Date: Sat, 1 Dec 2007 23:17:39 -0800 From: christopher. Subject: breaking through part 43 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 very grateful for all the people I've met there. Sign up at http://groups.msn.com/TheGyllenhaalChronicles/_whatsnew. A special thanks goes 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. AOL Instant Messenger: babyofthe1980s. I'm on both all the time, don't be afraid to drop me a quick message. Part LIII "No," Jake groaned, pulling Chris to him, "stop kissing me, we have to get ready." He kissed Chris again, their bodies tight against each other, warm skin on skin as Jake's hands slid down Chris' back to his underwear. Chris let out a little laugh, pulling away, "Come on," he said, "I have to call Wes and make sure he's ready, too." Pulled right back into Jake's arms, Chris ran his fingers through Jake's damp hair, "One more," he whispered, kissing Chris again before he could even answer. Jake's tongue slid against Chris', their bodies coming together, every curve and contour matching. "Stop," Chris said, his voice completely unconvincing, as he moved his lips against Jake's, "I'm going to get dressed." Chris pulled away and walked out to the bedroom, Jake's fingers lingering on his hand, allowing Chris to pull him out of the bathroom as he made quick, determined strides, "GQ magazine...talk about tough decisions," Jake said, grinning. Rolling his eyes, Chris pulled this and that out of the closet; Jake's eyes glued to his every move. Effortlessly sexy, the best part was that Chris, even after six photo shoots wearing everything from Swedish jeans to Italian suits and finally just robes and pajamas, he was still oblivious to the fact. Smart, he'd take, witty and funny, too, but never sexy. Jake saw it though, he saw it every single day. "I'm wearing the gray tie," Chris said, "you get purple or black." "You're wearing a gray tie with your gray suit?" Jake asked, arms wrapping around Chris' chest, nose nuzzling into his neck, "is that okay? Is that...GQ?" "Hey, this is serious business," Chris joked right back, "I'm a coverboy. I have to keep up appearances." "I'll take black," Jake said, kissing the top of his head. "Done," Chris said, turning around and throwing the tie around Jake' neck, he kissed Jake quickly, "hurry up." Jake pulled him into another kiss and Chris let himself melt into it, warm skin against skin, Jake's hairy chest scratchy and rough against his own, his lips pressing hard against Jake's. His hands slid down to grip the tie, pulling it to press Jake even harder against him. Jake grunted, surprised, his hands sliding down the long smooth expanse of Chris' back. Chris pulled away and Jake leaned back in, kissing the tip of his nose tenderly, "That's more like it," he whispered. "Yeah," Chris said softly, running his hands down Jake's chest one more time. He leaned in and kissed Jake's ear, "Fuck me later...promise?" "Can't make that promise," Jake said, "I might have to fuck you now." Chris' protests were drowned in Jake's lips, bodies turning so that Chris fell back onto the hotel bed, "Jake," he gasped, thoughts dissolving, his underwear being pulled down his legs, Jake's body on top of his, hands sliding down his sides. His neck strained and his head flew backwards as Jake kissed down his chest, lips following his fingers across Chris' skin. "You're so hot," Jake groaned, Chris' muscles quivering under his breath, "God, I can't get enough of you." Chris grabbed Jake's hair, toes curling as Jake's finger's pressed and stroked at his perineum, both of their groans mixing as Jake took the head of Chris' cock in his mouth. Breath catching, Chris tensed, inch after inch of his cock disappearing into Jake's mouth and throat. He felt tongue on his slit, fingers on his balls, pressing, pulling, licking, and sucking. His body was bombarded with wave after wave of tingles and sensation. Groaning, he pushed down on Jake's head, forcing more of his dick in, hips pushing up. He spread his legs wide and Jake's fingers went right to his hole, the tip of his middle finger pressing at the muscle, pushing in the tiniest bit, stretching the tight ring as a second finger joined it and Jake's mouth pulled off, Chris' body going rigid as Jake's tongue pushed deep into his hole. Jake held Chris steady with his shoulders as his tongue darted in with his fingers, Chris' body still tense above him. He pulled Chris closer, fingers pushing in and out of his clutching hole, breath quick as he lapped at the tight opening. He could watch Chris forever, he thought, the way every movement seemed to move his whole body, the way he held and savored every jolt and jump. Groaning, Jake dove in one more time, tongue delving deep. Chris' cock jumped, his stomach smeared with pearly clear pre-cum, hands clutching at the sheets as he gritted his teeth. "Jake, I need you," Chris groaned, "uh fuck...just fuck me. Fuck me hard." Jake slid his fingers out and kissed up Chris' body again. Their eyes locked and Chris felt Jake's knee spreading his legs apart, "Christopher," Jake groaned, voice raspy and dry, "you're all I need, all I'll ever need." Jake wrapped a leg around his waist and pressed their foreheads together. Chris' eyes struggled to stay open. He bit his lip and his breathing was shallow and fast, anticipating the burn and the stretch and the heat. He gripped Jake's neck and gasped as Jake pressed inside, inching in slowly and steadily, Chris' eyes clenching shut and his mouth open in