Date: Sun, 29 Apr 2018 10:28:39 -0700
From: christopher <breakingthroughstory@gmail.com>
Subject: Breaking Through 18

A very big thank you to all of the readers who have taken the time to send
kind messages for the story. I very much appreciate it. Please send any
feedback, complaints, and correspondence to breakingthroughstory@gmail.com.

The usual disclaimers apply. This is fiction.

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Chapter 18

"Blue. No, black. I'm going to wear black if we go," Chris said.

"There's no 'if,'" Armie said. He was swiping in-between two photos on his
phone. His stylist had sent them over, just in case.

"Neither of us is nominated. Neither of us was even asked to present. Those
invitations were just because you're very famous and I'm famous by
association," Chris said, stretching his arms over his head. He settled
against the headboard, wondering how many people turned down a chance to go
the Oscars. Probably not that many--and he'd done it more times than he
could remember. "And you're very, very not ready," he added, his eyes
scanning Armie's shaggy hair and untrimmed beard.

"That's easy to take care of," Armie said. "Did we even RSVP?"

"No, we definitely didn't. We slept through the nominations," Chris
said. "Awards season wasn't exactly great to us."

"You got nominated," Armie interjected.

"Yeah, they love me in England," Chris said, chuckling. "That red-eye
flight was a nightmare. London is a nightmare."

"Yeah, I don't get that," Armie said as he tapped out a text message.

"It's a long story," Chris said. "I don't want to get into it."

"We have to go," Armie said, finally looking over at Chris, who had his
eyes focused on the blue skies outside of their bedroom window. "Why are we
even talking about it?"

"Because I like being difficult," Chris said. "But we really didn't
RSVP. It might be too late."

"Debbie told them we'd go," Armie said, the relief in his voice evident as
he looked at his phone. He rubbed at his chin and cheeks. "I guess it's
time to clean this all up."

"I only have a black tuxedo," Chris said. "So unless your girl has a spare,
I'm wearing the tux I always wear. Plus, if you're there, nobody is looking
at me."

"She will pull stuff for you. She loves you."

"Yeah, she loves when I tell you to stand still during your fittings."

Armie walked over to the bed and kissed the top of Chris' head. "You're a
jerk sometimes. But you've got some perks."

"Like how I work for free?" Chris said. He'd already started working on
adapting the short story. After they'd jetted back from New York, Armie
managed to get some actual face time with HBO and the network said that it
was interested, but wouldn't commit to anything until he had a more
developed production schedule and a working script. It was a reality check
for Armie, who sincerely thought that his name would be all it took to get
the project rolling.

"That's one of them," Armie said. He moved onto the bed and kissed Chris'
lips. "Enjoy the beard while you can. It can't stay like this."

Chris brought both of his hands up to feel Armie's cheeks and jaw as their
lips and tongues moved together. "Good thing it grows back fast," he said,
his voice already breathy.

"Book party Thursday. Oscars Sunday," Armie whispered.

"We're skipping everything in-between," Chris said. "It would be in poor
taste to eat the free food when we're not up for anything."

"Stop talking," Armie said, reaching up under Chris' T-shirt.

Chris latched onto Armie's neck, feeling his biceps and shoulders as Armie
moved their bodies down onto the bed. Their bodies knew what to do, with
Chris' legs wrapping around Armie's waist and Armie's hand gripping the hem
of Chris' T-shirt to pull it off in one easy motion. Chris arched his back
when Armie's shirt joined his on the floor, their chests pressing together,
the scratchy feel of hair against Chris' smooth skin sending a shiver
through both of their bodies.

Armie brought their lips together again, his tongue sliding between Chris'
lips. He felt Chris' hands roaming his back. Armie hooked his thumb into
Chris' jeans, feeling him smile into their kiss as he undid the buttons and
zipper. It didn't take any effort at all to get them both naked, the
process so well rehearsed that they could do it with eyes shut and lips
still roaming necks and shoulders, catching each other between soft nips at
Armie's collarbones and lingering kisses and bites at Chris' throat. Chris
didn't feel Armie reach for the lube, but he gasped when he felt the cool,
slick fingers slide into him. Armie chuckled, scissoring his fingers inside
Chris as he moved down and licked at his balls.

