would be to fall asleep with all the anger in the car. He didn't want to talk anymore. They were still surrounded by the magic of Hollywood; he didn't want to deal with reality just yet. "I want you to want to," Jake said quietly. "I do," Chris said, shaking his head at the irony of those two words. They seemed even more steeped in meaning than ever. He waited for Jake's reaction, and when he didn't get one, Chris got into the car and didn't look at Jake once the entire trip home. *** Jake rolled over and buried his nose in the pillow, inhaling the scent of Chris through the fabric, knew without feeling or looking that Chris wasn't in bed. He wouldn't have been either, but Chris slipped out first, leaving Jake alone with his thoughts and not much else. He even took the dogs--the house was too quiet. Jake rolled over and threw his arm over his eyes, his heart weighted with guilt and confusion. He let out a long breath and threw the covers off. He hated when they fought and even more than that, he hated waking up to an empty bed. Every movement he made: walking to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, making coffee, seemed slow and even though he'd just gotten out of bed, he already felt lethargic. Feeling the caffeine starting to work, Jake stretched his arms above his head, sleep- clouded eyes trying to focus on Chris' studio, unable to tell for sure whether there was someone inside or not. He scratched his stomach lightly before sliding the back door open, the grass holding onto the last vestiges of the morning dew as he stepped across, he could see the dogs' paw prints zigzagging through the grass. Jake stuck his head inside, the little room quiet and empty, Chris' things arranged just so on his desk, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Jake stepped inside, eyes glancing around. He caught sight of the picture on Chris' desk and he went over to pick it up, the familiar image bringing a smile to his lips. Jake's head jerked around when he heard the sound of the front door and the subsequent scampering noises from the dogs rushing through the house. A second later, Atticus bounded into the studio, obediently sitting down in front of Jake, tail wagging and eyes wide, "Morning, big fella," Jake said, scratching his ear lightly, "Chris take you out already?" Boo scurried in a second later, jumping up against Jake's leg. He scooped up the little dog and scratched his belly, "Chris never gets mad at you two, does he?" Jake asked, half-expecting an answer. The dogs looked at him, their goofy grins and wagging tails unwavering. "Let's get you out of here," Jake said, plopping Boo on the floor before ushering both of them into the yard. Jake went silently back into the house, the dogs sunbathing and sniffing in the yard, oblivious to the tension that Jake seemed unable to forget about. He heard the shower running, saw Chris' keys haphazardly thrown on the kitchen counter. Jake pulled his t- shirt off, opening the bathroom door to be greeted by billows of steam, the subtle smell of soap and shampoo filling his nostrils as he dropped his boxers. "Chris?" Jake asked softly, but either Chris was ignoring him or the water was too loud--he didn't get an answer. Sliding the door open, Jake stepped inside, grabbing Chris' shoulder and turning him around, "Grace?" he asked, stepping backwards, "what the hell?" "Jesus Christ, Gyllenhaal," Topher said, both of them blushing a deep crimson as Jake scrambled to get out of the shower, "he said he was going to get some coffee." "Sorry, Grace," Jake said, still feeling the effects of the shock, "Jesus Christ that's bad. I've been...fuck, I don't know what's going on." "Can I finish or do you need to talk right now?" Topher asked, grateful that the steam and water made the glass look opaque, "because we talked about it. I know what's going on." "Give me a minute," Jake said, wrapping a towel around himself before he splashed some cold water on his face, his breathing finally slowing down, "he told you?" Jake asked, sighing as he flipped the toilet seat down and sat on it. "It's a big deal to him, you know, making you happy," Topher said, feeling the water cascade down his back, calming him down, "he knows how much this wedding means to you." "I know," Jake said, running his hands over his face, he let out another long sigh, "I just don't see it sometimes." "I do," Topher said, "he puts a lot of thought into it. He just lets you take the lead. And I think he wants you, more than anything, to know that he wants it just as much as you do." Running his fingers over his scratchy stubble, Jake nodded silently, "He's like that." "He's not scared," Topher said, "or anything like that. He's just..." "He's just being realistic," Jake said, grinning nervously, "weird...mermaids and spacemen in his book and I'm the one who needs to get down to Earth again." "This is nothing," Topher said, "you've been through worse. Way worse. He sees where you're coming from." "Yeah," Jake said, "he's..." another sigh, "man...nothing comes easy, does it?" "Nothing," Topher said, "mind if I finish?" *** Chris glanced back before bounding into the empty hallway. Everyone was outside, soaking up the summer sunshine, smiles and congratulations all around. He had to get away. Jake and his parents could work the crowd. He had to find a place to just chill out. He'd been to the house a million times, but somehow, there was always something he hadn't noticed before, the house seemed to morph and change with every visit. His feet dragged slightly, leading him unconsciously to Jake's old bedroom. Of all the rooms of the house, he'd spent the most time within these four walls, so when he just sort of plunked himself down on the bed and sighed, rubbing his face over his eyes, he felt more comfortable than he had all morning. Time seemed to stand still and the only thing he could concentrate on was his breathing, the slow and steady in and out. He felt drained but as the day inched closer and closer, he was starting to feel excited, too. Jake's enthusiasm was wearing off on him and his daydreams started to fill with visions of holding Jake's hand in front of all those people, their lips coming together to seal the deal: forever. The thought of it brought a smile to his face, a certain lightness to his whole body. Chris sat up, his eyes falling to a box set against the wall. It was brown and upon closer inspection, Chris saw that it was one of those faux wood file boxes. It obviously didn't belong with the rest of the things in Jake's room. Mustering the rest of his strength, he walked to it, crossing his legs as he sat down in front of it, the curiosity shooting through him as he pulled the top off, revealing a neatly packed box of what looked like old leather bound volumes. But when Chris grabbed one, he realized it was just a photo album made to look like an old book. He flipped through it, saw picture after picture of Jake and Maggie, alone, together, with their parents, without. Goofy, formal, it was just a mishmash of everything. Chris slid that album back into the box and pulled out another, the pictures newer and glossier, the paper behind it still somewhat fresh and crisp. His breath caught when he saw a picture of Peter holding baby Aaron, his eyes soft and his expression something Chris rarely saw: pure unconditional love. He saw it from the dogs all the time, but seeing it from Peter, who was usually so stoic and serious, was almost alarming. Chris flipped the page and his breath caught again. He was staring at himself, hair messy and face still sleepy as he smiled, leaning his head against Jake's shoulder, his expression equally sleepy. He didn't remember ever taking that picture, but just knowing that it could have been last week or last year and that he could still see himself smiling just like that when they had their morning coffee together, he felt warm inside. He made Jake smile, made Jake happy and it the thing he was happiest about was that every single thing was reciprocal. He flipped the pages and saw picture after picture of himself. The pictures had to have been from all over. He couldn't remember half of them, the rest bringing fond memories flooding back into his head--holidays, birthdays, parties, everything was right there. "Hiding?" Chris heard as the door opened, Peter's gentle face smiling down at him. Chris shut the book and held it to his chest, the move to protect his latest discovery instinctual, "I've seen them all, don't worry. They're Maggie's." "How come I haven't seen them then?" Chris asked, running his fingertips over the edges. "I don't know," Peter said, sitting down facing him. His wrinkled polo shirt showed a trace of chest hair, his smile still playing on his lips, "You like them?" "I love them," Chris said, "I didn't know there were so many." "You're in," Peter said, "whether you like it or not, you're a part of this whole mess." "It's not a mess out there," Chris said, eyes focusing on the window over Peter's shoulder, "it's a mess in my head." "No, it's not. Down there people are talking about you and Jake and love and that's great, but I know that you're in there," Peter said, pointing to Chris' forehead, "you're in there more than you're out here with us." Chris shrugged, "It just happens," he said, 'but I think seeing this...all of this all together. It's not about escaping anymore. I don't want to have to run away all the time." "You've never had to," Peter said, "talk and we'll listen. And more than that, know when to shut us up." Smiling, Chris shook his head, "I love him so much--and you guys too. Everyone." "I told you: you're in," Peter said, pulling Chris up to his feet, "get out there. This is your thing. You and Jake earned it." Peter leaned in, giving Chris a kiss on the forehead, wrapping his arms around Chris' body. "What did I do without you?" Chris asked, shutting his eyes and resting his head onto Peter's shoulder, "how did I ever figure things out?" "You don't have to worry about that anymore. You've got me," Peter said, "no matter what." *** Chris slid the patio door open and immediately, Boo ran to him, weaving in and out of legs and dodging people to get hop up against his legs. Smiling, Chris patted his head before picking him up, feeling Boo's wet tongue licking his chin as he smiled, "Hey little fella, where's Jake?" Boo ignored the question, continuing his wet, slobbery licks as Chris scanned the crowd. He saw Peter talking to Maggie, saw Jake's dad behind the barbeque, where he'd been all day, but no Jake. Chris wondered if Jake had run away too, gone somewhere to retreat into his head and his feelings. He set Boo down and turned around, startled to see Jake right there, a huge smile on his face, eyes sparkling as he pulled Chris to him, nose nuzzling into his hair, their bodies rocking slightly, "I'm so in love with you," Jake whispered, "wake me up. This can't be real." Grinning, Chris pulled Jake into a quick kiss, "I'm glad you're having a good time." "I told mom and dad that we'd spend the night," Jake said, "so that means another beer for me." "Yeah?" Chris asked, gripping Jake's shoulders. He noticed the setting sun starting to streak the sky with orange and red, saw Naomi lighting candles around the deck and turning on some of the lights. "Hey, can you take that beer to-go? I want to talk to you." Jake nodded and pulled Chris' hand off of him, gripping it tight in his, "Let's go. Forget the beer." Chris followed Jake down off of the deck, the green grass crunching under his flip- flops. The sounds of the party got softer as the walked away. Jake led them to a little bench tucked away in a cluster of trees, tiny purple flowers sprouting where their trunks met the tall grass. "Lilacs," Chris whispered, running his fingers over the violet blooms. Jake leaned down as they sat down on the concrete bench, his fingers plucking a stem and handing it to Chris. "What's that?" Chris asked, leaning forward. He traced two sets of tiny handprints on a stepping-stone nestled into the dark soil. "I haven't seen that in forever," Jake said, his voice quiet, "wow...we made that when...I can't even remember." "It's so cute," Chris said as Jake pulled him back, their bodies settling together as Jake brought the lilacs to his nose. "So should I be worried?" Jake asked, tangling his fingers with Chris'. Chris could feel how tense he was, how he seemed to worry even though Chris hadn't answered