silent exaltation, neck tense as he felt every vein and ridge of Jake's cock inside him. Chris pulled Jake's lips to his, Jake's tongue demanding entrance as he slowly pulled out, painfully meticulous as his hands slid under Chris' body, fingers splayed across the tight muscles, the other hand grabbing Chris' shoulder. A split second, a jolt coursing through Chris' body as the head of Jake's cock pressed at his prostate. Their eyes locked one more time, the world stopped and Jake slammed in. Chris groaned, the sound coming from deep in his chest, Jake was moving hard and quick, their bodies slick with Chris' pre-cum and sweat, their bodies moving together, Jake's lips and tongue playing over Chris' collarbones, muscles in stark relief as Jake pounded, his cock craving the warmth and tightness of Chris' chute, the clutching channel enveloping his cock with every motion. "Cum for me, Chris," Jake groaned, slamming in hard with every word, his cock punctuating his intentions, Chris nodding furiously as he stroked himself, hand jammed between their heaving bodies. Jake slapped it away, holding Chris' wrists above his head. "Not like that, Chris, come on." He threw his head back, neck tight and eyes desperate. Jake's blue locked with is brown, intensity masking both of their faces. Jake pushed in hard, seating his cock to the root as he pressed his forehead in to Chris', "You can...you have. Lots of times," Jake grunted. Chris opened his mouth, but again, no sound came out and he just concentrated on breathing and the almost smothering sensations washing over him. Every move of Jake's cock seemed to send his whole body tingling, the tips of his fingers to the end of his toes, everything between just afire with the electricity that seemed to flow between them. "Jake," Chris said, voice choked. His words dissolved into the air and Jake pushed in hard, sending the both of them further up the bed. Chris grabbed Jake's neck and their lips crashed together, Chris' body going rigid, every muscle flexing as he shot, thick spurts of cum creaming their stomachs, Chris' groans loud and strong. Jake's eyes slammed shut, jolts flying up his spine as Chris' hole squeezed him tight, so tight he could barely maintain his jerky thrusts. He'd lost the even strokes and measured fucking, everything thrown to the wind as he held Chris tight. "Shit shit shit," Jake groaned, gasping. He pulled out and Chris almost stopped breathing, confused and body almost flying off the bed at the sudden loss. "Fuck, Jake, what..." he struggled to breathe. "Knees, up..." Jake tried to find the words. Chris could barely register, still coming down from his orgasm, but Jake pulled him up and pushed him back down, his body pliable in Jake's rough grip. Jake slammed back in and Chris' forehead fell to the mattress, Jake grabbed his hair and jerked his head back up and shoved in hard. Chris whimpered, knuckles white as he gripped the sheets. Jake could hear the slap of skin on skin, wet and sweaty, both of them panting hard. He'd lost control, his body moving on its own volition, cock pushing into Chris' body, feeling the tight squeeze again and again. Jake slammed in hard, grabbing Chris' waist as he bit the back of Chris' neck as he shot, cum filling Chris' hole, every thrust and pull sending cum dripping down Chris' thighs. "Jake," Chris gasped, Jake's body pressing onto his as they both came down to reality, the high of orgasm still buzzing in their heads, "fuck...oh fuck." "Shit Chris," Jake said, voice muffled, "I just...carried away. I know you...oh fuck." "No, no," Chris said, "I just...fuck, we have to get cleaned up." Chris pushed Jake off of himself and pressed their lips together, his legs straddling Jake's hips as his tongue slid into Jake's mouth, fingers sliding down Jake's sweaty chest. Jake rolled them over one more time and pressed their bodies together, oblivious to the entire world, stars swirling around his head. The kiss was slow, languid, the opposite of their coupling. Chris' fingers ran through Jake's sweaty hair and he felt himself sink into the mattress surrendering to the weight and the sweetness of Jake's mouth on his. Late, Chris and Jake were down in the hotel lobby, where it was obvious that Wes was sweating through his suit, "Sorry," Jake said, smoothing his lapels, "I didn't know which tie to wear." "It's ok, I told it started earlier than it actually does," Wes said, fiddling with his cell phone, "I'll tell them that we're on the way." "That little fucker," Jake said, shaking his head slowly, "catches on fast." Chris pulled Jake out, the crisp New York air swirling around them. "Car's on its way around," Wes said before chatting away on his phone. "Remember the first time we were here together?" Chris asked, "It was cold just like this." "Snowing, if I remember right," Jake said, draping his arm across Chris' shoulders, "and you were miserable." Laughing, Chris leaned in closer to Jake, "This was a long haul," he said softly, "six months may be the longest job I've ever had." "I don't think we'll be on food stamps anytime soon," Jake said, kissing his forehead, Chris slid the smooth soles of his shoes against the concrete, "there's the car, get your buddy out here." "He's coming," Chris said, motioning to the revolving doors of the hotel. "Guys, this is great. People always come out to GQ parties, but there's a huge crowd. Chris, every publisher is there, Celeste said, if we're shopping you around still. This is the place." His excitement