Date: Tue, 2 Oct 2007 22:30:32 -0400
From: christopher. <christopherrluu@gmail.com>
Subject: breaking through part 39

Usual disclaimers apply.  Don't read this if you're not supposed to,
especially if it's because you're too young.  This story contains
fictionalized situations involving real and fictional characters.  No
offense is intended.  To my knowledge, this work is all original, since it
came from my own head.

Author's Note: Deep apologies must be doled out to every single one of my
loyal, dedicated readers.  I have to apologize for not responding that that
last round of E-mails, ignoring them, and/or not knowing what to say
regarding the tardiness of this installment.  So, I am very sorry to anyone
who was waiting for this chapter.  Breaking Through will not be ending as
far as I know.  If and when I plan on ending the story, there will be more
notice than just a stop in posting.  Thanks again for the messages of
encouragement.  Please feel free to E-mail me at christopherrluu@gmail.com,
find me on AIM or MSN messenger.

I must also apologize, in the rush and excitement of this post, I didn't do
a very careful job of editing.

Part XXXIX

     Chris pulled his notepad out of his back pocket and scribbled, 'If I
don't get better, tell her to just stay home.'

     Jake leaned over to look at it, eyes scanning the text.  It was neat,
even though Chris had rushed to write it.  His eyes jumped up to Chris';
"No," he said flatly, "she's been looking forward to this all month."

     'It's not funny,' Chris wrote, eyes narrowing as Jake chuckled.

     "Yes it is."

     Chris leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.  Jake
looked into his eyes, noticing now more than ever that they were just as
expressive as his words.  Chris scribbled two letters on his pad and pushed
it over to Jake, throwing his hands up into the air in defeat.  'GQ.'

     "Shit," Jake said, "you can't tell them now."

     Fishing his phone out of his jeans, Chris fiddled with the buttons and
shoved it into Jake's hand.  The screen read 'Celeste,' and Jake watched as
Chris went to order another coffee.  Before Celeste even picked up, Chris
was back to grab his scratch pad, his expression short and his steps heavy.
It was only the second day.

     "Laryngitis," Jake said, half-panicking as the phone chimed with
Celeste's usual peppy voice, "he won't be able to do the reading thing."

     Chris sat back down, idly stirring his coffee as he watched Jake, "She
says she's going to call right back," Jake said, handing Chris his phone
again, "she always comes up with something."

     'I haven't seen the pictures yet,' Chris wrote.

     "They're at my parents' house," Jake said, "I don't know why they're
there.  Mom said they're fine."

     'Mom doesn't read GQ,' Chris wrote, flipping the page, 'you need to
get them.'

     "She still doesn't know about New York," Jake said.  He let out a
little laugh and Chris rolled his eyes.  It was funny to everyone except
him.  Speaking was something everyone took for granted, he thought.
Communicating with his little pad of paper and exaggerated gestures was
getting tiresome and on top of his hectic promotional schedule, he ha a
million things to do with Jake.  The more things started piling up, the
more he just wanted to go home and hide under the covers with Atticus.  "I
said you couldn't talk about it."

     'Very funny.'  Underlined twice.  Jake looked him in the eyes and his
expression softened a little.  The tiniest inkling of a smile tugging on
the corners of his mouth as Jake's eyes pleaded for some sort of change.
Anger wasn't becoming at all and Jake was glad Chris didn't ever dabble in
it for very long.

     "Ready to go?" Jake asked, "now that you've got some caffeine in your
system you can learn sign language."

     Chris tapped the same page on his pad.  He showed Jake the only word
he knew in sign language, the one finger conveying most of his emotion at
the moment, a smile on his face for the first time all day.

     "You know, if laryngitis was contagious, I'd still want to kiss you,"
Jake said, "who needs to talk?"

     Chris smiled, biting down onto his lower lip.  "I love you," Chris
said quietly, his voice cracking, barely audible.  It was so soft, so
insignificant.  It was so quiet and so foreign that he barely recognized
his own voice.  He was taken aback, blinking quickly as his fingers came up
to feel his throat.

     "I love you, too," Jake whispered, grabbing Chris' hand, "it's going
to be okay.  You're going to be okay."

***

     "What are you doing back?" Jake asked, his forehead furrowed as he
slid his phone back into his pocket, "what happened?"

     Chris didn't say anything, just glanced around the lobby of the New
York Times building.  He'd been to the city a million times for meetings
with GQ and for the New Yorker, but this time, one of the only clear times
he had something specific to do, he couldn't bring himself to do anything
at all.

      "What am I supposed to do?" Chris asked, voice shaky, "I can't
believe we wasted all the time to come out here.  Are they going to print a
correction?  'Oops, nevermind, Christopher Lewis is a genius after all.'"

     "Chris, stop."

     "This had to go through some editors or something.  Obviously there
was more than one person who thinks that the story is bad."

     "No.  It wasn't," Jake said, grabbing Chris' shoulders, "I read it and
I loved it.  Don't let them make you doubt yourself.  They don't deserve
the satisfaction."

     Chris turned to look at the elevator again, "Jake, I don't even know
who it was.  I don't remember."

     "I brought it," Jake said, pulling the folded clipping out of his
pocket, "ask for her.  Go up there and tell her that she has no right to
say those things about your work."

     "It's her job," Chris said flatly, stepping back a little.

     Jake panicked.  With every passing moment, Chris seemed to be
shrinking away, retreating into himself and shying away from the
confrontation Jake was convinced he needed to have.  "What's going on?  You
were so gung-ho about it this morning."

     "I just don't know.  It seems...really childish.  Let's just go.  I'm
sorry," Chris looked up into Jake's eyes, "I'm just..." he sighed and Jake
followed him out into the city, still wondering how Chris had been defeated
so easily.

     "All you have to do is go up there and ask for this Stephanie and get
the job done."

