Date: Thu, 18 May 2006 22:24:54 -0700
From: christopher. <christopherrluu@gmail.com>
Subject: breaking through part 19

Usual disclaimers apply.  This is fiction, I don't know them, I'm not
implying anything about them, don't read this if you're jailbait, you know
the drill.

Author's Note: Thanks, as always, to everyone who reads and writes, I hope
that the story is still keeping you interested and that everyone looks
forward to reading more, because there's definitely more on the way.  As
always, any comments, suggestions, ideas, words of praise, and simple "this
story sucks" messages can be sent to christopherrluu@gmail.com.  Thanks
again for reading.

Part XIX

     "I'm not hungry, thanks," Chris said, a weak smile on his lips, "but
I'll take another bottle of water."  The flight attendant pulled one out of
the cart and handed it to him, the cold plastic bottle sending a chill
through his fingers.  He hated to admit it, but he had gotten used to first
class with its fully reclining, overstuffed seats and unlimited supply of
fizzy water.  He was probably the only person who'd ever asked for a
downgrade at the check-in counter, the clerk looked so baffled and
confused.  Jake overheard but didn't ask, wasn't even phased by Chris'
request to be apart.  Both of them were good at keeping things in, Chris
noticed.  Sighing, he looked down at the blank page in front of him, pen
poised to write something, anything that came to mind, but he couldn't
figure anything out.  If Jake wanted the entire story, Chris wanted to tell
him face to face, not on paper.  The only thing was he didn't want to tell
him at all.  He didn't want to think about it again.  He saw a hazy shadow
fall over his tray and he looked up, Jake's blue eyes looking back at him,
tired, dark stubble sprinkled across his jaw.

     "There's an empty seat next to me.  It's really practically empty in
there," Jake whispered, "I haven't slept at all."

     "What are you doing then?" Chris asked, shutting his journal.  Jake
probably saw that it was blank, but he closed his pen and set it down.

     "Listening to your book on my iPod and figuring out how to say what I
need to say, I guess," Jake said, kneeling down in the aisle.  It was cute,
but Chris wasn't going to let it go that easily.  He could see that Jake
just wanted things back to how they were.  He did too, but with all the
charged emotion, he had to do something.  Things weren't just going to
settle down if they were ignored, both of them knew that.  He wanted to
give Jake something, he just didn't know what yet.

     "It's okay, I'm fine here," Chris said, "what's another seven hours?"
He really did need to think some more, Jake would just be a distraction.
"I'm need more time to sort things out."

     "No, I made a mistake, Chris," Jake said, "I can't just demand things
like that from you."

     "You can't, you're right," Chris said, "but I guess I feel like I owe
you something."

     "You don't," Jake said, getting up off the floor.  The lights were dim
and most of the cabin was asleep.  Jake's hand ran over Chris' jaw, thumb
slowly grazing his ear, "come back over with me, we'll get some sleep."

     "I said I'm fine," Chris said, reaching for Jake's hand and clutching
it in his own.  Jake leaned down, giving him a quick kiss on the
forehead. "I need some time to just sort out my head."

     Jake nodded, "Okay, I'll see you when we're over there," he said,
Chris watching as he walked back down the aisle and through the curtains.
Chris let out a long sigh and opened the journal again.  He wrote the date
at the top of the page, at least it was a start.

***

     Jake pulled his coat on over his t-shirt and boxer shorts, quietly
sliding open the door to the balcony and feeling the freezing air wrap
around his neck and shins before he wrapped his arms around his chest, a
shiver going through his body.  He was almost certain Chris hadn't talked
that much since they'd met, but he sat and listened, holding in every
interruption and every question until the very end.  Chris was tense,
almost scared to relive and retell some of the things he was talking about,
but Jake let him ride it out, clutching his hand and keeping quiet.  He
rubbed his eyes, the long flight and what he heard from Chris combining; he
couldn't remember the last time he was so tired.  It was just too much to
take in all at once and when it was all over, he wished he let Chris go at
his own pace.  He couldn't imagine what Chris had to have been going
through back then and as he was retelling it.  He'd wanted to know
everything and now he just realized that sometimes it hurt more to know
than to stay in the dark.

     The lights of the city sparkled as he just stared, not sure how things
would be in the morning.  He'd pushed too hard and now he was pretty sure
that there would be more resentment than anything else, definitely no
solution.  More than anything, he wanted to take it all back.  There was a
reason Chris had kept it all inside.  He'd wanted in and now he just felt
like Chris had a reason to accuse him of not trusting him again.  Shivering
in the cold, Jake could see his breath, fleeting puffs hanging in the air
as he let everything spin around in his head.  He crammed his hands into
his pockets, frustrated that there wasn't a clear way back.  He didn't know
what to do.

     "Can't sleep either?" Jake heard, jolting him out of his dreamy haze.
Topher was there on the next balcony, thick ski jacket keeping the cold at
bay while Jake shivered against the railing.

     "I've got a lot on my mind," Jake said, walking towards the edge of
his own balcony.

     "They got me a suite this time.  Nice, huh?"

     Jake chuckled, "Lonely over there?"

     "Come on over," Topher said.  A few minutes later, Jake was on
Topher's couch and the entire situation was out in the open, minus most of
the details about Chris' life and what had happened in Palo Alto, emphasis
on what a mistake it was.  Topher sat there listening, eyes wide in
disbelief.  "Why would you fuck something up like that?  You're crazy."

     "I wanted to know everything, good or bad," Jake said, "he's
everything to me.  I wanted to get it out of him so that he wouldn't have
to think about it anymore."

     "Cleaning out his brain?"

     "Lightening his load.  Sometimes you look at him and it looks like
he's got the weight of the world on his back, you know?"

     Topher leaned in, "Since the day I met him I thought he was amazing, I
didn't think there was anything to change.  Nobody's perfect though,
right?" he paused, "it's the little things about him that make me like
him."  Jake let Topher's words settle with the thoughts already swirling in
his head.  He wished he could put the entire night on pause so he had more
time to think about it.  Chris would wake up and he'd have to deal with it,
he just needed more time.  "You guys are going to get through it.  You
didn't come all this way to just let it go that easy."

     "I was making him relive it, Grace, he was shaking and practically
crying and I wanted him to stop but I couldn't because I wanted to know.
It was me being selfish," Jake said, "I didn't care that he'd have to go
through it all again."

     "Yeah, you fucked that part up," Topher said, "but you're going to get
through it.  He wouldn't be sleeping in that bed if he didn't think it was
going to work out, right?"

     "This is when I go back and everything's fine, right?  But I know when
he wakes up, things aren't going to be okay.  He had to dive pretty deep to
get some of that stuff out and I'm pretty sure he won't forgive me for it."

     "Then you'll have to make it up to him," Topher said.

     "I don't think I can," Jake said, "there's nothing I can do to fix
this."