jumbled his words, his eyes wide and his body tense. "I guess so," Chris said, "I don't have anything solid yet, you know that." He turned to Jake, "They're probably sick of me," he said softly. "They might be sick of you taking forever to choose," Jake assured him, "but if they're still coming out to meet you, they're still interested." "I'm going to call your mom," Chris said, "just ask her some things. Do you think she's busy?" "Who are you kidding? She thinks the world stops any time either of us call her. You always say you'll talk to her about work and you never do." "Get in," Wes said, practically pushing the two of them into the car, "we're definitely late now." "I'll call her later," Chris said, sliding his phone back in his pocket. "See?" Jake said, rolling his eyes. *** "Jonas, you are so pretty," Chris said, inching closer to him. "You are the biggest lightweight I've ever met," Jonas said, "what did you have...two drinks?" "On an empty stomach...Jake's not pretty, he's so hot though," Chris said, stumbling a tiny bit, his hand running down Jonas' stubbled jaw, "but he has this, too." He brushed Jonas' long wispy bangs aside, "My doctor said it was okay for me to have a few again," he drawled, "but it's been a while. He said it a long time ago, but I didn't think..." His hand slid down to Jonas' chest. He was slight of frame, but he wasn't thin, muscles firm under Chris' touch. "Your husband is going to fucking kill me," Jonas said, backing away, laughing hard, "as much as I'd like to, Chris--and you know I do...," he fished for the right words to say, but they eluded him. "You do?" Chris asked, grinning goofily, "Shit, we need to get home." "Chris!" their heads both snapped to the other side of the bar, where even through blurry vision, they tensed at the sight of Kurt. "Tell your buddy Topher that if he's going to flirt with me, that he should call me back." Chris grabbed Jonas' shoulder, anticipating the bristling that he saw even without looking, "Topher's like that. He just teases," Chris said, straightening as much as he could. It'd been a while since he'd had anything to drink and he'd underestimated his tolerance. "Is Jake here?" Shaking his head, Chris pulled Jonas to his side, "You've met, right?" "Jonas, yeah." "Topher was just being nice, he was," Jonas said, accent coming on thickly, "you looked so lonely that day." Chris turned to the bar, motioning for the bartender, "Water please, a big one," he said, running his hands over his face, "sorry, Kurt, I'm a little buzzed." "A little buzz?" Jonas asked, laughing heartily, "we need to get home. Call Jake already." "So Jake's not here?" "He's working, but he was supposed to pick us up," Chris said, chugging the water, "he's down the street, right?" Jonas shrugged, "Kurt, you here alone?" "Waiting for someone," he said half-heartedly. Jonas nodded, eyes glancing at Chris, who was fiddling with his telephone a few steps away, "Have you met Chris' Wes guy?" Awkward silence abandoned, Jonas nodded more vigorously, "He's a great guy." "He's a journalist? A writer?" Jonas only shrugged, "He's got a girlfriend and drives a beat up Nissan. That's the extent of my knowledge on him." "He went to Princeton," Kurt said, "doesn't even know what he wants to do and Chris is parading him around like some sort of show dog." "Chris is only trying to help him out," Jonas explained, eyes darting to Chris. He didn't know what could be taking so long, Jonas wasn't lucid enough to make small talk with someone who seemed a little...off. "Don't do that," Chris said, batting Jonas' hand off his waist. "Why?" Chris motioned to Kurt with a snap of his head, "Jake's on his way, he said to wait outside. Sorry we couldn't stay longer, Kurt. Maybe next time." "Whatever," he said, disappearing back into the sparse crowd. "Something's going on," Chris said, "I don't know, but he's just..." "Odd," Jonas finished for him. "Creepy." "Fucked." "Fucked," Chris agreed, "he's really nice to me one second and the next he looks like he wants to punch me." "Let's get out of here," Jonas said, grabbing Chris' shoulders, steadying the both of them. "Don't pretend, Jonas, you only had three beers." "Any excuse to get my hands on you." *** There were good days and there were bad, Jake noticed. It was like that for the both of them. Something would set him off, a picture he'd find while he rummaged through his desk; Chris would find a card she'd sent them for Easter or for no reason at all or letters written in crayon addressed to the dogs and not to either of them. Jake could feel it, the feelings almost choking him every time he tried to hold them back. He'd hear Chris' muffled sobs, watch as Chris laced up his running shoes to go for a run at the most ridiculous times of day. Right before dinner, he'd be out there. After a shower, he'd suddenly be rushing out the door. They stopped talking about it, but they both knew. They were dealing with it their own way. Chris loped down the stairs, his shoulders heavy and his jaw shaking. This was a bad day. "Stop," he heard Jake say from the top of the stairs, "Chris, talk to me." "I'm just going for a run, I'm taking Atticus," he said, running shoes in hand. "What happened?" "I just..." his voice faltered, his head shaking, "I don't know. Sometimes I just think about her and I can't..." "You can't just keep running, really, I'm not just saying that," Jake said, leaning against the wall, "it happens to me too, you know." "You'd think I'd know how this goes