"Oh god," Chris yelped out, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. His
breaths were long and heavy, his toes curling as Armie's tongue traced up
and down his cock, his fingers tapping and pressing at his prostate.

Another finger from Armie pulled whimpers from Chris' throat, the dull ache
of stretching was punctuated with pain, but his legs spread apart even more
and he could feel drops of pre-cum slipping from his slit. Armie stroked
Chris' cock, his tongue moving down past Chris' balls, drawn up tight
against his cock, and joined his fingers below. Tongue and fingers working
in tandem, Armie had Chris groaning and bucking up off the bed.

Armie's hand slid to Chris' abs and steadied him, pushing down to keep him
still as his tongue darted in and out. His fingers circled around Chris'
hole, turned inside him and pushed through the ring over and over.

"Fuck me," Chris said, half a gasp and half a demand. He reached for
Armie's hand, the only thing he could reach, and did his best to pull Armie
up. He groaned, the sound coming from deep in his chest, as Armie finger
fucked him faster, the lurid sound of lube and skin joining Chris' groans.

"Armie," Chris groaned out, his toes curling in anticipation as he felt
Armie relent, felt Armie's hand on one side of his head and the weight
shifting on the mattress. He knew it was coming, knew that stretch and burn
that came with Armie's cock sliding into him. It was familiar now, welcome
every single time, but it always pushed the air from his lungs to feel how
deep it went, how stretched he felt and how full his body seemed when Armie
bottomed out. When Armie's other hand landed on the other side of his head
joined the feel of Armie's pubes rasping on his hole, Chris finally opened
his eyes to meet the bright blue of Armie's. He leaned up to kiss him,
their tongues sliding against each other again, Armie's hips rolling
slowly, working his cock deep inside Chris' chute. "God, Armie. God god,"
Chris' voice trailed off as he worked his ass around Armie's dick.

Armie sucked and licked at Chris' shoulder as his hips moved faster. Chris'
legs around his waist urged him to go faster, deeper. Chris clutched at
Armie's neck, grunting as his body was rocked with electricity jumping up
his spine, Armie's cock raking over his prostate with every thrust.

Sweat-slick skin under his fingers, Chris struggled to hold on, his eyes
shut tight as he gripped at the back of Armie's head, hair between his
fingertips as he whimpered, no longer trying to hold the sounds in. Armie
flipped both of them over and Chris grunted even louder as he settled down
on Armie's cock, pushing it that much deeper. He put his hands down on the
mattress, the same way Armie had just done and he worked his hips, pumping
up and down as he watched Armie's face, his eyes rolling back and his teeth
bared as he bit his lower lip. Chris shivered at the touch of Armie's
hands, which were grazing his sides one moment and running over his chest
the next, only to jump down to stroke his bouncing cock another, sending
shocks through Chris' body.

Chris leaned down to kiss Armie, grinding his ass down, burying Armie down
to the hilt and clamping down around him. His lips moved to Armie's chest
and collarbones, sucking and kissing as Armie's groans fell from his
mouth. His hands clamped down on Chris' waist and he did his best to thrust
up, his body needing the motions along with the tight heat of Chris'
hole. Their damp skin smacked together and Chris nuzzled his face against
the coarse hair on Armie's chest, groaning as he rode his cock. Sliding up
and down, Chris leaned back, putting the weight on his hands behind him as
he rocked, his leaking cock leaving pearls of pre-cum across Armie's
abs. Armie's hand closed around it, stroking steadily as Chris moved.

"You'll make me cum," Chris groaned, pumping into Armie's fist as he fucked
himself on his dick.

"Cum," Armie said through half-open eyes. "Cum and don't fucking stop."