     "I'm sure you'll think of something.  Otherwise, you're just going to
have to ride it out."

     Jake let that settle in his head.  Time seemed to be the only sure
solution, but it also left the most room for possible problems.  "You know
about his parents, right?"

     "Tell me you didn't make him relive that part," Topher said,
wide-eyed.  He knew about it, but he figured that Chris had only revealed
the Cliff's Notes, the bare minimum.

     "No, he wrote that down a long time ago and I read it.  So I thought
that maybe he'd have other things written down, but he didn't, he had to
tell me just like he tells his parents sometimes."

     "I'm not following."

     "He goes out to the beach and talks to his parents, tells them things
that he doesn't tell me.  I just wanted in.  I thought that I'd earned my
place to know."

     "I don't think you have any say in that decision," Topher said,
"that's up to him."

     "I can't lose him like this," Jake said.

     "You won't, not from this," Topher said, "I think he'll see that, in
the end, it's better to get it out.  All out."

     "I hope you're right, Grace," Jake sighed.

***

     Jake was right about one thing, he woke up to a cold shoulder and the
quickest goodbye he could remember.  Before he knew it, Chris was throwing
on a coat and wrapping a scarf around his neck before heading out of the
hotel room.  Jake didn't even get a kiss.  He wasn't entirely surprised,
though, and as he trimmed his beard and threw on a coat, he hoped that
Chris would write something and get it out of his system, come back with
everything completely forgotten about and just talk about his first day in
London, but even he wasn't that optimistic.  He'd deal with the press first
and Chris later, at least he knew exactly how to handle reporters.
Sighing, he knocked on Topher's door, he'd have to wallow eventually, but
duty called.

     Interview after interview, Jake's focus was anywhere but on the
questions.  Topher was handling it really well, finally getting a chance to
get a word in.  Jake's cheeks ached from faking a smile, glad that they
were almost done for the day.  He wanted to see the city, wanted to make
sure everything was okay with Chris, not sit an answer the same five
questions.

     "Any projects lined up with Christopher Lewis?" the reporter asked.

     "Me or Topher?" Jake asked, snapping out of his daydream.

     "Either, but you can go first."

     "Chris doesn't have any plans for movies," Jake said.

     "But other people do.  He's been approached," she said.

     Jake knew he was big in England, knew that Chris' books came out with
anticipation and fanfare that he didn't have back at home, but he didn't
realize that it meant they were into everything else he did.  Jake leaned
back in his chair, hoping she'd move on.

     "Chris is a great guy, we're all really close.  We'd be the first to
know," Topher said.

     "That's why everyone's asking, it's so perfect.  You two acting in a
movie he wrote.  We're all just waiting."

     "Chris fell into writing that script.  He didn't have any intention of
writing screenplays," Jake said, "he's so talented, but he's going to keep
doing what he does and we'll keep doing what we do," Jake said.

     "So what does that mean for you next?"

     "I don't know about Topher, but I think I deserve a break," Jake said,
"some time off before anything serious again."

     "Yeah, we're both exhausted," Topher said, "this movie really took it
out of both of us.  I'm just going to take it easy."

     The reporter clicked off her tape recorder and they shook her hand,
Jake flashing her his trademark smile again, "Topher, you can handle the
last few, right?  I'm just so out of it.  I've got to go find him."

     "Find him?  Where did he go?"

     "He just left this morning, I don't know," Jake said, reaching for his
coat behind them, "sorry about this, I'll make it up to you."

***

     Jake was relieved to see Chris' keycard on the table near the door,
his scarf half-falling off the table next to it.  He expected to hear the
soft clicking of Chris' keyboard, but there wasn't anything at all.  He
walked slowly, still trying to figure out what he'd say.  He saw the laptop
open on the coffee table, room service tea set next to its blank screen,
cursor blinking in anticipation.  Jake threw off his coat and walked
closer, seeing Chris' sleeping form on the sofa, breathing heavy and deep.
He threw off his sweater, white t-shirt stretching across his chest as he
reached over to shut the computer, trying his best to make the click of it
as soft as possible.  He saw Chris shuffle on the couch, but he was still
asleep, settling against the soft cushions.  Jake looked around the suite,
it looked like Chris had been there all day, there was a room service cart
and empty dishes, his cell phone blinking on the coffee table next to his
computer, Jake's three missed calls ignored because of slumber, not anger.

     Jake kicked off his shoes, settling himself on the sofa with Chris,
wrapping his arms around Chris' warm body, "Hey, let's get you into bed,"
he whispered, "I need a nap too."

     "Jake," he heard, "you're back early.  Really early."  Chris yawned,
running his hand up Jake's forearm.

     "Couldn't concentrate with things like this between us," Jake said,
kissing Chris lightly on the neck, "you're always falling asleep on
couches.  You should write in bed."

     "Just tired," Chris said, "didn't sleep well last night.  Jetlag."  He
didn't move, savoring the way it felt in Jake's arms, the way his body was
always warm and how they seemed to fit together no matter what position
they were in.  "I'm going to take a walk though, I feel really stiff.  It
was nice to get out this morning."

     "I'll go with you," Jake said, getting up off the couch, "we've
haven't seen the city together yet."

     "I have to be by myself right now, Jake," Chris said, "things are
better, trust me, but I have a few things I still need to work out.  Maybe
tomorrow, maybe tonight."  Jake nodded, he couldn't really think of
anything to say back, "you should order the tea, it's really nice.  It'll
calm you down."  Jake watched as Chris smoothed his t-shirt and grabbed the
sweater Jake had been wearing, slipping it over his head without looking to
see whose it was.  He walked back over and gave Jake a kiss on the cheek
and a quick "I love you" before grabbing his coat and scarf.  "I'll be back
in an hour, don't worry about me."  Jake sat back on the sofa, bewildered
as he heard the door shut and the lock click.

     He reached over and opened Chris' computer again, knowing him better
than to believe that he hadn't written anything all morning.  The room was
so quiet that he could hear the hum of the computer's fan and his own
finger sliding across the touch pad.  He clicked around and saw that not
surprisingly, Chris had started a story that morning.  Setting the computer
on his lap, he leaned back, eyes scanning the screen, hoping for some sign
of what he had to do.

***

     Chris pushed his hands into his coat pockets, glad to find that his
gloves were there.  Slipping them on his hands, he walked through the
revolving doors of the hotel and into the cold of the London streets.
Seattle was damp and rainy, but London was windy, too.  Chris wrapped his
scarf tighter as he walked down towards the park that their hotel was
across from, the manicured grass and traditional hedges drawing him in.
The chill spread across his face and he realized that there was nowhere to
sit because the benches were all wet.  Sighing, he slowly paced around the
paved paths, ignoring everyone else walking around.  Even though he knew
Jake was waiting for him back at the hotel, he felt alone.  Jake had no way
of knowing that he was making Chris feel like someone was yanking out his
insides, pulling his brain out of his head hand over hand, making him
relive everything he'd wanted to forget.  It hurt just to think about it.
Jake was the last person he expected to do it, and that hurt him more than
anything else.

