Date: Wed, 16 Jan 2008 00:00:51 -0800
From: christopher. <christopherrluu@gmail.com>
Subject: breaking through part 45

Usual disclaimers apply, this is all fiction.  No implications are made
about the celebrities mentioned.  This is intended for adults, so if you're
not allowed to read this, don't do it.

Author's Note: head on over to the Gyllenhaal Chronicles site for the
latest on this story and the other Jake stories on Nifty.  It's a great
place and I'm very grateful for all the people I've met there.  Sign up at
http://groups.msn.com/TheGyllenhaalChronicles/_whatsnew.

A special thanks goes to everyone who's written to me from the very
beginning and to those just starting. I know that the story's taken a lot
of twists and turns, good and bad, but thank you so so much for sticking
with me through it all.  As always, e-mail can be sent to
christopherrluu@gmail.com or on MSN messenger with that same e-mail
address.  AOL Instant Messenger: babyofthe1980s.  I'm on both all the time,
don't be afraid to drop me a quick message.

Part LV

     Chris grabbed the baby's hand, waving it at Maggie and Peter's car,
both of their eyes focused on the rear-view mirror.  "Say 'bye' to mom and
dad," Chris said.

     "Bye," Aaron said, voice wet and bubbly.  Chris hiked him up a little
higher in his arms as he leaned down to grab Aaron's overnight bag, "Mom
daddy bye bye."

     "Bye bye," Chris said cheerfully, "let's get you inside."

     "Boo doggie?" Aaron asked as Chris put him down, immediately heading
to the door, steps clumsy and stumbling.  Chris heard Jake pull into the
driveway and he waited on the porch, a smile on his face as he watched Jake
slide out of the car, his own lips curling into a smile.

     "Hey you," Jake said, "nice purse."

     "You're late," Chris said, "just missed them."

     Jake shrugged, "Just in time for you though."  He pulled the bag from
Chris' hand and let it fall to the floor, his lips grazing Chris' as his
hands slid down Chris' arms to grip his fingers.  Chris leaned into the
kiss, Jake's scratchy beard on his smooth skin.  Chris stepped into Jake's
body a little, their chests pressing together as Jake's hands drifted to
the small of Chris' back.  He felt Chris' fingers in his hair, their bodies
coming together the way they always did, a curve and a contour, a shuffle
and push, Jake pulled his lips away, but pressed their bodies together
still, foreheads touching, noses grazing, "This is a nice way to come home
every day."

     "The baby's inside," Chris said, eyes still closed, "probably going to
burn the house down."

     "He's not a baby anymore," Jake said, finally pulling away, "he's a
big boy."

     They walked inside together, where Boo's tail was wagging quickly with
the newfound attention.  Aaron smiled when he saw Jake and giggled as he
was scooped up into Jake's strong arms, Jake blowing raspberries into his
stomach.  Chris' forehead furrowed at the sight, his hands dipping into his
pockets.  Jake looked natural, completely at ease with Aaron whereas Chris
had spent the morning on his knees, eyeing everything that was sharp or
pointy, plugging up the electrical outlets even though Maggie and Peter had
both assured him that Aaron had no interest in self induced electrocution.
"How did your shoot go?"

     "Like the shave?"

     "It's not really a shave," Chris said, still trying to settle his
shaky mind and his flip-flopping stomach, "but it looks good; it feels
good.  I was starting to get used to the beard."

     "He's so big now," Jake said, "aren't you, guy?  Your uncles missed
you so much."

     "Let's take him to the beach.  Unless you're going to tickle him all
afternoon."

     "This guy is going to break hearts," Jake said, grinning, "look at his
eyes.  Cutest thing I've ever seen.  Get his jacket and we'll take him out
there."

     Aaron was the only baby Chris had ever really spent time with.  He
kept his distance with kids, with adults even, but children, babies
especially, were foreign to him.  They seemed delicate and unruly at the
same time.  People--everyone--seemed to dote on them unnecessarily.  He
could say with some certainty that they weren't as helpless as people made
them out to be.  What bothered him, if bother was the right way to describe
it, was the way people acted around them.  The way they talked in baby
voices and their eyes got big and wide, it was too weird.

     "I'm going to grab mine too," Chris said, "I'll be right down."

     Jake tossed the baby up in the air, catching him as he let out another
fit of giggles.  Setting him down, Boo scampered over and sniffed him, tail
wagging jovially as Aaron patted his head.  Jake couldn't wipe the smile
off his face.

     Chris rifled through the clothes, fingers running over the stacks of
hoodies that he and Jake shared.  He grabbed his favorite, edges fraying
and the end of the drawstring's chewed and tattered.  He pulled out another
one in case Jake needed it and it hit him right then and there.  He had
spent the majority of his life taking care of himself.  There was Jake,
that was for sure, but he didn't know if he could handle taking care of
anyone else.  He couldn't fathom why he insisted Maggie and Peter take a
weekend trip, leaving the baby with them.  Maybe it was guilt, maybe he
really wanted to shake up the routine, but now, he was having second
thoughts.

     "Your hair looks lighter," Jake said as Chris walked downstairs.

     Running his fingers through his hair, he had another reason to be
confused, "Must be the sun," Chris said, "all the running."

     "Let's get going," Jake said, grabbing Chris' hand.  He pulled Chris
close and kissed him on the forehead.  "Love you."

     "Let me just get the leashes on the dogs," Chris said, biting his
lower lip, eyes still locked on Jake and baby Aaron.

     "You're so good," Jake said, fingers mussing Chris' hair, "you've
always taking care of everything."

***

     "I'm not jealous of the baby," Chris said before taking a long, slow
gulp of coffee.

     "Sounds like it to me," Jonas said, Topher nodding in agreement.

     "Were you two just...I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"  Chris'
forehead wrinkled and he scooted back in his chair.

     "No," Topher said, shooting a glare at Jonas, "we were going to get
some coffee too."

     "Tell me Christopher, what's really getting at you?"

