Date: Sat, 4 Nov 2006 23:55:02 -0800
From: christopher. <christopherrluu@gmail.com>
Subject: breaking through part 30

Disclaimer: This is fiction.  This story implies nothing about the
celebrities mentioned.  This is my story, don't copy it.  This is intended
for adults, so if you're not allowed to read this, don't.

Author's Note: A big thanks to everyone who responded to the last chapter.
Stephen and Avy especially, together, we're like the three musketeers.

Sneak peeks for my story and other great Jake stories can be found at the
Gyllenhaal Chronicles group:
http://groups.msn.com/TheGyllenhaalChronicles/_whatsnew.msnw.  It's a great
place for fans of Jake fiction, give it a visit.

Feedback can be sent via e-mail to christopherrluu@gmail.com or you can
just tell me on MSN messenger by using my e-mail address.  I'll answer all
e-mails, so send them over.  Feeback only makes the next chapter come
faster, I promise.

Part XXX

     Chris was glad Jake hadn't seen him at the beginning, when he'd wake
up shaking, rushing to the bathroom to throw up, the rest of the day
alternating between shivering from feeling extremely cold, even under
blankets and jackets, to sweating profusely, even though he'd stripped to
his underwear and opened the two windows of his room.  It was better now,
waking up with just a slight headache, usually gone when the sweet, syrupy
methadone slid down his throat.  He never knew how much was in each little
cup, what the ratio of methadone to filler was, but every time it had the
same calming effect.  He felt like he could control himself again, if only
for a day, and that was enough to swallow and smile, set the cup down and
open his mouth for whoever was on the other side of the window that day, a
black checkmark near his name for the day marking the beginning, a catalyst
for whatever he'd do from that point on, until the next checkmark and then
the next one.

     Today though, it was Jake holding his hand, watching him with rapt
attention as he went through the motions that were so instinctual now.  He
set the plastic cup down and felt the relief flow through his body,
spreading from his stomach out to the very tips of his fingers.  It was
weird, he was feeling it less and less; he wondered how it'd be when he was
off it altogether, if he'd be able to deal with it when it happened.

     "That's it?" Jake asked, watching Chris' eyes shoot open, "are we
ready to go?"

     Chris only nodded, a slight smile on his face.  It was good to be
home, great, actually.  There was nothing like it, nowhere like it,
especially when the sun was shining, the air was salty, and he had Jake
holding his hand.  "I'm ready.  How much longer do I have to keep doing
this?"

     "You tell me," Jake said, eyes locked on Chris'.  Inside, he knew.  It
could end tomorrow.  It could have ended yesterday, the day before.  Chris
was drinking nothing but sugar water at this point, had been completely off
of anything while he was still in rehab.  It was completely psychological
now, Dr. Riley had told Jake that, but it was still up to Chris to figure
things out for himself, to find out for himself when he could stop.  It was
only his first day back; it wasn't time to start making drastic changes
already.  Jake wanted more than anything to tell him, but this was on the
checklist, completely committed to memory on the day he'd gone up to
Monterey to pick Chris up, "Ready to head out?"

     "Out or home?"

     "Whatever you want," Jake said, wrapping his arm around Chris'
shoulder.

     "When did you start wearing this?" Chris asked, pulling on the yellow
rubber bracelet around Jake's wrist, "living strong for anyone in
particular?"

     "I've got one person I'm rooting for," Jake said as they stepped out
of the doctor's office and into the sun.  There they were, the same streets
they'd always walk together, no matter the weather, because getting rained
on never bothered them, because the sunshine brought out the light brown
streaks in Chris' hair, because Chris just loved the city, loved being
surrounded by it.  It was the only place on Earth where he could walk
around, knowing every street and every store, waving to the baker where
they go their bagels, having the same person make his coffee every day, but
he had run away from that, too, when he ran away.  Jake needed it too and
he figured he'd gotten his fill, Jake didn't have anywhere but Santa
Barbara where he could walk and not be bothered, where he'd get his picture
taken even if he was just getting out of his car.  Jake needed it.

     "I'm looking forward to our bed," Chris said, "we could have gone home
right away.  I usually do this in the morning."

     "But you missed it today.  You weren't feeling off?"

     "There were too many other things in my head, I can't remember if I
had the shakes or not," Chris said.  Jake wove slowly through the familiar
streets, turned without even thinking, Chris' eyes glued on the passing
scenery outside the car window, "What was wrong with your old car?"

     "Just needed a change," Jake said.  He didn't want to mention how he
totaled the old Mercedes, had almost forgotten about it entirely, really.
He'd had his own demons to deal with.  He remembered the night of drinking,
crying to himself, ramming the car into a mailbox and then a streetlight.
He also remembered wondering why he'd survived.  Why did he get to live if
it only meant he'd have to keep waking up alone.

     Chris ran his hand over the dashboard, "It's just like the old one."

     "Newer year," Jake said, "but same model."

     "What did you do with the old one?"

     "Chris, lots of things have changed," Jake said, "not just the car.  I
want to tell you that before we get to the house.  You were gone for five
months, you have to realize that things don't stay the same."  His voice
got quiet, "The world didn't get put on hold for you."

     "Things change."

      "Yeah.  People change, too," Jake said.

     Jake pulled into the driveway and Chris' eyes lit up.  He couldn't
help a slight smile from forming on his lips.  From the outside at least,
the house looked the same.  Same manicured yard, plants still half-dead
from neglect, clinging onto their green.  Chris stepped out as Jake went
around, grabbed the box of Chris' things from the back seat, "Nothing too
drastic," Chris said, "yet."

     "It's nothing you can't handle," Jake said.

     He could hear commotion inside the house as they neared it, could tell
from that alone that there were people inside, "Who's there?" Chris asked
him, voice soft and quiet, reaching for the doorknob.  It was, like always,
unlocked.

     "Your family," Jake said.  His voice was steady and even, trying his
best to keep Chris calm.

     Chris froze, closing the door again, "I can't see them right now,"
Chris said, expression concerned, "I just can't.  Not like this."

     "They're not going to leave," Jake said, eyes softening, "it's just
Maggie and Peter.  Don't you want to see them?"

     "God," Chris sighed, face buried in his hands, "I'm such a fuck-up."

     "They don't care.  I don't, either.  What matters now is that you're
here with us, where you belong," Jake said, grabbing Chris' hand on the
knob, "open the door."

     He was frozen.  He'd let them down, all of them; everyone he'd looked
up to, and now he had to face them.  It scared him.  "It's no big deal,
Chris.  They probably already know more than you think.  Don't tell them
anything you don't want to."

     Chris took a deep breath, following Jake into the house.  From what he
could see right away, it all looked the same, smelled the same, and more
importantly, it felt the same.  He walked right past a dusty box in the
entryway; the Knopf logos printed on the side telling him it had been an
advanced shipment of his book.  He wondered how long it had been there,
wondered if Jake had left it there on purpose.  "I've got to clean up the
guestroom," Jake said, shuffling past Chris, "and there's a bunch of stuff
for you to go through in the mail."

     "Right now?" Chris asked, running his fingers over his face, the
beginnings of fear trickling into his mind, "what sort of things?"