Groaning, Chris slammed himself down a few more times, jamming Armie's cock
against his spot. He came all over Armie's stomach, whimpering as the
orgasm unfurled in his balls and resonated through his whole body. Armie
stroked him as he came and Chris fell forward, Armie catching him by the
shoulder and turning them over again. Armie pulled Chris to the edge of the
bed and held his legs up. Standing over him, Armie pushed back into Chris'
pulsing hole, drilling in fast and deep, knowing that Chris post-orgasm
tingles would be cut through with the searing stretch.

Chris' hand shot up to Armie's chest, trying to steady himself, but the
force and speed of his hips didn't relent. Armie slammed forward, rocking
both of them together, pulling out and shoving in again. Hard and fast, he
barreled towards an orgasm of his own, his cock spilling deep inside of
Chris' ass. Armie was damp all over, he could feel it. His skin felt hot
and he was sure that he was red from the tops of his ears to the tips of
his toes. He settled down onto Chris, their lips coming together in another
lazy kiss. Chris buried his face in Armie's neck, sighing as the stars
faded from his eyelids and the beats of Armie's heart slowed down. Chris
stroked Armie's back slowly, enjoying the weight on top of him. Armie
sighed and reached for Chris' hand, tangling their fingers together as he
let his eyes close.

Chris sat at the dining room table, surrounded by boxes. Armed with a dozen
sharpies, he set out to sign an entire shipment of books, the signature in
each copy getting messier and messier as he signed. Bookplates--glorified
stickers, really--used to suffice, but some bookstores were requesting
actual books this time around. Armie had helped him crack open the first
few boxes, but watching Chris only entertained him for a few minutes. He
had his stylist coming over, anyway, so he excused himself to take care of
that upstairs.

Thankfully for Chris, his signature had developed into something more akin
to a squiggly line than anything legible. When he'd gone by Gyllenhaal, he
made sure to include every single letter and ensure that each and ever
signature bore the details that came along with what he considered a very
distinctive name. Now that he'd gone back to his own name, that pickiness
seemed to fade. Most of the signatures were nothing more than a "C" and a
few wiggles trailing off to an "S." Two boxes down, 72 books altogether,
and a few more boxes to go before a courier picked it all up the next day.

The sound of Armie's voice booming through the house broke Chris out of his
monotonous reverie. Setting his permanent marker down, he made his way
upstairs to find a few racks of clothes set up in the bedroom and Ilaria,
Armie's stylist, sitting on the floor, pinning his pants.

"Do you like this one?" Armie asked, standing up straighter and flashing a
gleaming smile.

"Yeah, you look good," Chris said, leaning against the doorframe.

Ilaria looked up at him motioned towards the rack, "The last one's yours."

"Thanks," Chris said. "I appreciate it."

"There's a blue one," Armie said, "and a velvet one."

"Can I get you some water?" Chris asked Ilaria, who was doing her best to
keep Armie from fidgeting.

"I'm okay," she said, laser-focused now that Armie was standing still. From
where Chris stood, Armie looked even taller than normal, his shoulders even
broader. It was almost breathtaking, especially with the golden light
beaming in from the windows. Chris unzipped the garment bag and peeked
inside. "It's pretty bold," Ilaria added, not taking her eyes from the hem
of Armie's pants.

"It's white," Chris said, his eyebrow raised.

"Cream," Ilaria corrected. "Like something Cary Grant would wear. Or Daniel
Craig."

"It'll need some tailoring, I'll be right there," Ilaria said.

"Let me put on the velvet jacket so Chris can see it," Armie said. "You can
do him while I change."

"I think black over blue," Chris said. He slid his arms into the jacket and
buttoned it. Straightening up, he tried to stay as still as possible while
Ilaria walked around him, inspecting everything. "Let me get some shoes,"
Chris added, forgetting that he'd need his pants hemmed, too.

"Not the velvet," Chris heard Ilaria say as he retrieved a pair of black
dress shoes from the walk-in closet. He changed into the accompanying black
tuxedo pants as Armie slid back into the jacket he'd been wearing earlier.