     "Don't cal me Christopher," Chris said slowly.  He couldn't be more
confused.  Jonas was genuinely interested in his feelings and Jake was
playing daddy like he'd done it his entire life.  "Am I just going crazy?"
Chris asked no one in particular, "what is going on?  Did someone put
something in my coffee?"

     "Seriously, Chris, what's going on?" Topher asked.

     "I...I think Jake wants a baby.  I...don't," Chris' words were slow.
He didn't want to hear them or say them."

     "Did you talk about it?  You guys talk about everything, all that
talking all the time," Jonas said, "you should just talk about it."

     "We can't talk about this," Chris said, "I'll look like
I'm...selfish."

     "You're jealous of a baby," Topher said, "you are selfish."

     "Stop," Chris said, forehead falling onto his folded arms on the
table, "I feel like shit.  He knows something is wrong, I shouldn't have
left."

     "What did you tell him?" Topher asked.

     "That we needed whole milk," Chris groaned, "I couldn't come up with
anything better."

     "I don't think he'll take it like you think he will," Jonas said.

     "Me either," Topher added, "but you know him better than us."

     "Tell me you two aren't having any problems," Chris said, voice
muffled by the table, "smooth sailing and smiles all around, right?"

     "Topher gives bad head."

     "Fuck you," Topher said, punching Jonas' arm playfully.  They both
laughed and looked at each other, grinning as their eyes sparkled.

     Chris sighed, wishing that his head would sort itself out.  "That
didn't help," Chris said, "Jesus, what did I get myself into?  Did I give
him the wrong idea?"

     "Chris, look at me," Topher said.  He slowly lifted his head and his
eyes met Topher's, green and serious, "you've been through enough to know
that you'll get through this.  It might hurt him, but he's not going to
give you up."

    "If he does, you can join us.  We've both got great big beds.  It's an
open invitation.  No RSVP."

     "It's not helping," Topher said, "not the time."

***

     "Where the milk?" Jake asked, wiping his hands on the back of his
pants.

     "Oh," Chris said, eyes blinking quickly.  He had a coffee in one hand
and one for Jake in the other, "They ran out of the organic kind."

     "That's weird," Jake said, shrugging, "I'm making ravioli, want to
give me a hand?"

     Chris smiled, nodding, "Let me take this jacket off and I'll be right
there."

     "Give me a kiss first," Jake said, arm open.  Chris stepped into the
kitchen, Aaron nowhere to be found, "I put him down for a nap."

     Chris set the coffees down and hugged Jake, kissing his cheek before
their lips came together, "I'll be right back."  Jake shook his head and
pushed the jacket down off of Chris' shoulders.  He shrugged it off and
Jake threw it onto a kitchen chair, slowly pushing Chris up against the
refrigerator, kissing him again, flour dusted hands sliding up Chris' arms
as his tongue darted into Chris' mouth.  Chris groaned, hands on Jake's
shoulders, head tilting to let Jake's tongue explore familiar territory.
He pulled away, smiling so wide his eyes squinted a little.

     "Hey, I saw something in the fax machine this morning, I thought you
said you weren't going to rush your thing," Jake said, "they were pretty
pissed about Christmas, you said."

     "They said I ignored their calls while we were with the family, but I
don't remember telling Wes to even fax the stuff over.  I talked to your
dad about it, but I don't even think I did."

     Jake only leaned in to kiss Chris on the forehead.

     "I'll deal with it later," Chris said, "let's get this ready."

     Nodding, Jake went back to the kitchen counter, where he had been
spooning the cheese and eggplant mixture onto flat sheets of pasta, "Open
that bottle of red," Jake said, "and then we'll get you rolling."

     Chris gave a weak smile, popping the cork out of the wine bottle and
pouring it into a short tumbler that Jake offered him.  He reached over
Jake's shoulder for one of his own and the clinked their glasses together,
the sweet and bitter taste washing over Chris' tongue as he sipped it.
"Alright," he said, "I lied.  I didn't even look for the milk.  I just
needed to go think."

     Jake raised his eyebrow, "Out of the house thinking is more effective
than in?"

     "I thought you'd want to spend time with Aaron," Chris added, "I
needed to talk to someone."

     "I'm someone," Jake said, "you can always talk to me."

     "I know," Chris said, carefully laying a layer of pasta on top of
Jake's, "I needed a fresh set of ears."

     "So what did Topher tell you to do?"

     "To talk to you," Chris admitted, "and I don't usually follow advice
from him, but here I am."

     "You don't follow advice from anyone but Peter," Jake said, "and dad.
But talk."

     Chris was quiet for a bit, carefully sliding a knife through the
double-thick pasta.  "The book thing, I think they're going to do something
if I don't get on it," he sighed, "I guess I'll have to get to work on all
the details."

      Jake nodded, "Mom and dad told me.  I think you're going to be good.
You always know how you want everything."

     "Yeah," Chris said softly, feeling Jake's lips on the back of his
neck, the warmth of his body washing down his back, "for books I do, for
everything else, I'm still, you know...indecisive."

     "You've always been indecisive," Jake said, chuckling, "it takes you
forever to order at restaurants, your hair changes every time you cut it;
the only things that don't change are how you take your coffee," he paused,
"and me, but who would give this up?"

     "Wouldn't give you up for anything," Chris said, pushing the ravioli
aside, readying the countertop for another round.

     "That's what I like to hear," Jake said, the smile evident in the
sound of his voice.  He kissed the back of Chris' neck again, flour-dusted
hands sliding down his arms, their bodies pressed together as Jake reached
over, another sheet of pasta on the counter.

     Chris watched Jake's apt hands as he finished up another batch, "I'm
going to go upstairs and wash my face, I'll be right down while you cook
these?"