     Sighing, he looked at the city, part of him wished that Jake was there
with him and the other part of him didn't want to go back, it wanted to
talk to someone, something that was still new to him.  Topher was busy, but
he was the only other person Chris thought he could talk to.  He walked
around, staying on the wet pavement that wound around the park, watching
people walk by, bundled up and milling around.

     It brought a smile to his face; he loved to see people.  He kept
walking, head hung downward, watching his own reflection mingling with the
other passersby in the shallow puddles.  The reflections passed over one
another, melting into blurry blobs as they combined even if the actual
people didn't even acknowledge each other.  He got a spark in his head and
reached for his journal, panicking when it wasn't there in his breast
pocket.  Patting himself down, he realized that it was back in the hotel,
sitting on the table near his computer.  He didn't know what to do.  He
didn't have his pen either, it was like he'd left his right arm at the
hotel.  He yanked out his phone, the only thing he had that could sort of
work.  Rolling his eyes, he fumbled with the buttons, e-mailing himself the
snippet of an idea, maybe it'd grow, but this weird new situation might
hinder it.

     "Excuse me, do you have the time," Chris heard, it was Emmy, smiling
wide from under her hood.  Chris glanced at his watch but she pushed his
hand back down, "it's probably still on Seattle time, anyway."

     "What are you doing out here all by yourself?  We're all done," she
looked confused, concerned.

     "Thinking," Chris said, "looking for ideas, taking it all in.  Did
everything go okay at the press thing?"

     "Junket," Emmy corrected him, "Jake seemed distracted, he's usually so
focused."

     "Something happened between us," Chris said softly, gloved hands
retreating into his pockets again, "I still don't know what's going on.  So
he's just as confused as I am?"

     "I haven't known you two for that long," Emmy said, "but I can see
that you've got something that everyone's looking for.  I saw the way you
guys sort of lit up when you were together.  I still see it."

     Together, they walked through the park, watching the hazy light filter
through the trees, it was overcast but it still seemed bright.  Emmy
grabbed Chris' arm, leaning against him as they walked together, mostly
quiet, Emmy letting Chris get through his thoughts.

     "You know when you pick at a scab," Chris said, almost chuckling.  He
was embarrassed to be bringing up something like scabs in front someone as
ladylike as Emmy, but it was all that came to mind, "it hurts again, even
if you don't feel it, you're hurting yourself."

     "Poetic as always, Mr. Lewis," Emmy said, smiling, "if he's picking at
your scabs, I'm sure it's not because he wants to hurt you."  Chris shook
his head; Jake would never hurt him, he knew that much, but it was
unintentional.  Jake didn't know at first, but he was sure it was evident
when he started to shake and hesitate.  But Jake kept pressing, and that's
what made Chris mad, Jake should have known better.  "You know how
sometimes you pick at a scab because you want to see if there's something
in there like a splinter or something?  Maybe he was just making sure you
didn't have something in there.  He just wanted to see inside."

     "Everyone thinks they're a writer nowadays," Chris said, chuckling.

***

     Chris opened the door to the hotel room, noticing that it was
darkened, the flickering light of candles replacing the harsh lights that
he was accustomed to.  "Jake?" Chris asked, walking into the living room.
The candles greeted his eyes, "Jake?" he asked again.  There were white
candles all over the room, the coffee table was covered with them, all
different sizes, all the flames flickering as he walked around, looking for
Jake.  "What is this about?"  They threw the same long quivering shadows on
the walls, filled the room with a warm glow that was completely different
from the wet streets that Chris had just come from.

     "We've been through a lot," Jake said, coming out from the bedroom.
He looked tired, Chris noticed, tired and anxious.  "I just wanted to
remind you where we've been.  What we promised each other."

     "It's not that, Jake," Chris said, he wanted to get straight to the
point, "you made me do something I didn't want to do."

     "This is for you, Chris," Jake said, hands grabbing Chris', "what else
can I do?  All I can do is just keep telling you that I love you."

     "I know you do," Chris said, the gesture was there, and he knew Jake
was just trying to get things back to where they were.  He saw something in
Jake's eyes, it might have been confusion, and maybe it was fear.  "But I
don't need this," Chris motioned to the candles, his body shaking, "you
don't have to prove anything.  I had a life before you.  Things happened,
some good things and lots of bad stuff that I didn't want to ever
remember--but you pulled it out of me."

     "I just wanted to know why," Jake said, stepping closer, "I didn't
know it would be so hard."

     "Then why did you push me?" Chris asked exasperated, pulling his hands
from Jake's and taking a step back.

     "I couldn't stop," Jake whispered, moving closer to Chris.  He froze
when he saw Chris move back, eyes on the floor, "I wanted to help."

     "I don't need the grand gestures and I don't need the explanation,"
Chris said, his voice flat and cold, "I only need one thing.  One thing.
The sad part is, I thought it would have been the first thing out of your
mouth."

     Chris' words hit Jake like hard.  If he knew anything, he knew how to
put all the meaning he could into as few words as possible, "What do you
mean?"  Jake asked, reaching out for Chris.

     Jake watched as he stepped back even further, the distance between
them seemed like miles even though it was just a few feet, Chris shook his
head, "You haven't even apologized.  I just want you to say you're sorry.
Acknowledge that you made a mistake."  Chris turned around and walked to
the bedroom, leaving Jake with his candles, with the answer even though he
had it in him all along.

     Peeking into the room, Jake saw Chris on the bed, shoulders hunched
over as he wiped stray tears with his sleeves, "I didn't know," Jake
whispered, slowly crossing the room and sitting down next to Chris, pulling
his body close to his, "I didn't know that it would hurt you like it did
and I'm sorry.  I'm really sorry."

     Chris let out a long slow breath, "Well, I guess there are no more
secrets now," Chris said, shrugging.

     "No more secrets," Jake whispered, kissing him softly.  It sort of
just came out; a reflex that Jake hoped would solve everything, "I love you
so much, Christopher, I can't lose you."

     He just kissed Jake back, hand running up to graze Jake's jaw, "You
came pretty damn close, Gyllenhaal."  Jake never called him Christopher, he
never called Jake by his last name.  It was weird, but Chris wasn't going
to question it.  If this was his apology, he'd take it.

     Just hearing the words made Jake shiver, a cold jolt running down his
back.  Nodding, he pulled Chris even closer, "It's not going to happen
again," Jake said, "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you.  Not even me."