by now," Chris said, sitting down on the last step, throwing his shoes down. "No," Jake said, coming down to sit next to him, pulling their bodies together, "I'd never think that." He ran his hand in soothing circles on Chris' back. His nose nuzzled into Chris' hair, "It's ok. You can cry or not, it doesn't matter." "Jake, I loved her so much," Chris said, forehead falling to his knees, "I don't want to believe she's gone." Jake sighed, deciding that quiet was probably better than saying something that didn't really mean anything at all. Words helped, of all people Chris knew the power they held, but Jake thought that this situation most of all, showcased just how insufficient words sometimes were. Atticus crept up beside them, nuzzling between their bodies, his non-words mimicking Jake's exactly. Together, they'd be able to get through anything. Chris ran his fingers over Atticus' coarse fur, scratching the spot right behind his ear that always made his back leg twitch. It wasn't long before Boo wandered over to investigate and Chris finally leaned back against Jake. "I hate that I get like this," Chris whispered, "I can't write or talk or anything." "It's okay," Jake said, slowly rocking their bodies, "I know, believe me, I know." *** "I'll see you next weekend," Chris said, running his hand down Jake's arm, "I'll miss you." "Give me a kiss," Jake whispered, leaning down. Chris popped up onto his toes, their lips coming together for a quick kiss, "Take care, okay? Don't work too hard." "You keep out of trouble, alright?" Jake said, pulling Chris into a hug. "You're going to be late," Chris whispered. "I'm not," Jake ran his fingers through Chris' hair, "but I don't want to go." Chris pushed Jake away, their hands intertwining, Jake bringing it up to his lips. A quick kiss and he pulled away, Chris' fingers lingering at the touch. He watched Jake walk down the tunnel, his own hands in his pockets. He sighed and walked back towards the car, noting that nothing in life seemed to get any easier, no matter how many times this happened. *** "Hand me the salt," Topher said, reaching blindly behind himself. Chris did as he was told, leaning back against the kitchen counter. He looked around Topher's house, everything impeccable and in its place. It was completely different from his own house, where he and Jake seemed to be fighting clutter every waking moment. "You can talk to me about it," Topher said, "I don't know if I can make you feel better, but I've got ears." "I haven't written anything since she died," Chris said, eyes on the floor, "I've been trying. I just sit at my computer and nothing comes out." The words came out slowly, like he didn't want to admit it. It didn't seem like that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, just a temporary setback, but it was still strange. Chris had never been short on ideas. "Well...I can't help there," Topher said, "unless you tell me how." "I don't know how," Chris said, his shoulders slumping, "we need to talk about something else." "I'm having sex with Jonas," Topher said, spinning around to face Chris. "I know." "You do?" Chris nodded, "He told me." "Well, fuck," Topher said, shutting off the stove, "I don't know what I'm doing, Chris." "I'm sure you know," Chris said, opening a cupboard to grab a glass, "you know exactly what you're doing." "No, I don't," Topher said. "You shove your dick in him. Repeat. Get it? That's what you're doing. Why don't you guys just talk to each other?" "He's not like that." "You'd be surprised," Chris said, his head in the fridge now, "you don't have any milk, do you?" "Did he say anything?" "Topher, I don't want to be involved in this," Chris said, "if something happens, I don't want to have to choose a side." "Did he say something was happening?" "No," Chris said, shutting the refrigerator, "he just said that you guys were...involved. That's all I know." He held his hands up in mock surrender. "What the hell am I doing?" Chris grabbed two plates, shaking his head, "I don't want to get in the middle." "Middle? You'd choose my side, wouldn't you?" "What?" "We have history. If something happened, you'd choose me, wouldn't you?" "Topher," Chris said, forehead wrinkling, "I don't want to talk about it." "What? You'd choose him over me?" "I didn't say that," Chris paused, watching as Topher set some plates down onto the table, "I bet he looks good without his shirt on." "He looks good between my legs," Topher snickered, unable to help the grin that formed on his lips, "damn good." "Stop," Chris said, laughing and grimacing at the same time, "I don't want to...Jesus, are you kidding me?" *** Chris sat at his computer, the blank screen staring right back at him. He'd done everything that Celeste and Wes told him to do and still, he couldn't think of anything to write about. Fresh air didn't help. A run didn't do anything. A visit to the modern art museum only made him more frustrated at himself and the fact that Jake was still filming. He cleaned the house, he filed away everything he'd ever written and he'd even rearranged all the books in his office, Jake's office, and the living room. He had nothing else to waste his time and still, nothing was in his head but empty space. He heard the doorbell ring and was half-grateful for the distraction. Their friends all knew about the unlocked door, so he already knew it would be someone who didn't frequent their Malibu hideaway. "Who is it?" Chris asked as he walked down the stairs. "Hey, it's me," he