     Jake stepped backwards and Chris kissed him one more time, quick and
sweet on his lips.  He walked upstairs and into their bedroom, steps frozen
when he saw the baby asleep on their bed, curled up into a loose ball, the
light blanket that covered him rising and falling with every breath.  Chris
sighed and leaned against the doorframe, eyes still locked on the baby.  He
walked slowly into the room, tossing his shirt into the hamper and slowly
shut the bathroom door.  Sighing, he Splashed some water on his face, eyes
staring at his reflection in the mirror.  Blinking, he examined his
features, taking a few deep breaths, he went back to grab a shirt and
bounded down the stairs, Jake planting their plates on the table, "Let me
go get the baby," he said.

    "Why didn't you...ask me to?  I was just up there," Chris said, voice
trailing as Jake walked past him.  He sat down at the table, surveying the
food, two little candles lit, their wine poured into proper stemware and
not stout little glasses.

     "Maggie says he eats everything," Jake said as he set Aaron down his
booster seat, "good little guy."

     Chris nodded, picking his fork up as Jake sat down across the table
from him, eyes warm, "Something's wrong."

     "Nothing's wrong, I'm just confused right now," Chris said, "this food
looks really good."

     "Confused about what?" Jake asked, spooning what looked like tiny
squares of pasta in marinara sauce into Aaron's mouth with expert
precision.  Chris watched, still enthralled at how natural the movements
seemed, how intuitive Jake seemed to be with the baby.

     "Stuff," Chris said, picking at his food, "just stuff."

***

     Chris turned the corner into the living room, Boo at his heels, "Hold
on, little guy," Chris said, pausing as he looked over at the sofa, Jake
napping, Aaron right on top of his stomach.  They were both asleep, the
afternoon sunlight beaming across their bodies, stepping closer, brushing
the hair off of Jake's forehead, he leaned down to plant a soft kiss.  He
kissed the top of the baby's head too.

     "Jake," he whispered, watching as Jake's eyes fluttered open, "they're
going to be here soon."

     Nodding, Jake yawned, "I'll get him changed.  Maggie'll really like
that new stuff you got him."

     "You don't have to.  I'll do it.  You're tired."

     Jake chuckled, "You don't want to do it."

     Chris bit his lip.  Watching Aaron slowly wake up, smiling up at him
as he stumbled on the cushions.  "Hey Aaron," Chris said, tickling him
softly, a string of sweet giggles coming from his lips, bringing a smile to
both Chris and Jake's faces.  "One day," Chris said, "that's all I can say
right now, Jake."

     "We don't have to talk about this," Jake said, "there's no reason to
bring it."

     "The reason is looking at you right now," Chris said.

     "I don't want to hear you say it," Jake said, hugging Aaron against
his chest, nose running through his hair.  Jake closed his eyes, didn't
want his heart broken.  He loved kids, loved Aaron especially, but
everything about them--playing, learning, how they always looked in awe of
the entire world--he couldn't get enough.

     "Jake," Chris said, leaning down to kiss Jake's forehead, "I love you.
I love you more than anything."

     "There's a lot of love, Chris.  Lots of different kinds.  What we
have, nothing can take that away.  Not a kid, not anyone."

     Chris stepped back, nodding, "Then I won't say it, but I'll just say
that right now, I'm not ready.  I might be, but I don't know."

      "Nobody knows, Chris.  Things just happen."

      "Then it'll happen for us when it does," Chris said, nodding again.

      "And you'll be ready, I'm sure."

      Half an hour later, Aaron was wearing his new toddler's jeans and a
plaid shirt just like Jake's, Maggie wide-eyed and well rested, holding him
and hugging him over and over.  Peter leaned against he kitchen counter as
he watched Chris rifle through the fridge, "How was it," he asked, "you've
still got all your hair, so I guess it's not that bad."

     "No, it was great," Chris said, fishing a bottle of water out for
Peter, "it was really...educational."

     "You hated it," Peter said, "it's fine.  Not everyone's got the dad
gene."

     "Why is everyone just assuming I don't?" Chris asked, "It's not that I
can't or don't want to, just right now, I'm still figuring out things for
myself.  I can't have someone so dependent on me."

     "Remember when Jake asked you to marry him and we all thought you guys
were too young, too in love, and way too stupid?"

     "Stupid?"

     "See how well that worked out?  Maybe you'll change."

     "You thought we were stupid?"

     "And young, I said.  Young."

     "How did you know you were ready for it, Peter?  You and Maggie,
you're always so together.  Me and Jake," he chuckled, "we're such
dumbasses.  I can't even get my shit together for us, I can't add one more
person."

     "You're not ready," Peter said again, "but one day you will be.  Stop
asking questions and just go with it."

***

     "Sorry for the late notice," Celeste said, visibly flustered, "all the
changes happening, I just wanted you to meet the new division president."

     "Why?  Is he really nice?" Chris asked, fidgeting with his watch as
Celeste gathered things from her desk.

     "Chris, listen to me," her voice went low and their eyes locked, "I'm
getting fired.  I know I am.  I am asking you to come with me because I
have a feeling that they are not going to treat you well."

     Chris' forehead furrowed, "Wait, what?"

     "You know as well as I do that you're not a regular writer.  Chris,
you are dipping in every media--movies, books, magazines--nobody is going
to keep pushing you the way I do to try new things, I need you to come with
me so that nobody can stop your creativity.  I'm not asking you because I
need a paycheck, Chris, I need you because I...we need each other.  They
want me to push the Jake thing and I know that you'd never do that.  You
were good before him, better than ever now."

     "The Jake thing?  Then why are we even going to the meeting?  Let's
just go," Chris said, turning to the door.

     "No, that's not how it works.  This is perfect for you Chris, we're
renegotiating you, I've been talking to Penguin.  They're going to treat
you really well there, but you have to be cordial here.  You don't just cut
yourself off.  They helped you, you have to say 'thanks.'  You can't be on
anyone's bad side."

     "Why now?  What's happening?"

     "Books aren't cool anymore, Chris.  You are though, so you keep doing
what you do.  I'll keep doing what I do.  We're going to get through this."

     "What next?"

     "Whatever is coming is coming," Celeste said, "you're so talented that
with me, without me, you're still going places.  I just want to be there
with you because you've given me more than anyone has.  You took a chance
on me and I'm going to give it back.  Come with me, I promise it'll work
out."