***

     "America's literary misfit draws capacity crowd in Picadilly Circus,"
Jake read as he waited for Topher and Emmy to get into the press
conference.  There was a picture of a long line, people clutching Chris'
book tight against their bodies as they waited.  Jake folded it up and put
it on the table, it wasn't front page or anything, but it was the biggest
picture in the Lifestyle section of the newspaper.  He wasn't usually the
first person anywhere, but he'd been lead to the room and found it empty.
Emmy and Topher were both impeccably punctual, but with Chris being
uneasily quiet that morning, Jake took the hint and got going even though
he knew he'd be early.

     "Well look who's here on time for once," Topher said as he held the
door open for Emmy, "no holding back the press today."

     "Good morning to you, sir," Emmy said, taking off her coat and hanging
it on the back of her chair.

     He nodded at her, smiling, "Grace, have you talked to Chris lately?"

     Topher shook his head, but Emmy chimed in, "We talked yesterday.  He
was walking by himself in the little park."

     "And he was actually talking?" Jake asked, "not just nodding and
looking like he was listening?"

     "Believe it or not, Jake, I can carry on a conversation," she said,
Jake heard Topher chuckle, "we had a good talk apart from his scab
imagery."

     "You talked about scabs?" Topher asked, suddenly intrigued.  He
glanced at his watch; they still had a few minutes before the reporters
would be filed in.

     "Figuratively," she added.

     "Whatever you said, you made him think again.  He's not talking, just
thinking," Jake said, "it's no good."

     "For him or for you, Gyllenhaal?" Topher asked, concerned, "I'm not
sure thinking hurts anyone."

     "He's in his head more than he's talking to me," Jake said, his voice
trailing off as he realized none of them knew what he was talking about.
Only he knew the ins and outs of Chris.  Topher might have caught a
glimpse, but Jake was pretty sure he wouldn't know.  "When you were on set
with him, would he sometimes just sit and write by himself?"

     "He's a writer, right?" Emmy said, confused.  "Do you just sometimes
act on set, spontaneously?"

     "This isn't a joke, Emmy, he gets really intense and bottles things
up," Jake said, hearing footsteps coming down the hallway.  He looked out
at the sea of empty chairs, hoping that maybe they'd get this done and
Chris would still be in the suite when he got back.

     "He'd get into these moods where he'd stay by himself, yeah," Topher
said, remembering vividly times when he'd have to go look for Chris on set,
times Chris snuck away to be by himself when things got to be really
stressful.  Rewrites did it to him, so did dialogue rehearsals when they'd
improvise certain lines.  "So he's getting all quiet again.  That's no
good.  What did you do to him?"

     "I don't want to talk about it.  Not here," Jake said.  The first
reporter came in, looking around before opening the door wider and waving
to the three of them.  Three polite smiles and the room was suddenly full
to capacity, Jake let out a long sigh and straightened his posture.  It was
juts another day at the office and he wanted to get back to Chris as soon
as it was over.

***

     "You work too hard," Jake said from the entryway.  He didn't have to
look, he heard the steady tapping of the keys from the living room.  He
rushed in, shucking his coat and scarf.  Chris may be in love with layers
of clothes and another excuse to wear cashmere, but Jake found the layers
more cumbersome than handy.  "Tell me you got out this morning," Jake said,
shaking his head when he saw that Chris' hair was still messy and he was in
an old t-shirt.

     "I wanted to get this done so we could go out together," Chris said,
snapping his computer shut and stretching his arms above his head.  He
smiled, happy to finally have some time together.

     "You want to go out?" Jake asked, watching as the taut muscles of
Chris' lower back came into view as the t-shirt lifted.

     "Why not?"  Chris asked, confused.  "We only have a few days off.  Let
me get into shower and we can go.  Find a museum or something.  Maybe
Topher can come?  The signing really took it out of me.  I think my hand's
going to fall off."

     "Everything's okay?" Jake asked.

     "Why wouldn't it be?" Chris said, pulling off his t-shirt and tossing
it into the growing pile near the door to the bedroom.

     "It's just..." Jake started, not sure if he wanted to get into the
entire situation, "you were quiet this morning.  Just tired?"

     "I was?" Chris said, stopping in the doorway.

     "Yeah," Jake said, "I thought you were still mad at me."

     "I am," Chris said, turning around and leaning against the doorframe,
Jake bristled, uneasy as he waited for what Chris was going to say next,
"it's not something that's just going to go away, Jake."

     "Ok.  I just thought that you were keeping things inside again," Jake
said, not sure if he was relieved or even more confused, "you can tell me
things, even if it's just that you're still mad at me.  I'm here."

     "I just had a story idea in my head this morning.  Got it yesterday
and didn't write it down so I had to just get it into the computer," Chris
said.  He walked over to Jake and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, felt
Jake's hand run lazily across his stomach.  Stepping away, he could see
Jake relax, the tension melting from his stiff shoulders as Chris turned
around and headed to the bathroom.  "Can you read it and tell me what you
think?  It doesn't have a title yet or anything, but it's almost done, I
think."

     "Yeah, anything," Jake said, walking around the sofa to get to the
computer, "I'll see what's at the museums and we'll go."

     Half an hour later, Chris was bundled up and they headed out, Chris'
hand clutching at Jake's as they braved the cold afternoon winds.  Jake's
soft black scarf was high on his neck, covering most of his jaw, hiding
stubble and smile alike.  Chris leaned in close as they walked down the
boulevard, the umbrella keeping prying eyes away from them.  Chris loved
it, loved being on Jake's arm and just being with him.  The crowds in
London were everywhere, but they were masses of people that just kept to
themselves.  Nobody was paying them any attention as the dodged the people
walking the other way and the umbrellas that everyone was holding.

     "You know that picture you have in the shack?" Jake asked as he held
the door to the Tate museum open.  Chris pulled Jake's scarf down off of
his face as they walked in, the click of their heels echoing in the huge
halls.  Chris noticed that it was practically empty as they walked towards
the Warhol displays.

     "I look at it just about every day," Chris said, "you're wearing that
same scarf."

     "I want one in my office.  Me and you in London," Jake said, "so I
have something to look at too."

     Jake stopped right in front of the double Elvis picture that hung on
the wall, slinging his gun right at the two of them.  "Okay," Chris said,
resting his head on Jake's shoulder, feeling Jake wrap an arm around him,
"It's my turn to say I'm sorry."

     "For what?"

     "For being an asshole," Chris said, "for ruining this trip for you and
for us.  There's no reason for me to still be mad at you.  I'm not.
There's just a lot going on in my brain and I'm trying to get it out little
by little.  You said that you were sorry and I'm still being a hardass."

     "Take your time," Jake said, "there's no rush.  The trip isn't ruined.
I'm having a good time right now."  Chris felt relieved, signing as he
pressed his body against Jake's, "Tell me you love me," Jake whispered into
his ear.

     Chris smiled, looking right into Jake's eyes, "I love you."  A smile
came to both their faces.  Plain and simple, it was exactly what both of
them needed.

***

     "Everybody has to learn eventually," Chris said, fingers fiddling with
his bowtie.