     "What do I say?  She's doing her job.  I'm doing mine.  I think I just
overreacted," it was like the realization was coming to him as soon as the
words came out of his mouth.  Both of them had overreacted, but Chris
seemed to be the only one who saw it.  "It's just hard after so many good
reviews."

     "Fine.  You go back to the hotel.  I'm going to talk to her.  It's my
job."

     "Don't," Chris said, grabbing Jake's arm, "they won't do anything."

     "I'm not doing nothing," Jake said, "go back.  I'm going to talk to
her."

     "No," Chris said, his body stiffening; he repeated himself again, "we
overreacted.  Let's just go."  He knew he sounded whiney, maybe a little
scared, but the longer they stayed near that building, the more and more he
just wanted to run away.

     "Fine," Jake said, "you go back.  I'm not going to talk to her, but
I'm not leaving yet."

     "Promise me that you won't," Chris eyes were tinged with anger, "I
don't go into fights I know I'll lose.  This is one of them."

     Jake raised his hand, a cab coming to a slow stop right there, "I'll
be back as soon as I can."

     "Don't," Chris said one more time, "I'm serious."

     "Don't worry," Jake said, "I'll bring you back something nice.
Promise."

     "I don't need anything.  Just get in the car."

     "Give me an hour.  I promise you'll still have a bad review after.
I'm not shaking anything up.  Just go," Jake opened the door and stuck his
head in, "Astoria.  Park and...Fiftieth."

     Chris' forehead furrowed as he got into the car, speechless.  He
watched Jake wave at him as the car drove through the New York traffic,
Chris' eyes glued to Jake's body until he disappeared from sight.

     As soon as he saw Chris turn around, Jake rushed into the Times
building, his fists balled tight and his heart beating faster with every
step.  A few smiles and well-worded questions got him right to the Arts
department, and from there, it wasn't hard to get past the maze of office
doors, cubicles, and secretary's desks.

     "Stephanie Krauss," Jake said, voice stern and solid, "it's important.
Very important."

     "Let me check her schedule for today," the secretary said, flustered
not only by Jake's sudden demand, but by Jake himself.  He could be
imposing, putting every part of his six-foot frame to work that much
harder.  But he stepped back a little, suddenly coming to Chris'
realization that he didn't have any idea what he was doing now that he was
only steps away from the person who got so far under their skin that they
flew across the country without a plan.

     "I didn't think you'd actually come out here."  Jake turned around at
the voice, Stephanie leaning against the frame of the office door, "Why
don't you come in?"

     "I don't think a letter to the editor would have been enough to
express my ideas," Jake said, "I'm a concerned reader."

     "Come in," she insisted.  Jake took one long breath and followed her
in, the door shutting behind him.

     "You have no right to write what you did," Jake said, "I've read bad
reviews.  This wasn't a review, you wrote it to hurt him.  This was an
attack."

     "As much as I'd love to hurt him..."

     "You don't even know him," Jake interrupted.

     "You're both so self-involved," Stephanie interrupted right back, "I
went to school with him.  I had classes with him.  I know him.  I wish I
didn't, but I do.  I've even met you.  I had every right to write this.
But regrettably, Mr. Gyllenhaal, I didn't."

     Jake froze.  "I...we..."  Jake pulled the clipping out of his pocket,
"you're name is right here."

     "That's my name, but I didn't write it."

     Jake was confused.  Silently, he waited for Stephanie to keep going.

     "I have the credentials.  That's why my name is on it.  I wouldn't
waste my time reading your boytoy's bullshit.  I assigned it to someone
else."

     "So you don't...you didn't write this," Jake's voice was flat, his
words stumbling.

     "Just the headline," Stephanie said, arms crossed, "you need to talk
to Kurt.  Kurt Landis."

     "Who?" Jake asked, voice shaking.  He couldn't believe it, "You said
Kurt Landis?"

     "I don't stutter," Stephanie said, "he's down the hall.  Name's on his
door.  Go bother someone else with your grief.  You're not getting a
retraction. If I had my way, he'd never get printed again.  Spoiled brats,
both of you.  I'm not giving him anymore attention in this paper."

     "Grow up," Jake said, "and don't you ever get your kicks making
someone I care about doubt himself.  Find another way to make yourself feel
better than everyone else.  Just don't involve Chris."

     "I think we're done," Stephanie said.

     "We are," Jake said, turning around before she could get in another
word, "for good."  Jake walked down the hall, his mind doing flip-flops as
his eyes shot from door to door, looking for Kurt Landis' office.  Stopping
in front of it, he let out a long breath, swallowing and steadying himself.
It'd been too long since he even thought about something like this.

      Suddenly, the door swung open and Jake was face to face with Kurt.
Both of them were equally shocked, faces mirror images of confusion; they
both took a step back, the silence lingering between them.

     "You look exactly the same," Jake said, finally speaking.

     "I never thought I'd see you again," Kurt said slowly, every word
softer and softer as he stepped backwards into his office, "it's been a
long time."

     "You always wanted to work for a paper," Jake said, still frozen in
place, "you got it."

     "Wasn't easy, no way.  Listen, I know...I know why you came.  I didn't
really have a choice.  She's my editor.  I never wanted to hurt you or him.
I was just doing my job.  Every time she read it she said it was too fluffy
or too nice, she said she'd pull it if I didn't do it.  I needed the
byline."

     Jake scratched his head, but Kurt interrupted him before he could say
anything, "It's press, Jake.  Good or bad, it's something."

     "Don't spew that bullshit," Jake said, the shock and confusion
breaking away into anger, "I care about him--more than anything.  When he's
hurting, it hurts me."

     Kurt stepped back, "I'm glad you found someone, Jake, I'm sorry we had
to meet again like this, but there's nothing I can do."

