Date: Sun, 21 Jan 2018 13:26:38 -0800
From: christopher <breakingthroughstory@gmail.com>
Subject: Breaking Through Chapter 4

A quick thank you to all of the readers who took the time to send kind
messages for the first few chapters of the story. I very much appreciate
it.

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 4

"It's not the first time I've broken my arm," Armie said through a haze of
painkillers and sedatives. Chris sighed, wondering how the night could get
any worse. After Armie refused to let him call 911, he finally relented and
agreed to be taken to the emergency room. A broken arm and broken spirit
were the only things either of them had to worry about. A few hours of
waiting and Armie was plastered up, his arm resting in a sling. The
emergency room was one place A-listers get the same attention as anyone
else, Chris thought. For one of the only times in his life, he'd have given
anything for some special treatment.

"This won't put me out of the running for the movie," he added for good
measure. "A little physical therapy and I'll be fine. Broken bones? I've
been there. Six weeks. Eight, max."

"Mr. Hammer knows what he's talking about," the doctor said. Armie
practically beamed at the praise. "This should heal up without a
problem. I'll get the discharge papers ready."

"Armie," Chris started, only to be greeted by a goofy grin and a smug sense
of pride. "As much as I like you for the movie, there's clearly some sort
of bad mojo that comes along with me. This could be bad for your career."

"What are you talking about?" Armie asked, swatting his good hand
around. "You're gold."

Chris chuckled. "I'm definitely not gold," he said.

"You have an Oscar!" Armie said a little too loud. "It's actual gold! I
want one!" Chris needed to get Armie home, only he had no idea where he
lived. That would prove to be a problem. All he could recall was some
mention of a too-big house in Los Feliz. He didn't even know if it was
right to call someone. Was Armie's relationship with his ex still on good
terms? Chris realized he hadn't bothered to ask. Against his better
judgment, he wheeled Armie out to the car in the hospital-issue wheelchair
and drove home.

Armie woke up the next morning, half-remembering that he'd been tucked into
a very comfortable bed that wasn't his. He was half-dressed, the
painkillers had worn off and every time he tried to move, pain shot through
his entire body, spreading from his broken arm to the very ends of his ears
and down to his toes. He blinked and blinked, wondering where he was and
trying to piece together what happened last night after the fall.

He groaned as he tried to right himself and managed to sit up. Then, like a
vision out of a dream, Chris knocked on the door and slid it open. The
pocket door was nearly silent and Armie watched as Chris walked in, wearing
a white T-shirt and dark blue lounge pants. It wasn't a nurse, but Armie
would take it, especially when he saw the water and pill bottle in Chris'
hand.

"How do you want your eggs," Chris asked, sarcasm dripping from every
word. "I can't believe we went through that. How do you feel?" The
sincerity came back pretty quickly after that first remark.

Armie took the water and pills gratefully, smiling when there was a
blueberry muffin handed to him, too. "Better knowing I've got a bottle of
these babies."

"Should I call someone? Do you need to let anyone know that you're okay,
that I didn't murder you?"

"I'll call my mom. Aside from that, this can be our little secret."

Even with his hair mussed from the pillow and his arm in a cast, Armie
looked every bit the leading man. Chris sat down in the chair that
Sebastian had moved just a few days earlier. "You scared me," Chris said.

"It's nice to know you care," Armie said, smiling. "What a way to go down
though, right? We were this close to coming up here anyway, but I eat it
right in front of your house. So smooth."

"A real Greek tragedy."

"I felt your boner through your pants last night."

"Do painkillers turn you into a high schooler?"

"Don't be so serious." Armie cracked his neck, groaning at the
sensation. He reached over to Chris' nightstand and opened the drawer. "No
condoms. I like the way you operate."

Chris just rolled his eyes. "Do you want to go downstairs?"

Armie shook his head smugly and settled back against the headboard, "I'm
a-okay right here."

"I'll get you your phone. Don't get too comfortable. I've got stuff to do
today."

"I'm literally crippled. I think there's a societal obligation for you to
help me with everything. Sponge baths included."

"Stop."

"You care about me," Armie said in a singsong tone. He repeated it and
Chris could hear it, even from downstairs. "You care about me. You care
about me."

Chris straightened up the blanket he used last night and set it on one side
of the couch. He carefully placed the pillow on top, trying his best to
make everything presentable. For who, he didn't know, but it seemed like
the right thing to do. He still had to return Sebastian's pan. He had edits
to make on the final draft of the script. He also had Armie Hammer upstairs
in his bed. He also questioned his decision to turn the extra bedroom into
an office when he did a lot of his work downstairs.

"I didn't mean to put you out of your own bed," Chris heard Armie behind
him. His arm was in a sling and a half-eaten muffin was in the other
hand. "And I just used your toothbrush." He paused beside Chris and took
another bite. "This house has great light. It looks totally different at
night."