"You look amazing," Armie said when Chris was fully dressed. He felt his
cheeks flush at the compliment. Unlike Armie, who had his clothes loaned to
him, Chris would have to actually purchase his tuxedo. Designers weren't
exactly throwing free clothes at writers.

"So good," Ilaria said, stepping back to stand beside Armie and take in the
head-to-toe look. "You look amazing."

"Perfect. Thanks for not giving me options," Chris said as he started to
undo the button. It amazed him to know that Armie's styling sessions could
stretch for hours for something like a press tour. For an awards show, it
was a little quicker, but Chris had never sat around for an entire
appointment. "White shirt, black bow tie?" Chris asked.

"You know how it goes," Ilaria said, smoothing Chris' shoulders and taking
one last look. Satisfied, she gave his shoulder a squeeze and turned her
attention back to Armie. Chris walked over to him and gave him a quick
kiss, feeling his bicep through his jacket.

"I'll be downstairs," Chris said. "You look very good."

"I'm almost done," Armie said. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

"Quickest session, ever," Ilaria noted. "You managed to keep him from
horsing around the entire time."

"Thanks again," Chris added. He took one last look at Armie and went back
to the dining room. He sat down and took a closer look at the book's
cover. It was simple, with a white background and the title straight across
in a red rectangle: "American Made." Below that, there was his name. For
the first time in a long time, it didn't include the word "Gyllenhaal." It
was hard to take in. Reaching for his phone, he snapped a picture and sent
it over to Jake. The advanced copy that he'd gotten had a placeholder
design, not the completed version. This was the first time he'd see the
real thing. He flipped the book open to the inside flap, too, sending a
second photo that showed his brand-new author photo. It was, for once, a
genuine smile. Ramona had taken the photo on her cell phone while they were
at the observatory. Chris made sure that she got credit for it, her name in
tiny text right under the image, which showcased plenty of the L.A. skyline
behind his toothy smile. She'd love it, even if Maggie and Peter didn't let
her read the book just yet.

'Overnighting you a copy. What do you want it to say inside?' Chris sent
along with the photo.

A few seconds later, Jake's message came through: 'Whatever you want. Don't
put me on the spot.'

It was a lot of pressure, Chris realized after reading what Jake had
sent. He intended it to be half a joke, but even an award-winning writer
couldn't convey levity via text message. "Can I get one?" Chris heard over
his shoulder. The voice startled him, but was only Ilaria, with two garment
bags over her arm.

"Of course," Chris said, composing himself. "Do you want a signed one?"

"Obviously," she said, smiling. "Did I scare you? You look like a kid who
just got caught doing something he shouldn't."

"No, I'm just jumpy," Chris said, reaching for one of the signed books. "Is
Armie going to pick everything up tomorrow?"

"I'll send it over with my assistant. Wouldn't want to bug you guys,"
Ilaria said as she opened it to admire Chris' signature. "Everything should
be good to go. Thanks for the book."

Armie was behind her, his arms laden with all of the options they'd passed
on. "The rolling rack is already by the door," he said. "Is your car
unlocked?"

She reached into her bag and pushed the button on her key fob. The three of
them heard a faint beep coming from outside. "It is now."

"Do you need any help?" Chris offered.

"Don't worry about it," Ilaria said. "Thanks again, I'm sure you guys will
look great. My job here is done. Done until Monday, when I need to get
these back."

"We're actually keeping these," Armie said. "Just in case. Charge it all to
WME."

"Then I won't see you Monday," Ilaria said with one eyebrow raised.

"You can charge it to Armie's card, not WME," Chris said, rolling his
eyes. "The last thing you need to be doing is charging clothes to your
manager."

"Got it," Ilaria answered. "Have a good night, guys."

Armie helped her load up her car as Chris sent his editor a message
explaining why a few books would be missing. He figured he'd keep a few at
the house in case anyone wanted a copy. That may be presumptuous, he
thought, but it was better to be safe. There was no telling if the UPS
deliveryman would want to know what all the fuss was about.