     "I don't really know," Jake said, wrapping his arms around Chris
again, "it's so good having you back here," he whispered, running his hands
around Chris' waist, "when was the last time I kissed you?"

     "It's been a while," Chris said, turning around to face Jake, drawing
on the last vestiges of strength he had inside himself, "I never thought
I'd be back here, Jake.  I thought we were over."

     Jake pulled him closer and Chris found himself falling into those eyes
again, everything slowing down just the way it used to be, "Come here,"
Jake whispered, pulling Chris' lips to his, a wave of relief rushing down
both their bodies as Jake pulled Chris close, their lips coming together,
Jake's lips opening, exploring with his tongue again, reacquainting himself
with what had been so familiar.  He'd been holding it in since he'd been at
the center, since Chris walked into that office.  He didn't know how he'd
done it, but it was all out now, the emotion breaking free from whatever
had been holding it back.  He leaned into Chris, feeling Chris' hands slide
up to his shoulders, where they always ended up when they kissed, their
bodies moving together like no time had passed at all.  "It was San
Francisco," Jake whispered, his eyes still closed as he pressed their
foreheads together, running his nose over Chris', "San Francisco.  Five
months ago.  I can still remember how you tasted, how you smelled."

     Chris shivered, the emotions running through him fast.  He should have
been used to it by now, but every time it still hit hard.  "It's good
seeing you," he heard.  It was Peter, leaning against the doorway, "thought
we'd lost you for good."

     Chris nodded slowly, "I thought I'd lost you guys too."  He felt Jake
grab his hand, the warmth of Peter's expression never wavering.

     He walked over and pulled both of them into a hug, Jake still at
Chris' back, his head resting on Peter's shoulder, his body filling with a
sense of security, "Don't you ever do that again," he said sternly, Chris
thought he heard a soft chuckle, the tiniest hint of a tear coming through
his voice, "it's not just Jake, Chris, we were all worried about you.  I
meant it when I said that you were part of this family."

     "It's alright Peter, take it easy," Maggie said, Chris glancing up to
see her holding something in her arms, he blinked away the tears, wiped his
eyes to get a better look.

     "Wait," Chris said, pushing Jake and Peter away.  His breathing was
heavy, "You can't have...I wasn't gone long enough."

     "I wasn't showing yet," Maggie said calmly, eyes teary, Chris didn't
know if it was from happiness, relief, or if it was just sadness.  Chris
turned to Jake, his body shaking now, his feet ready to run right out that
door and get back in that car.  Rehab had been like a paradise, where
nothing from the real world touched him because he asked for it, no
magazines, no TV, no anything.  But he didn't realize that by cutting off
the entire world, he was cutting of the people that cared about him, too.

     Jake ran a soothing hand up and down his back, motion slow and steady,
"I'm an uncle," Jake whispered, "you are, too."

     "I can't do this," Chris said, sobbing now, "I can't.  I'm so sorry."

     "Be strong for me, Chris," Jake whispered into his ear, "it's only
because they love you, too."

     Chris blinked away the tears, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand
before he leaned against Jake, breathing in the comforting scent of his
cologne, feeling his steady heartbeat, "What's his name?"  Chris asked,
figuring it was a boy from the pale blue blanket he was wrapped in.

     "Aaron," Maggie said, "you want to hold him?  He could use another
uncle, Christopher.  You know how important it is to have a family."

     Chris stepped towards her, her eyes warm, the baby smelling of powder
and soap; he was warm in Chris' arms, Maggie running her fingers over his
soft forehead, placing a soft kiss on it before giving Chris one too,
smooth lips on his cheek, "This is what you've been missing, what we wanted
you to come back to.  But you're here now, so we've got to make up for lost
time."

     "I'm home," Chris said softly, eyes transfixed on Aarons' tiny
blue-green eyes, his tiny hands waving in the air like he was reaching out
for something he could see in Chris, "I'm not going anywhere.  I can't miss
anymore."

     "Come on, let's get you settled back in," Jake said, reaching for
Chris' hand again, "this is a lot to take in all at once."

***

      Chris sat down on the bed, same soft mattress under him, same white
on white striped sheets that he and Jake had always used, same everything.
He realized that he should stop noticing that everything was the same,
because up to now, the only things that had changed weren't visible-- they
were inside him and inside Jake.

     But what wasn't the same, that's what scared him the most.  Babies
were one thing, he could deal with that, but going through the mail, that's
what scared him.  People liked his book, wanted to know more about it,
wanted to know everything about it, but he wasn't there to answer.  He'd
let down people who didn't even know him, that he didn't even know, but
people who'd read what he'd written and been so affected by it that they
were driven to write something of their own.  That's what hit him hardest;
he'd disappointed people that knew him for his work.

    "You okay?" Peter asked from the doorway.  Chris looked up at him,
scared to even see what his expression was.  Slowly, eventually, he could
deal with letting down people he didn't know, but if Peter stood there
looking disappointed, he'd lose it.

     "I hope so," Chris said, seeing Peter's ever-present calm demeanor,
seemingly unfazed by all the emotion that was running through he and Jake.

     "I want you to know," Peter said, sitting down on the bed next to him,
pulling his head down onto his shoulder, "I meant it when I said you were a
part of this family.  You didn't have to run.  We were all waiting for
you."

     He could only nod, his head spinning with images of Peter calling the
police, calling his cell phone over and over, scouring the city of New York
for him.  He didn't know if it happened or not, but the guilt weighing on
his shoulders seemed to press the worst-case scenarios out into his head.

     "When I found out what he did, Chris, trust me, I wanted to punch him.
But what you did was worse.  It didn't just hurt Jake, it hurt every single
one of us."

     "I didn't mean to," Chris said, hand blindly reaching for Peter's,
seeking the strength and guidance that Peter was usually dishing out,
warranted or not, "I was so scared."

     "Still scared?"

     "More than before," Chris said, leaning into Peter, "but what's next?
I can't...I don't know what to do."

     "You've got time," Peter said, "and we're here for you."

     "You guys having sex in here?" Jake asked, poking his head in as he
let out a laugh.  Chris could hear the nervous energy coming from every
word, "Busy?"

     "Feels good to have everyone together, doesn't it?" Peter asked,
falling backwards on the bed.  He pulled Chris down too, their eyes fixed
on the ceiling.

     "What's going on?" Chris asked, getting back up, "why is everything so
weird?"

     Jake looked at him, eyes inquisitive, boring into his own, "We don't
know what to do."

     "I don't either," Chris said, a worried look washing over his face, "I
don't think you have to do anything.  Why aren't we just doing things like
normal?  Why aren't we at the beach or eating or something?"

     "Do you want to go to the beach?" Jake asked, hand reaching for his.

     "I don't want you to want to go just because I want to," Chris said,
exasperated.  He yanked his hand from Jake's, "I'm not unstable.  I don't
need someone to watch me all day.  I just got out what was just like a
fucking day care."

     "Nobody knows how to deal," Peter said, "it's not like you came back
with instructions."

     "Because I don't need any.  Just be you and I'll be me."

     "We're trying," Jake said.

