Date: Sun, 14 Jan 2018 10:43:26 -0800
From: Christopher <breakingthroughstory@gmail.com>
Subject: Breaking Through 3

Here we go again. Over a decade ago, I wrote (and thought I completed) a
story called "Breaking Through." It was the height of "Brokeback
Mountain"'s influence and there were a slew of other Jake
Gyllenhaal-related stories here on Nifty. The old story isn't on the
archives any longer, but the characters haven't escaped my mind, even after
all this time. So, I decided that in the light of "Call Me By Your Name,"
another great short story that's sweeping the world, I decided that it was
time to revisit the narrative that I'd started. There will be some
continuity issues, but that's to be expected since I can't bear to reread
my own work. There will also be some artistic license taken, so real life
may not match up with the fictions herein. This is in no way a
representation of these characters and their true sexuality. Usual
disclaimers apply.

Please send any feedback, complaints, and correspondence to
breakingthroughstory@gmail.com. I'm looking forward to continuing this
creative endeavor in the new year and hope to rebuild the sense of
community that had been established the first time around between readers
and writers. The chapters will be shorter, I'm not sure if there will be
explicit sex scenes this time around and I'll probably use too many commas
and em dashes. I don't have a proofreader. You've been warned. Happy
reading!

A quick primer for the uninitiated: Jake Gyllenhaal and fictional character
Christopher Lewis, a novelist, began a somewhat turbulent
relationship. This new story will take place in a loose version of the
present day and most of the main ideas from the first go-round will remain,
for the most part. Jake is still an actor and Chris is still a writer, but
with a 10-year jump in time, some things have changed. The new story will
do away with a lot of the tertiary characters in the old narrative, as
well.

Please donate to this Nifty. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Chapter 3

Whenever he thought about the day he actually signed the divorce paperwork,
Chris always described his attitude as "resigned." Jake was filming in
Toronto. He was home. They'd been apart for a month at that point and Chris
was basically just waiting for the call from their lawyers. Without the
drama of arguing about things, it seemed almost inconsequential. Chris had
already decided to move south, Jake was going to take ownership of his
family's home in the Hollywood Hills. There'd be an entire city between
them, Chris thought at the time.

Sometimes, he wondered if things would have been different if the projects
they worked on together were better received. It was tough when critics
dismissed the movies as vanity projects. Chris was protective of his books
and Jake respected that. But just like he couldn't seem to get things
perfect in his own professional life, he couldn't hit anything out of the
park when he worked with Jake, either. But that was in the past. They'd
tried, sort-of failed, and Chris thought that maybe he was being too hard
on himself. At least that's what Jake always told him.

If it came as a shock to anyone who knew -- and both he and Jake made sure
that very few people knew -- they kept their opinions to themselves. It may
have been different for Jake, but everyone in Chris' orbit seemed to walk
on eggshells during the whole process. The fact that they weren't together
at the time made it easier, too. Without even realizing it, they'd spent
most of the last year of their marriage apart, aside from holidays and the
few weeks Jake had between projects. Chris focused on his magazine work and
since book tours were basically going the way of the dodo, it wasn't like
he had readings and events to attend.

"Things aren't working, are they?" Jake said over the phone. "I can tell
that you're not happy."

"I don't think I'm unhappy," Chris said. He remembered feeling his heart
pound during the phone call. "Do you want me to fly out? I think we should
talk about it."

"Yeah, let's meet up somewhere. Not here. Somewhere where it's just the two
of us." Jake had imagined it going worse. He expected a fight of some sort,
some yelling maybe. But he shouldn't have. He couldn't remember them ever
yelling at one another, even when they were actually arguing.

Nobody ever told him that he should work at it. Maybe if someone did,
things would have turned out differently, but after he scribbled his
signature, things were done. Before that, however, they met in
Chicago. While they explored the city's museums together, Chris could feel
the tension disappear. This was the Jake that he wanted to be around, not
the Jake that got frustrated when he had problems getting funding for a
movie. Not the Jake that wanted to turn every single one of Chris' stories
into something. A miniseries. A movie. A TV show. A web series. Chris
didn't care. The money was nice, since he got a paycheck every time
something got optioned, but that wasn't why he wrote. That wasn't why
anyone wrote.