     "I'm with you," Chris said, grabbing her hand, "let's just get this
over with."

     "I'm really sorry, Chris."

     "For what?"

     Celeste hesitated, "Well, it's just in case.  Trust me, please."

     "What about Wes?  Is he going to be okay?"

     "Yes, yes, he'll be fine.  You did good on that."

     Right then, Chris realized that his work wasn't just about him.  There
were people who depended on him for more than an escape from reality.
There were people who depended on him for their realities.  "Wherever you
go, Celeste, I'm there.  You've done too much for me, way too much."

     Letting out a long breath, Celeste composed herself, "Then it's
settled."

***

     "What are you doing up here?" Jake asked, sliding into bed with Chris,
his hands running up the smooth skin of Chris' back, their bodies coming
together as Chris groaned softly, a slight smile tugging at the corners of
his mouth.

     "Nap," Chris said simply, voice low and heavy, "did you...early?"

     "It's early," Jake whispered, kissing Chris' forehead, "what's got you
so worn out?  You're still dressed."

     "Work shit," Chris said, pressing deeper against Jake, "I think I'm
screwed."

     "What are you talking about?"

     "My book is halted," Chris said, voice slow, "I'm a free agent again."

     "What?" Jake asked, keeping his voice even, the surprise only slight.
He wasn't sure if Chris was half-asleep or half-denying the events of the
day.  He was, however, fully aware that being without a publishing house
meant that Chris was lost, floundering.

     "Jake," Chris whispered, "I have to start all over with this place.  I
don't know anyone at Penguin.  I don't know if they even have an office out
here."

     "So you've got a plan," Jake said, a little relieved, "what are you
worried about?"

    "I've been so drained," Chris said, taking a deep breath as he pulled
closer to Jake.  Their bodies weaving and knotting into a new tangle as
Chris inched and pressed their bodies together.  Jake was silent, the years
they spent together giving him enough knowledge to know when to talk and,
like now, when to listen.  "I've got a block like I've never had before."

     "Is it because of what happened with Abby?" Jake asked automatically.

     There was a pause.  "And a bunch of other things," Chris said, "lots
of shit."

     "You don't get writer's block," Jake said, kissing Chris' forehead.

    For the most part, Jake was right.  Chris sighed, blinking his eyes
slowly.  He had one thing most writers, especially young ones like him,
didn't have.  He had Jake and what the two of them had together.  He had an
infinitely deep reservoir of experience and feeling that nobody else had
access too.  The problem he had though, was that right now and right here,
he was drowning.

     "We should get something to eat," Jake said.  He could hear Chris'
stomach rumbling.

     "I'm not hungry," Chris said, burrowing deeper into the contours of
Jake's body.

     "Yes you are," Jake said.  He ran his hand up Chris' back, "It's going
to be okay, Chris.  Don't be so hard on yourself."

     "You're right," Chris said, running his fingers over Jake's face,
"you're always right."

     "Let's not go that far," Jake said, kissing Chris softly.  That was
all it took to push the worry from Chris' reeling mind.  As their lips came
together, Chris saw that there wasn't much that Jake couldn't fix with a
few calming words and a kiss.

     "So you said something about eating?" Chris asked, smiling.

     "You interrupted that with your fake worrying.  Worrying all the
time," Jake kissed him once more, "about nothing at all."

     "It's not nothing," Chris sighed, "it's just something everyone deals
with."

     "Writer's block or the other thing?"

     "Both," Chris said, voice sure, "both things."

***

     Chris groaned and blinked, tasting dirt and dust as he stiffly got to
his feet.  He squinted in the bright sun and braced himself against the
whipping winds, sand, and dust.  Looking around, there was nothing but dry,
cracked earth.  His whole body ached, from the joints in his hands down to
the bones in his feet.  Muscles between were stiff and store as he took a
few stumbling steps, his voice dry as he tried to yell for help.  "Jake,"
was the first word to come out, cracked and rough like the terrain.

     He was alone with the howling wind and unforgiving earth.  He didn't
know where he was or how he got there.  He was alone.  He was stranded.  He
was going to die.  Falling back to his knees, he looked at his hands, deep
breaths straining his lungs as he covered his face.  He fell to his side
and curled into a ball, the heat beating down on him, his body hot and dry,
shaking and shivering.

     Chris bolted up, his eyes blinking quickly as he reached clumsily for
the bottle of water on his desk.  He struggled with the cap and chugged
down long, greedy gulps.  It was the second time he'd fallen asleep at the
desk, Boo mirroring his slumber at his feet.  He was grateful that Jake
wasn't home to wake him up.  There would inevitably be more chiding about
how hard he was working, how he became completely engrossed in his created
worlds, but he couldn't help it.  With his book dropped, he had to get
something new to his new publisher.  But the more he wrote, the more lost
he was feeling.

     "Let's go downstairs," Chris said, looking down at his dog, stretching
and yawning below the desk.  He half expected and answer as he took another
long swig of water.  Getting onto his feet, he stretched his arms up over
his head, smiling at the string of satisfying cracks in his back.

     His fingers dashed over the buttons on his phone without even having
to look.  He knew Jake's number would go straight to his voicemail, and he
cleared his throat as he listened to Jake's recorded voice, "Hey, it's me,"
he started, "call me when you get off.  I really have to talk to you."  He
knew his voice sounded sort of desperate, sort of scared, and definitely
ridiculous.

     Another flurry of buttons and he slid the back door open, Boo and
Atticus both bolting outside, "Topher, it's me."

     "Talk to me," he said, voice somewhat distracted.

     "Are you busy?"

     "No, no," Topher insisted, "just hold on one second."

     Chris squinted as he watched the waves crash onto the sand, his hand
running over his neck.  He could still imagine that sand blowing against
his skin, the parched dryness of his throat.

     "Do you want to come over?  Or can I go over there?"

     "To work or just to talk?" Topher asked, "my place is a mess."