     "You shouldn't have to be trying," Chris said, getting up off the bed,
"this is crazy.  I have to unpack my box.  My rings are still in there."

     Jake hadn't even noticed them missing, "I'll get it for you," Jake
said, starting to get up.

     "I can do it," Chris said, already halfway out of the room.  He walked
out, glancing into the guestroom, where Maggie was putting Aaron down for a
nap, his blue and white striped bassinette right next to Chris' old bed.
She looked up, but he was past the room before he noticed anything else.
He found the box, lighter than he expected, and took it out to the back
yard, the sunlight jarring his eyes.  He threw the top off, setting the box
on the wooden table that he and Jake had bought together, pulling out a
chair and settling in, rummaging through the box for the rings.

***

     "I can't do it," Chris said, "I don't take these off.  Ever."

     "It's part of protocol," the nurse said, opening a tiny brown
envelope, "you'll get everything back as soon as you're discharged."

     Chris slid the three rings off in one swift motion, likening the
entire thing to ripping a bandage off.  He looked down at his naked hand,
skin paler where the rings were, feeling suddenly naked, suddenly empty.
"Anything else?"

     "Shoes.  No laces allowed."

     "I'm wearing flip-flops."

     "Then you're done," the nurse said, shutting the box.  Chris felt more
alone than he'd ever felt before, without even the things that reminded him
of people, the only things he had were his thoughts, and those were
freaking him out more than anything else.

     "Nobody can know I'm here," Chris said, "I let everyone down."

     "That's not my department.  The doctors are going to take care of all
that.  Welcome to Pacifica."

     Chris was shaking, breaths coming erratically as he walked through the
building, steps deliberate, his heart sinking as he got deeper and deeper
into the complex.  There was no turning back now.

     "In here," he heard from an open door.  He glanced at the brass plate,
the plain black letters stark against the shiny metal: Dr. Geoff Riley.
The doctor got up from his chair and Chris watched as he motioned him into
the office and down to a chair.  Chris took an offered hand and sat down,
not sure how he felt, not sure what to think.  The only thing he was sure
of was that he wanted to get better and he didn't want to feel broken
anymore.

     "Fix me," Chris said before the doctor could say anything, "I don't
want to be me anymore.  I can't be this person."

     "Alright," the doctor said, impressed, "so we can skip the first part.
You've got a problem.  You know you've got a problem.  We're on the same
page."

     "I'm a fucking cliche," Chris said, "I don't want to be wasted
anymore.  I can't write, I can't do anything, I couldn't even see that I
had to get help."  He could feel the tears pricking at his eyes, the one
thought running through his head over and over still there: Jake would
never want anything to do with him now.  He was alone.

     "Well, you're here now.  So you're on your way.  Can you tell me
first, though, why did you start using?"

     Chris thought about it, didn't know how long he remained silent, just
looking at his hands, breathing slowly, in and out.  "I had to forget," he
said softly, afraid to even admit it to himself.

***

     Opening the box, he glanced at the journals first.  He'd have to go
through them later, it was too much to deal with right now.  Looking over
his shoulder, he couldn't see anyone in the living room of the house, but
he figured that everyone was talking about him.  They were probably
figuring out what to do to make him feel comfortable, but the fact that he
knew that only made him feel more uncomfortable.  Everything was fucked up,
inside and outside his head.

     He picked the box up again, shuffling across the green grass to his
studio.  He froze when the door opened, everything exactly the way he
remembered.  He didn't know what he expected, but just seeing everything
just like that, not one book out of place, not one thing different.  He set
the box down on his desk and walked around the tiny space, just absorbing
everything all over again.  It smelled a little stale, but other than that,
every single thing was like he'd left it.  It was like he'd gone right back
in time, before the heroin, before San Francisco, before New York, before
everything.  He didn't know whether to be scared or reassured, it just
seemed so odd to be back.

    Opening the box and tossing the journals onto the desk, he fished out
the same tiny brown paper envelope.  Tearing it open, he spilled the three
rings out into his open hand.  They were dull, scratched, and banged up;
they took his breath away.  He'd lost it, the love they represented, when
he had to take them off, but now he was back, Jake was just a few paces
away, he could run over there and kiss him, could feel Jake's skin against
his whenever he needed, could talk, could just lay there, Jake wasn't
something he was reaching for anymore, Jake was right there.

    But, he always managed to think of all the buts, why did Jake want him
still?  It'd been five months, he had to have realized by now that they
could exist apart.  "They went to get groceries," Chris heard, turning
around.  He slid the rings on his finger, the cool slick metal chilling his
finger for just a second.  Jake's voice was calm, his eyes intense,
watching Chris' every reaction, "So it's just me and you."

     Chris looked at him, leaning against his desk as he just tried to form
a thought, tried to come up with anything, "I'm sorry," he said softly.

     "You already said that.  And I already told you that you don't have
anything to be sorry about."

     "I can't believe...sometimes it feels like nothing happened at all,"
Chris said, "like when I saw this.  It's exactly the same."

     "I couldn't mess with this," Jake said, eyes turned down to the floor,
"but stuff did happen.  Even if it feels like nothing happened, you can't
forget."

     The words hit Chris hard.  Jake wasn't going to let him forget, no
matter how hard he tried to.

     "You grow from your experiences," Jake said, "so you can't just toss
them."

     "You've been around Peter too much," Chris said, a slight smile on his
lips, "you're starting to sound like him."

     "Come here," Jake said, "I can't get enough of you."  Chris let
himself fall into Jake's arms, felt the warmth and the security just
surrounding him all over again.  It was only the second time they'd hugged,
second time they'd gotten to touch each other.  Chris wondered when he'd
stop counting, when he'd stop coveting every single moment Jake still
wanted him.

     "I still love you," Chris said, "I never stopped.  I thought I could,
but I couldn't."  The words came spilling out as Jake held him tight, his
body shaken by ripples of guilt, of apology, of every emotion he'd held in
because he didn't want them to come out in rehab, he didn't want them to
think he was unstable, he had to be strong.  But now that Jake was touching
him again, looking at him the same way, "Do you still love me?"  His voice
was quiet, low; eyes looked at Jake's nose, too scared to look into the
blue of his eyes.

     Jake held him even tighter, took a deep breath, the smell of Chris
unchanged from the very first day they'd met, "I'll never stop," Jake said,
hands framing Chris' face as he brought their eyes together.  He noticed a
little difference, like something had literally opened Chris' eyes a little
wider, that he saw a little more of the world, the dirty gritty side that
he'd always been hidden away from behind ivy-covered walls and
overprotective minds, "As long as I'm still breathing, I'm yours and you're
mine.  I promised you: it's us forever."

     "Why is it so hard to keep such an easy promise?" Chris asked, voice
cracking.  He'd done too much crying already, in and out of rehab, he hated
it.

     "It's not easy," Jake whispered, "it's never going to be, not for us."

     "Why?"  Jake could feel Chris' body tense, but he held him steady.

     "It's never how it was, it's not how it's going to be.  We've just got
to live it."

     Chris nodded slowly, "It's hard sometimes, Jake."

     "It's hard all the time," Jake said, "but when I'm with you, when I
feel you, it's worth it."