But things were different when Jake was working. By now, it was common
knowledge that he got deep into character with every role. And the two of
them were always working. If Jake wasn't deep in a production, he was
getting everything lined up for the next. Chris liked to write
alone. Writing without distraction happened to be writing without
companionship, too. When things worked, it worked so well for the both of
them. But when they were so deeply entrenched in their own stuff, it wasn't
working. The weekend in Chicago left Chris with more questions than
answers. Maybe the two of them had just gotten so accustomed to the
frenetic energy that they managed to deal with it. Chris wasn't sure what
the tipping point was, but he didn't like to think about it, either. He
wouldn't be able to live with himself if he landed on the problem and it
ended up being him.

"I don't want to live the rest of my life without you," Chris said to Jake
in a loud, crowded pizzeria.

"It won't be like that," Jake said as he reached for Chris' knee under the
table. "But we've basically spent the last two years apart, if you really
think about it. We'll still see each other. We just don't fit together
anymore."

Neither of them even considered slowing down professionally. Jake was
riding high, earning plenty of critical praise for some of his work. It
would be ridiculous to ask him to just stop. Chris would never ask him to
do that. Seeing the passion he put into everything he did was one of the
things that he admired most.

"What happens to us now?" Chris asked.

"I can't tell you that, because I don't know. The only thing I do know is
that we can't keep going the way we are. We're both too stubborn to do
anything about it."

Neither of them could argue with that.

Now that Chris knew that he could see Sebastian's house -- and his balcony
-- from his own bedroom, it was one of the first things he looked at every
morning. He never saw Sebastian on the balcony but it was something fun to
do while he was brushing his teeth. It was better than staring longingly at
his Academy Award, which he kept in the master bathroom, right next to the
sink. It was too obvious to have it in the office, he thought. He even
considered it a distraction sometimes. There was nothing harder than
working in the literal shadow of past success.

Chris didn't have a balcony, but he did have a patio. He had a setup out
there, with a few chairs and a long table, so he worked from it pretty
often. It let him watch the people walk by, since there was a path between
his house and the canal, and it got him out of the house, even if it was
just a few steps. The fresh air was nice, especially when the breezes came
in off the Pacific Ocean. Even better was the people watching. Tourists and
locals alike wandered around the waterways and Chris loved watching them
all. It was one distraction he didn't mind, especially when he was
scribbling in his notebook, imagining backstories for some of the more
standout passersby.

 "Are you alone?" Chris' phone lit up with a new message.

Unlike the rest of the civilized world, Chris hated text messages. He
always blamed it on the fact that he wrote for a living. The last thing he
wanted to do was write when he could actually speak to someone.

"I'm 10 minutes away from your place," Jake said when Chris called. "If
you're not busy, I'd like to stop by."

"I'll start some coffee."

Jake pulled his baseball cap off as he walked through the front door. It
was the first time he'd seen Chris' house, but it felt like he'd been there
a hundred times before. If anything, Chris was consistent. The house was
decorated just like the home they shared in Santa Barbara. Jake followed
Chris into the kitchen, tossed his hat on the counter, and took a seat at
the island.

"I'm not seeing anyone."

"You're allowed to," Chris said as he poured the two mugs of coffee. "We're
not actually together."

"Parking in this neighborhood sucks."

"I have a driveway. You could have parked in it."

"It seemed too intimate."

Chris rolled his eyes. "You've been inside me."

"It's rude," Jake said, grinning. The corner of his eyes wrinkled just like
Chris remembered.

"You've cum inside me," Chris added for emphasis.

"There's going to be a story that's connecting me to Ryan Reynolds," Jake
said. "You and I both know that I'd never get involved with another actor,
but my team couldn't kill the story. Ryan's team couldn't either. I wanted
you to know."

"You could have told me that on the phone."

"I told you I was close," Jake said. "And I wouldn't be able to do this if
I said everything over the phone." Jake reached out and grabbed Chris' hand
in his own. "I wanted to tell you in person. You deserve that."

"Dating actors is very overrated," Chris said, his fingertips tracing over
Jake's knuckles. His eyes watched their hands tangle together.

Jake smiled and shook his head. "I'm serious. The last thing I want is for
your feelings to get hurt. I don't want you to get mad. "

"If I want to get mad, I'll get mad," Chris said.

"I never want to hurt you. I love you too much to do that."

Chris leaned over their mugs and kissed Jake on the lips. Their foreheads
pressed together and Chris could feel himself melting into the moment. The
bristly feeling of Jake's beard and the warmth of the coffee came together
and for that one moment, everything seemed to be right.