     "Fine," Jake said, throwing his hands up, "guess I deserve to have my
heart broken, too.  Don't expect to see me again."

     "I told you, I never did," Kurt said, leaning back onto his desk, "I
haven't thought about you for years.  Imagine how hard that is for me.  Not
everyone gets the privilege of having their ex and their new beau plastered
on magazines every single week."

     Jake backed down, "It's never easy.  I'm sorry.  For then and this.  I
don't know if I ever told you."  Like most people, Jake didn't like to
think about breakups.  Nobody meant the words they said andbetween the
emotion, the disappointment, and the heartache, Jake was surprised that
anyone even remembered their exes names.

     "You tell him I said 'sorry,' but that's all I can do."

***

     "How was I?" Topher asked, "you can't expect much with a few hours
notice."

     Chris pulled him into a tight, warm, hug.  "Thank you so much," Chris
whispered, his voice still tinny and dry.  Topher let the relief wash over
him, let the warmth of Chris' embrace spread through his body.  Chris was
genuinely amazed, genuinely grateful that he could count on the people in
his life this way.

     "Jake was better though, wasn't he?" Topher asked, pulling away.

     Chris shook his head and pulled out his scratch pad, "Distracted?" he
wrote.  He crossed out the question mark and underlined the word.

     "Nervous?" Topher asked.  Chris shook his head and Topher shrugged,
"You should talk to him.  When you can talk, I mean, not...you know what I
mean."

     "I can talk," Chris said, voice still raspy and quiet, "I just sound
like I've been smoking since I was two."

     "Then don't talk," Topher said, "jeez, listen to some advice for once.
Doctors are doctors for a reason."

     "Sorry," Jake said, ambling over to the both of them, "I didn't...I
don't usually mess up.  Especially not important things like this."

     "Nobody noticed," Topher said, "except people who already read the
story.  It's only been out three days."

     "Or people with eyes and ears," Jake corrected him, "Chris, I'm
sorry."

     Chris ran his fingers over Jake's jaw and pulled him into a tight hug,
Jake's body tense and nervous, his heart still beating fast as he tried to
calm down.  "I'm sorry," Jake said again.  The party had only started and
the only thing he wanted to do was grab Chris by the hand and get out of
there.  "I'm going to get a drink," he sighed, slipping from Chris'
embrace.

     "I didn't think it was that bad," Topher said, watching Jake go
through the crowd, "what exactly did he do wrong?"

     All Jake did was mix up his notes.  Moreover, he managed to brush it
off with a joke and the entire room had forgotten about it as soon as he
started reading again.  Chris didn't know why he was making such a big deal
over something so small, especially since everyone here was a friend.
Chris coughed, trying to clear his throat, "Something's wrong."

     Topher nodded, silently moving a little closer to Chris.  "Hey," he
whispered, "you're the only one that knows for sure."

      Chris slid his jacket off and Topher offered his hand, sighing as he
watched Chris follow Jake's path.  "You're a good friend," he heard over
his shoulder.

     "Jonas," he sighed, "sometimes you've just got to do it."

     "Do what?"

     "Suck it up," Topher said, sighing, "I need a goddamn drink."

     "Let's go," Chris said, voice barely above a whisper as he grabbed
Jake's hand.  He leaned against a wall, pulling Jake in closer.

     "We can't go yet," Jake said, feigning a smile.  Chris' forehead
wrinkled and his jaw tightened as he watched Jake, "You can't go yet."

     Chris was quiet, his thumb running over Jake's knuckles.

     "You think you can go home with one of the guys?  It'll keep them both
out of trouble," Jake said, the weariness finally appearing on his face.

     "What's going on?" Chris asked, his voice bolder than it'd been the
past few days, "tell me."

     "It's nothing," Jake said.  They both paused, that split second
hitting them both hard, "It's everything."

     "I'll go home with Topher," Chris croaked out, "do what you have to
do."

     Jake leaned in, pressing his forehead to Chris', "Your stories were
great tonight," he whispered, "really new and fresh.  You did good."

     Chris smiled, his hand framing Jake's face.  He closed his eyes and
felt Jake's lips on his, instantly feeling Jake's body relax a little.  It
was quick and soft, barely enough time for Chris to feel Jake's scratchy
beard, "I'll be waiting for you.  Have fun tonight, alright?"

     Nodding, Chris let Jake's body move away, his hand still lingering on
Jake's as he took a few steps.  'I love you,' he mouthed, a smile curling
Jake's lip as he stopped.

     "I'll be okay," Jake said, holding up his left hand to wave a quick
goodbye, his ring glinting in the light, "I've got you."

***

     "I don't know if you're being quiet because Jake's not here or because
you're mute," Topher said, leaning against the bar next to Chris.

     "I'm not mute," Chris tried to say.  The not talking thing was getting
harder and harder.  Half the time, he wanted to scream because he was so
frustrated with his ineptitude, but sometimes he felt like he acted
differently around people like this.  He was definitely starting to be a
better listener.

     "Might as well be," Jonas said, "talking like that."

     "What happens at these things," Topher said, "is normally like this:
Jake and Chris sneak off the bathroom and don't come back for a while.
Then we have a few drinks and one of us manages to make an ass of
ourselves.  Remember, Chris?"

     Nodding, Chris scanned the room.  Everyone important in the industry
was there, talking and drinking, mingling.  He wondered how Celeste had
managed to get so many hotshot editors to come.  If anything, he knew he'd
gotten to a comfortable place.  In all likelihood, he'd never have a
problem getting anyone to print the things he wrote, but there was no
reason for this many publishing magnates to this little party.

     "I think you're full of shit," Jonas said, "all three of you probably
make asses of yourselves."

     "There's been times like that," Topher said, grinning.  He looked at
Chris and stopped, noticing how serious he looked, his expression tinged
with confusion.

     "You ready to go?" Topher asked, leaning out to follow Chris' line of
sight.