     Chris didn't know what to say.  He just let Jake hold him, let himself
melt into the embrace.  "You won awards, Chris," Jake whispered, "you
missed out on so much."  He heard Jake's voice cracking, "I went up on
those stages by myself, getting awards you earned.  It killed me."

***

     "And did it make you forget about what you wanted to forget about?"

     "No."

     "Then why did you keep experimenting with," the doctor paused to
glance at his papers, "heroin?"  Chris wondered how much information Topher
had given them at the beginning.  Had he told them already?  The days
started to blur together as thought of heroin got replaced with real ones.

     "Because I found out that they actually made me think about it more.
I thought I was seeing it differently, but I wasn't."

     "And you kept going."

     "It scared me.  But I still wanted to see."  Chris could feel himself
tensing up.  He was supposed to be calming down, right?  Why wasn't he?
The image of Jake kept popping into his head: mad, angry, and disappointed.
He wouldn't be able to live with himself if Jake was disappointed.  "I'm
disappointed in myself," he blurted out, "because I let down the people who
cared about me."

     "Care, not 'cared.'  They still care about you."

     "How do you know?"

     "If they ever did care, they wouldn't stop just because of this.
You'll have a home to go back to, I can tell you that already.  A kid like
you?  They wouldn't let you go without a fight."

     "I'm not a kid."

     "Then why did you do something as immature as running away and
clouding your head with drugs?  You didn't learn anything in school?  'Drug
use is life abuse?'"

     "This patronizing is supposed to be helping me?"  Chris asked, face
angry as he started to get up out of the chair, "What the hell have I
gotten myself into?"

     "Nobody said anything about this being easy," Dr. Riley said, "sit
down.  You signed up for this."

     "You're supposed to be nice.  Doctors are supposed to help."

     "Here, nobody can help you but you.  We're only here to make sure you
do it right."

     "Can you do it without making me feel like such a failure?"

     "Are you a failure?" The doctor was writing things down, fast, Chris
noticed.  He ignored it, should have expected it.

     "You tell me."

     This was going to be harder than Chris though.  He wanted drugs.  Not
the ones he'd been taking, he just wanted some magic pill that would fix
everything, get him back to Jake in one piece, if that's what Jake wanted.
And if it wasn't, he thought, he just needed something to get him back to
where he could run away permanently.

     "What are you thinking right now?"

     "Are you my doctor, my psychiatrist, or what?"

     "Team captain," Dr. Riley said, "recovery is a collaborative effort
and you're the center of it all."

     "I don't want to be," Chris started, but the doctor interrupted him
again.

     "What are you thinking right now?"

     Chris was silent for a minute, the ticking of a clock the only thing
apart from their breathing that made any noise at all, "That I want to run
away again."

***

     "I haven't done this with you since...I can't even remember," Chris
said, voice soft as Jake held him.  They were at the beach, there because
Chris wanted to feel the sand in his toes again, to feel the wind blowing
across his face, because he wanted to be with Jake more than anything else.
The sun was setting, a rainbow of oranges and red fiery in the sky as it
faded slowly into purple, the tiniest suggestion of stars right above their
heads, "It's like it was right when we started out."

      Jake nodded, nose rubbing against Chris neck, arms pulling him tight,
"Right when I found you, I knew I could never let you go," Jake whispered.

     "Liar," Chris said, rolling his eyes.  A smile slid onto his lips and
he felt Jake hold him even tighter, "fine.  You might believe in love at
first sight, but I've fucked up so many times, I'm just waiting."

     "Waiting for what?"

     "For when you get sick of me.  When you don't want all this trouble
anymore."

     "I wouldn't know what to do without all this.  It's not trouble.  It's
life."

     Chris turned around, pushed Jake down to the sand, eyes rapt as he
took everything in all over again.  He'd dreamed about Jake's eyes, his
smile, their skin together, everything.  But here it was, right under him.
He ran his hand down Jake's face, fingers slowly sliding over smooth skin
as Jake grabbed his wrist, bringing his hand to his lips.  "I love every
part of you," Jake whispered, eyes locked on Chris', "from your fingers,"
kissed them lightly, smooth lips running over Chris' shivering digits, "to
your toes.  Everything--from your mistakes," he pulled Chris down, their
lips brushing as Jake talked, "to everything that you do right.  And I know
you don't think so, but no matter what happens, it doesn't change how I
feel about you."

     "I don't deserve that," Chris said, hands running down Jake's chest,
"I don't deserve you."

     "Stop saying that," Jake said, pulling Jake's lips to his own, hands
running down Chris' back; fingertips sliding up under his hoodie.  The
unbearable separation was showing itself, Jake's hands were erratic as soon
as they felt skin, Jake's breath stalling.  He was starting to believe that
he'd never get the chance again, that Chris was gone for good; and every
touch only proved that it was real, that Chris was here--hopefully here to
stay.  Their lips together only solidified the reality, their tongues
sliding together brining Jake back to the times when there was nothing but
Chris in his life. When everything he did, everything he thought about,
everything was about Chris, that was when he was happiest.

     "I dreamed about this," Chris whispered, hands running over Jake's
chest as Jake rolled them over, lips more forceful, tongue a little more
dominating.

     "How's that go?" Jake asked, grinning, "'dreamers often lie?'"  He
moved his lips lower, nipping at Chris' neck, slowly sliding his hands up
under Chris' hoodie.

     "You're quoting Shakespeare while we're doing this?" Chris asked,
breath quickening when he felt Jake's finger run circles over his nipples.
His voice got breathy, his body shivering under Jake's, "When you start
reciting Faulkner, I'll do anything you want."

     Jake's tongue flicked out across Chris' Adam's apple, "I saw the
beginning and now I see the ending," he whispered, "that one's your
favorite, right?"

     Chris held Jake's head still, trying to catch his breath, eyes skyward
as he breathed.  In and out, in and out.  The stars twinkled and Jake just
stayed still, letting Chris soak it all up.  "I can't believe you remember
things like that."  He'd done so much crying that he didn't know when it
really meant something, but as he held back these tears, he knew they were
because of Jake.  He might not have done it often, but when he did, when he
remembered things like that, Chris just felt himself melt.

    "I remember everything," Jake whispered, "everything you do, you say,
it's in my head somewhere.  In my heart somewhere."

     Chris tangled his fingers in Jake's hair, pulling him in for another
kiss, sliding his tongue between Jake's lips, everything tinged with
unfamiliarity, both excited to reacquaint themselves with each other.
"Chris," Jake said, voice breathy, eyes glazed, "I can't stop.  If we start
this, it's going to go all the way."

     "I'm not scared," Chris said, pulling his shirt off, lips attaching to
Jake's neck, "I want you back.  I want it back the way it was."