"The houses across the way get the sunsets."

"I'm sure you can see them from upstairs, you basically live in a
fishbowl."

"It feels that way sometimes, doesn't it?"

"Don't I know it."

Armie didn't seem like he was in any hurry to leave, Chris noticed. He
promised to stay out of the way, but he also insisted that he should take
it easy, so he got comfortable on the couch, which conveniently had a
pillow and blanket ready for him. Like a good nurse, Chris made sure to
give Armie his pills and made sure he was comfortable. It was the least he
could do, the guilt kicking in every time he passed by the family room for
water or a snack.

As the day went on, he thought more and more about why he pushed Armie away
last night. Part of him wanted to respect the man. He deserved more than
someone who jumped right into a new relationship. But Chris couldn't
overlook the fact that Armie made him smile when he wasn't trying to get on
his nerves.

"Is your mom coming?"

"She lives in Dallas," Armie said over his shoulder. "But if we're skipping
to the whole meet-the-folks thing, I can arrange it. She'd love you."

"You barely know me," Chris reminded him.

"I know more than you think."

From his own experience, Chris found that people who thought they knew him,
people who had read interviews, seen him speak, read all his books, didn't
really know him. They knew what Chris wanted them to know. And after Jake,
more people than ever thought they knew him. They didn't. Not that he
wanted anyone to know everything about him. There was only one person out
there who did.

"Come here," Chris said. Armie looked surprised, but followed along,
staying a few paces behind Chris as he walked upstairs. He sat down on the
top step and Armie did the same, their knees touching. "I put the lounge
chair there to see the sunsets. If you couldn't tell, this house isn't
really meant for guests." He rested his head on Armie's shoulder and
together, they watched the sky change from blue to a watercolor mix of
oranges and pinks. Neither of them said anything, but Chris decided that he
wasn't going to fight his feelings if it meant that he wouldn't have Armie
in his life.

Armie stayed one more night. When he left the next day, Chris actually
missed him. "Armie Hammer is a yes," Chris told Jean-Marc over the phone as
he brewed his third coffee of the day. "He's my number one."

"He's very tall."

"He's a giant, I know. It'll be tough to find a guy that doesn't look tiny
next to him, but I think someone like Liam Hemsworth might work? But maybe
someone who isn't so vapid? Who else is on the list?"

"We need to look for more," Jean-Marc insisted. Chris agreed, but time was
running out. Soon, they'd have to have screen tests and see how the
chemistry worked out between the movie's two leading men and the supporting
cast. It could go well and be done in just a few day or stretch everything
out even longer. Chris hoped for the latter and prayed that the process
would fly by. He'd submitted the final edits and was hoping that he could
step away from the entire thing and just let everyone work their magic
without him having to consult on every last thing. He'd lived and breathed
the book already; the movie shouldn't consume him all over again.

A few weeks later, Chris opened his front door only to be greeted by a
bouquet of peonies. It was so big, he didn't have anything to put them in,
so he had to split the bouquet into two smaller vases. Without even looking
at the card, he knew it was from Armie. The cover of "The Hollywood
Reporter" said it all. He'd landed the lead alongside Gael Garcia Bernal in
what the industry was calling a watershed moment. Not only was a major
studio movie being made about two men in love, the two men were interracial
-- and an openly gay man wrote the story. If that didn't check every box
and offer up a reason for studio execs to pat themselves on the back, Chris
couldn't think of anything that would. And with the announcement and every
other piece coming together, Chris could finally breathe a sigh of
relief. It was the beginning of the end of his involvement and he could
focus on finding a new story to tell.

"Congratulations are in order," Jake said through the phone. "I'm really
proud of you."

"Thank you," Chris said as he carried a vase upstairs. "I'm happy about
it. About everything."

"You deserve to be. It's a huge deal. How are you celebrating?"

"It sounds like I'm celebrating with you," there was a hint of hope in his
voice.

"It would be an honor."

Jake was wearing a thin sweater. It clung to the muscles of his chest and
offered a peek of unruly hair at the collar. They were sitting across from
each other at a sushi restaurant, a view of the marina behind Jake. Chris
could see sailboats coming in. The sky was already darkening. "What now,"
Jake asked, pouring tea for the two of them. Chris watched as the steam
rose and swirled above the cups. "Are you going to take a break?"

"A long one," Chris said. "And I mean it this time. I might to the city,
visit your sister and the kids."

"They miss you. I was FaceTiming them last night."

"I want to really get away though. Off the grid like Cheryl Strayed."

Jake grinned. "You've been reading Cheryl Strayed?"

"No, I overheard a group of women talking about 'Wild' when I got coffee
the other day. They were all about it."