     "I'll be around to tie it for you whenever you need," Jake said,
pushing Chris' fingers away.  Chris leaned his head back giving Jake more
room to work, but Jake's lips reached in, planting a light kiss on the soft
skin.  He finished and Chris turned around, admiring Jake's handiwork in
the mirror.  Jake's hands wrapped around Chris' waist, his grin wide as he
rested his chin on Chris' shoulders, "looking good."  Chris rolled his eyes
and leaned over, kissing Jake quickly on the lips.

     "Are we late yet?"

     "We've been late," Jake said.  Chris turned around and leaned up
against the counter, pulling Jake in closer, feeling the rough stubble
rasping over his face as Jake's tongue slid into his mouth.  "They can
wait," he whispered.

     Chris ran his hands down Jake's chest, their foreheads pressed
together, "I have one secret I've been keeping from you," Chris said, a
smile on his face, "well, maybe two."

     "I'm all ears," Jake said.

     "I sort of like these things," Chris said, "they're not all bad.  I
even have fun sometimes."

     "Is that it?" Jake asked, "what about number two?"

     "Oh, yeah," Chris said, hands resting on Jake's waist, "I love when
you're all dressed up.  You're so hot," he kissed Jake one more time, "and
I know that at the end of the night, I'm the one taking the suit off you."

     Jake let out a low chuckle and pressed their bodies tight against each
other, hands running down Chris' back and his mouth hungry.  "Fuck the
premiere," Jake panted, "they're not going to miss us."

     Chris nodded, pulling off his jacket, hands running to the back of
Jake's neck.  He shut his eyes when Jake pulled his shirt up out of his
pants, warm palms sliding up his back, shivers spreading across his body.
There was a knock at the door, but both of them ignored it, Jake gasping
when Chris grabbed his cock through his pants.  The knocks came harder and
Chris pulled away, his face almost angry, "It's Topher, I'm sure."

     "He's walked in on us before," Jake whispered, lips on Chris' neck,
"I'll just shut the bathroom door."

     "Guys, get your pants on and let's go!" they heard.  It wasn't Topher,
it was Emmy, her voice angry.  Jake rolled his eyes and stepped back,
Chris' fingertips lingering on his shirt as he moved away.  "I know you two
are in there."

     "One minute," Chris yelled, shoving his shirt back into his pants.

     "Still fun?" Jake asked, pulling him out of the bathroom.  They swung
the door open and there was Emmy, gorgeous in a gold gown.  "Guys take time
to get ready too, Emmy."

     Topher opened his door, stepping out into the hallway to join the
group, perfectly put together in his tuxedo, the three men wearing
practically the same thing.  Different designers, same classic ideas.
"Right on time," he said, patting Chris on the shoulder.

     "Right on time means forty-five minutes late?" Emmy asked.

     "For us it's on time," Chris said, heading to the elevator.  Jake
grabbed his hand and they walked side-by-side, "it doesn't matter to me,
nobody's going to be paying me any attention."

     "Good to see you're out supporting me," Jake said.

     "Well it's that and the snacks," Chris said, "I don't wear my good
shoes for nothing."

     "Keep those dancing shoes on tonight, the after-party sounds like it's
going to be good," Topher said, scrolling down a message on his phone.

     "I'll make sure to leave my wallflower tendencies at the door," Chris
joked, glancing up at Jake.  The smile was there, it was the same one Chris
fell in love with.

     A quick walk across the street and they were on the red carpet, Emmy
leading the way and the three boys riding in the wake of her and the train
of her dress.  Chris smiled; it was like old times again--the three of them
together at an event in their tuxedos.  It reminded him of a picture that
the magazine's printed, he'd ripped it out a while back, had it up in the
studio without a frame.  The three of them at the Vanity Fair Oscar party,
tuxedos still pressed and bow ties still knotted, arms on shoulders and
smiles on their faces.  It made him smile every time he looked at it, every
time he remembered how much fun he had that night.  He let Jake and Topher
lead the way, but it was different this time.  Flashbulbs were focused on
him, a strange incongruity.  The Brits weren't used to having writers
mingling with movie stars.  It was either one or the other, apparently.
Chris waved at the cameras weakly, Jake noticing his confusion over his
shoulder.

     "Everything okay?" he asked, hand resting on Chris' shoulder.

     "Why do they care about me?"

     Jake looked over at the press; they were definitely more interested in
Chris than they were in Emmy and Topher, maybe him even.  "They read more
than just tabloids over here."

     Chris walked down the carpet, he and Jake catching up with the other
two.  "Hey, this is the third time I'm going to see this movie, third time
I'll cry."

     "Are you actually going to sit through the entire thing this time?"
Topher asked.  Chris' mind flew to Los Angles and New York, he and Jake had
taken a bathroom break both times.  He didn't think it had been that
obvious.

     "We were hoping to skip out on the movie," Jake said.

     "There's a midnight showing of Donnie Darko I wanted to see," Chris
said, startled when he saw a reporter clicking his voice recorder.

     "You have it on DVD, don't you?" Emmy asked, "how many times have you
seen it?"

     "You learn something new to see, even if you've already seen it a
bunch of times," Chris said, glancing at Jake, "even if you see it every
day."

     "Sickly sweet," Emmy said, rolling her eyes.

     "You get used to it," Topher said, watching as Chris and Jake just
kept walking, oblivious to everything around them.

     Glancing behind him, Chris saw that he'd conquered another one,
another red carpet under his belt without him tripping or slamming into
anyone.  Jake threw an arm around his shoulder and they walked into the
theatre together, "This time next week, we'll be unpacked and it'll be just
me and you," Jake whispered into his ear.

***

     "I liked your story," Topher said, "but I don't really understand the
idea of taking it easy as having six stories and six deadlines."

     "I don't either," Chris said, "but it's getting my work out there for
people who might not read it otherwise.  Magazines are cheaper than books."

     "What did Jake think about it?"

     Chris paused, "It wasn't one of his favorites."

     Topher didn't want to press, but he could see in Chris eyes that there
was more.  Topher and Emmy made sure that they sat through the movie,
flanking both of them in their seats and watching as Chris cried during the
movie and Jake held his hand tight.  The midnight screening was forgotten
and Chris even had a good time at the after-party when he found Helen
Fielding and Nick Hornby.  Writers seemed to be as celebrated as actors
here, and Chris didn't know if he could deal with it, but it was a change
he knew was happening in America, too.  He was spearheading it every time
he and Jake were seen out together, every time he and Jake had to duck from
photographers when they were waiting for the car or even walking to it.
Vivian kept saying that he had to stay on his toes or he'd be tabloid
fodder whether he was with Jake or not.

     "He likes all your stories," Topher said.

     "Do you really think this one's too different than the other ones?"

     "Yeah," Topher said, grabbing his coffee cup and taking a sip, "are
you kidding me?  This one was so charged.  It was really...sexy?"