heard, the voice vaguely familiar, "um, Kurt." "Oh," Chris said, opening the door wide, "come on in." The dogs started barking noisily, Atticus practically growling as Kurt stepped over the threshold. Confused, Chris pulled Boo up into his arms, "Atticus, down," he said firmly, "that's weird, he's never like that." "Is Jake here?" "No," Chris said, pulling Atticus into Jake's office and shutting the door, "he's in Washington filming some stuff." "State?" "D.C." Kurt nodded, "I just came to ask if you knew about anywhere I could find an in, I still haven't found anything." "Not off the top of my head, but I can get you my editor's card," he said, already heading upstairs. "No," Kurt said, stopping him, "it's no big deal. Just that..." Chris walked past him, "Do you want anything to drink?" "I'm alright. You were just...in New York, what were you doing at Conde Nast?" "The GQ thing. They had a party and I had to talk to the editor," Chris said, opening the kitchen window, "it was sort of a hassle, but it was alright." "And Wes was just tagging along?" "I was just showing him how things worked, I wish someone did that for me when I was starting out. I mean, he probably got a foot in with that alone, huh?" Kurt watched him move around the kitchen, moving this and that the tiniest little bit, completely distracted from not only the conversation, but it seemed like he was distracted from the entire world. He finally stopped to look at the waves outside, "I hope he gets a job out of it. He's a good guy." Kurt's fists balled, but he slid them into his pockets, anger rushing through his body. He couldn't believe that Chris was being so oblivious. He was just like Jake--selfish. What was worse though, was that Chris didn't even realize just how selfish he was being. Here Kurt was practically begging for some sort of help and Chris was rubbing it all his face. It was like Jake dangling his parents' connections right in front of Kurt back then, never introducing them, probably never even telling his parents about the two of them. Kurt could picture it now though, his eyes narrowing as he imagined Jake practically showing Chris off to Naomi and Stephen, a proud look on their faces to know that Chris was just what they wanted. He was the perfect unthreatening guy for Jake. He huffed and shook his head, another wave of anger rushing through him. "Coffee?" Chris asked, "I can make some." "No," Kurt said flatly. "I'll make some anyway," Chris said, "you might change your mind. Jake's mom gave us some of those coffee cookie things." "Biscotti," Kurt said through gritting teeth. "Yeah," Chris said, "do you want one?" "No," he said. "Did you want that card now?" Chris asked, sidestepping across the kitchen, "I'll probably forget if I don't get it." "Chris, did you get that package I sent?" "Oh, no. Totally forgot. Was it important? Jake probably put it somewhere when we were cleaning up." "Sort of. No. Yes," Kurt shook his head, "no, it wasn't. I guess it wasn't." "Sorry, let me get that card," Chris said, letting Atticus out of the office on the way, "be good, ok?" He scratched behind his floppy ear and bounded up the stairs. "Jake got you whipped too?" Kurt asked the dog. Atticus' head tilted, eyes examining Kurt's form. "Chris, your dogs aren't going to eat me or anything, are they?" "No, they went to obedience class," Chris said from the office, "Atticus was valedictorian." Kurt snickered, "Who are you kidding?" Chris came down the stairs and Atticus immediately got up to walk beside him, eyes still locked on Kurt. "Here, her name is Celeste and she's great. She's gotten me everything lately. GQ, the whole bit." "Thanks," Kurt said, sliding it into his pocket. "This is a great picture," Kurt said, pointing to a frame hanging on the wall. Chris looked over, it was an old one of them in tuxedos, smiles on their faces. "Oscar night," Chris said, "that's actually probably from a magazine or something. I get really excited when I don't look like I have a lazy eye in a picture or something. When they're good, they're really good." "Thanks for this," Kurt said, "I better get out of your hair." "Sorry about Topher," Chris said, "he's going through some stuff. Issues with an ex." "I'm over it, forgot all about it," Kurt said, not bothering to look at the card before he slid it into his pocket. Chris shrugged, "Sorry, I'm just not in my head right now." "Why? What's going on." Taking a long breath, Chris took a step back, "You, actually." *** "And that's when Jonas punched him," Chris said, "just came through the door and knuckles right to the face." "All over just Topher's name?" "That's all I can think of," Chris said, "he's a heartbreaker, Topher Grace." "Then how did he get his black eye?" Jake asked, chuckling a little as he looked over his shoulder, Jonas' sleeping form draped over the couch. "Kurt punched back." Nodding slowly, Jake made a mental note to thank Jonas for doing what he'd wanted to do the entire time. "Is he okay?" Chris shrugged, "Bruised ego, bruised face. I think he'll be fine." "Kurt's got a shiner, too?" Jake asked. "He fell pretty hard," Chris said, pulling Jake to the back deck, "I don't want to talk about it. It's crazy. You should have heard the dogs." Chris pushed Jake down onto the weathered wood furniture, straddling his legs, "What's going on?" "You haven't been honest with me," Chris said, kissing Jake's forehead. Jake's body went rigid, his hands grabbing Chris' wrists, "Chris, it was a long time ago." Chris