     Chris shook his head slowly.  Right then and there he knew exactly why
everyone was there.  Naomi had told him last week, but the laryngitis and
the trip had all pushed it to his head.  His contract was up with Knopf.
Naomi had been shopping him around to new publishers; Chris decided to just
follow her, whatever she chose for herself was good enough for him.  It was
just easier.  For once, everyone in the room was actually here to see him.
He definitely was ready to go.

     The talking, the hand shaking, the business cards that bulged from his
pocket, it was all making sense.  He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid.
He was never good at networking, probably doing more harm than good every
time he thought about it; here he was the center of attention and all he
wanted to do was wrap Jake's arms around him and hide.

***

     "What the hell are you doing here?" Jake asked, his fists tight; it
took everything inside him not to slam Kunt against the wall of the
building.

     "I'm working," he said, eyes looking up and down the alley.  Valets
took their sweet time in Los Angeles, he noticed.  Maybe the couldn't find
his shitty rental behind the new cars, maybe they could tell he wanted to
get out of there.

     "That...she sent you all the way out here to write?  Since when does
the New York goddamn Times cover book parties?"

     "This isn't even a book party," Kurt added, "it's going in the
'goddamn' society page.  I just wanted a free trip out here."

     "You write one thing about him," Jake said, infuriated, pulse
pounding, blood coursing through his veins, "I swear to God."

     "What, Jake?  He's not the one being judged.  Nobody is.  It's a
party."

     "It's a big deal.  You're not part of this crowd, this...these things
are where deals get made."

     "Then let him make deals.  I'm here to write about who was here: you,
Topher, and that British guy.  They're calling you the new Brat Pack.  Do
you guys even work?  All these parties and shit--when does he have the time
to write?"

     Jake could feel himself getting closer and closer to snapping.  He
hated how Kurt looked so nonchalant, how he was pulled together, everything
he said making sense.  He hated that he was the irrational one.  He hated
that he wasn't in control.  "He puts on that face and he says he doesn't
care about bad reviews, but you're a writer too, Kurt.  You know it's all
bullshit."

     "What are you trying to protect him from, Jake?  You don't want him to
end up like me?"  Jake froze.  Kurt's eyes were icy, steely as he looked at
Jake, eyes scanning him from head to toe, "It's been a while.  I forgot
what it's like to fight with you."

     "All we did was fucking fight," Jake muttered, "you're a troublemaker,
Landis.  His business is mine now too.  Leave us alone."

     Kurt raised his hands up, seceding the win to Jake, "Looks like you're
alone out here Gyllenhaal.  There's no 'us.'"

     "Tell me the truth," Jake said, "you're not covering this.  I'm not
stupid."

     It was Kurt's turn now.  He felt his heart beating a little faster.
His plan wasn't detailed, vague stories were easier to remember and more
convincing.  "What do you know?  This isn't your business, Jake.  We don't
work the way you do in Hollywood.  We don't sleep our way to the top and we
don't whine and cry until we get what we want."

     "Spare me, Kurt.  Your 'business' is just like this.  It's about who
you know.  Chris knows people, important people, but he can write.  If
you're jealous, don't take it out on him."

     "Jealous?" Kurt said, almost laughing, "the only thing I might be
jealous of is how he manages to be taken seriously hanging with you and
those other jokers.  He's a writer.  He has no place out here."

      "He's out here because he wants to be," Jake said, "and I want him to
be.  You, though...I don't want you anywhere near us."

     Their cars pulled up at the same time, valets eager for their tips.
Jake's jaw clenched tight and he stormed into his car, slamming the car
door shut, watching Kurt drive away.  He couldn't remember the last time he
felt so angry.  Chris didn't do anything wrong, but Kurt wasn't lying when
he said he was just doing his job.  That's what made it so frustrating,
Jake thought.  Nobody was wrong.  All the anger was unjustified and there
was not a thing anyone could do about it.

***

     "You're not asleep," Chris whispered, his voice getting more and more
normal.  All the orange juice Topher was pushing at him tonight might have
done the trick.  He grinned, kissing Jake's collarbone as he slid over
Jake's body.  Jake groaned, his hands sliding up Chris' back.

     "I was asleep," Jake said, voice low.  Chris' hands were sliding over
his chest, his body warm, hips moving against Jake's.

     Chris' shirt slid off his shoulders, Jake pulling it off the rest of
the way as he flipped Chris over, their lips crashing together.  Fingers
tangled in Jake's hair as he felt Jake's tongue slide against his, hands
skimming his sides.

     Jake sat up on his haunches, his face flushed as he pushed his hair
back.  Chris blinked quickly, eyes locked on Jake's, "Is everything okay?"
he asked, breathless, "what's wrong?"  Shaking his head, Jake remained
silent.  Chris reached out and grabbed his hand, forehead furrowed as he
waited, "Jake?"

     "Sorry," he said, grabbing his forehead, "I think I had to much to
drink.  I'm really..." he stumbled, catching himself with one arm before he
smashed Chris, "dizzy," he groaned, rolling over beside him.

     "Whoa," Chris said, flipping onto his side.  He ran his fingers over
Jake's arm, "you're okay?"

     "I don't know," Jake said, his face contorting into a frown; he looked
pained and confused, his body curling around Chris' instinctively, "God,
Chris.  I don't know what's going on in this goddamn head of mine."

    "An entire bottle of wine is what's up there," Chris said softly.

     Jake smiled weakly, letting out a low groan, "You sound like shit and
I feel like shit.  What's happening?"

     Chris' hand ran lazy circles on Jake's stomach, feeling Jake move
their bodies together, the familiar patterns coming naturally, practiced a
hundred times over.  A leg there, an arm here, it took no effort for Jake
to spoon up behind Chris, nose nuzzling at the nape of his neck.  Chris
heard him sign softly, eyes fluttering shut as he slipped back to sleep.