yet. "No, it's nothing like that," Chris said, "I just wanted to tell you how good I am. It feels more right than I can ever remember." He turned to Jake, kissing him softly, feeling him relax, "I want you to know that this isn't just about you or just about me." "It's about the two of us, now more than ever," Jake said, his lips grazing Chris', "you and me." "I can't even remember what I had to talk to you about," Chris said, running his hand down Jake's chest, "I guess...that was all." "It was enough," Jake said, pressing his forehead to Chris', his smile still on his face, "more than enough." "Let's get back over there," Chris said, wrapping his arms around Jake's and resting his head on Jake's shoulder. Jake led the way back up the deck and Chris' eyes met Peter's through the small crowd, a small grin and a tiny nod telling him everything he had to know. Chris pulled Jake closer, whispering a hushed, "I love you," in his ear. The sound of his name, a stern but gentle, "Christopher," sent Chris' head turning around, his arms still intertwined with Jake's. "It's mom," Jake said, "she must want need to talk to you about something." "You go get your beer," Chris said, "I'll find you after." Chris shoved his hands in his pockets, nervously smiling as he walked over to Naomi, who, no matter what, always intimidated him. Not only was she a screenwriter, she was a good one. Chris felt a little inferior, no, a lot inferior. She just exuded an almost regal air even at something as simple as a backyard barbeque. "Young man, you didn't even give me a hug yet," she said, feigning anger. Chris smiled, finally pulling his hands free and hugging her, "Hey mama," he whispered, "you sure know how to throw a party." "You gave me the most delightful escape with that new book of yours," she said, firmly grabbing his shoulders, "but more importantly, I want you to have something." "Yeah?" Chris asked, "you don't need to. You can keep telling me how good the book is." "It was more than good. And I want to give it to you," she said, nodding, "because now it means something." Watching with rapt attention, Chris saw Naomi pull a ring off of her finger, setting it gently in his open palm before closing his fingers around it, "I can't take this. You've been wearing it since I met you for the first time. And I have too many." Chris held up his hand, the three rings he always wore sparkling in the fiery light of the setting sun. "It's not expensive," she said, rolling her eyes, "so don't treat it like it is. What's important is what it means." "Is that why you're giving it to me? It'd be over Jake's head, wouldn't it?" Chris joked, "really though, why me?" "You don't have to wear it," Naomi said, "just know that it's made of something stronger than gold or silver." Confused, Chris asked, "What is it?" "Iron. Like you and Jake. Time and time again I thought, 'It's done. Another one goes down,' but you two manage. And for that," she paused, "this is for the both of you." "Wow," Chris said, "this really would have been over his head." Naomi smiled, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she pulled Chris into another hug, "Thanks. Thank you so much." "You make him so happy," she said, "and that makes us all happy." "Thank you again," Chris said, "thanks for being a mom to me." "Second nature, really," she said, smile wide even through the tears she was trying to hold back. "I better get back over to Jake," Chris said, kissing Naomi lightly on the cheek, "we've already been separated this whole time." Naomi patted Chris' shoulder, taking a deep breath, "I love you. But you knew that." "I did," Chris said, nodding as he grabbed her hand, "always have." *** "Proenza Schouler," Chris said, "did I say that right?" "Nobody knows how to say it," Maggie said, "just choose something easy." "I can't pronounce any of them," Chris said, confusion masking his features, "Rodarte? Marchesa? This is New York, why can't there be anyone easy to say?" "Hi, Christopher Lewis? This is GQ. What do you feel is fashion's role in today's owrld?" Chris was taken aback, the same way he was whenever he was recognized, even to this day. "Um..." he faltered, "I just come to see what...people are going to wear." "He comes with me because nobody else will," Maggie said, giggling over his shoulder, "it's mandatory." "I have all my clothes laid out for me every day," Chris added, "same t-shirt, same jeans." "But you always get on our best dressed lists," the reporter said, "it's something about how you're laid back and it's effortless." "It is effortless," Chris insisted, "it takes no effort at all. But we're going to be late and I have to figure out..." "Ok, one last question," he interjected, "favorite designer?" "I'll tell you at the end of the week," Chris said, smiling, "my best to GQ. Great magazine." Maggie pulled Chris along, the flashbulbs filling the air as reporters shouted his and Maggie's name. They both ignored them, grabbing the obligatory goodie bag and finding their seats. Chris was sure Maggie planned her entire year around fashion week. She loved every second of it but he was more interested in hanging out with her than dresses and coats. He ran his fingers through his hair, and like Jake's, it was longer than normal. There were famous people everywhere, more famous than himself, more famous than Maggie, but he felt like all eyes were on him. From the very beginning, he knew writers' books got optioned into movies, but he never thought his would. They weren't looking at him because he was in the news, unless they happened to talk to their agents, because everyone, it seemed, knew that casting had started. Everyone was talking about it, not only industry people, but even fashion magazines, entertainment magazines, and even book reviews were talking about his latest project. "Relax," Maggie whispered into his ear, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, "come on, you might actually like this one." Chris sat up straight despite the request, the whispers and glances not going unnoticed, especially when so many eyes were focused on him. When had he become the 'it' boy? Had Jake somehow given him the title by proxy? Sure, he was out and about, hanging with