     Jake nodded nervously, hand running down the soft skin of Chris' back,
familiarizing himself again with ever ridge and every crevice, his soft
groans filling the room as Chris' lips and tongue went straight for the
spot under his ear.  He felt Chris' hands under his shirt, warm fingers
sliding over his skin.  They were getting closer and closer, almost
forgetting that any time had passed at all.  The way Chris' hands got his
pants open, the smooth motions of their bodies together, nothing had
changed.  Chris kissed down his neck, stopping only to get Jake's shirt
off, mouth going lower and lower.  He circled his tongue around the head of
Jake's cock, eyes shutting as he reveled in the sensation of Jake's cock
between his lips again.  He could hear Jake grunting under him, Jake's
fingers in his hair, shaky but still subtly pushing down, his head thrown
back as Chris took more of his cock into his tight throat.  Groaning, Chris
stroked Jake's thick cock, free hand coming up to lightly pull on his
balls.

     "Up here, come on," Jake whispered, pulling Chris up.  He looked down
to see Chris, blissfully ignoring his request, taking his cock deep into
his mouth again.  Jake shivered, eyes shutting again as he completely
forgot what he was going to do, Chris sucking hard on his dick.  He could
hear the slurping, feel the slippery warmth, it was too good to forget, he
dreamed about it all the time, but feeling it, actually having a hot mouth
down there sucking him--it was better than any dream.  He thrust up
slightly, feeling Chris' neck tense, felt him brace himself for the in and
out motions, his arms tense on Jake's thighs.  Jake let out a strained hiss
as Chris licked a hot stripe up his cock.  He gripped Chris' head firmly,
holding it in place as he thrust up, nothing on his mind but cumming.  He
needed to shoot and Chris' soft licks and gentle sucks, as good as they
felt, weren't getting him there fast enough.  He shoved his dick in,
feeling Chris gag, throat convulsing around his shaft for just a few
seconds before he let off, giving Chris a chance to catch his breath.  He
looked down, Chris mouth stretched around his cock, lips wet and shiny with
spit and pre-cum.  He grabbed Chris head and his entire body went rigid,
ropes of cum shooting up into Chris' mouth, a string of grunts and groans
filling the room as thick cum dripped down Chris chin, his tongue lapping
eagerly to get every drop.  Jake's entire body tingled as shivers ran up
and down his spine, his body shaking with spasms as he caught his breath.

     Chris sat back, watched as Jake came back down to earth, his mouth
full of salty-sweet cum, his entire body covered with a sheen of sweat as
he slipped his pants off.  He stroked his cock gently, smearing pre-cum
down his length.  Jake looked down and their eyes locked through the
darkness, nothing but moonlight filling his eyes.  Chris scrambled to his
feet and fell down on top of Jake, their bodies crashing together as Chris'
lips bore down on Jake's.  He felt Jake's tongue in his mouth, darting
around to find remnants of his orgasm as he slid his hands down Chris'
sides.  Times like this, when Chris' smooth body was right up against his,
motions practically automatic, Jake knew that they were made for each
other, every curve and valley matching exactly.  He gripped Chris' waist
tight and hoisted him up a little higher, his hard cock sliding up between
Chris' ass cheeks.  He heard Chris gasp, saw him stiffen at the sensation.
He looked up at Chris, a weak smile on his face as he pulled Chris' hair
off his forehead, pushing him down again so that their lips met.  Jake's
cock was slick with cum and spit, Chris' crack sweaty and slippery, every
inch of Jake's dick sliding up and down the crack.

     "Inside me, put it inside," Chris gasped, hand pushing down on Jake's
chest.  Jake nodded, sliding a finger down Chris' crack, circling the tight
opening, "just do it Jake, come on.  I need you."  Chris' voice was tight
and strained, his body quivering as Jake slid a finger in, crooking his
finger right onto Chris' prostate.

     Chris gasped, his head thrown back.  The head of Jake's dick poked at
his perineum, sliding, slick with pre-cum as Jake's finger worked inside
him.  Chris groaned, his jaw slack as Jake slid in a second finger; blue
eyes locked on lean muscle and smooth skin.  "Can't wait anymore, Chris,"
Jake whispered, his eyes half-lidded, "I fucking have to get in there."

     Nodding, Chris leaned down, forehead resting on Jake's shoulder as he
spread his legs further apart, grunting at the sensation of Jake's fingers
leaving him.  He gripped the cold sand, knuckles white as he remembered
knotting fabric and Jake slid in, but he gripped at nothing, grains sliding
through his fingers.  He let out a low grunt as Jake paused, just the head
inside.  Taking a deep breath, he slammed himself down, Jake's cock fully
inside him before any pain could register, before either of them could form
a second thought.  He slid up and down fast and quick, Jake's slippery cock
nudging his prostate on every move, his mouth attaching to Jake's shoulder
as he let the sensations wash over him.  Jake rested his hands on Chris'
thighs, feeling every muscle tense and relax under his touch, every inch of
his cock being squeezed by Chris' tight chute.

     "Fuck, Chris," Jake groaned, his voice trailing off as Chris silenced
him with a kiss, hands sliding through his hair, down his shoulders,
gripping hard as he moved faster.  Nothing was different.  They still knew
exactly what to do, knew every single spot, how fast, how slow, everything
was still the same.  Chris' eyes were shut tight, every breath labored,
every thrust of Jake's cock sending a shock through his body.  It was
everything he wanted, everything he needed to feel.  They were connected
again, Chris could barely feel where he stopped and where Jake started.
This was anytime, anywhere, it was the first time, it was their last time,
it was everything they needed.  Jake gripped Chris' hips tight, rolling
them over, lifting Chris' leg as he pushed Chris onto his side.

     Groaning, Chris bit his lip, Jake's cock sliding diagonally across his
prostate, pushing out a grunt with every thrust.  He opened his eyes,
watching Chris' body, tight and hot just like he remembered.  Thrusting in
and out, lips trailing over Chris' ankle, he slipped in and out, cock
pistoning into Chris' eager body.  Lithe and limber, Chris took it all,
reveled in every sensation as he stroked his cock, pre-cum smattering all
over his stomach.  He didn't want to cum, but his body did, he wanted it to
last forever, but his cock needed release.  Gasping, his eyes opened when
Jake grabbed his hand, his cock almost ready to burst.  Jake brought his
hand to his stomach, sweaty hair and hard muscle under Chris' fingers, his
eyes shut again as Jake thrust hard and fast, sweat dripping down his chest
in tiny rivulets, every muscle pronounced, every cord in his neck strained
and tight.  "Jake," Chris groaned, "Jake, come on..."

     Jake shook his head, leaning down.  His lips grazed Chris', their
breaths hot.  "Chris...love you, love you so much."

     Chris covered his eyes with his arm, other hand gripping the sheets
again, distracting himself from his own cock.  He wanted it to be good for
Jake, wanted what Jake wanted.  He bit his lip, every push and every shove,
fast or slow, sent his head spinning.  Jake was brining him closer and
closer but he managed to hold on, didn't want to cum if Jake wasn't
cumming.  Jake slammed into him and froze, "Close?" he gasped, eyes locked
to Chris'.  Chris nodded frantically, eyes showing his desperation. "What
do you need?" Jake asked, head fighting his body to stay still.

     "Need to cum...need you, Jake," Chris gasped as Jake swiveled his hips
slightly, "come on."

     "Tell me what you want," Jake groaned, "tell me what you need me to
do."

     "Fuck me," Chris groaned, "fuck the cum out of me."