Jake laughed at the thought of Chris strapping on a pack and tackling the
High Sierras by himself. Calling him a recluse wouldn't be a stretch, but
calling him an outdoorsman would. "Remember that time we went to Bali?"

"That's 'Eat Pray Love,'" Chris interjected. "Totally different."

"No, I mean you could go back there. You were into that meditation
workshop."

"Yeah, I called it naptime. I've got time to decide. I've got nothing but
time right now."

"That's why I ordered the chef's menu. We're gonna be here for hours."

Chris settled in as the sushi came, his eyes watching Jake's biceps flex as
he picked up his pieces of fish. While Chris had nothing but an open
schedule for the foreseeable future, Jake was headed to North Carolina to
shoot. For once, their schedules seemed to work out for the two of
them. From past experiences, though, being on set wasn't great for either
of them. Jake was deep into character work and the last thing Chris wanted
to do was explore a city on his own. He remembered a trip to the Toronto
Film Festival. There was so much to do that they barely spent any time
together. Aside from nights in their hotel, the event, which was supposed
to be fun, was just movie after movie. They spent hours sitting together in
theaters, but could barely speak since the movies were back-to-back. Jake
was on the judging panel, too, so they even skipped out on most of the
parties. That's what work trips were like. Chris could go the rest of his
life without experiencing that again.

Between the fatty tuna and the salmon, Chris slid his hand across the table
and gripped Jake's. The physical contact felt nice, especially with the
good spirits in the atmosphere.

"You need a break," Jake said as their last two pieces of sushi came. Chris
had lost count by now. "I'll miss you, though. I miss you all the time."

Chris' brow furrowed when he got back to his house. A car was in his
driveway, blocking his usual parking spot. He didn't recognize it. Like
Jake had said before, parking in his neighborhood sucked. He circled the
block and finally wedged his car between a huge SUV and a tiny Fiat and
shoved his hands into his jacket pockets before heading back around to get
to his own home. When he reached his house, the gravel driveway and its
drought-friendly landscaping illuminated by the lights that automatically
turned on every night, he saw Armie.

"I can see the flowers I sent you!" he said, a beaming smile on his
face. He took a few huge steps towards Chris and pulled him into a hug. He
came in for a kiss, too, but Chris turned his head and Armie's lips met his
cheekbone.

"It's good to see you," Chris said. "Thanks for the flowers. How is your
arm?" Chris could see that it wasn't in a cast anymore, but he was still
wearing a sling.

"Almost as good as new." Armie's voice was warm. It sent a tingle right
down Chris' spine. "I wanted to say thank you in person, though. You don't
know how happy I am."

Sighing, Chris wrapped his arms around Armie's waist and let his face smash
into his chest. Armie smelled like expensive cologne. Chris could tell he
was freshly showered. There were unfamiliar curves and contours with
Armie. When he was with Jake, he knew exactly where he fit in, knew how to
position himself to get the most contact against his own body. This was
new. Armie didn't question the gesture, just let his own arms wrap around
Chris, his good hand feeling the muscles in Chris' back, his face rubbing
against the top of Chris' head.

"Everything feels sort of lighter now," Chris said, his words muffled by
Armie's T-shirt. "I can breathe."

"I bet," Armie said quietly.

"You parked in my driveway."

"Parking here sucks."

Chris shook his head. "Do you want to come inside?"

"No. I want to stay just like this." His voice was quiet. The air felt
still and serene. He could hear crickets, feel everything around them
settling in for the night.

"I want to sleep without setting an alarm," Chris whispered. "Can you even
imagine what that's like?"

"It's been a while," Armie said. He started rocking them together. He could
feel Chris' arms tightening around him, pulling their bodies closer. "Let's
get inside. I've been waiting for you longer than I'd like to admit."

Chris peeled himself away, but didn't resist when Armie's hand slid down
his arm and grasped his own. Slowly, the two of them approached the door
and Chris unlocked it with a familiar ease. The lights turned on via motion
sensor, Chris emptied his pockets into a tray he kept by the door. All the
motions fluid, everything well practiced.

"I'll make us some tea," Chris said. He tapped out a quick message to Jake,
letting him know that he'd arrived home. It was another habit that he'd
probably never kick. He got a thumbs-up emoji and a heart in return.

They've kissed twice, Armie thinks. Once was long and drawn-out, Chris
straddling his lap at the Chateau Marmont. The second time was in this very
kitchen. Fleeting. It was enough to give a normal guy whiplash, but Armie
knew what was going on. He was going through the same thing. He wondered if
that's why Chris kept coming back to him.

Chris shuffled over, two mugs in his hands. He set them down and settled
down on the couch, his head in Armie's lap. Then, he talked. After keeping
his feelings in for so long, they seemed to spill out, bursting through
every defense and Armie listened. He stroked Chris' hair and took it all
in. For once, he had no clever responses.