famous people, and more than anything, being photographed with famous people, but it was just starting to set in: he was a famous person. He ran the list in his head. Oscar winner, magazine covers, published writer, he had posters up in every single public library in the nation. He was famous, he just tried to deny it the entire time. The show was over before Chris even noticed it started, Maggie standing up and clapping, Chris following suit, his head still spinning with the new realizations. He never wanted to be famous, just successful. He wondered if those two words always went hand in hand. "Did you like it?" Maggie asked, resting her head on his shoulder as they walked through the crowd. They both got a few sideways glances, the occasional wave, and lots of smiles thrown their way. They were oblivious though, Chris lost in his own thoughts and Maggie still basking in the afterglow of fashion show. Chris was sure it was being away from the baby, having a few afternoons free to just have some fun for herself that made her this giddy. He was glad she had a chance go escape the everyday. "It was fun," Chris said, "being with you. Clothes are clothes." "Yeah," Maggie said, voice tinged with a dreamy softness, "but sometimes they just take you away." Nodding, Chris shielded his eyes as they got out into the sunlight; the bright white tents of Fashion Week were surrounded by people shuffling from show to show, the sound of the city mixing with the muffled buzz of everyone talking on their phones. Chris wondered where Jake was, wondered how everything was going with the dogs and Peter and the baby. If Maggie wasn't worrying about those things, he'd take it upon himself to do it for her. "Do you really think Peter was okay with us bringing Atticus over? Can he handle the dog and the baby?" "That lug can handle anything," Maggie said, "are you taking me to the right tent?" "I'm looking for tent seven," Chris said, craning his neck to glance over the crowds, "it's right over there." "Remember the first one I took you to? You were miserable," Maggie said, chuckling softly, "it's nice to have someone who'll do things like this with me. I'm the only girl in the house." "You deserve your girl time," Chris said, grabbing two more swag bags as their names were checked at the door, "for putting up with us boys. I'm just tagging along to hold your free stuff." "I wouldn't have it any other way," she said, sitting down and crossing her legs. They were front and center this time. Chris could almost picture the photo that would be printed, Chris and Maggie staring up from their seats as a model stomped by, spellbound by the escape Maggie was talking about. Being seen at Fashion Week meant that he and Maggie would undoubtedly be in the society pages. Celeste was going to love it. *** "Hey," Jake said, eyes sparkling as Chris leaned up against the door. Chris' eyes soaked in the cityscape, the sky clear and the sun bright. It was unreal. He walked over to Jake, his hands behind his back as he stepped slowly across the rooftop patio. "I've got something for you," he said, grinning. Setting his book down, Jake leaned up to kiss him, grunting when he felt Chris swing something into his chest. "What's this?" he said, reaching into the stiff white bags, "swag?" Shrugging, Chris sat down next to Jake, watching him pull things out of the little bags, "Bottled water?" Chris asked, reaching for it. He opened it as Jake kept finding more treasure, pulling tiny sample packets of face cream and body soap out and tossing them onto his book. "Lip gloss?" he asked, dropping it back into the bag, "perfume, gift certificates...you made out like a bandit. Looks like we've got Christmas shopping done early." "I've got more downstairs," Chris said, smiling, "you don't know the half of it." "Come here," Jake said, pulling Chris down for a kiss. He tossed the bag aside, its contents rolling out across the patio as he held Chris close to him, their bodies moving together as Chris wrapped his arms around Jake's neck, his legs straddling Jake's lap. "Did you have a good day?" Chris asked, feeling Jake pull his jacket off. "It's getting better," Jake said, voice breathy as Chris' lips smashed into his again, "a lot better." Chris groaned when he felt Jake's hands slide up his back, his heart beating faster. He slid his hands over Jake's sweater and gripped it, fabric bunching in his fingers before he yanked it off, Jake's bare chest heaving as he caught his breath, lips glistening as he licked his lips, eyes glued to Chris'. Leaning down, Chris' tongue circled a nipple as his hands nimbly unbuttoned his own shirt, Jake's hands pushing it off of his shoulders. It fell to the floor with his jacket as Jake's fingers slid up his back and tangled in his hair, moving him to the other nipple. Grunting, Jake's hips thrust up against Chris', sending a jolt through both of their bodies as Chris' lips traced the grooves of Jake's stomach, the soft hair brushing against Chris' face as he knelt down on the warm concrete, Jake's flushed body above him. "Take them off," Chris said, pushing his hair back off of his forehead. Jake kicked his flip-flops off and undid the button of his jeans, his breaths heavy and deep as he slid everything down in one swift motion. Jake watched Chris' tongue dart out, slicking his lips before he scooted forward, hand gripping the base of Jake's cock. Jake threw his head back; eyes shut tight as gripped Chris' shoulders and waited, gasping as he felt a warm, wet tongue on his balls. Chris groaned at the sound, rolling Jake's balls around in his mouth as his fingers stroked Jake's cock, feeling his slick pre-cum start to trickle out over his steady fingers. "Come on...come on," Jake whispered, voice strained as he pulled Chris up, tongue dragging a thick trail up his shaft. He tiled Chris' face up to his own one more time before he smiled and slammed Chris' head down, his shaft engulfed in the warmth and the slickness. Hissing, his arms reached up behind him to grip the wooden back of the chair, muscles flexing in the warm sun as he felt a layer of sweat glisten on his own skin. Chris' mouth moved up and down, his fingers pulling Jake's balls lightly, the tight heat