"I was joking," Armie said when he got back inside. Chris was back at
signing and Armie noticed his signature was clear again. Armie sat down
next to him and helped prep, opening each copy to the title page and
sliding it over to Chris, who was ready with his Sharpie.

"You were joking about a lot of things. Plus, I forgot to ask what shoes to
wear," Chris said, leaning back in his chair.

"I'll text her later," Armie said. "Is it okay if I read this? Is it too
personal?"

"You can read it," Chris said. "It's not about any real people. And you've
already read most of it."

"Are you sure it's not about real people? Didn't you tell me that all
fiction is a thinly veiled autobiography?"

"Did I say that?"

"Maybe I heard it somewhere," Armie said, grinning. He reached over and ran
his fingertips over Chris' knuckles. "Tell me that this movie isn't total
shit," Armie said, his voice quiet. "It's hard. Every step is so fucking
hard."

"You shouldn't even think about that until I finish the script," Chris
said. "I'm doing my best to make sure that it's not shitty."

"Yeah, but do you think anyone cares about this story?"

"That's a risk I take every time I write," Chris admitted. He grabbed onto
Armie's hand, tangling their fingers together. "If all these people are
ready to support you, you've got nothing to freak out about."

"There's actually a lot of pushback," Armie said. "It started right after
we got the rights to the story."

"Don't pay attention to that. Make your movie."

"It might be a miniseries."

"Whatever it is, nothing should stop you from doing it," Chris said.

"You going to finish signing all of these?" Armie asked, letting out a sigh
as he looked at the boxes at their feet.

"I have to," Chris said. "Someone's coming to pick them up tomorrow."

"Should I help you or distract you?"

Chris shrugged, leaning over to give Armie a kiss. "I don't mind
distractions right now." Armie's hands came up to rest on Chris'
shoulders. With a little push, Chris was down on his knees and Armie
sighed, his head rolling back and just about everything in his overactive
mind drifting away.

The next few days were a blur for the two of them. Armie was calling just
about everyone he could to line up commitments for his project, Chris had
radio interviews and phone calls to promote his book and through it all,
they were both getting prepped for the Academy Awards. Haircuts, final
fittings, sending apology emails to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and
Sciences to say that they wouldn't be attending any of the events before
the big night--Armie and Chris seemed to be on their laptops and phones
more than they were actually speaking to one another.

"Don't move," Chris said, his hand resting on Armie's bare chest as he
inspected his throat. "I don't want to cut you."

Armie stood still, eyes focused up on the bathroom ceiling. Chris was
cleaning up the edges of his beard with a straight razor, carefully working
to ensure a clear delineation between Armie's chest hair and his beard.

"I'm going to take it up higher," Chris said as he admired his
handiwork. He reached around Armie and rinsed the blade in the sink before
smoothing more lather over his neck. "Almost done."

Silently, Armie waited, nothing but the sound of their even breathing and
the soft scratch of the blade against his beard filling the brightly lit
bathroom. Chris worked around the edges, cleaning up everything along the
jaw to make things even before took a step backward to check that
everything looked symmetrical. "All done."

"Will it look thoughtfully disheveled on Sunday?"

"That's the plan," Chris said as he wiped at Armie's neck with a towel. He
ran his fingers over Armie's skin, feeling the clean line and the freshly
trimmed hair. He folded the razor and set it down, watching as Armie
checked himself in the bathroom mirror. He splashed on some aftershave and
leaned against the counter, facing Chris.

"When do the reviews come out?"

"Tomorrow," Chris said. "Penguin wanted to embargo everything until
tomorrow. Everyone who preordered the book gets it Thursday. And then at
all the Oscar parties, people can discuss how I look and how my book sucks
when they're done wondering why I'm even there."

"I don't think most people are going to read all of it before Sunday. It's
not short."