     Fitfully, intermittently, Jake kept waking up, his dreams less vivid
but still shocking.  Chris was there every time his eyes jolted open,
sleeping soundly through everything.  Glancing at the clock, Jake could
feel his body resisting the urge to go back to sleep, he was restless, his
body using the newfound energy immediately.

     He slipped out of bed, the sun just starting to send rays of pink into
the dark purple of the sky.  He suddenly recalled all the times he and
Chris would watch the sunset back in Santa Barbara, how they'd always stop
whatever they were doing to watch the huge orange sun dip into the ocean,
always watching for that flash of green that they always thought they saw.
He pulled on a t-shirt he found on the floor, Chris' cologne lingering on
the fabric.  It was tight, all Chris' clothes were on him, but they always
felt right.

     Padding through the house, the dogs ignored him, but he saw a sleeping
figure on the sofa.  He didn't have to look twice to know that it was
either a lanky brunette or the Irish one.  They got Chris home safe, that's
all that mattered; they could wearing Jake's underwear and eating all the
food; they did their job.  Jake started coffee, conscious of the fact that
he was hours ahead of his normal routine.  His motions were slow and stiff
in his half-sleepy state.  He had too much time to think.  Sliding the
glass door open, he went out onto the deck, the cool beach air raising
goose bumps on his arms.  He closed his eyes, turning them to the
brightening sky, letting the cool air surround him as he listened to the
lazy waves crash on to the sand.

     "Are you there?" Jake asked quietly, half-expecting an answer, "Chris
talked to you.  Still does, probably."  He paused, taking a deep breath.
"Tell me what to do," his voice was so quiet he wasn't sure if he'd
actually said anything.

     "What are you doing up so early?" Jake heard.  Chris was leaning
against the doorframe, his bathrobe hanging open as he yawned, "Come on,
it's cold out here."

     "Come here," Jake said, smiling softly, motioning with his hand.
Chris pulled the robe tight around himself, loosely tying the belt around
his waist as he walked out, Jake immediately undoing it and wrapping
himself into the robe, moaning softly as he felt the warmth from Chris'
body.  "I lied."

     Chris was falling asleep on his feet, leaning against Jake's body, but
the words shook him, "I know."

     "You do?" Jake jerked back, his eyes open wide.  Chris' were still
closed as he rested his head on Jake's shoulder.

     "I called them.  She told me everything.  It's done, nothing we can do
about it now."

     "She's just...not a good person, Chris," Jake said, mind wandering to
the possibilities of the phone call; what had they talked about?  What did
Chris know that he didn't?  What did she tell him that she didn't tell
Chris?

     "I'm just going to keep doing what I do," Chris said, voice muffled
into Jake's neck, "that's all.  She can give me a hundred bad reviews, I'm
not going to stop."

     "Exactly," Jake said, "but that's not all."

     "The guy who wrote it quit," Chris said, "that same day we were there.
She said he just left."

     "He did?" Jake asked, holding Chris tighter, "just quit?"

     "He's gone," Chris said, "she'll have to write her own bad reviews
now."

     "I shouldn't have left you there last night," Jake said, hands running
up and down Chris' back.

     "It's okay," Chris said, "I had the guys.  I hope that guy didn't quit
over this.  It's hard getting a break.  He probably worked his ass off."

     "Whatever," Jake said, "God, I'm so fucked up in my head."

     "No you're not," Chris said, "just relax."

     Relax, Jake thought.  He chuckled, wondering what it would take for
him to just relax and get away from this.  He thought he was over it,
thought he was over it years ago, but here it was--his past--staring at him
right in the face.  Most people worried about their futures.  He didn't.
He was holding his future right here in his arms, but his past, that was
different.  He wanted it to stay far away.

***

     "What are you fuckers up to today?" Jonas asked as he walked into the
house, door unlocked as usual.

     Chris eyes grew wide and Jonas stopped dead in his tracks.  There was
a little girl, sitting at the kitchen counter, "Is this who you were
talking about?" she asked.

     "The one and only," Chris said, "Abigail, this is Jonas.  I told you
he was good looking."

     "And charming too," Jake added, sliding a bowl of cereal across the
table.

     "One day and you two go adopt a baby?" Jonas asked, "don't you usually
get them from Africa?  Blonde hair and blue eyes, you guys go mad?"

     "This is my cousin," Jake said, almost laughing, "she's visiting from
New York."

     "Well," Jonas said, "pleased to make your acquaintance."  Abby started
at her cereal as Chris flipped through the newspaper.  "Can I get one of
these too, Jacob?"

     "You're not allowed to call him that," Abby said, "only mom and Aunt
Naomi call him that."

     "Not even Christopher here?"

     "Chris.  Only I can call him Christopher."

     "Is that so?" Jonas asked.  Abby nodded, shoveling another spoonful of
cereal into her mouth, "You are quite the little lady."

     "Jake got the new shooting schedule faxed to him today," Chris said,
"you've got a few days off too, right?"

     "Fuck if I know," Jonas said, eyes still examining Abby.

     "Let's lay off the f-words," Jake said, "I don't want to send her back
talking like you."

     "Sorry," Jonas said quickly, "I've seen you before, haven't I?"

     "She was at the wedding," Chris said, "flower girl?  Remember?"

     "That's right," Jonas said, "now I remember.  You danced with me that
night, little Abigail.  Do you remember?"

     Abby examined him closely, Chris could almost see her brain working,
see her digging through her memory for some semblance of recollection.
"No."

     Chris laughed, biting his lip.  Jake could see it from across the
kitchen, how happy Chris was to have Abby here, to have someone that looked
up to him like some sort of hero; more than that even, to have some sort of
family, not to mention a welcome distraction to the chaos that was swirling
around them.