"Your house is beautiful," Jake said as he pulled away slightly. "I didn't
expect any less."

"It'll do," Chris said, his lips were so close that they brushed Jakes as
he spoke. He only now realized that he was on his tiptoes as he leaned
across the counter.

A quick tour and a few more sweet exchanges later, Chris watched as Jake's
Tesla drove off in near-silence. He leaned his back against the front door
and looked up to the sky, wondering just how they managed to have it all
and then end up like this.

Back on the patio, Chris tapped away. Though the entire world considered
him a writer, there was more editing to be done than anything else. He
wasn't sure how any other people worked -- he'd never really discussed his
methods with anyone aside from his ex in-laws -- but when he wrote, he
produced a tsunami of words and ideas. It wasn't difficult for him to write
ten or even twenty pages in a few hours at his laptop. Then came the hard
part. Somehow, he had to polish it all to make it presentable, digestible
to the people who didn't inhabit his brain. That's what took forever.

A few days later, Chris was back up in Hollywood. He wasn't at the Chateau
Marmont, but he was walking around the Sony lot, wondering just how long it
would take to cast the movie. Admittedly, he had little to do with it. The
studio and Jean-Marc were probably doing their part to make him feel
included. His contract stipulated that he would be consulting on
everything, casting included. It went without saying that Jake Gyllenhaal
wasn't in the running for any part, even though the story of a gay couple
struggling to keep their relationship together seemed to take some
inspiration from real life. There was enough speculation being thrown
around and nobody wanted to stoke that fire more than necessary. It
probably would sell tickets, though. It would probably be the most
successful collaboration of their careers, Chris thought.

"Let me take you to dinner," Chris heard over his shoulder. "I want to make
my case."

He turned on his heels, coming face-to-face with Armie's chest. He looked
up, his eyes meeting the actor's always-imposing 6-foot-5 frame and was
taken aback. "You're just wandering the lot?"

"I could ask you the same question. You're a long way from the offices."

"I'm not just trying to land your movie. I've got to have a backup plan if
you're set to break my heart."

"I'm no heartbreaker," Chris said.

"I have evidence to the contrary," Armie said, sliding his hands into his
pockets. "Anywhere you want. I'll treat. Let me convince you."

"That's what auditions are for," Chris said. "If you're looking to wine and
dine, you need to talk to the team, not to me."

"I want to talk to you."

"I have to get home," Chris said. "I have a car coming for me."

"Cancel it. I'll drive you home. You live in the Hills, right? It's
probably not far from me." Armie's voice was like velvet. Smooth and
inviting, it was tough to resist anything that sounded so nice. Add to that
everything else, the height, the build, the charm and the

"I live the complete opposite direction of you. Another time. We've got a
lot of decisions to make, Armie. As much as I like you, it's really not up
to me."

"Give yourself more credit than that."

"I actually have a box of food waiting for me at home. I just have to cook
it."

"I love cooking," Armie said, his excitement coming through loud and clear.

Chris bit his lip. He certainly had a type. Beards? Budding chefs? They
even had blue eyes. It was such a clichˇ. What was it about him that
even got him this sort of attention? The damaged, tortured artist? He
thought people were over that at this point. Was it all a cosmic joke?

"Let's not give me that much credit," Chris explained. "It's like saying
paint by numbers is real painting. I'm really just putting it all
together."

"Let me do it. It'll be like that part in the book."

And with that suggestion, Chris was strapping himself into Armie's Tesla
and typing his home address into the navigation system.

"Call me in 30 minutes," Chris tapped at his phone as soon as Armie ducked
into the downstairs restroom to clean up before tackling tonight's gourmet
recipe: Roasted Cauliflower Salad with Caper Brown Butter & Parmesan
Breadcrumbs. He thought he told the people at Blue Apron that he hated
cauliflower, but maybe he didn't. Either way, it would be tough to get
through a vegetable he hated and an overeager Armie Hammer at his stove. He
sent the message to Sebastian and hoped that he wasn't shooting a superhero
epic in Atlanta tonight.

Armie practically bounded back to the kitchen and opened Chris'
refrigerator unprompted. He froze. "You have beer in here."

"It's not mine." Armie looked alarmed.

"Do you have to call your sponsor or something? I read that you had some
problems with that."