"It's not long, either," Chris said. He was optimistic about it. David, his
editor, seemed excited about the book. There was enough buzz surrounding it
that most people were thinking about it and thanks to some podcast ads, NPR
guest segments, and some very short write-ups in "Vanity Fair" and the "New
York Times" Magazine, he was in the press enough that people knew that a
new book was about to arrive, but not so much that it felt
oversaturated. And since Armie didn't have anything going on, he wouldn't
be associated with it at all. Chris hadn't prepared himself for some of the
harsher criticism when it came to his last book and its subsequent film,
but going through a separation and divorce had a way of pushing everything
else into the background.

"Are your parents wondering why my book party is at the beach and not at a
hotel?"

"They stopped asking questions about your brand of fun," Armie said. "I'm
always saying that things are more laid-back out here. You think they'd
know that by now. The rest of the world isn't Dallas. My dad couldn't care
less."

"Are they all coming?"

"Of course they are. My whole family is."

Chris walked out to the bedroom as sat down in the armchair, mentally
checking off everyone that would be there. A few friends, some group from
the Penguin office, and some people from past projects were already
committed. He was relieved to have the whole event coming together, but it
was one more reminder that he was a recluse when it came down to it. He'd
been happy to live in this fish tank of a house all by himself and even
resigned himself to that reality, which was evident in the fact that he and
Armie weren't actually equipped to have overnight guests. If Armie hadn't
come into the picture and Jake had told him that there was some possibility
of getting back together, he was almost positive that he'd be run back. But
Armie was in his life now and Jake wasn't. Things had a way of working out.

Still shirtless, Armie sat down on the bed and tried to figure out what
Chris was looking at outside the windows. "Why didn't you dedicate this
book to anyone?" Armie asked as he rubbed Chris' shoulder.

"I did. I just didn't print it in there."

"What do you mean?" Armie didn't expect to have a book dedicated to him,
but he knew that all of Chris' books--save his very first novel--were
dedicated to Jake. Even the last one, which was definitely a fictional
account of their relationship falling apart, had simply read, 'For Jake.'
The new book had nothing at all.

"I wrote it for myself," Chris said, meeting Armie's eyes. "But you can't
put that in a book. You look like a psycho. But I wrote it for me. I wanted
to try something new, to just have fun and see what happened."

"Wow," Armie said, leaning back. "You didn't tell me that when you were
writing it."

"It wasn't what I set out to do, It happened, though, and I'm excited about
it."

"You deserve to be excited," Armie said. "It's really good. It's something
you can definitely be proud of."

"I don't even care what the reviews say. I always say that, but this time,
I really mean it. That's more for David's sake than mine. I can't do
anything after it's already out there."

Chris felt Armie's lips on his own, he let his eyes close and he reached up
to feel Armie's cheek. For the first time in a very long time, he was
content.

"Should we go for a walk before it gets too dark?" Armie asked.

"Not if you have to put a shirt on."

"I have to put a shirt on, but we should get some air," Armie said, rubbing
at Chris' shoulder. "I don't think you've left the house since sunrise."

A few minutes later, they were both walking hand in hand along the
canals. "This is what real air smells like? I remember it differently."
Chris asked, taking a deep breath. Armie let out a soft laugh, but kept his
eyes on the horizon, where the sun was painting the sky in searing oranges
and deep gold. He turned to look at Chris. Illuminated by the sunset and
practically beaming with happiness, it was something to see. With their
lives so busy, Armie couldn't remember the last time they were together
without something distracting.

Armie hadn't experienced the whole process of publishing before. He
imagined it being different, but now that he'd seen how many revisions it
took Chris to finish his book and what it took him to actually write it, he
expected more fanfare. Chris was almost Zen in his approach to the release,
something that he assured Armie was not normal. He didn't know if it was
maturity or Chris finally getting used to the entire circus of a
process. With something new to work on right away, he wasn't sure if some
sort of creative burnout wouldn't be on the schedule, too.