of Chris' throat squeezing every inch of Jake's cock. "Fuck," Jake groaned, the word drawn out through his tight throat. He felt Chris' hand stroke him, tongue darting across his slit, lapping up the sweet pre-cum. Chris took Jake down into his throat one more time, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt the blunt head of Jake's dick his the back of his throat. He took a deep breath and felt Jake's pubes tickling his nose, Jake's entire body flexing into a tight knot as he groaned, the sound breathy and strained, "Close," Jake panted, his fingers gripping Chris' scalp, holding him down. Chris gagged slightly, but Jake held him down, his throat muscles quivering on Jake's cock. He pulled off and wiped the spit from his chin, panting himself as Jake looked down at him, eyes fiery as he pushed Chris down again, groaning deep and low. Chris pushed himself down again, pulling up and swirling his tongue around the head of Jake's cock one more time, finger pressing hard at Jake's perineum, feeling Jake's body go rigid as he shot, thick ribbons of cum shooting into Chris' throat. He swallowed what he could, pulling off in time to get a shot across a cheek and another on his lips. Jake was panting, body glistening in the bright yellow sun as Chris licked up the last vestiges of cum from Jake's cock, sending one last ripple up his spine and one last weak shot of cum onto Chris' tongue. Leaning back, Chris cleaned the cum from his face and licked his finger clean, Jake's body still awash in the sensation as Chris got to his feet and pushed his slacks down, straddling Jake's hips as he pushed his tongue between Jake's lips. "Let me catch my breath," Jake asked, voice still shaky as Chris kissed and nipped at his neck, his soft groans Jake's only answer. "Fuck...that was good," Chris groaned, "my cock's dripping already." "Good on this end, too," Jake said, gripping the back of Chris' neck. He pulled Chris up for another kiss, his stubbly skin rasping across Chris', the sweat slicking their bodies as Jake's hands slid down Chris' back. "How do you want it?" Jake asked, "tell me." "Get your dick in me," Chris groaned, shivering as he felt Jake's finger tickle his hole, "fuck me..." "How?" Jake asked, pulling Chris up off of him, slamming his down on the table, slats of wood rattling under their weight, he slid another finger in, his tongue sliding up Chris' spine. "Hard," Chris groaned, throwing his head back, "fuck, just get in me." Jake kicked Chris' legs apart and gripped his hip, tongue tracing his ear. "You'll be feeling this tomorrow," Jake grunted, his other hand grabbing Chris' shoulder. He bit his lip and focused his eyes on the head of his cock and Chris' hole. Pushing them together, he took a deep breath and slammed it in, his hand flying to Chris' mouth to muffle the sound, entire body shaking as the sensations bombarded the both of them. Jake's groaned, closed eyes shooting skyward as his cock was completely sheathed in Chris' quivering channel and Chris felt like he was being ripped in half, Jake's cock never feeling thicker or longer. "Jesus," Chris groaned, grabbing the edge of the table, forehead resting on the rough wood, his shoulders tense and the muscles of his back pronounced as Jake slid out and slammed back in, both of them grunting loudly, nothing inhibiting them as Jake's cock razed across Chris' prostate, sending shocks through both of their bodies. Jake thrust without volition, burying himself with every hard push and nearly sliding out entirely on each withdrawal. Chris moaned incoherently, uncontrollable grunts and groans filling the patio as he pounded closed fists against the table, each thud echoing the sound of skin slapping skin. "So fucking tight," Jake grunted, straining as his muscles moved almost instinctively, everything choppy and hard, every motion sending him barreling towards orgasm. Chris reached down to stroke his cock, his chute squeezing Jake even tighter as he slid his sweaty palm up and down his length. "Get in deep," Chris said, voice dry and tense. Jake slammed him hard, sending Chris' head flying back, tiny drops of sweat spraying onto Jake's chest, the hairs already matted and sweaty. Jake groaned and pulled out, sending a breathy sigh from Chris' lips. Jake grabbed him and turned him around, their lips crashing together as he stepped forward and pushed Chris down again, his back landing on the weatherworn table as Jake wrapped his legs around his waist. Chris gripped Jake's biceps, feeling muscle flexing under his fingertips as Jake slid in again, tiny thrusts rocking across his prostate. Chris' cock shot, searing cum splattering across his chest and stomach as he went stiff, Jake watching everything play out, eyes entranced by Chris' movements, everything lithe and supple, everything from the arch of his back to the almost pained expression of release on his face sent Jake's body into its second wind. Jake leaned down, lips sucking at Chris' neck, cum smearing between their bodies. Chris panted, Jake's severe thrusts prolonging the feelings washing over him, his orgasm hard and intense. He grabbed Jake's shoulders and pulled him up for a kiss, their lips desperate as Jake's tongue slid deep into Chris' mouth. Jake held Chris steady, his thrusts still hard and fast, his breath shallow and strained. He slid his fingers through Chris' hair, pulling Chris' head back to regain access to his neck. Tracing his Adam's apple, Jake reached down and slid a finger to Chris' hole. Grunting Chris nodded, a strained, "Please," falling from his lips, dissolving into a long groan when Jake slid in two fingers, Chris' hole stretching and his body stiffening. "Fuck," Jake groaned, eyes rolling back in his head as he crooked his finger, cock thrusting them hard against Chris' prostate, jolts shooting up Chris' spine. He thrust his cock in and out, fingers following the same pattern before he lost all control, hand and cock moving on their own, control lost as he gave in to instinct, his body rushing toward orgasm, Chris pounding his head on the table under him his hands gripping the edge of it tight, knuckles white and arm muscles straining. "I...Jesus," Chris groaned, "cumming," back arching one