     "To talk about work," Chris said, sighing, "sorry."

     "No, I'll be right over.  Do you have anything to eat?  I can get
something on the way."

     "There's nothing on the way," Chris said, smiling to himself, "I'll
make something."

     Half an hour later, Topher was sitting at the counter, watching Chris
assemble their lunch, roast chicken and vegetables, everything smoky and
delicious looking, "You just threw this together?"

     "We were going to have it last night," Chris said, shrugging, "but we
didn't."

     "How do you roast an entire chicken that fast?" Topher asked, already
cutting into the meat.

     "It's a baby chicken," Chris said, "but really, tell me whether or not
it's worth starting a new book.  Tell me the truth."

     Topher looked up at him, "From what I hear, you get pretty intense
when you do that."

     "Yeah, but you get really intense when you're filming.  So does Jake,
it's just part of it."

     "It's different," Topher said as he ate.

     "How?"

     "You get lost in your work," Topher said simply, "that's what Jake
said.  Word for word."

     "That's not..." Chris didn't want to argue, "I need to do something.
I'm getting pressure from all over.  Celeste and my new publisher and I
really have to do this to show Knopf that they can't just push me around."

     "What were they going to do, exactly?"

     "Drop me.  They said my writing was getting boring.  Formulaic.
Predictable," Chris recited his demerits, word for word.  "But I didn't
know what to say to that," he shrugged, "I thought I was doing good."

     "You are," Topher said, "don't let them break you down."

     "I'm not coasting, am I?  Topher, you've read all my stories," Chris
said as he pushed his food around his plate.

     Topher dropped his fork, the clang bringing Chris' eyes to his own,
"No.  You are awesome.  You are hip and cool and relevant, not just some
shitty airport writer, Chris.  You mean something to a lot of people."

     "Jesus," Chris sighed, "I'm just so lost right now.  I don't know what
to do."

     "Jonas is always saying..."

     "Jonas?" Chris asked, "are you serious?"  He sat up straight, it was
exactly what he needed to get work off his mind.

     "He's really smart, Chris.  He might seem like he's all about partying
and shit, but he's fantastic."

     "You seem happy," Chris said, "happier than I've seen you in a long
time."

     "I am," Topher said, "so don't fuck this up for me.  Don't you go
charm him with your wit and charisma."

***

     Water everywhere.  He was drowning.  Chris didn't ever dream about
drowning, having spent his entire life near the ocean, but it was all he
could think about.  The computer screen was blank, his mind still on the
dream he had last night, waking up with a cold sweat, Jake groaning as he
rubbed his eyes, Chris gasping for breath.  "Are you okay?" Jake had asked,
his voice dripping with sleep as he pulled Chris back down to the bed,
spooning him tight up against his chest.  Jake shushed him, hands running
up and down his arms, feeling Chris' heart slow.  It scared Chris, it
really did.  His dreams had never felt so real, never stayed in his head
for so long.  He used to just dismiss them, either having them dissolve
into black inky sleep or having them just dissipate from his mind, but all
he could do now was feel the water on his skin, his legs kicking, arms
flailing as he sunk deeper and deeper into the water.

     "Fuck," Chris groaned, slamming his computer shut, writing had never
been so difficult.  When he finally admitted it to himself, he felt like
the world was collapsing around him.  It had never been so hard before.

     "How's it going?" Jake asked as Chris stomped down the stairs.

     "Fuck it," Chris said, speeding past him to push the sliding glass
door open, almost pulling it off of its track.  The cool, salty air blew
across him and he let out a long sigh.

     He turned around and Jake was looking at him from the doorway,
forehead furrowed and eyes questioning, "That's not how you usually answer
that question," Jake said, "or how you usually talk to me."

     "I'm sorry," Chris said, leaning against the worn wood of the deck
railing, running his hands over his face, "I didn't mean to say it like
that."

    Jake pressed their bodies together, hand sliding around Chris' back as
he kissed Chris' ear softly, "It's going to be okay," he whispered, kissing
down Chris' jaw to his neck.

     Chris sighed again, his hands slipping up under Jake's shirt to press
against the warm skin of his stomach, "I hear there's a good movie out.
About World War Two, and for once, nobody we invite over to the house is in
it."

     "Let's go," Jake said, holding Chris tight.  He kissed Chris' forehead
and then finally let their lips connect.

     A few hours later, Chris grabbed the mail as they Jake opened the
front door, Boo jumping around their ankles as Atticus greeted them with
nothing more than a head-to-toe survey.  He was probably the most stoic
personality in the house, Chris thought sometimes.  "Why do we subscribe to
this?" Chris asked, tossing a copy of the Variety right into their
recycling bin, "we don't read it."

     "It's free."

     "You should call them, remember that whole environment issue, we have
to save the rainforests."

     Jake chuckled, "You should write a book about the rain forests."

     Chris looked up at him, Jake's toothy smile wide and genuine.  "I
don't know much about the rainforest."

     "Write a book about...," Jake paused, "...love.  You know a lot about
love."

     "I wouldn't want to bore you," Chris said, fingers pushing through
Jake's thick hair, "everything I know about love I learned from you."

     "That's sweet," Jake whispered, leaning in for a kiss, "but that's
bullshit."

     Pushing him away, Chris laughed for the first time that day, a fact
that hit him hard when he realized.  Suddenly sullen, he looked up at Jake,
"What's wrong with me?"

     "Nothing, nothing at all," Jake said, looking deep into Chris' eyes,
"why would you think that?"

     "I feel broken," Chris admitted, "really.  I get up and I can't write
and..." he shook his head, "...and what?  What was the point?"

     He grabbed Chris' hand, holding it tight, "There's more than that," he
said, "sometimes you don't see it, but just having you there is enough for
me.  I just think that I'm enough for you sometimes."

     "No," Chris said, "no.  It's not that.  I need you.  But you're
working and I should be working, this is what I do."

     "It's what you do, but it's not all you do."