     Jake slammed in, throwing Chris' head back into the sand.  He stroked
Chris' dick furiously, hand moving in a blur of up and downstrokes, Chris
grunting as he arched onto his shoulders, cum landing on his chest and
dripping down to the sheets below.  Jake thrust through the convulsions,
dick swathed in clenching muscle and tight heat with every movement.  He
ran his fingers through Chris' cum, feeling the thick hot juice sliding
between his fingers as Chris groaned.  He shoved his cock one more time,
pulling their bodies together as tight as he could, "You're mine," Jake
groaned softly, his cum shooting deep into Chris' body.  Chris was gasping
under him, hands running over Jake's cheek, their faces rubbing together as
Chris caught his breath and Jake's spasms subsided, "mine," Jake whispered
again.

     Chris scooted his body up against Jake's, fingers sliding over Jake's
sweaty chest.  He couldn't think, could do anything but settle into Jake's
body, wanting every inch of his skin to touch Jake.  He'd run away from it,
but now that he had it again, he knew he'd do anything to keep it.

     "Love you," Jake whispered, wrapping his arms around Chris, "don't go.
Don't ever go again."

***

     The train was bumpy and Chris couldn't sleep, he didn't know if it was
from the rough terrain, the bright sunshine beaming in through every
window, or his incessant thoughts about Jake, but his mind wouldn't relax.
The air in Santa Cruz was crisp, fresh ocean air mixing with pine trees and
the distinct scent of drugs and underachievement.  Chris knew what he'd
come for, the easiest way to forget anything, he'd heard from everyone in
college that Santa Cruz was the place to go to get drugs.  They were cheap
and they were easy to find.  But it was all word of mouth.  As Chris
stepped out of the train station, he didn't have any idea what to do from
there.  He had money in his pocket and as far as he was concerned, he had
nothing left to lose.

     The thing about college towns was that Chris ran the risk of being
recognized.  College kids actually read, actually paid attention to him and
the things he did.  He took another few steps towards the main part of
time, the bus schedule was easy here, he could get around on foot if it
came down to that, but he figured he should get a room somewhere, he'd need
a place to pass out, whether he got anything or not.  He'd lost his job,
essentially.  If he wrote and there was no way for half the country to read
it, there was no point in it at all.  He'd done everything, called
everyone, tried the most impossible things, and there was still no
progress.  Vivian had practically given up and he could tell Jake had been
worn thin, too.  He was alone.  He was the only person that wanted to do
anything about it, the only person that still had hope and wanted to find
the answer, to find out why and how Alec screwed him the way he did.

     It was obvious to everyone but him.  He didn't want to believe that
he'd pissed off the Clarksons enough for them to do this, but all signs
pointed to it.  It just seemed too easy, Chris thought, steps determined as
he walked down the main thoroughfare, little cafes and shops lining the
street.  Corporate America hadn't touched Santa Cruz yet, but Chris knew
that if he kept walking, he'd find a Starbuck's eventually.  This was a hub
of counterculture, but even rebels needed their coffee.

     "You look lost," Chris heard.  He turned around to see a young girl,
typical college co-ed in every way, blonde hair in loose curls around her
face, eyes sparkling as she tipped her head to the side, "and you look
familiar."

     "We probably had a class together," Chris said quickly before pausing,
"freshman seminar?  The one about," he hesitated, "Plato.  Symposium...cave
allegory?"  He took a few shots in the dark, hopefully getting at least
something right.

     "Awful class, wasn't it?" she said, rolling her eyes, "barely got
through it.  Fucking professors think they can do anything."

     "Yeah," Chris said, voice trailing, "I actually...I need something to
get my mind off of school right now, if you know where I can get
something."

     "Midterms are a bitch," she said, "I feel you."  Her voice got quiet,
"I can get anything you want."

     Chris nodded, not sure what to do next, his entire body tingling with
nervous anticipation.  If he could get anything to take his mind off of
Jake and his latest failure, he'd give this nameless girl anything she
wanted.  "Whatever you're into.  I just have to get out of my head.  Just
stop my brain."

     "You think you can handle it?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow, their
gait halting.

     "I got through that class, didn't I?" Chris said, feigning confidence.
It was the one thing he didn't have left.  He felt like he'd gotten stomped
into the ground; but he needed her on his good side.  He didn't want
anything that would only make his head fuzzy.  He wanted everything gone.

     "Good point," she said, "forget finding a place.  I can find a piece
of floor clean enough for you."

     Chris nodded, following her quick steps.  They made a few turns, Chris
silent as she kept talking, listing her grievances about school, tuition,
her lack of a steady job, and more than anything else, how there wasn't
enough time in the day to shoot up.  "You've got cash, right?"  she said,
breaking Chris' daze.

     "Yeah, yeah," Chris stuttered, "enough for the both of us."  A wide
smile spread across her face as she knocked on a door.  Chris looked
around, they were in an industrial part of the city, but Chris figured that
was to be expected.  The stale smell of nail polish remover and cleaning
chemicals hung in the air and he could feel his heart beating faster.

     "Hand it over," she said, holding out her hand.

     "How much?" Chris asked, digging into his pockets.

     "What have you got?" she said, not even bothering to turn around to
face him, her hand still open.

     Chris slammed two hundred dollars into her hand, hoping it was enough.
She turned around, nodding in appreciation, "This'll get us a good hit
tonight and tomorrow.  The good shit."

     Letting out a sigh of relief, Chris nodded.  She slid the money into a
mail slot and Chris watched as she waited, foot tapping on the concrete.
White clouds floated across the sky and Chris wondered how often she did
this, how the one time he was here, nobody else was around.  It was almost
too perfect.  "What are we waiting for?"

     "Hold on," she said, eyes locked on the door.

     "For what?  Nobody's here.  You tossed my money into an empty
building."

     "Hold your shit," she said, voice even and measured.  Chris wondered
how he managed to surround himself with people who were calm even under
them most trying situations.  Peter, Maggie, they both seemed completely
unaffected by even the most stressful times.  Was he the only person that
felt or was he just overdramatic?  He opted for the second; Maggie and
Peter weren't the ones waiting outside a warehouse with a complete
stranger.

     "What are you looking to do?" she asked, "forget about school or is
there more?  Broken heart?  Didn't get into grad school?  Pissed off your
parents?"

     "All of the above," Chris said, startled when he heard a knock come
from the inside of the warehouse.  She nodded, eyes sparkling as she
grabbed Chris' hand.

     "Around the corner.  We got the good stuff tonight.  Really good."

     "Wait?  What?  How do you know?"

     "Trust me, this is going to blow your mind."

***

     "Tell me you're not watching me sleep," Chris groaned, voice hoarse
and dry, his eyes still closed.

     "Didn't want to wake you up," Jake whispered, feeling Chris burrow
closer to him.

     "Never stopped you before," Chris said, hand running over Jake's
chest.

     "Are we getting out of bed?" Jake asked.

      "Not if your hand gets any lower," Chris said, grinning.  He'd woken
up alone for three months, nothing but the harsh buzz of his alarm clock
and the stark whiteness of his room greeting his eyes.  He always wondered,
dreamed maybe, that Jake might be there one morning.  It never happened.
It couldn't happen.  He'd been alone.