more time, arm thrown across his eyes as his mouth opened in a silent groan, another barrage of cum shooting between their heaving bodies. Jake wrapped his arm around Chris chest, free hand gripping Chris' hip as he thrust harder, trying to get deeper, to just lose every vestige of control. Grunting hard, Jake pulled his hand out and shoved in deep, cum shooting deep into Chris' clutching hole, his body rigid and still as he shot. Falling forward, Jake kissed Chris again, both their eyes half-lidded as they regained their bearings, their bodies settling together on top of the patio table Jake not wanting to move, not wanting his dick to slide from the tight confines of Chris' chute. "It can't get any better," Jake whispered, kissing Chris' forehead softly. He pushed Chris' hair back off of his forehead and smiled, eyes soft and sleepy as he pulled Chris close. Chris only nodded, still seeing stars. His breathing was still shaky and labored, "Don't move." "I don't want to," Jake whispered, smiling as Chris closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Jake leaned forward to kiss him one more time Chris groaned at the repeat sensation, "I love you so much." "I love you, no matter what," he said softly. Chris' soft, muffled groan was the only acknowledgement Jake got, but it was enough. Sighing, Jake couldn't remember the last time things seemed so perfect. He had Chris, all of him, and soon, they'd have everything. *** "Forever," Chris whispered, his breath catching, "I can't believe it." Jake looked over at him, his face mirroring Jake's own: tired, exhausted, and drawn. They both tossed and turned the entire night and every minute of lost sleep seemed to show on Chris' face. He was warming his hands on his coffee, expression blank as he stared forward, eyes unfocused and breaths slow and steady. He was holding back tears, Jake could tell. It broke his heart. "Let it out," Jake whispered, "there's no point in even trying." A single tear rolled down Chris' cheek, his breath finally catching, his face contorting as he buried his face in his hands, quiet sobs shaking his body. Jake wasn't far behind, silent tears falling down his stubbled face as he leaned down to hold Chris. Chris turned his head, burying his face in Jake's wrinkled t-shirt, soothing hands on his shoulders. "We're going to get through it," Jake said, voice shaky. He almost believed it himself, "We don't really have a choice." It was the truth. Shaking his head slowly, Chris refused to believe it. "Is it really gone?" he asked. "It's gone," Jake whispered, patting his back softly. "It's like starting all over," Chris said, voice still quiet and shaky, "just when things started to settle down." "I know," Jake said, "I know." "We have to go up there," Chris said, "to see it for ourselves." "Yeah," Jake nodded, running his hands in comforting circles on Chris' back, "we'll go right now. Just let me get dad's car and we'll head out." Both feeling mindless and numb, the long drive was almost silent, Jake's free hand clutching Chris' the whole way. The familiar curves, turns, rises, and falls didn't effect either of them. Where they normally were filled with feelings of comfort and anticipation, both of them felt anxious and Chris swore he actually felt nauseous. "Chris," Jake whispered, "come on, it's going to be okay. It really is." Chris wanted to ask Jake what gave him that impression, but he didn't say anything. He'd felt fragile before, hundreds of times, but there was one constant throughout it: home. And now, he wasn't even sure he had that. The last curves through their neighborhood brought one last flood of tears, but Chris held them in. If Jake could be strong, he'd try his best. Sighing, Chris stepped out of the car, sliding his sunglasses on in the bright light. Good, he thought. If he started crying, Jake wouldn't be able to see it. He felt Jake pull him close and he let his head fall onto Jake's shoulder, his body resting against Jake's as they walked together. The only thing left of their house was their mailbox. "Fuck," Chris said, shaking his head. He didn't want to believe it. He'd heard it on the news and read it in the newspaper. But these things happened all the time. Living in California meant earthquakes. Living by the beach meant landslides. But he never imagined that Mother Nature would combine the two. And not even in his worst nightmares did he think that it would happen to him. He pulled away from Jake and stepped forward towards what used to be their house. A piece of the foundation was still there, the concrete mangled and angry. He looked over, their mailbox sad and solitary. He tightened his fists and walked over, kicking it hard, sending the lone landmark down to the ground with a heavy clank. "'Fuck' is right," Jake said, grabbing Chris' shoulder. He spun Chris around so that their eyes met. It was right then that Chris knew that Santa Barbara wasn't the only thing that stayed constant anymore. The one thing that really did stay with him was right in front of him. "I'm not going to get through this," Jake said, "if you're like this. Be strong for me, Chris. For us." "We don't have anything anymore," Chris said. "Except each other," Jake said, "and that's all I need. That's the only thing that I can't replace." "Oh God," Chris said, suppressing another rush of emotion. He shook his head slowly and Jake grabbed his hands, fingers gripping tight, "I never thought...I'd lose this much so fast." "I've got everything I need," Jake said, "got you, got the dogs, we haven't lost much." Jake was right. Letting out one last hard sigh, Chris just turned around and walked back towards the car. He was done. There was absolutely nothing he could do, so there was no point in even being there. One last look down the street sent images of the two of them biking, of Atticus and Boo pulling on their leashes, of early morning jogs rushing through his head. He never thought he'd have to say goodbye to home, but he couldn't stand to be there for another second. It wasn't home anymore. It was just a reminder of what home had been. "Chris," Jake shouted, just a few steps behind him, "what next? Tell me." "I don't know," he said. Jake grabbed his hand and he felt