***

     Chris sighed and pulled his knees up to his chest, the moonlight was
bright and it was cold, there were no clouds and he knew there was a sea of
stars above the sea of water that stretched out in front of him.  Sometimes
he wished the city lights would just turn off for a second so he could
drown in the stars, like he did in Big Sur.

     He heard the sliding glass door open, but he didn't turn around.  It
could only have been one person.

     "I hate when I'm alone in bed."

     "I wake up by myself five days a week, sometimes six."

     "I kiss you goodbye every morning."

     "I got sidetracked on the way back from the bathroom."

     "You don't go to the bathroom in the middle of the night."

     Chris felt Jake settle behind him, pulling their bodies together while
they settled on the cushions of the chaise.  "Was that a fight we had?"

     "No," Jake said simply.

     "There's just a lot of pressure."

     "I know," Jake said, kissing the back of Chris' neck.

     "Do you?"

     "I know you don't usually have this much trouble," Jake's hands
grabbed Chris', "I know that you're scared."  He held Chris' hands tight,
"But I know that you're talented.  So good.  You've got ideas and you can
actually put them out."

     "I don't have any right now," Chris said, "all that's in my head..."
he stopped and Jake waited, but nothing came out, both closing their eyes
and feeling Chris' heavy, deep breaths, "is how much I think about her."

     "I think about her, too."

     "But you go to work and you can push that out of your head.  I can't."

     Jake shuffled their bodies around, made Chris face him, legs
straddling his thighs, Jake's hands on the small of his back, their
foreheads coming together, chests pressed tight, Chris' eyes sparkling with
tears.  A tear fell, a wet trail falling from his eye, rolling down his
cheek to drip off his chin, his expression changing from fatigue to defeat.

     He let his head drop to Jake's shoulder, their bodies rocking together
as Jake ran soothing hands up and down his back.  "And then the whole thing
happened with Kurt and I just don't know what's going on anymore," Chris
said, voice cracking.

     "It's going to be smooth now," Jake said, "you have to believe that.
I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

     "You can't promise that," Chris said, "I feel like I'm just nothing
anymore.  I'm running on empty."

     "No, stop," Jake whispered, "I'd give you the moon if I could, the
stars, everything between.  You mean too much to me."

     "I have to go to do a interview tomorrow," Chris sighed, hand tracing
Jake's jaw as Jake wiped away his tears, "I'm going to look like shit."

     Jake shook his head, "Come inside, just start over tomorrow.  Forget
that you're muddy up there, just sit down and write.  Who cares what it is?
Just write."

***

     "I just finished," Chris said, hands in his pockets, "I didn't think
you'd be in this part of town."

     "I needed to pick up some things," Topher said, "why aren't you
rushing home?"

     Chris just shrugged, he'd walked from the hotel where he'd done the
interview, something little for his publisher, something Celeste insisted
he do even though it was for a weekend supplement to a newspaper, "Don't
you have one just like that?"

     Topher nodded, throwing the black jacket over his shoulder, "I got
some stuff on it.  Won't wash out."

     "It's dry clean only," Chris said, eyebrow raising, "I have it in navy
blue.  We bought them together."

     Quiet, Topher just kept rifling through the racks, "Do you and Jake
want to come over?  We're always at your house and I figure I owe you guys
a meal at least.  You roasted me a baby chicken and all."

     "Jake actually said it was just small chicken, not a baby chicken.
Something different entirely," Chris explained, "but I'm sure we could come
over.  We don't have any plans."

     "Do you need to go home first?  I can drop you off."

     "Yeah," Chris said, nodding, "Jake and I should change and stuff."

     Topher rolled his eyes, "Whatever.  Fuck and then come over."

     "We'll be there.  He has to wipe the fake tattoo off his neck and
we'll be there."

     "Are you getting that?" Topher asked, motioning to the shirt Chris was
holding.

     Chris shook his head, laying it back down on the table.  His mind
wasn't on shopping, wasn't really on anything.  He was still having trouble
focusing, he was tired, and he was almost certain he'd just given the
blandest interview he'd ever done.  Celeste had either prompted the
reporter not to mention Jake or everyone was bored, because Chris kept
waiting for him to bring something up.  Years had gone by without anything
from either of them, but Chris always expected it.  People had made up
their minds by now, even if they did say something, there were other more
newsworthy things to write about.  They stayed out of the news the easiest
way they could think of: they were boring.

     "Are you ready?"

     "No," Chris said, shaking himself, "do you need us to bring anything?"

     "What do you need?"

     "What if two people love each other but never met each other?" Chris
asked.  Topher followed his line of sight, but Chris kept talking, "They
hear about each other from their friends, but they never actually meet."
Chris was looking at an animated conversation at the cafe across the
street, Topher saw; a woman in sunglasses looked like she'd just been on
the greatest date of her life, explaining every detail to her friend, who
looked smug, satisfied with herself.  "They talk on the phone, maybe.  They
E-mail."

     "Chris..."

     "They just miss each other all the time.  Stuff happens."

     "Chris, you don't write love stories."

     "It's not a love story, how can you be in love if you've never met the
person?"

     "I don't know," Topher said, "maybe if I read it."

     "I'll edit it.  It'll be different."

     "How does it end, then Chris?  That's always what people say about
you."

     "They find out it was all in their heads.  They don't know love
because you have to feel it," he reached in his pocket for his pen, writing
messily on his little journal, "you feel it inside and you have to feel it
physically.  This is good.  I think I can do this."

     "Sounds good," Topher said, "but we've got to get going.  Write in the
car.  I can't have you coming over to my mess of a house."

***

     Jake slid the shower door open and Chris turned around to look, a
smile on his face, "Hey you," he said, kissing Jake as his hands pushed his
hair back, Jake's lips soft and warm, "I got and idea today."

     "Looks like it," Jake said, hands running up Chris' sides, "haven't
seen you smiling like this for a while."

     "I was with Topher and I saw these people and I think I can write
about this," he said excitedly, Jake catching his contagious grin, "and I
think it'll be good."

     "Well, I know it'll be good," Jake said, pressing their bodies
together as the water cascaded down between them, "need help with your
back?"