     "I remember," Jonas said, stirring his cereal around, "best night of
my life, little one.  You broke my heart."

     "Don't be so dramatic," Chris said, "you're just one in a long line of
broken hearts with this one."  He nudged Abby and she blushed.

     "I can tell," Jonas said, grinning.

     "When this movie comes out," Abby started, "will you take me to the
fancy party?"

     "Why would you want to go to that?" Jake asked.

     "Because I never get to see you or Christopher or Maggie or Peter.  Or
the baby."

     Chris threw an arm around her, pulling her close, "You're too sweet,"
he said.

     "Maybe Jonas will be your date," Jake said, "give him another chance."

     "A bloke like me and a girl like you," Jonas said, "we could cause a
scene."

     "Finish up," Chris said, "we've got to get going."

     "We're going to Disneyland," Abby said, her face suddenly lighting up,
"are you coming too?"

***

     Jonas followed Chris and Jake, Abby sound asleep in Jake's arms, her
head slumped over his shoulder as they wove through the crowd the buzz of
the fireworks still ringing in his ears.  A day of rushing through a
wonderland of children had worn all of them out, though Abby was the only
one getting any sort of respite from the madness.

     "Looks like she had fun," Jonas said, heads turning in his direction
as they heard the accent.

     "Her parents are going through something," Jake said, "that's why
she's here."

     "Uncle Mark works a lot," Chris said, "I think Rebecca's getting a
little worn out."

     "Ah," Jonas said, the crowd still moving at a snail's pace.

     All day Jonas had watched Chris closely, saw how natural it seemed he
was around Abby, around all the children actually, kneeling down to talk to
them as they waited to get on rides, joking along with them, laughing with
them.  He was kid at heart, Jonas saw.  It wasn't just boyish charm, that
may have been a big part of it, but around the kids and the fantasy, it
seemed like Chris was one of them.

     "You're good with kids, you two," he said.

     "She's a big one," Jake said, "we're not changing diapers or
anything."

     "Still," he said.

     "Nah," Chris said, "I could never."

     Jake looked over at him, "Never?"

    Chris stopped, the crowd shooting him scowls as they had to doge the
sudden blockage, "What do you mean?"

    "Kids.  I know we never talked about it, but you can't just say never."

    "This isn't really the place for it, Jake.  Maybe when you manage to
knock me up, we'll talk about it," he rolled his eyes, expression vaguely
unbelieving.

     "It's not a joke, Chris."

     Jonas pushed the two of them along, hoping to get out of the park
before anything serious erupted.  "Guys, let's get home, yeah?  We've got a
drive ahead of us for this."

     "I didn't think...we're not ready for that sort of thing, Jake."

     "But 'never?'  You just shut out the entire possibility.  What if I
want to?"

     "Do you?"

     Jake didn't say anything.  They did, like Jonas said, have an entire
drive to talk about this.  "Whatever," he said, "let's just get home."  He
felt Chris' hand on his arm, reassuring and questioning all at once.  They
talked about everything; he couldn't imagine how this didn't come up
before.  He didn't even know what he wanted, but he was sure he didn't like
the idea of having possibilities ruled out.  He liked keeping his options
open.  Here in the manufactured world of lights and sound, he was too
stimulated to think, but feeling Chris' hand, he felt that love, felt that
and everything it meant.

***

     "Remember?  We were in the magazines every single week.  Eventually,
they just stop asking.  I was dating everyone I talked to and Jake was the
same way, they don't care if they're right or not.  They just want to sell
magazines.  We never talked about it," Chris glanced over at Abby, who was
pushing her spaghetti around her plate, "hey, are you okay?"

     "I don't like when you talk about work all the time," Abby said,
pouting slightly.

     Chris' shoulders softened, "It's just sort of work," he said,
"Topher's having issues with his work and I'm trying to help."

     "It's not working," Topher said, "so let's just drop it."

     "Good," Abby said, "Chris and Jake were talking about their work all
morning."

     "Did Chris get mad?" Topher asked, smirking slightly, "he hates it
when Jake's not around."

     "Let's just drop it," Chris said.

     "They were mad and then Jake kissed him and then it was better," Abby
said, "that's how it always is."

      Topher laughed, sitting back in his chair, "Abby, I'm going to miss
you when you're gone.  You're a good kid."

     "Chris said he'd come and visit me at home," she said, swirling her
pasta around her fork.  She looked up at him, "Promise?"

     "Promise," Chris said, smiling, "don't you have other family?"

     "Nobody takes me to Disneyland.  Or the beach every day," she added,
"but not everyone has the beach by their house."

     "And not everyone has cool friends like me, right?" Topher asked.

     "Nope," Abby said.  Chris glanced outside, hoping that any
photographers that had gathered had dispersed by now.  He'd gotten used to
it, but Abby didn't deserve it.  They'd all been snapped already this week
and he wondered, somewhat reluctantly, what the magazines would make up
about him and Jake.

     "We never talked about it," Chris said to nobody in particular, "and
they...eventually, they just stopped asking.  People just assume one way or
another about us and I'm fine with that."

     "Not everyone can be as detached as you, Chris," Topher said.

     "Jake shouldn't have had to go to work today, Abby," Chris said, "your
last day and everything.  Did he say goodbye this morning?"

      "Yeah, he did," she grinned, fussing with her pockets, "he gave me
this."  She unfolded a picture and smoothed it on the table before handing
it to Chris.  It was a picture of the three of them, Boo cradled in her
little arms.  The beach was in the background, sun just starting to set
behind them.  The looked like a family, Chris thought, plain and simple.

     Abby folded it carefully, "When I'm bigger, I'm going to come out here
and live with you and Jake," she said, "because you're always happy."

     Chris and Topher were both taken aback, their eyes locking across the
table.  Chris' forehead furrowed, his gaze unfocused.  Was it true?