ground his ass into Jake's hips, his lips nipping at Jake's neck, "I know. I know." "What are you doing?" Jake asked, pulling Chris' body away from him. His eyes met the same confusion in Chris'. "I saw our bank statements online. You don't have to plan a vacation just because I did that whole Palm Springs thing." Jake blinked quickly, his head spinning, "Santa Barbara," he said softly, "I didn't think you'd find out." "Private sleeper car on the train," Chris whispered, leaning back down to press their chests together, "Four Seasons suite. What did I do to deserve this?" "Chris," Jake groaned, feeling Chris' fingers on his stomach, "I love you so much. I love you so so much." He said it again and again, pulling their lips together, his hands shaking as he grabbed at Chris' back. "You're the only one I've ever loved like this," Jake whispered, his lips moving quickly on Chris'. "Guys," Jonas said from the door. Chris looked up, Jonas grimacing as his fingers ran over his swollen eye, "I can't find the aspirin. Don't mean to interrupt but this hurts like a fucking motherfucker." "I'll get you something," Chris said, kissing Jake one last time. Jake nodded, running his hands over his face, "Sorry, Chris, really. I didn't mean to fuck up your cabinet or anything, I can barely see," Jonas said as Chris rummaged in the freezer. "It's ok," Chris insisted, "come on." He grabbed the ice, handing the clear cubes to Jonas, who had a dishtowel ready. Chris rifled through a cabinet, Jonas had knocked over most of the bottles, and got the aspirin and Jonas looked more grateful than Chris had ever seen, features softening. "You can sleep in our bed," Chris said, "it's more comfortable than the couch." "I should get home," Jonas said, shaking his head as his eyes rolled. Chris leaned in, kissing his cheek softly, "You're the best, Jonas." "Kiss to make it better, that was," he said, smiling, "you're the one that's the best. Jake is lucky to have you." "Go upstairs," Chris said again, "you can leave when it's gone down." "Fuck him good for me," Jonas said, gripping Chris' bicep, "I know you can." Chris eyebrow raised, but he nudged Jonas up the stairs before he went back out to the deck. The sun was starting to dip, the sky already streaked with orange and pink. "We're the only normal ones," Chris whispered, kissing Jake softly. Jake pulled him down, their bodies knotting together on the chaise, "We're the normal ones. How weird is that?" "I'm starving," Jake whispered, kissing the back of Chris' neck, his hands running over Chris' tight stomach, "What about you?" "Give me a few minutes," Chris said, "let me watch this for a little." "Remember when we'd watch them every day?" Jake asked, "that little house, that little town. Seems like forever." "I can't wait until we're up there," Chris said, gripping Jake's hands in his own, "it'll be exactly the same. It always is." *** If Chris turned heads at the East Coast offices, he seemed to get people to actually leave their offices and get out of their chairs at the West Coast Conde Nast headquarters. Jake and Wes followed him as he navigated the maze of cubicles and offices, waving and shaking hands. He just had to drop off some papers, but insisted that Wes come along, add cards to his own Rolodex. "It's crazy," Wes whispered to Jake, "how can he keep track of so many editors and writers?" "It's his job," Jake said, "it can be yours, too, if things work out." "I'm trying," Wes said, nodding. "We're done," Chris said, smiling, "Wes, I swear as soon as your contract is up, you can have a desk here or back East. Whichever you want. I've never shaken so many hands and talked to so many people." "Are you serious?" his eyes were wide, a goofy smile of disbelief on his face. "Just say when," Chris said, "when you think you've paid your dues, you can do it." "You deserve it," Jake said, "I know you send your clips out all the time. Take advantage." Jake pulled Chris along, finally into a hug as the elevator doors slid shut, "You did good," he said softly, "really good." "He deserves it, putting up with us," Chris said. "Don't talk about me like I'm already gone," Wes said, "I'm not going anywhere." The elevator doors slid open and the walked to the curb, all of them sliding on their sunglasses. Silently, they walked down the street together, the LA weather unseasonably cool. A few minutes later, they were sitting at a little restaurant, their table in the corner of a shady patio. "When you two go away for that weekend," Wes said, "I'm supposed to get someone to come over and look after the dogs?" "I'm dropping them off at Topher's house," Chris said, idly stirring his coffee, "he doesn't mind." "I can do that," Wes said. "That's not part of your job," Jake insisted, sitting back in his chair. He ran his fingers over his neck, scratching at the scruffy hair of his beard. "Shit, it's Kurt," Chris said, slinking down in his chair. Jake's jaw tightened, wondering if there was any other person it could have been. The day had been going to well; he was almost waiting for something like this to happen. Los Angeles may have been sprawling and crowded, but their little enclave of West Hollywood and Beverly Hills was tiny. It was great for some things, awful for moments just like this. "Guys," Kurt said, a smirk on his face, "what are you, stalking me?" "Just having lunch," Jake said, "how's the eye?" "I thought it gave me a little sexy edge," Kurt said, wincing as he ran his fingers over the swollen skin, "I guess