     "I think I can manage," Chris said, kissing Jake's neck.

     Jake ignored him, hands running down the tan skin and taut muscles of
Chris' back, the tips of his fingers tracing every bump and groove of
Chris' spine, "You feel so good," he said softly.  He reached behind Chris
and shut the water off.  He pulled Chris out of the shower, water dripping
off of their bodies as he pulled Chris into a kiss, "What's the point?
We'll have to be in there later."

     Chris slicked his hair back, more water sliding down his back, but
Jake pushed him against the towels, haphazardly drying them both off as
they pulled at the terrycloth, lips refusing to part as Jake pulled them
into the bedroom.  Chris was down on his knees in an instant, helped out by
Jake's insistent pushing on his shoulders, Chris' hands running up Jake's
hair legs, his lips and tongue on Jake's balls, Jake's fingers tangling in
his hair.  Chris scooted closer to Jake's body, his tongue slicking Jake's
cock with long licks, Jake's blue eyes locked on Chris' lips and tongue,
grinning as Chris opened his mouth and took the head of his dick in, tongue
teasing his slit, tickling the ridge of his cock head.  There were times
Jake would just stand there, biting his lip and trying to hold back the
thrusting of his hips to let Chris work him over, tongue, lips, and teeth
coming together to drive him over the edge, but today, he wasn't in the
mood.  He grabbed Chris' head with his hands, gripped his scalp tight and
shoved his cock in, inch after inch sliding across Chris' tongue, the head
lodging in Chris' throat as he swallowed, Jake pushing past an audible gag,
Chris' eyes shutting as Jake slid in and out, his breaths quickening as he
pushed past the ring of Chris' lips, groaning as he pulled out entirely,
only to have Chris dive back onto it, gripping his ass to push it in
deeper.

     Grunting, the muscles of Jake's arms flexed, his chest tight as he
pushed in and out of Chris' throat.  He looked down to see his cock, shiny
with sweat, the sight of it stretching Chris' mouth open sending a chill
right up his spine.  Chris groaned as Jake shifted from long strokes to
short ones, jabbing in and out of his mouth, both of them breathing
heavily, Chris' leaning into Jake's hips, his chest pressing against Jake's
leg, his mouth open as he relaxed into Jake's rhythm.

     "Lick it," Jake grunted, pulling out, Chris' eyes fluttering open as
he caught his breath, stroking Jake a little, lips tracing the fat vein on
the bottom of his dripping dick, tongue darting out to tease the head
again.  Jake groaned, cautiously gripping Chris' ears, watching as he
eagerly suckled and licked at the head.  Jake gasped, pushing back into
Chris' mouth, feeling his dick slide across Chris' tongue.  It just felt so
good, hot and wet, tight and slick, that Jake wanted to just keep
thrusting, fucking Chris' mouth, but he could feel his balls tightening,
Chris' fingers pulling gently on his sac, the other hand splayed across the
small of Jake's back, pushing hard to get every last bit of Jake buried in
his throat.

    Chris gasped as Jake pulled out, almost relieved to get a little break,
but he reached up to stroke Jake's cock, his own cock hard, pressed against
Jake's shin.  Jake was grunting, his hands shaking as he bit his bottom
lip, his face masked with restraint, losing the battle as Chris swirled his
tongue around his head again, a shrinking spiral of his tongue getting
closer and closer to his slit.  Jake gripped Chris' head one more time,
grunts and profanities echoing of the walls of their bedroom as they shot,
thick white spurts of cum flying into Chris' mouth, the second and third
shot smearing his face, the final dribbles landing on Chris' neck and
shoulders.  Chris slumped down to his haunches, his hand still gripping the
base of Jake's cock, both of them catching their breath.

     "Up, up," Jake said, pulling at Chris, their mouths crashing together,
Chris pushing Jake down onto the bed, his hard cock rubbing against Jake's
stomach.

     "Can you get it 'up, up?'" Chris asked, lips curling into a smile on
Jake's neck, his hands skidding down Jake's sides, one hand grabbing Jake's
shoulder as he ground his cock against Jake's.

     "Never had a problem before," Jake rasped out, voice dry and low, he
ran his hands down Chris' back, skin sweaty and supple, their bodies moving
together.  Chris shuddered as Jake stroked his cock, his free hand running
up Chris' chest, finger dipping between Chris' lips.  He sucked at it,
mimicking what he had done to Jake's cock, eyes fluttering shut again, his
back arching up, Jake's eyes taking in everything, lean muscles and tight
neck, his hair wet from sweat or the shower, Jake didn't know.

    "I'm close," Chris groaned, his neck tight.  Jake grunted in response,
stroking Chris faster as his own cock slid up between Chris' ass cheeks.

     "Cum for me," Jake managed to say, "come on."

     Chris nodded quickly, gripping Jake's shoulders, "Get in me...want to
cum with you in me."

     Jake gasped as Chris reached behind himself, aiming Jake's cock right
for his hole.  Jake hadn't stretched him, slick finger long forgotten, but
Chris inched backwards, taking the head inside, grunting and groaning for a
split second before shoving the rest of Jake's cock inside.  They groaned
in unison, Chris' body stiffening, rigid as he shot, squeezing Jake's cock
inside his chute, the pulsing clutches sending a string of grunts from
Jake, his cum smearing between their bodies, Jake's knuckles white as he
gripped Chris' hips, their lips coming together one more time, Jake's
stubbly jaw scratching Chris' cheeks and chin, his body still pulsing with
his orgasm, spasms lighter now than just a few seconds before.

     Slowly, he started up and down, Jake's cock sliding in and out with
him.  Groaning, he latched onto Jake's neck, impaling himself on Jake's
thick cock, reveling in the stretch, body quaking every time Jake raked
across his prostate.  Jake let Chris ride him for a few minutes, allowed
him the few strokes to get used to Jake stretching him again, though they
did it often enough and in the back of Jake's head, he knew that Chris
liked it a little harder.  Wrapping his arms around Chris' chest, he rolled
them over, his cock still lodged in Chris' ass.