They had a set course up and down the canals, crossing the same bridges and
peeking into the same houses during the eight-block trek. There was always
the lingering look into Sebastian's house, patting the same eager golden
retriever on the head as they walked past its house and the usual tourists
looking for the perfect selfie. Sometimes, they'd head to the actual beach,
adding another block or so, but tonight, Armie felt like it would be
business as usual. No complaints there. Armie was happy to stretch his
legs, even just for a little bit.

"Do you ever miss Elizabeth?" Chris asked suddenly. Armie felt his breath
stall. He made it a point never to bring Jake up in conversation and had
been successful on that front for almost the entire time they'd been
together. Chris had occasionally asked about his Armie's previous
situation, but it was never this direct.

He didn't answer right away. They took a few more steps and Armie felt
Chris' grip tighten on his hand. "No, actually. I don't think about her
that much at all," Armie said after digging through his recent memory. "Is
this for another book?"

"I've never met her. Did you know that?"

"Let's keep it that way. I really don't think any good would come from
that." Armie felt Chris lock their arms together as the wind kicked up off
the ocean. He waited for Chris to bring up Jake. There was nowhere else
this could go.

"I should have put a sweatshirt on," Chris said. They took a few more steps
together before he kept going: "You are very good when we have to be around
my ex. I don't think I could do the same if I was put in your position."

There it was. "Nobody is keeping score," Armie said. "It's different since
we see Jake at things we go to."

"Like the Oscars."

"Like the Oscars," Armie repeated slowly. The thought hadn't escaped
him. Every time he had a question about Jake, he held his tongue. By now,
he'd lost count of the times he almost slipped, but he always managed to
keep it in for the entire time he and Chris had been together. In the rare
instance that Chris ever spoke of Jake, it wasn't ever deep enough to
garner anything. It was like they'd both started a brand-new phase of their
lives together. It was good in some ways, but like Chris had said, Armie
had to be around Jake once in a while.

"I know it can't be easy for you," Chris said.

"It's not awful," Armie interrupted. "He's respectful of everything."

Halfway across the last bridge on their neighborhood circuit, Chris leaned
against the railing. They were almost home. Chris could actually see the
house from where they'd stopped. Armie leaned into him, arms on either side
of Chris'. Their chests almost touched. "I'm going to assume this
conversation is leading somewhere," Armie said. "Just let me know if it's
good news or not."

"It's no news," Chris said. "Things are good with you and I want you to
know that I'm not thinking about where I've already been. I want to build a
life with you. This HBO thing we're doing is going to have both of our
names on it. It's going to be around forever."

"If it gets made," Armie said quickly. "I'm still working on it."

"It'll happen. When it does, it's not going to be like the movie that I
wrote and you were in. That movie was a done deal before you got
involved. But this new one might...I don't know. Working on something from
start to finish is a big deal. What if we argue and fight and things blow
up?"

"You encouraged me to do it," Armie said. "I'm invested now. Nothing is
going to stop me from getting it done."

Chris pressed their foreheads together and kissed Armie full on. The
passion was intoxicating, but there was more he needed to say. "Jake and I
worked on a lot of things together," Chris said quietly, his voice barely
audible over the sounds around them. "Not everything was easy and not
everything was well-received. I need you to know that. Even if I try as
hard as I can, it might not be good."

"Don't think about it that way," Armie said. "You're going to write an
amazing script. Then, I'll make something that approaches amazing and, as
long as we're both proud of it, it'll be alright."

"Don't say that just because you think it's what I want to hear."

"I'm not," Armie said. "I'm saying it because I believe it."

"You guys can't be doing this out here." Chris and Armie both turned their
heads towards the voice. It was Sebastian, who was walking towards them
with two bags in his hands. "I got Thai food. Is that alright?"

"Did we have plans tonight?" Chris asked.

"Nope. I just needed an excuse to come over."

"Girl problems?"

"You know it," Sebastian said, walking right past them towards the house.
"Fair warning: this is going to take a while."

"It'll all work out," Armie whispered in Chris' ear. "Just give it a
shot. Like you gave me."

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