     Chris stirred his coffee slowly, watching the ripples spread across
its dark surface.  "That's sort of what he said, too."

     "It's good though, really good," Topher said, "and that picture of you
was good, too.  Is there going to be one with every story?"

     "Yeah, I think so," Chris said, "you really think it was too sexy?
The story, not the picture-- no worries about that."

     "I didn't think it was too much, it was just different from your other
stories.  You don't normally write about those sort of emotions.  Love
yeah, lust...not so much."

     "I sort of saw it in a dream I had, this raw emotion.  I had to get it
into a story and that's just how it came out," Chris said.

     "When you write and he says stuff, do you change it?"

     Chris thought about it, he usually asked Jake to read his pieces, the
short ones especially, but Jake hadn't read the first piece for Esquire.
He did, however, read the second one, and he did mention a few things.
"Well, yeah...no.  No.  I like to hear what he says but if he wanted me to
do something, I don't think I'd do it.  He wouldn't ask me to change
anything; he gives suggestions, though.  Mostly, he just says how good the
stories are."

     "He's pretty honest with you then, because they're all pretty good."
Blushing, Chris finished his coffee and pushed the cup towards the center
of the small table he and Topher were sharing.

     "He's always honest," Chris said, "we don't keep things from each
other.  Not anymore."

***

     Chris had been doing a lot of crying lately, but it still hurt Jake to
see, made his heart swell to know that he couldn't do anything about it if
he was the reason the tears were falling.  He didn't know if he'd rather
have seen anger or sadness, but the look of disappointment that covered
Chris' face crumbled Jake's heart.  "No more secrets?  Who were you trying
to kid?"

     "I'm sorry, but Chris, how was I supposed to tell you?"

     He didn't know what to say.  There wasn't any way to bring it up
tactfully because it was admitting deceit and dishonesty; there was no way
to paint Jake anything but the villain.  Chris just shook his head and got
up off the couch, "I can't right now, Jake."  The words just flew out of
him and he wished he could take it back as soon as he heard them, but he
kept walking away, shutting the bedroom door quietly and leaving Jake alone
on the sofa.  Jake rushed over to the door, listening for any activity on
the other side.  It was quiet and still, but he could feel Chris on the
other side, sitting down on the floor, back to the door.

     "It was for the same reason, Chris, I just wanted in," Jake said.
Nothing came from the other side, "let me inside."

     He heard the door click and open slightly, Chris standing up straight,
his eyes narrowed, "There's a difference between you and me, Jake.  You
don't mind telling people about what you've been through, what goes on in
your head, what you're feeling when you're doing something and I get it.
It's in your job description.  But I'm not like that."

     "I know you're not, why do you think I had to hide it?  I didn't even
know how your parents died before I accidentally found you talking on the
bluffs."

     "It's just that there are a few things that I don't want to talk
about.  This is one of them.  I didn't want you to think that I was crazy."

     "You're not crazy, I know that."

     "It was something really sacred to me, Jake, and you didn't tell me
about it and I just don't know.  I would have let you in, but you have to
understand."

     "I'm trying to, you know that."

     "But you're not even considering that I might have something to do
with it.  You just push right through into my past and I don't have any
say," Chris said, "I feel like you've just lied to me."

     "I'm sorry," Jake said, "I care about you.  If I didn't, I wouldn't be
so worried about you.  I just wanted to help you deal with it."

     "I just can't," Chris said, "I have to be by myself."  Those two
lines, 'I'm sorry' and 'I have to be by myself,' had been thrown around so
often lately that Chris realized that this was just a repeat of what had
been going on the past few days.  He thought that they'd gotten through it,
but they hadn't done anything at all, nothing was different because neither
had told the entire story.  "I don't need a hero, Jake, never did.  I just
needed you to be there for me, not push me into having to go through it all
over again."

     "We need to talk about this, you can't just keep running away."

     "We did talk about it.  You didn't mention anything about
eavesdropping, Jake," Chris said.

     "You didn't say anything about it either, this isn't all about me."

     "Fine," Chris interrupted, throwing his hands up, "so nobody is in the
right, where does that leave us?  It doesn't solve anything."

     He grabbed his jacket and crossed the room, Jake clutching at his arm
as he walked by, "Don't do this, Chris."

     Chris looked up at him, eyes angry and body tense, "Not again, Jake."

     "Tell me what to do," Jake said, "and I'll do it.  If there's a way to
fix this, I don't care what it is."

     He pulled his arm away and looked into Jake's eyes one more time,
flashing back to when he'd just stare, almost drowning in the deep blue,
but here they were, furious and confused all at once.  He bit his lip and
walked out, closing the door softly behind him.  He stood there in the
doorway for a minute, just letting everything sink in, he'd just walked out
on the one person that meant the world to him, the one person that made him
want to get up in the morning, the one person that he couldn't stand to be
away from; but in that very moment, he couldn't bear to be with Jake, both
of them were too stubborn and neither of them could acknowledge their own
mistakes.  Chris turned around, looking at the door to the suite they'd
shared and he cried because there was nothing else he could do.

***

     "You're totally right," Topher said, trying his best to grab the
bottle of champagne out of Chris' swinging hand, "he had no right to listen
in on those private conversations."  Some of it had gone into a flute, but
Chris had downed those so quick that he decided to opt for the bubbly
straight from the bottle.

     "The worst part is, he was spouting out 'no more secrets' this and 'no
more secrets' that.  I was so stupid," Chris said, taking another long swig
from the bottle, some of it spilling onto his t-shirt.  "so stupid."

     "No, he's the stupid one for not telling you from the very beginning,"
Topher said, finally grabbing the bottle only to find it practically empty.
Chris had knocked on his door and just walked in, tears still running from
his eyes, body still shaken with low sobs.  Topher didn't need an
explanation, he just let Chris in and handed him a box of tissues and a
bottle of water from the mini-bar and then a bottle of anything bubbly from
room service.  Chris wasn't in a state to be picky.

     "You're the best, Topher," Chris said, heading towards the mini-fridge
for something else.  He would need more than that bottle to forget about
the words he and Jake had flung at each other.

     Topher grabbed him by the shoulders and led him back to the couch, "I
think you've had enough for tonight, buddy, how about some water?"

     "I left all my shit in the suite," Chris said, running his hands
through his hair, "I won't be able to leave until you guys do that thing
that you're doing tomorrow morning."

     "You're leaving?"

     "I can't stay.  He had to do this in fucking London, didn't he?" Chris
said, trying to get up and stumbling right back down on the couch,
"couldn't fuck this up for me in New York or LA where I could get a room or
a ride home right away?"  When he had liquor in him, Topher noticed that
Chris was much more free with the word "fuck."  He was much more free with
just about everything.

     "You can borrow some of my stuff," Topher said, "did you want to
change into something to wear to bed?"