***

     "There's a package for you," Jake yelled up the stairs, "it's heavy as
hell."

     Chris walked down the stairs, hair still wet as he tightened the towel
around his waist.  "You couldn't put it down, or at least wait for me to
get dressed?"

     "Any excuse to get you out naked," Jake said grinning.  Chris smelled
like soap as he grabbed the box.

     "Jesus," he said, "what is it?  And why is there another one?"

     "That's mine."

     "Did your mom send them?"

     Chris set his box down on the counter, Jake coming up behind him to
kiss the back of his neck.  His hands slid up Chris' sides, sending shivers
up Chris' back.  Chris tore the box open and inside, nestled carefully in
the packing peanuts was a shiny gold statue.  "Oh God," Chris whispered,
"they sent us new ones."

     Jake stopped, his eyes glancing over Chris' shoulder.  "No wonder it
was so heavy," Jake said, his hands grabbing Chris'.  His scratchy chin
rested on Chris' shoulder as he pulled Chris tight against him, his fingers
inching under the towel.  "Took them long enough," he said, voice low and
deep.

     "Jake," Chris whispered, fingers running over the cool, smooth metal
of the statuette, "I..." he froze as Jake pushed the towel down and it
landed in a pool around his feet.  Jake turned him around their lips
crashed together, Jake's tongue immediately demanding entrance to his
mouth.  Chris' eyes shut and his fingers tangled in Jake's thick hair,
pressing their bodies together, the stiff denim of Jake's jeans rubbing
against his legs, his t-shirt bunching between their bodies.

     "Get up," Jake whispered as he hoisted Chris onto the counter, the
cool granite sending a chill up his back.  Jake's mouth was on his neck
instantly as Chris pulled at Jake's shirt, the stretchy cotton only
interrupting them for a split second.

     "What the fuck was that huge machine?" Jonas asked, stumbling on the
sand.

     "That's their house right there," Topher said, pointing, "and I told
you, it cleans the street.  You can't park there while they're doing it."

     "Shit," Jonas said, freezing as he climbed the steps that led to Jake
and Chris' deck.

     "What?" Topher asked, eyes following Jonas' line of sight.  Like all
the other houses that faced the ocean, Chris and Jake's place had floor to
ceiling windows.  They had their gauzy drapes drawn most of the time, but
today, both Jonas and Topher were greeted by the sight of Chris' muscular
back, taut and defined, Jake's hands sliding up and down the skin as they
kissed each other.  "Jesus Christ."

      "He knew we were coming," Jonas whispered.  Neither of them could
pull their eyes from the scene, Jake pushing Chris down onto the counter as
his lips traveled down Chris' chest, Chris' hands gripping Jake's
shoulders, his toes curling as his legs wrapped around Jake's waist.

     "You'd give that up for the two of us?" Topher asked, eyes locked on
Chris' face, the pained look of bliss vaguely familiar.  He bit his lip,
suppressing what he thought would be a groan when Chris arched his back,
Jake's tongue darting out lick at the head of his dick.  Gasping, Chris
gripped the sides of the counter, knuckles clenched as he felt ripples fly
up his spine, Jake's tongue sending jolts of electricity through his body.
Looking down, his eyes fluttered open in time to see Jake open his mouth
and take him inside, one finger slowly circling the ring of his asshole.
Hissing, his eyes slammed shut again, Jake's scratchy chin on his balls as
his finger worked his hole.

      "Jake," Chris groaned, his thoughts disappearing into a blur as Jake
slipped another finger in.  Chris didn't know which drawer he hid the lube
in, didn't care, but when Jake crooked his fingers and left a slick trail
of hot warmth on his cock with his tongue, Chris almost melted.  He felt a
new sheen of sweat break out on his body, chills from the counter
contrasting the heat he was feeling everywhere, Jake's hand sliding up his
leg to cup his balls, tingles and sensation were bombarding his body from
every possible direction.

     Pulling off of Chris, Jake kept his fingers pushing in and out of him,
leaning up to kiss Chris again.  "You're too much," Jake said, his lips
grazing Chris', "I can't ever keep my hands off of you."  His voice was
raspy and dry, every word punctuated with a twist of his finger or a touch
of their lips.  Chris' head was spinning, his legs pulling Jake in closer,
hands coming to frame Jake's face as they kissed again, long and deep.

    "Come on," Chris urged, arching up again, legs spread apart.  Jake
grunted in response, unbuttoning his jeans and lining up his cock.  The
head slipped in and he held it there, watching the cords in Chris' neck
tighten, his jaw tight and his breathing stunted.  The pants fell into a
pile at his feet and he spread his stance a little, steadying himself.

     His eyes rolled back in his head and he shut his eyes, leaned down to
bite at Chris' collarbone before grabbing his hips and sliding in, his dick
lodging itself deep in Chris with one smooth stroke.  Chris let out a
groan, a long exhale as he felt it slide in, filling and stretching him,
the head grazing his prostate for that split second.

     "Shit," Jonas groaned, his eyes locked on the two of them, every
muscle working as Jake pumped in and out, standing up again and pulling
Chris closer to the edge of the countertop.  Jake's movements were fluid
and smooth, his thrusting quick but not rushed.  Jonas glanced over at
Topher's crotch, his hard on tenting his khaki pants.  Boldly, Jonas
reached for his own cock, surprised to feel pre-cum already collecting on
the head.  He let out a low groan and Topher's eye shot to him, taken aback
at Jonas' unabashed stroking.

     "Fuck," Chris groaned, his cock leaking pre-cum in pearly streaks
across his stomach as Jake's pushed into him, controlled strokes painfully
good.  Jake's exercise in control was sending him crazy, his own body
wanting more.  He opened his eyes, half-lidded with pleasure, and watched
Jake's muscles, his arms and his shoulders, his chest and stomach, flex
with every deep thrust.  He grunted and leaned down for another searing
kiss, his fingers gripping Chris' slippery skin, leaving red streaks in
their path.