     "Are you asking or complaining?" Chris could feel Jake grinning, their
bodies pressed tightly together, "this could go either way."

     "You guys in there?" Peter said from the other side of the door.
Chris practically jumped out of Jake's arms, sitting up straight and
drawing the sheets up around his waist.

     "We're up," Jake groaned, "barely."

     "Someone's here to see Chris," they heard.

     "I don't want to see anyone," Chris said aloud.  He turned to Jake,
"Nobody knows I'm home."

      "Nobody knew you left," Jake said, running his hand through Chris'
hair, "I've given out more excuses than I can remember."

     "Jesus," Chris groaned, slipping out from under the sheets, "we're
going to have to go to the pharmacist, Jake.  I can't believe we slept in."
He rushed to the bathroom, half expecting to throw up, steadying himself on
the sink.  He'd done it a million times, looking up at the mirror to see
his bloodshot eyes, his skin a little flushed, his entire body tired.  He
couldn't stand to see himself like that, only made him want to get over the
entire ordeal faster.  But today, everything seemed different--his stomach
was fine, he actually looked like he got an entire night's sleep, and more
than anything else, he looked like himself.  He reached up, fingers
trailing over his own reflection, confused, awestruck.

     "You okay?" Jake asked, hands resting on his shoulders, his nose
nuzzling into Chris' neck.

     "Yeah, I think I am," Chris said, voice breathy as his words came
slowly, "wow."

     "Wow what?"

     "I think I'm me again," he said, eyes locking on Jake's in the mirror,
"I think I figured out what I was looking for.  I just...wow."

     "You did?" Jake asked, holding him a little tighter.

     "It was us.  I need us," Chris said, still not believing his own
words, "I just needed to know that there was still an us."

     "I promised you forever," Jake whispered, "and I know I fucked it up,
but there will always be me and you.  I've never, never ever loved someone
the way I love you."

     "Jake," Chris said, turning around to face him.  He shook his head,
eyes flashing from side to side, couldn't bear to look Jake in the eye
after hearing something like that, "I...," he hesitated, "what do I say
after that?"

     "You don't have to say anything," Jake said, resting his forehead
against Chris' head, hands running down Chris' arms, "just know.  I need to
know that you know."

     "I know," Chris whispered, eyes shutting as he leaned back against
Jake.

     A few minutes later, Chris wandered out to the kitchen, the smell of
coffee bringing him into the sun filled room, feet stalling as he saw who
was sitting there at the counter with Peter.  He wasn't expecting a morning
of revelation, at least not before his coffee, but there it was.

     "Five letter word for friend?"

     "Topher?" Chris asked, his head not believing his eyes.

     "That's umÉ," he counted on his fingers, "six letters, Chris," Topher
said, putting his pen down.  Chris' breathing quickened when he saw those
green eyes and that familiar smile, "but what does a crossword know?"

***

     The rain stopped.  Chris smiled, chuckling slightly as he pulled his
hoodie on and slipped his shoes onto his feet.  They could get some more
now, the constant cycle of dependency and withdrawal creeping up on him
faster than he could handle.  He'd lost track of time, the days blending
into hazy blurs, meals taken when he was hungry, his head spinning with
every rushed injection, everything just blank.  He reveled in it, a strange
sensation always tingling inside him, not knowing what day it was, not
caring at all.  Sleeping most of the day away and shooting up whenever he
got a chance.  He had nothing to lose anymore and every time he got a rush,
it only reminded him what he was getting away from.  He had to get away.
It was almost too easy to fill up a syringe and forget, he could almost
push out the pain, replace it with reverie in one easy step.  He'd tag
along to get the heroine in the beginning, but now he could practically
walk the steps in his sleep, knowing every turn and every nuance of the
neighborhood.  He knew how to knock, how much to pay, where to pick up the
tiny packet after.  It was like his old routine, only he'd replaced coffee
with something much more sinister.  He shook his head thinking about it,
wondered sometimes what Jake would think of this, but whenever that
happened--and it happened often--he'd have to take another hit to get Jake
out of his head.  Nothing killed a buzz like reality.

     He went through the motions, everything automatic now, and just a few
minutes later, he was plodding along through the puddles, splashing a
little more than necessary as he held the packet of white powdery rocks
tight in his pocket.  That alone got him a little bit of a rush, he was
doing something he wasn't supposed to, his entire body tingling just
knowing that.  Everyone he passed: every college student, the mothers, the
children, nobody knew.  It was just him.  He'd been sleeping on a floor,
drinking bad coffee, wearing the same two outfits over and over, his days
spend half writing and half staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell
he'd do as soon as the high wore off.  But this was another kind of high,
one that was completely different from the drugs.  He was being a
troublemaker and he wasn't used to it.

     A few blocks, maybe one or two more to go, and reality came crashing
back into him.  He could remember everything, exactly how hot the sun was,
exactly what he was wearing, right where he was, the way his heart just
stopped when it happened.  He still wondered how exactly the stars aligned
to have it happen, but it did.

     "Christopher," he heard.  He froze.  The voice brought back
everything--good and bad.

     "No way," Chris said, "you've got to be kidding me."

     "What the hell are you doing here?" Topher said, eyes bright and arms
wide open, "I can't believe it."

     "Me?" Chris asked, shifting the attention away from himself, "what
about you?"

     "I'm doing research for a movie," Topher said, "I could have just
asked you what philosophy majors and professors were like, but you
know...we're not talking and all."  His voice softened and he finally
lowered his arms.  Chris was standing a few feet from him still, unusually
stiff, cold.  "You look...," he hesitated, "a little thin.  Still riding
bikes?"

     Chris slid his hands into his pockets, slouching slightly as he looked
down at his feet.  He remained silent.

     Confusion furrowed Topher's face, "What's going on?  I thought things
were okay.  Do you want to get something to eat?  Maybe come back to my
room for a little?  We should catch up.  Haven't talked to you
in...forever, it seems."

     Nodding, Chris couldn't come up with anything, no reasons why not, not
even an excuse.  Part of him wanted to go, the relief of seeing a familiar
face washing over him.  Just knowing that there was an outside world, away
from his highs and lows, a world that seemed to still care about him.  "Is
it far?"

     "Not at all," Topher said, smile back on his face.  Chris seemed
distant, but being with him for just these few moments, Topher could tell
that nothing had really changed.  There might have been a little less
sparkle, spirit a little broken, but he'd get that information out of Chris
soon enough.  Good news was always supposed to come first.

     "Sit wherever you want," Topher said as soon as they got to his hotel,
"it's not a mess yet, but you know how it'll get."  He smiled, white teeth
gleaming, green eyes bright and vibrant.  It was such a change, Chris
thought, to his world of gray fuzz, where things alternated between haze
and an almost unbearable stimulation.  He shivered thinking about how long
it'd been since he'd gotten a rush.  Last night?  This morning?  He
couldn't even remember.