not." Chris sat up straight, silent still. Wes could sense the tension in the air. He didn't know what was going on, but it seemed serious and grave. "Excuse me, I'm going to get..." he couldn't think of anything. "No, stay," Kurt said, interrupting, "I'll go. But, Jake, can I talk to you for a second?" "I don't have anything to say to you, Kurt," Jake said, arms crossed. "You're usually so talkative," Kurt snapped back, "but I guess certain things will shut anyone up." "Okay, enough. What the hell is going on?" Chris asked. "'Ignorance is bliss' is what's going on," Kurt said. Chris' eyes darted to Jake's, hidden behind dark sunglasses. His neck and jaw though, were tense. "Kurt, you're such an asshole," Jake said, voice cold, "why are you doing this?" "There's nothing that bothers me more than a liar, Jake." "What's going on?" Chris asked again. He looked at Wes, both of their faces masked with confusion. "I'll tell you when we get home," Jake said. "How about you tell him now?" Kurt offered, "I want to hear it, too." Jake huffed, "This is between me and Chris. You're done, Kurt. You've done enough damage to me and my friends." "Damage? What about me? I don't have a job. I don't have a chance in hell of getting a real job. I have three manuscripts written that nobody will even look at, and you know why? Nobody cares what Kurt Landis has to say because he's nobody." "Is that what all this is about?" Chris interjected, "you think Jake has magic connections into publishing? Why didn't you just ask me?" "Because you're too busy showing off your little protege there," he glared at Wes, "you're a show dog, kid. Chris parading you around like that, grow some balls." Wes shrunk back, "Leave him alone," Jake said, "this is done. Chris, I knew Kurt before this whole thing. Before the bad review and everything." "We went to Columbia together. How's that, Princeton?" he shot a vitriolic look to Wes, "Stanford?" he scoffed, looking at Chris. "What are you? Five?" Chris asked, bewildered. "I fucking loved him," Kurt said, practically yelling. Chris turned to look at the other people in the restaurant. It wasn't crowded, but he could feel the discomfort in the air. "The first person I really loved. I fucking gave you everything." "Love is a strong word, Kurt," Jake said. "You keep saying that," Kurt said, "but then you go and find this stand-in. We're the fucking same, Jake." "You're not the same at all," Jake said, "do you see Chris yelling? Do you see him writing ridiculous reviews just to get back at someone? Do you see how fucking different you are?" "'Stand-in?'" Chris asked. "Oh, you thought maybe that charm and charisma was all the first go-round?" Kurt asked Chris, "that you were the first one to get the moves? What, let me guess: 'Tell me you love me.'" Chris looked over at Jake, both of them--all of them--seething with anger. His fork dropped to his plate with a loud clang, "I think I'm done," Chris said, standing up. "Chris, stop," Jake said, grabbing his arm. "I'm not mad," Chris lied, "fine...I'm mad...but not at you. Grow a spine, Kurt. This might be weird to ask, but 'would it be okay if maybe, we stop being friends?'" "That's fucked up," Kurt said. "Get used to it," Chris said, "I'm going to Barnes and Noble. I have some market research to do." "I'll go with you," Wes said, jumping out of his chair. "You guys finish here," Chris said, walking away, hands in his pockets and shoulders slumped. Wes was tailing him, the tension in the restaurant growing even thicker as Kurt sat down in Chris' chair. "I'm done." "Fan-fucking-tastic," Jake said, "you want to maybe just tell him yourself instead of dancing around it?" "He deserves to know more, doesn't he?" "Why?" Jake asked. He deserved to be happy, Jake thought. That was much more important. "What gives you the right to hide things?" "I married him, Kurt. I promised I'd never hurt him." "You think some ex-boyfriend talk will break his heart? Tell me he's not that fragile." "Fuck you." "We're not teenagers, Jake. A 'fuck you,' is like not saying anything at all." Jake balled his fists tight, he could feel the blood pounding through his entire body. "How many times do I have to say I'm done for you to get it? I don't want him thinking he was a replacement, because he wasn't. He's not you. Your job titles might be the same, but you're different--and that's why I'm with him now. If I was with you, we'd just be doing this." "Doing what?" "Yelling at each other," Jake said, getting up. He threw some cash down on the table, "Thanks for ruining our lunch." *** "Do you smoke?" "No," Chris said. The doctor peered over his glasses and Chris rolled his eyes, "When I'm really really stressed, I have one. Not even the whole cigarette. A drag or two and I put it out." Calm, slow scribbles. "Do you drink?" Chris paused, "Not often. Only on special occasions and when I'm really really stressed." A slow nod, "How often would you say you get 'really really stressed?'" "Dr. Bailey, this isn't fun." "It's not supposed to be, Christopher." "I was supposed to be on vacation," he said, "and it's just lately I've been stressed. Family stuff. Magazine stuff. What's next stuff." "Okay," he said, writing again as he nodded, "how would you say your personal relationships are going?" "My personal relationship is fine," he said, emphasizing the singular, "Jake's fantastic. Is he getting the third degree too? Did he get Dr. Otsuka?" "I can't tell you that," Dr. Bailey said, "you look uncomfortable, do you