     "Oh fuck it," Topher said, unzipping and stroking himself.  Jonas
scooted a little closer, a shaky hand reaching over to Topher's cock.  It
just looked too good, Jonas thought, thick and long, slick with pre-cum.
Topher almost jumped at the sudden sensation, but relaxed, slowly pumping
his hips into Jonas' fist.  They were drunk in their own sensation, their
heavy breathing and racing pulses sending all inhibition out of their
minds.

     Jake let out a low growl and pulled out, scrambling to get Chris to
the floor, flipping him over the counter and kicking his legs apart.  He
groaned, licking a long hot streak up Chris' back as he slid his dick in
again, watching every little reaction in Chris' body.  Jake buried his face
into the back of Chris' neck as he thrust, his arm wrapped around Chris'
chest, the other steadying the two of them against the counter.  Chris
reached down to stroke himself but Jake batted his hand away, slamming in
harder, wordlessly punctuating what he wanted.

     Chris reached backwards, grabbing Jake's head to kiss him again,
twisting his head back and groaning into Jake's mouth, shuddering as Jake's
halted his movements, his dick buried deep inside Chris.  Slowly he
withdrew, pulling a strained groan from Chris' mouth before slamming back
in, his own body straining against his oncoming orgasm.

      "Faster, mate," Jonas groaned, teeth clenched.  Both of them were
stroking furiously, Topher only stopping to quickly spit in his palm,
slicking Jonas' thick shaft.  He was panting as Topher's middle finger
traced his perineum, cupping his balls as he just tried to keep a steady
pace.  Jonas' vision got blurry, his mouth slack as Topher pushed a finger
in his hole, tight muscle clenching at Topher's finger.

      "Oh fuck," Topher groaned, his eyes locked on Chris' body, every
muscle straining against Jake's fucking, his hair matted from Jake's
fingers and his own sweat.  Their coupling was effortless, both of them
smooth and fluid as Jake slammed in again and again.  Jonas scooted closer
to him, growling low in his throat as he bit into Topher's neck, body
quaking as he shot, jets of cum spilling over Topher's hand as his hole
clenched at Topher' finger.  His eyes were shut tight, his scratchy beard
rasping against Topher's collarbones.

     "Goddamn," he sighed, his hands speeding up on Topher's cock as he
pulled Topher's fingers to his mouth.  He sucked and licked his cum
greedily, his free hand sliding under Topher's t-shirt to thumb his
nipples, his body sliding on top of Tophers, the worn wood of the stairs
digging into Topher's back.

     "Jake," Chris groaned, practically yelling, grabbing onto the counter
as his whole body went rigid, cock spurting cum, Jake pulling him up, back
to chest as he planted himself deep, feeling every hard pulse and squeeze.
His hands splayed open on Chris' chest, feeling the shallow breaths and the
muscle, the sound of Chris' whimpers sending ripples down his back.

     "Come on," Topher groaned, thrusting hard up into Jonas' hand, his
mouth dry as Jonas licked just nipple, his t-shirt hiked up to his armpits.
Jonas groaned and dove down onto his cock, lodging it deep in his throat as
Topher shot, the thick warm gobs of cum coating his mouth.  Topher gripped
the back of his head tight, fingers tangling in his hair as Jonas gagged
around his thickness, craving the wet heat just a little longer.

     Jake spun the two of them around, slapping Chris hard against the wall
of the kitchen, arms pinned above his head, heaving chest pressed into the
wall.  Jakes thrusts were fast and stunted, some deep and others shallow.
Chris was incoherent, body still reeling from his orgasm.  He threw his
head back onto Jake's shoulder, grunting as Jake's cock slid in and out,
the sound of skin on skin ringing in his ears with Jake's groans.

     Muscled arms wrapped around his chest and Chris felt Jake shudder,
squeezing him hard as searing ropes of cum shot into him, a muffled groan
escaping his own lips.  Jake was breathing hard, struggling to remain
upright as he leaned forward against Chris, breaths hot and heavy against
his ear.  He nipped at Chris' ear, bending around to kiss him, the angle
awkward but the passion overwhelming.  Chris slumped against the wall, body
still racked with shudders as he tried to come down to earth.  Jake's cock
was still deep inside him, Jake's hips still moving in minute increments on
their own accord.

     "Fuck me," Jonas groaned, falling beside Topher, "fucking ridiculous."

     "What the hell just happened?" Topher said, voice straining.

     "That's called sex in Ireland," Jonas said, half-laughing, "fucking
great."

     "There was no actual sex," Topher insisted, zipping up his jeans.

     "Just some fun, Topher," Jonas said, his accent thicker than normal,
"nothing more."  He leaned over for a kiss and Topher pushed him away.
"I'll look forward to some real sex then."

     "Keep dreaming," Topher said, pulling them both up to their feet.
Jonas made no rush to compose himself, leaning against the railing and
slowly smoothing his shirt and zipping up as they both watched Chris and
Jake, their slick bodies sliding together as they kissed, Chris' hands
locked on Jake's shoulders, Jake still engrossed in Chris body, hands
sliding up and down his back.  Topher looked away, Jonas wiping his lips on
the back of his hand.

     "They're fucking hot," Jonas added.

     "No kidding," Topher said, running his hands through his hair.  Jake
pulled Chris upstairs and he finally looked down at Jonas, ""Sorry, I don't
know what got into me."

     "I'm not complaining."

     "This doesn't change anything between us, Jonas."

     "I wouldn't expect it to."

     "Come on, let's get some coffee," he said before bounding up the
stairs.  The back door would undoubtedly be unlocked and hopefully, he
could settle all the emotion rushing through his mind.

---

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