     "I need to use the bathroom," Chris said, standing up again, head
spinning from that simple motion.  Maybe he'd done it too fast, he thought.
Spoon.  He'd need a spoon and a lighter.  He didn't have anything.  Panic
struck him, his entire body going rigid.  He grabbed the back of the couch
for support and Topher's face changed instantly, concern and confusion
marring his gentle features for the second time.

     "Are you okay?" Topher asked, stepping closer, "something's not right,
Chris."

     "I'm fine," Chris said, sitting back down.  He was shaking all over
and he felt nauseous.  It never happened before, but he couldn't remember
the last time he went without a hit in the morning.

     Topher grabbed his shoulders, their eyes locking together, "What are
you doing here, Chris?  Where's Jake?"

     He had to have looked awful if Topher was bringing up Jake.  He
averted his eyes, stared into space as Topher examined his vacant
expression.  Chris felt hot suddenly, his body struck with a wave of heat.
Topher's hands ran down his arms to grab his hands, "Are you sure you're
okay?"  he asked again.

    Chris yanked his hands from Topher's to pull his sweater off, his thin
t-shirt even feeling too warm, "Topher," Chris said, "nothing's going on."
His eyes grew unfocused, everything starting to blur together.  He leaned
forward, hands reaching for Topher's slim shoulders, he leaned forward,
lips grazing Topher's neck, "Do you still love me?"

     "Chris, what's going on?  Come on, this isn't right."

     "Jake doesn't love me anymore," Chris whispered, sliding his hands
down to Topher's waistband, his head spinning now, tears pricking the back
of his eyes, "need you to love me again."

     His lips sought Topher's, but Topher pushed him back slightly,
confused and disoriented.  Chris' hands were still on his crotch, one
reaching into the waistband of his boxers, fingers seeking his dick.
"Chris, no," Topher said weakly.  Chris' lips reached for his again,
meeting their mark as they crashed together, Topher's tongue instinctively
sliding between Chris' thin lips.  He felt Chris groan and his hands slid
under Chris' t-shirt, feeling sweat damp skin.  He slid his hand higher and
realized Chris' body was cold, shivers not from sensation, but from actual
lack of body heat.

      "Whoa," Topher said, pulling away and stepping back, "Chris," he
said, shaking Chris by the shoulders, "what the hell is going on?  You're
not okay."

     "No," Chris said, face pained, "I just need..." his voice trailed as
he reached for his sweater, stumbling onto the floor.  Topher fell to his
side, reaching for his jacket and fumbling through the pockets.

     "What do you need?  An inhaler?  Medicine?  What is it?"  Topher's
fingers felt something and he pulled it out, a small baggie of white rocks
in his hand.

     He froze.

     His hand shook just looking at it, "Chris," his voice was shaky, "what
is it?  You're not...you can't be."

     Chris looked up at the ceiling, hand covering his face.  He didn't
want to cry.  He didn't want Topher, he just needed someone.  He needed to
know that someone still cared about him.

     "Chris, come one.  I'm getting you out of here," Topher said, pulling
Chris up.  Chris' eyes were glazed, his body limp.

     "Nobody loves me," Chris said, voice flat and dry, "I had to get
away."

     "I'm going to get you some help, Chris, come one, just help me out,"
Topher said, struggling to get Chris up onto his feet.

     "I love you," Chris whispered.

     "I love you too, Chris, I really do."

      There was a long pause, Topher trying desperately to get Chris up off
of the floor.  "Help me...please," Chris finally said.  And then the tears
came.

***

     "I'm home," Chris said, sitting down across from Topher, a cup of
coffee warming his hands, "because of you."

     "I know," Topher said, nodding slowly, "and you look good.  Really
good."

     "What would have happened if you didn't run into me?" Chris asked, "I
can't even begin to think about where I'd be, what I'd be doing."

     "Then don't think about it," Topher said, "you don't have to.  You're
home, you've got Jake, and you're back where you belong."

     "I am," Chris whispered, watching the spirals of vapor come off of his
coffee, "but what now?"

     "Anything," they both heard from the other side of the kitchen.  Jake
walked up to them, wrapping his arms around Chris' shoulders, "because
whatever you want, I'm there too."  Jake ran his nose through Chris' messy
hair, "I'd give you the world if it meant you'd be mine forever, Chris.
Don't forget that."

     "He's not going anywhere, Gyllenhaal, we all know that," Topher said,
sitting back in his chair, "why would he leave this?"

     Jake's arms held Chris tightly, possessively, "Things happen, even
paradise can get fucked up," Chris said, voice flat, "but..."

     "There's always a 'but,'" Jake said, "'but' I don't care.  No matter
how bad things get, don't you ever run away again."

     "Jake, come on," Chris whispered, pushing his arms off, "I owe Topher
a lot."

     "We both do," Jake said, eyes moving up to meet Topher's, "and nobody
knows that more than me."

     "I couldn't not help you, Chris," Topher said, chucking nervously,
"but seeing you like this, it's almost like nothing happened at all."

     "Hey, stay," Chris said, "everyone's here already, we should have a
barbeque or something."

     Topher looked at Jake, who seemed resigned, blue eyes fixed only on
Chris, arms drifting back up to Chris' shoulders.  "I'm not doing anything.
No plans at all," Topher said, "and you guys have a nice couch."

     "You've crashed on it before," Chris said, smiling, "let me get it
cleaned up and you can spend the night at least.  I can't say 'thank you'
enough."

     They both watched Chris walk out of the room, coffee forgotten as he
distracted himself with the idea of a party and even more guests.  He
peeked back into the kitchen, watching Jake sit down in his chair, sipping
his coffee.  He took a few steps back in, leaning down to kiss Jake's
cheek, "Love you," he whispered, "never thought everyone, all of us, would
be here together."

    "He really loves you, too," Jake said to Topher as soon as Chris left
again.  He looked down at his hands, his coffee, "There's something about
you that keeps him thinking about you."

     "He doesn't love me the way he loves you," Topher said, "never has,
never will."

     Jake nodded, he could finally see it.  Topher wasn't a threat anymore;
not after all this.  He reached across the table, patting Topher's shoulder
firmly before gripping it, "Thanks, Grace," Jake shook his head, tears
pricking at his eyes, "I don't know what I'd do, where I'd be if you didn't
do what you did.  You didn't save just him, you saved both of us."

     "Just did what you would have done," Topher said.

     "But you did it.  That's the difference.  I was here and you did
something.  Every time something happened--the baby, the awards he got
while he was gone, everything.  He missed it and I couldn't do anything."

     "Hey," Topher said, "just right place, right time."

     "I know that's like," Jake said, smiling slightly through the tears
that threatened his eyes, "it's how we met.  But no matter how hard I
tried, I couldn't be in the right place or find the right time."

     "Hey," Chris said softly, coming back into the kitchen, Aaron bundled
up in his arms, "Uncle Jake's going to hold you now, okay kiddo?" he
whispered.  Maggie and Peter came in a few seconds later and Chris beamed,
his finger caught in Aaron's tiny fist, as he kissed his forehead gently,
whispering, "everyone's here now.  Me, you, Uncle Jake, mom, dad, and
Topher.  The whole family."

---

Feedback? christopherrluu@gmail.com