     "I can just wear this," Chris said, pulling up the hem his t-shirt to
smell it, "it's not dirty."  Chris' stomach was toned, the same stomach
Topher had seen that morning he walked in on Chris' naked form, swathed in
nothing but a thin sheet, the image seared into his memory.

     "No, let me get you something, you can't sleep in those jeans," Topher
said, heading towards the bedroom, "are you going to be okay out here?"

     "I can go get my stuff," Chris said, "I have to get it sooner or
later."

     He staggered towards the door, Topher stopping him just a few steps
from it, "Grace, open the door.  I know he's in there," Jake said, his
voice eerily calm.  Topher could see Chris' entire body stiffen.  "Chris,
come back over."

     "Jake, I can't," Chris said, running his hand over the wood of the
door as if he could feel Jake through it.  He could almost feel the warmth,
the contours of Jake's chest and stomach.  It sent a shiver through his
body.  He reached for the knob, but Topher pulled him away.

     "You can't go back, Chris," Topher whispered, "nothing's changed.  Is
it worth it to just go back and know that everything's the same?"

     "I love you," Jake said through the door.  None of them realized how
thin it was.

     "I'm staying here tonight," Chris said, resting his forehead against
the door, "we'll talk tomorrow."

     "It is tomorrow," Jake said, "it's two in the morning.  Come on, we've
been through worse."

     Topher pulled Chris away from the door.  He had to get the two of them
apart or they'd be saying the same things over and over all night and he'd
be wishing he had taken a few swigs of that champagne.  "I'll get him back
to you in the morning, Gyllenhaal," Topher said, "just let it ride out."

     "Morning, then," Jake said, his voice suddenly sullen, "Chris, I love
you.  I'm not letting you go like this."

     Topher felt Chris' body settle into his, the warmth of it surprising
him as he tried his best to get Chris to the bedroom.  "I love him,
Topher," Chris said, his voice strained.  Topher struggled to get Chris
onto the bed.  He looked dazed, his expression vacant as Topher pulled off
his shoes and socks.

     "Chris, this isn't going to just disappear by the morning," Topher
said, pulling his own shirt off.  He could almost see the wheels turning in
Chris' head, every possible scenario spinning around in his brain.  "He
betrayed you."

     He undid Chris' belt, no objections coming from Chris as he yanked off
his pants.  He crawled onto the bed, his body tingling with anticipation as
Chris' hands ran through his own hair, "I'm not completely out of it,
Topher.  We can't do this."  Even as the words came out, Chris couldn't the
thought of being alone that night, to be sleeping in an empty bed.

     "No," Topher whispered, "we can do anything.  Anything you want."  He
leaned down, kissing a trail down Chris' neck.

     "Topher, I just," Chris whispered, hands absentmindedly running up
Topher's chest, fire spreading down his arms as he felt smooth skin and
long muscle, his head suddenly clear, the alcohol dissipating as Topher's
tongue licked at his neck and his hands running up under Chris' shirt.  "I
love Jake.  I can't do this to him."  He swallowed even though his throat
was dry, shut his eyes and just tried to push everything out of his head,
let his body move where it wanted.  He'd been in his head too much lately,
it was getting to be too scary of a scary place and he wanted to get as far
away from it as possible.

     "You're not doing anything to him, he's nothing right now.  I love
you, Chris," Topher whispered into his ear, voice dripping with desire,
laced with lust, "I've loved you since I saw you at that premiere."  He
pulled Chris' shirt up and felt a hesitant kiss at his neck, a jolt
flashing up his back and through his body as Chris' entire body seemed to
relax, suddenly responsive to every touch and caress Topher's body offered.
"I've always loved you.  I'll always love you."  His cock was harder than
he could ever remember, strained against his underwear as he pressed it
against Chris'.  His hands slid down to Chris' boxer-briefs, felt the stiff
shaft through the thin material, a long hiss escaping Chris' mouth.

     Chris' hands ran up Topher's back and settled on his neck, lips hungry
as he kissed him, eyes closed as smooth lips slid over his own and a shaky
hand fumbled at his groin.  It was so different than Jake, everything
seemed rushed and stilted at the same time, Topher's eager hands on his
body felt different, too, they were hesitant where Jake's were sure.
Comparisons flew through his head as Topher pulled his shirt off, their
smooth chests sliding against one another as Chris' breathing got heavier,
his eyes clouded with confusion.  He blinked and saw a glint of light flash
by Topher's neck, his ring catching the dim light from the hallway.
"Topher, stop."  His hands froze and Topher shot up, hand running over
Chris' hair and down his neck.

     "What?" he panted, "what's wrong?" He grimaced, the entire situation
was wrong and he regretted the instinctual reaction.  He looked at Chris'
eyes, followed them up and saw the shiny flash of light.  He kissed Chris'
again, tongue sliding against Chris' as his hand trailed up Chris' arm to
his hand, fingers gripping the ring around Chris' pinky.

     "No, no, don't," Chris whispered, scrambling to get his hand free from
Topher's.  He felt the ring slide off, but he grabbed it from Topher's
sweaty hand, not knowing what to do with it now that it was off of his
finger.  Topher grabbed it, throwing it onto the bedside table and pushing
his hand against Chris' cheek, the clang of the metal against the wood
ringing through the room as their eyes met again, one pair focused and
intense, the other cloudy, lost, "I have to...I need to..."

     "You need this, Chris, you have to forget about him," Topher said,
voice low and heavy, "I won't hurt you.  Ever."  He leaned down to kiss
Chris again, the ring forgotten when Chris' hands, no longer trembling,
reached for his aching shaft.

     The promise rung in Chris' ear, it was the same promise Jake had given
him--the one that Jake broke.  Topher groaned, sending Chris' thoughts back
into a swirl of confusion, he couldn't remember the last time his body felt
like this, the last time he had a body under him that was so willing and so
eager.  He pulled off his underwear, reaching for Chris' but stopped to
watch when he saw Chris' hands slide under the waistband, the thin fabric
sliding down lean legs as Chris rolled them over.

     "Topher," he whispered, but Topher stopped him, hand wrapping around
Chris' cock and stroking, amazed at every grunt and groan coming from
Chris' mouth.  Chris's read rolled back, neck inviting Topher's hungry eyes
and his slick lips.  Chris ran his hands through Topher's hair, shorter
than Jakes, finer.  He grimaced, pushing the thoughts from his head.  It
was all so different, nothing was the same and it didn't make any sense to
keep comparing.  He leaned down and kissed Topher again, fingers tracing
the contours of his cheeks, feeling the strong bones of his jaw, and down
his chest.  Their slick erections slid against each other and Topher almost
blacked out, it was all coming too fast.