Chris rolled his eyes. "I also have extremely strong willpower and
absolutely no desire to drink that. It's for guests. I have people over
sometimes. Just...don't worry about it. Don't believe everything you've
read about me." He glanced at his phone. No response. Sebastian was his
only lifeline in case something awful happened. Calling Jake was out of the
question.

"I can help," Chris said as he unpacked the ingredients. "I learned that
this is called a 'mise en place' and I am going to be the sous chef. And
spoiler alert: it never looks like the picture."

"We'll see about that."

Armie was adept with a knife, Chris discovered. He was also doubly
attractive when he was concentrating. Chris didn't know if it was all a
show -- he had mentioned that this was some sort of audition -- but he
wasn't complaining. There was a meal coming and after the two of them
prepped the vegetables, Armie took off his button-up shirt to reveal a tank
top. Chris almost had to sit down to take it all in.

"Do you cook for your wife," Chris asked. Armie noticeably bristled at the
mention of it.

"We had someone cook for us sometimes," he said, his eyes still focused on
the task at hand. "And our divorce was finalized. She's my ex-wife."

"I didn't mean anything by that," Chris said. "You're just...very skilled."

"I like cooking. I like you, too, if I haven't made that clear enough. I
don't like that you're playing games with me, but I'm being a good sport
about it."

"I am enjoying your company," Chris said, nearly stuttering at Armie's very
glib statement. "And I hate cauliflower. So, you can't win 'em all
tonight."

"You should have said something before I poured my soul into assembling
this meal."

"Don't stop because of me. We've got to eat."

"I need a grill pan," Armie said, a hint of contentment slowly returning to
his voice.

"I don't have one, but I know where I can get one." Chris pulled his phone
out.

"You said 30 minutes," came the voice on the other end. Chris whipped
around, hoping Armie didn't hear that. "Hey, I need a grill pan."

"You just gave me my wok back," Sebastian said. Chris wished he could run
upstairs to see if Sebs was home.

"I'll outfit my kitchen soon, I promise. I just need it now."

"I think I have one. Do you want me to bring it over?"

"I've got someone here, but I can come get it. I'll be right there."

Chris hung up and stood across the island from Armie. "All set. Let's go
for a walk. You want to put your guns away? I'd lend you a jacket, but
nothing I own will fit you."

Armie set down his knife and headed towards the family room, where he'd
tossed his shirt. "You're not going to take me somewhere and drown me, are
you?"

"I need you to finish cooking first."

After buttoning up his shirt, he followed Chris out the back door. "It's
really nice out here," he said as he took some deep breaths, letting the
sea air fill his lungs. Lights reflected in the water and everything seemed
still, even though they both knew that there was probably a lot going on in
the houses they passed. People were coming home from work, probably doing
the same thing as them, fixing dinner and decompressing.

Chris was relieved to see the lights on in Sebastian's house as he and
Armie approached. "My friend has the pan," Chris explained. "We swap
kitchen things, except it's mostly me using his kitchen things."

Sebastian's patio was a little more done up than Chris', with a fire pit
and a few comfortable-looking chairs set around it. There was also a
built-in grill and a mini-fridge. He stood on the other side of the low
fence that surrounded the whole thing and waved. He could see Sebastian
inside.

"Hey man," he said as he came out with the pan in-hand. "I use this a lot,
actually, so I can come get it tomorrow." His voice trailed off as he saw
Armie, his eyes moving up to meet Armie's, like so many people had to
do. Chris had seen it plenty of times.

Armie offered a hand, which Sebastian took warmly, pulling him into a sort
of half-hug over the fence. "Long time," he said.

"Are you guys friends?" Chris asked, surprised.

"We've crossed paths. TV stuff," Sebastian said. "It's been a while." Chris
could sense some tension, but it wasn't something he planned on dealing
with tonight. He was hungry, Armie was being a perfect gentleman, and if
there was anything Sebastian needed to tell him, it could wait until after
dinner.

"Thank you for this," Chris said, gesturing with the heavy pan. "We're
going to get back to the cauliflower."

"Good luck," Sebastian said, smiling. "I'm looking forward to hearing about
his culinary adventure."

"See ya," Armie said, half-waving. A few minutes later, Armie finally broke
the uneasy silence. "I didn't know you knew Sebastian."

"I didn't. We're neighbors though. We're friends now."

"That's cool," Armie said. "Rare for L.A."

"Rare? Doesn't everyone have a famous neighbor out here?"