want to move to the chaise?" "I never liked the chaise," Chris said, straightening, "that's probably in your notes somewhere." "I don't remember you being this difficult." "I don't appreciate being called 'difficult.' And I don't like that I was tricked into coming here." "This appointment was made six months ago." "I honestly forgot," Chris said, "and to tell you the truth, I don't know why I had to make another appointment." "Are you still taking your medicine?" "I finished it." "Do you..." "No," Chris said, interrupting, "I'm fine without it. Great." *** "I'm great," Jake said, his fingers idly running over the rough material of the chaise lounge, "Chris and me, we're fine." "I understand your situation lends itself to prolonged periods of separation. Does that ever leave you feeling anxious?" "I definitely worry about him." "What about yourself?" "I can take care of myself." "Why can't he take care of himself?" "I didn't say he couldn't. But I don't want him to. I want to take care of him," Jake said, shifting a little, "it's just how I've always been. He means too much to me." "What happens when you can't do anything about something?" Jake paused, "I freak out." *** "It looks exactly the same," Chris said as he followed Dr. Bailey around the grounds to the other wing of the complex. "Nothing much changes here. People come and go, but it stays the same. I think you're going to be fine, Christopher." Relief rushed through Chris' body, "I did everything you told me to. I didn't want to put Jake through all of that. He shouldn't have had to." "You don't do it for anyone but yourself," Dr. Bailey said. "That's not true," Chris said, "I do it for the two of us. I won't give that up." *** "Does it ever get overwhelming? Do you ever want to give up?" "Never. Not once." Dr. Otsuka nodded and Jake's forehead furrowed, "Why would I? I love him." "Patients often find that people don't want to be involved in their problems. It's a fact that sometimes it gets to be too much for family and friends, spouses and significant others." "We're more than that," Jake assured the doctor, "we've been through worse than this and we'll go through worse than this. I'm not quitting on him." "I wasn't implying that you would. Think about this one: would he say the same thing?" "Yes," Jake said, confidently, "I don't have any doubt." Jake sighed. If they got through everything they already had, short of the apocalypse, Jake was sure they'd get through much more. "I think that I have all the information I need. Christopher is getting his physical examination. That's not necessary for you, so you can wait wherever you'd like and I will have someone call for you when he's done." "Thank you," Jake said, getting up. He shook the doctor's hand and gave a weak smile, still perturbed by the questions. *** Chris was already in his pajamas, flipping through a magazine as he ate the last of pizza right on the hotel bed. Jake combed his fingers through his hair and sat down on the edge, his body still damp, "I wasn't trying to trick you," Jake said, "you knew about it." "I'm not mad," Chris said. "Yes, you are." "I'm okay," Chris said, moving the greasy box to the floor. He kicked at the coverlet and Jake pulled it to join the box the floor, "I just don't like going back there. I thought I put it all behind me." "Hey, give me a kiss," Jake said, leaning closer. "I have to wash my hands," Chris said, slipping off the bed. Jake sighed and fell backwards, the sheets cold and stiff. He ran his fingers over his face, eyes locked on the ceiling. Chris came back and crawled onto the bed, spooning his body up next to Jake's, settling into the grooves and curves of Jake's body, his hand resting right on Jake's heart. "I'm sorry for everything. I know it was a long time ago, but I hate that I put you through that." "Don't say that," Jake said, pulling Chris' body tight to his. He ran his hands down Chris' smooth back, back up to go through his hair. "How about that kiss?" Jake pressed their mouths together, the kiss soft as Chris' hands felt the contours of Jake's chest. "That's more like it," Jake said softly, a slow warmth spreading across his body. "When are you going to tell me about him? You said you knew him." "You want to know?" "No," Chris said. Jake grabbed his hand, kissing his knuckles softly. "Then why are you asking?" "I know you don't want to tell me, which means you have to, right?" "Is that what it means?" Jake asked, kissing Chris' forehead, "I'll tell you if you want to hear it." "I want to," Chris said, "so that it stays here and doesn't come home with us." He kissed Jake's lips again softly, eyes closing slowly. It couldn't be as bad as he thought it was. Jake loved him now. Part of him didn't care what Jake did before, but he believed--wrong or right-- that relationships changed people. He was evidence of that. Jake had somehow gotten past every barrier he'd put up. And now that Chris was sure of himself enough to ask Jake to let him do the same, maybe they'd both broken through. "I was nineteen," Jake said, "seems like such a long time ago." He pulled Chris tight, hand running over his arm, "We were teenagers, that's so weird. Anyway, you know I was at Columbia and there was this guy in my philosophy class." Chris nodded, listening intently. Outside their window, the waves crashed against the sand of the beach and the gulls flew back to their roosts. The stars twinkled against their velvety purple background. --- feedback? christopherrluu@gmail.com