     His hand pressed at Chris' chest, pushing him down onto his back
again, Topher straddling his hips, warm brown eyes staring up at him in the
dim light. He kissed down Chris' chest, warm skin under his hands and lips,
he tried his best to relax even though he could feel Chris tensing under
him, fingers twisting the bed linens when he ran his tongue up the length
of Chris' cock.  Sweet pre-cum pearled at the tip and he lapped it up,
Chris' foot running idly up his back as he tried to hold onto the control
he had, tried not to just buck wildly into Topher's mouth.  He grabbed at
Topher's hair when he felt warmth surrounding his cock, eager sucks and
tender licks up his shaft and light nibbles at his balls.  He clenched his
jaw when Topher stroked him, newly confident fingers wrapped around his
cock in quick, steady strokes.  He pulled Topher up, eyes open wide as he
looked up at Topher, face strained as his hands settled on the back of
Topher's neck and he just shot, hot white spurting up his chest as he
clenched at Topher's shoulders, body shaking and shivering as Topher kept
stroking.  Any coherent thoughts were replaced with struggled attempts at
groans and desperate gasps for breath.

     Chris shuddered and tried to just breathe, the gravity of everything
finally hitting him when Topher leaned down to kiss him again with a
newfound energy.  "Do I need to get a..." Topher asked, voice just as
breathy as Chris was, but he stopped when Chris shook his head.  If he was
going to go through with it, he was going to feel it all, every last ounce
of confusion and questioning, the guilt still weighing heavily on his
chest.

     He turned his head away when Topher's shaky hand lifted his leg,
resting it on his shoulder and lining everything up, both of them breathing
deeply, both their bodies gleaming with sweat.  Topher was shaking, so
nervous he could barely breathe, steadying himself against Chris as he just
let his body move, one fluid motion and he was where he'd always dreamed,
sheathed in a warmth and a tightness that he never thought he'd feel, his
entire body shuddered and he threw his head back, green eyes meeting a
blurred ceiling.  He groaned, finally glancing down to see Chris' body
under his, long and supple, reactive even though Topher wasn't moving yet,
shuddering as he soaked in the sensation, just feeling the stretch, the
burn, the ache of having something inside him.  It wasn't what he wanted,
it wasn't Jake, but it had already gone too far, his murky brain still too
frazzled to do anything as his hands held onto Topher's shoulders.

     "Fuck Chris, tight as...fuck," Topher groaned, eyes wide when Chris
pushed his hand against his mouth, silencing him.  He couldn't bear to hear
it, didn't know why every grunt seemed to burn into his head.  He arched
back, rolling onto his shoulders as Topher thrust in and out, every inch
forward or backward pulling or pushing a groan, a pant, a yelp from Chris'
dry throat.  Topher grabbed Chris hand, kissing his wrist as he pushed
forward, slamming back inside as he leaned down, lips connecting to Chris'
tense neck, feeling his pulse race and his slick palms try to hold onto
something, anything.  He'd never felt anything so tight and slick at the
same time, his pre-cum flowing as he thrust into the tight confines of
Chris' ass, feeling it squeeze every inch of his cock, every movement
sending ripples up his back.

     Chris tangled his fingers in Topher's hair, feeling the slick strands
in his hands as Topher's lips crashed into his again, nothing was going to
be the same again, he knew that much, and as Topher thrust in and out, he
never felt more numb.  He was going through the motions, his body
responding to every movement even though his head was somewhere else, his
eyes shut tight because he couldn't bear to open them and see Topher on top
of him, not Jake.  He pulled his leg down, bringing their heaving chests
together and rolling them over, forehead resting against Topher's shoulder
as he moved himself up and down, body running on adrenaline and instinct.
He could feel himself getting close, and as Topher reached for his cock, he
was almost relieved to feel the tingle in his balls, to know that it was
almost over.

     "Chris, God Chris," Topher groaned, and again, Chris had to shut him
up, couldn't stand to hear his voice.  Their lips connected again and
Topher's hand, slick with pre-cum, felt Chris' cock swell, hot spurts of
cum spilling over his fist as Chris' mouth opened in silent moans, his
movements erratic on Topher's cock.  His body fell slack and Topher pulled
and pushed, their bodies colliding and his hips moving again, thrusting
into Chris' shuddering body, every muscle sweaty and strained.  He felt it
in his toes, even in his ear, "I'm going to shoot, Chris, I can't hold it."

     "Not...inside," Chris moaned, pushing at Topher's hips, but it was too
late, he felt the searing heat shooting up into him and he cringed, left
hand covering his eyes as the right gripped at the sheets, Topher's body on
top of his, racked with shudders and spasms.  "Fuck," Chris groaned,
shaking under his body, Topher's lips on his again, gentle hands at his
jaw.  Topher fell on top of him, their bodies settling in an uneasy tangle,
Chris pushing his hair off his forehead, morning would come and he'd wish
it hadn't, he was sure of that much.

     "Love you," Topher panted, but Chris turned away, Topher's hand
reaching around for him, pulling their bodies together.  Chris tensed
again, but they were the only arms that would be around him that night, he
was grateful for anything.

***

     Topher opened the door, boxers low on his waist and his hair messy,
but Jake pushed the door open wider and walked right in, "Where is he,
Grace?"

     "Still sleeping, it's early," Topher said, watching as Jake surveyed
the living room, headed towards the bedroom with heavy steps.  He froze in
the doorway, Chris' prone body on the bed, thin white sheet covering him,
right hand hanging off the bed, pinky finger bare, just like the rest of
him.  Jake stepped back, it was exactly like he'd pictured the worst-case
scenario.  Jake shut the door and he turned around to see Topher in front
of him, toe to toe.  They couldn't be any more different, Topher's lean
body and smooth skin against Jake's more defined muscles, broad shoulders,
and scruffy face.

     "You lost your chance, Jake," Topher said, arms crossed over his
chest, a satisfied grin on his face as he watched the muscles under Jake's
thin t-shirt tense, his body bristling with every word Topher said, "he
came running and I just...I was what he needed."

     "He didn't need this.  If you think you're making things better,
you're wrong.  You were just taking advantage of him," Jake said, "don't
try to make it more than that."

     "Better than what he had, that's for sure.  I'd never do what you did
to him," Topher said, his voice accusatory, "he came to me."

     "We're in fucking England, Grace, where else would he have gone?"

     Topher's eyes narrowed, "Just can't stand that I've gotten everything
you want, can you?  I may not get the roles you do, but now I've got the
one thing you didn't think you'd ever lose."

     "Don't you ever fucking talk to me, Grace," Jake said, fuming, "I
never want to see you again.  I trusted you, he trusted you and you fucking
take the first chance you get," he shook his head, taking in a deep breath
and pushing every ounce of energy he had into holding back his tears and
his fists, "you don't know what you've done.  I know him better than you
ever will and I swear you've lost him before you ever had him."

     "You've got it wrong.  Take a look for yourself.  I haven't lost
anything.  It's you that's lost him."

---

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