something rough and heavy; looking down, he saw Jake had given him a chunk of concrete, a piece of home. "You told me once that home was anywhere we were together," Jake said, gripping his shoulders, "now you've got to show me, because I need you." "Jake, we're homeless," Chris said, a nervous laugh falling from his lips as he shook his head, "what the hell did we do to deserve this?" "Don't think about it like that," Jake said, pulling him into a hug, "we didn't deserve it. Nobody deserves anything like this." "Can we go?" Chris said, stopping himself before the word 'home,' came out, "back. Can't believe we came up here for five minutes." "I wanted to see it for myself," Jake said, clutching the rock in Chris' hand, "wanted to say goodbye." Back on the road, Chris never thought he'd drive away and never want to come back to Santa Barbara. The news reports replayed in his head like on loop, "Trouble in paradise, earthquake rocks idyllic seaside town of Santa Barbara...quakes rock Santa Barbara, landslides follow...the sea swallows coastal town north of Los Angeles..." everything started sounding the same. He shook his head, shaking the thoughts right out as he held the concrete firmly in his hand. It was really all they had left. He home they built, like so many of the things Chris loved, was in the ocean now. The same ocean he and Jake loved, the ocean that gave them a place for solace and contemplation proved that as much as it gave, it can take away, too. *** Chris pulled his sunglasses on, his legs stiff and entire body tired. He didn't know why he was tired, the mental fatigue wasn't a valid excuse anymore. He and Jake had stayed in bed for the better part of the past week, everyone milling around them as they tried to shake daze from their heads. The world was moving and things were happening, but they weren't a part of it. All they had was the clothes they had brought to New York with them, Chris had his computer, and they had both come to the sad realization that all their material possessions fit in Jake's old bedroom. They both knew that it wasn't the end of everything, but both were hesitant to begin something all over again. But finally, they managed to pull themselves out of bed, Chris blinking awake as the sun filtered into the room, his head tucked into the crook of Jake's neck. He watched the rise and fall of Jake's bare chest, his fingers lightly grazing the soft hairs that dusted soft skin. Jake grunted softly, the gentle sound of it assuring Chris that he was still asleep as Jake pulled him closer, their bodies twisting into a new but familiar tangle. He stayed there, eyes glued to the steady up and down motions, fascinated by the regular rhythm and unerring consistency. Enamored with the natural process, the grace and simplicity of it, Chris wondered why something like breathing, something natural, was driven by the same force that made the ocean swallow their house. He pulled close to Jake one more time, letting slumber veil his thoughts one more time. Clarity was a luxury he'd missed since the disaster and he was sure that sleep was the only way to keep reality at bay. But the looks that he got from both Stephen and Naomi when he and Jake wandered downstairs, borrowed bathrobes lazily tied around their bodies, was what drove him to get out of the house. He couldn't stand to see that much pity and that much concern on anyone's face. Jake went with his parents to look at new houses and Chris decided that he'd do his best to get his feelings out the only way he knew would work for sure-- writing. Chris gave up after staring at a blank screen for half an hour, his mind an empty void. He didn't know where his steps were taking him, but it felt good to be surrounded by fresh air and the sounds of the outside world. He didn't know how far he was from the house or where he was headed, he just kept walking. It was a long time before he got out of the residential neighborhoods, the sidewalk sloped downhill and his flip-flops clapped the concrete as he headed into the sprawl of the city, feeling tinier and more insignificant than ever. Wandering was easier in Santa Barbara, he decided, where he knew where things were and where things were closer together. He glanced around, completely lost. Beverly Hills is small, Chris thought, he couldn't have gone too far on his feet. Sighing, he reached for his phone, but caught something familiar in the distance. Smiling, he dismissed his phone and headed through the sparsely crowded sidewalk. It was warm and sunny, the cool rush of air conditioning hitting him as he walked through the sliding doors into the library, the smell of books lingering in the air as he took it all in, row after row of books. This was one thing Santa Barbara didn't have, a huge library that was bright and airy, sleek and cool. Everything about LA was aesthetic and the library was no exception. Chris slowly paced the aisles, fingers tracing the spines of the books, his mind still muddled but at least it was occupied. Jake always looked for Chris' books when they went to bookstores, but he couldn't recall if they'd ever even gone to a library together. Right over the young adults section, where books glowed with color, Chris saw an all-too familiar poster. Above the purples, pinks, blues, and greens tried their best to lure in wily teenagers and make them forget about the internet and television, there he was, in hazy black and white, Natalie right beside him, books wide open in their laps. It'd been such a long time since he'd seen one that he mindlessly stepped toward it to get a closer look. He swore it wasn't like looking in a mirror at all, he might have looked similar, but so many things had changed, inside and out, since that picture was taken. His phone jerked him back to reality, dozens of eyes glaring at him as he broke the silence in the library. He rushed to answer and walked outside into the bright sun again to talk, "I'm at the library," he said, "can you come get me?" "What are you doing there?" Jake asked. Chris could hear a smile in his voice and he hoped that meant good news. "Mom and dad want to take us out to dinner or something, how long have you been out there?" "I don't know," Chris said, glancing at his watch, "I left after you did." "You've been gone for hours," Jake said. Chris could hear the car starting, "I'll talk to you when I get there." Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Chris rushed back inside, making a beeline for fiction, skimming past Dickens and Faulkner, eyes daring past the names until he found a familiar cover. Pulling it out, he ran his fingers over the cover, the familiar image filling him with something he didn't feel that often: accomplishment. He flipped the pages open, seeing that some had been folded, some wrinkled, the entire book showing signs of wear. His other books were there too, but this one always meant more. The first one was always the most special, especially when it meant as much as this one. Independence Day made him who he was. He knew that. "Can you tell me how many people have checked this out?" Chris asked at the counter, "I'm doing some research." Annoyed eyes glanced back at him through thin wire-framed glasses. Wordlessly, she scanned the book, eyes widening when she saw the photo on the back. Chris watched her eyes shoot from the book to his face and back again. "It's been back for a few days. It's always out. Dozens of checkouts." "Thanks," Chris said, "I'll put it back." "How about his other books?" Chris heard over his shoulder. He didn't have to turn around to know it was Jake. "Always out," she said, "we have the new one on a waiting list." Chris could feel himself blushing. He turned away from her and pulled Jake back into the aisles, "I missed you," he said, "I've been lost all day." "You were walking around LA?" Jake asked, amusement washing over his face. He shook his head slowly, "I can't believe you. This isn't Santa Barbara, you can't walk anywhere." "I found this place, didn't I?" Chris said, sliding his book back into the empty slot, "I had a lot of time to think." Jake grabbed Chris' hand, looking him deep in the eyes, "And?" "And I'm a wreck," Chris said, "but what else is new, right?" "You're not a wreck," Jake said, leaning in to kiss him softly, "I've got bad news." Chris' lips fell into the beginning of a frown, his eyes turning towards the floor, "Tell me." "Me and dad looked at six or seven places," he whispered. "Yeah?" Chris asked, smiling widely, "keep going." "In Malibu, in the Hills, everywhere. None of them felt like home. I don't think anywhere will." It was definitely a problem, Chris had never though of living anywhere that wasn't Santa Barbara. The truth was that he didn't actually want to live there anymore, but he couldn't bring himself to believe that the one place that felt like home only made him want to cry now. "Are we going to look at some more places?" "Of course," Jake said, grabbing his hand, "we can keep looking right now." Chris sighed, "We have to get out of your parents' house." "I know," Jake whispered, "they love it but I know we've got to get out." "I feel fifteen again. Your parents are in the next room and we can't...you know." "I know, trust me, I know." *** Maggie stared out the window, "That's the ocean," she cooed softly, "remember the beach?" Aaron's big blue eyes focused on the water, waves looking still from this high up in the air. He turned his head to his dad, sleeping in the seat next to them, his face peaceful. Aaron reached for his dad's hand, brining a smile to Maggie's lips. "Are we almost there?" Peter asked, eyes still shut. Reaching over to run her fingers over his hand, "A little more," she said. She reached into her purse, fingers rummaging for the scrap of paper she'd written the address on, but instead, she pulled out a thick card. Confused, she pulled it out, her eyes immediately softening when she realized it was the invitation. Her eyes soaked in the front, the simple white paper decorated with the letter J and the letter C intertwined in delicate black calligraphy. It was clean and simple. Opening it, she saw the words she'd read over and over again, 'Please join us in celebrating the union of Jacob Benjamin Gyllenhaal and Christopher Noah Lewis." Those words alone always made her sentimental. "Did you forget anything?" Peter's sleepy voice asked, lazily smoothing Aaron's soft hair down. "I've got everything," Maggie said, folding the invitation back up, she'd read it so many times she could probably recite it. "It's finally happening," Peter said, "it's about time. Those two just...it's like they were made for each other." "Yeah," Maggie said softy, resting her head on Peter's shoulder. Aaron settled down between them, his head cradled in Peter's lap, "he needed a family." "And we needed him," Peter said, "couldn't have asked for anything better." "That earthquake really hit them hard," Maggie said, noticing the Golden Gate bridge in the distance through the window. "Did you remember my shirt studs?" Peter asked, the idea of an earthquake sending a chill down his back. "Mom said they stayed in bed for a week," Maggie said, her voice melancholic. "Scary," Peter's voice was quiet. What were people supposed to do when they lost everything? Locking the world away seemed like a good enough solution. Peter wondered what people expected, Chris and Jake were strong, but he doubted anyone had a simple solution to their problem. The fact that they were still having this wedding surprised him, but if any sense of normalcy was to be achieved, escaping reality seemed like a logical precursor. If they could delay the real world for that much longer, Peter was glad to be a part of it. "For everyone," she said, "what if they weren't with us in New York? What would have happened?" "I said it was scary," Peter said, "I don't want to think about it." Aaron cooed, his tiny hands reaching for his dad. Maggie let him go, plopping him down in Peter's lap. Shuffling to get comfortable, Peter held the baby close, watching as Maggie's calm features hid her deep thought. "I don't think you'll need your studs," she said, "they said it wasn't going to be black tie." "I didn't think so," Peter said, bouncing Aaron in his lap. "How much longer?" Maggie asked, glancing out the window again. "We're almost there," Peter said, grabbing her hand, "they won't start without us." --- feedback? christopherrluu@gmail.com