Chris heard Armie chuckle. Back at the house, the rest of the recipe went
smoothly. Armie definitely knew his way around the kitchen, even if it was
his first time in that particular kitchen. And for the first time he could
remember, he brought the food to the dining room table and watched Armie
basically stare him down with every bite. He'd put his shirt back on before
sitting down. Proper to a fault, Chris thought. And for once, the food
really did look like the photos.

"It's good," Chris assured him. "Really. I appreciate you coming to make
it."

"I had a good time," Armie said, finally relaxing. "Did I pass? Are you
finally going to look at me and not think of me being a creepy stalker
looking for a role?"

"I never thought you were a creepy stalker," Chris said, sitting back in
his chair. They looked nice, he determined, but were definitely not
comfortable. "I thought you were a little overenthusiastic, but I don't
think that anyone else felt that way."

"Thank you," Armie said. Chris could practically feel the tension melting
away from his body. Armie relaxed. He smiled. Chris instantly regretted
lighting candles and bathing an already handsome man in ultra-flattering
light. The flickering flames made Armie's golden hair shimmer and enhanced
his permanent tan. His short beard was perfectly unkempt. Chris needed to
stop associating with movie stars. It couldn't be good for his
self-esteem. "I appreciate you taking the time to give me a chance."

"I can't guarantee anything, Armie."

"I'm not asking for that. But spending time with you was all I really
wanted tonight. I got that."

The two stayed quiet for the majority of the meal. Partly, Chris assumed,
because they were starving. When he stood up to clear the table, Armie
finally broke the silence. "Do you ever get used to being by yourself?
After I signed the papers, it was like it all came at once."

"Are you lonely?"

"It was a shock," Armie said. "Wasn't it for you?"

Chris shook his head. "We'd been apart for so long." He realized that he'd
never told anyone the story. Never really got to hear the words out
loud. He told the story slowly and deliberately as he loaded the
dishwasher. Armie seemed rapt, like he was getting an inside story. He was,
in fact, because Chris and Jake made sure that their joint statement was as
bare bones as possible.

"I can make you coffee, but it's late," Chris said.

"Is that my signal to go?"

"I think that would be a good idea," Chris said, watching Armie's square
jaw clench at the thought.

Armie came over to him and wrapped his arms around his chest. Chris leaned
back, the contact and warmth bringing a shiver to his spine. "I had a good
time with you at the Chateau. The rush of just kissing you...it was like
being in high school again." His lips traced along Chris' ear, down to his
neck and shoulders.

"It's not gonna happen," Chris said, his voice barely a whisper. "We both
have a lot of shit to deal with."

"I just want to kiss you," Armie said as he nipped at Chris' neck. Chris
turned around, Armie's hands touching and feeling him all over as he did
it, and leaned up. The kiss was hungry and messy. Their tongues ran over
each other and Chris could feel his restraint starting to wane. Sensing it,
both of them pulled back. Chris took a deep breath.

"Okay," Chris said, blinking quickly. He tried his best to reorient
himself, pushing Armie away, even as his hands lingered on his chest. "That
was...something." He felt almost dizzy. Armie leaned in again, but Chris'
resolve had steeled itself by now. "If this is going to happen, it can't
happen right now."

"I want this right now," Armie said, taking a step backward. His back was
up against the refrigerator.

"I don't want to see you the guy after Jake," Chris finally said. He
couldn't bring up the word "divorce." They were both going through the same
thing, after all. "I need time if we're really going to try anything."

"I don't want to wait," Armie said. "If this movie happens or not, I don't
want to look back and think about not trying at all."

"Can we talk about this later? Neither of us is thinking straight. What
if...I don't want to say the wrong thing."

"You haven't said anything!" Armie said, his eyes widening. "I can't figure
you out."

"We'll see each other tomorrow. It's just a lot to take in right now."

The thought of tomorrow was enough to calm Armie down, give him the
slightest glimmer of hope that he hadn't completely made a fool of
himself. All the preening and prepping was for something, after all.

"Let me walk you out," Chris said, collecting himself. "I really did
appreciate you coming over." The two of them started towards the door,
through the house's dim lighting, every shadow seemingly stretched to
infinity and every step bringing the two closer to parting ways.

"I had a great time," Armie said. "I really did." With that, he flashed
that signature smile, considered the night a half-victory, and managed to
stumble, face-first, straight down as he missed the step down to Chris'
gravel driveway.

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