     Chris whimpered as Jake pulled his legs up, one on his shoulder, the
other wrapped around his waist.  Thrusting hard, Jake threw his head back,
mouth slack as he slammed in and sawed out, the smack of their skin ringing
in their ears, mixing with low groans and Jake's steady, gravelly
breathing.  Chris' fingers raked across Jake's back, his cock hard again,
lodged between their heaving bodies, his head spinning too fast to even
reach down and stroke himself.  Jake's thrusts were hard and deep, his jaw
and neck tight, beads of sweat rolling down ever ridge as he slammed every
inch of himself into Chris' clutching chute.

     "Oh, fuck," Jake groaned.  Chris pulled him down, their lips crashing
together, Jake's tongue sliding into Chris' mouth.  Chris arched his back,
grabbing Jake's neck, fingers tangling in his hair, every breath strained
and choked, Jake's cock opening him up again and again, pulling out
completely only to shove back inside.  Over and over, again and again, Jake
pushed Chris close and closer to orgasm, their bodies tingling, flush and
hot, sweat slicking their skin, eyes half- lidded or shut tight, bodies
barreling to orgasm, unfettered and uninhibited.

     Jake pulled out and let Chris' legs fall, Chris' eyes wide and
exasperated, Jake pulling him up for another kiss before turning him
around, pushing his head down to the mattress, resting on his arms as Jake
lined up and slid in again, deliciously slow, feeling every inch of himself
squeezed into Chris' hole, another long groan falling from his lips as
Chris groaned, the sheets knotting and twisting in his hands.  He grunted,
Jake's cock slamming his prostate again and again and he knew he couldn't
hold it anymore.  There was too much, too many sensations too fast, and he
felt Jake grab his hair, pulling his head back, slamming in even harder.
Gasping, grunting, Chris shot, gobs of searing hot cum splattering on the
sheets below his body.  Knees shaking, body buckling, he fell to the
sheets, Jake falling right on top of him.  Breathing heavy in his ear, Jake
reached up, tracing Chris' arms with his hands, fingers tangling together
as his hips flexed, shoving deep as he groaned, low and rumbling in his
chest, teeth biting at the back of Chris' neck, cum shooting deep into
Chris' ass, his whole body shaking as his whole body just exploded, stars
on his eyes, fingers and toes curled and quaking, a haze of warmth
emanating from his crotch across his whole body.

     "Oh fuck," Chris groaned, his fingers gripping Jake's, "fuck that was
intense."

     "I love you, love you so much," Jake whispered, kissing the redness on
Chris' neck, "I can't move, can barely breathe."

     "Shit, I'm...I'm a mess...," Chris groaned.

     Jake craned to kiss him, their hands still entwined, "Tell me you love
me, just one more time."

     Chris smiled, eyes shutting, "You mean more to me than anyone I've
ever known, Jake.  I love you so much.  So so, so so much."

***

     "I left it in the car," Chris said, stopping mid-stride.  Jake tossed
him the car keys and kept walking.  Pushing the door open, he hung his
jacket on the hooks by the door, they'd been over enough times to know
where things were, how things worked.  Topher's house was more modern than
theirs, sleek black leather furniture, white walls and modern art where
their house was warmer, greener, definitely homier.

     Jake walked through the foyer towards the kitchen, the house smelled
good, Topher was definitely cooking something.  Jake heard the front door
open, but he kept going forward, stunned when he saw Topher pushing Jonas
up against the refrigerator, their lips slammed together.  Frozen, Jake
watched Topher's hand creep up under Jonas' shirt, grabbing at the tank top
he wore underneath, both of them breathy, eyes shut tight.  The passion was
undeniable, their hands desperate on each other, their bodies moving
together like they'd been doing it every day.  Jake took a step back, but
couldn't tear his eyes away, he was confused, almost surprised, but Chris
called out for him, voice sounding though the house as Jake stepped back a
few times, Chris kissing his cheek, "Where's Topher?"

     "Kitchen, probably," Jake said, "you get the wine?"

     Chris held up the bottle, "I don't think they'll appreciate it, but
whatever."  Pulling Chris close, Jake kissed him, soft and slow, his tongue
barely touching Chris'.  Smiling, Chris licked his lips as they pulled
apart, "That was great, think I can get another one?"

     "I think maybe you can," Jake said softly, bringing them together one
more time.

     "I thought I heard you," Topher said, smiling.

     Smiling right back, Chris handed Topher the wine, pulled into another
hug, his back pressed tight to Jake's chest, lips on his neck, "We're glad
to be here," Chris said, giggling slightly as Jake's lips tickled his skin.

     "Let's crack this open," Topher said, "Jonas is already here, I
actually cooked everything."

     "Look at that," Jake said as they walked into the kitchen together.
He nodded as he saw the salad, the roast resting on a bed of roasted
vegetables, "It's like we walked into an issue of Cooks Illustrated."

     "Topher, this is great," Chris said, eyes wide, "it's awesome."

     "Sit down," Jonas insisted, pulling a chair out, motioning for Chris
and Jake to sit.

     Chris took the offered chair and Jake sat down next to him, "How did
that magazine thing go today," Jonas asked as he sat across from Jake,
Topher bringing the salad over to the table.

     "Help yourselves, guys," he said before going back to grab more food.

     "It was awful," Chris said, "but it's over."

     "I'm sure it was fine," Jake said, grabbing Chris' hand, kissing his
temple softly, "forget about it."

     Jonas passed the wooden bowl of salad around and Chris served himself
and Jake as Topher came to the table, "Who knew we could be so civilized?"
he asked.

     "Who knew you could cook?" Jake said, laughing, "Grace, you've really
outdone yourself."  He grabbed the wine, pouring some in all of their
glasses.  Chris couldn't take the smile off of his face, seeing them all
together.

     They ate, talking about everything and nothing and soon, their
stomachs were full and they were laughing hard and often.  Chris leaned
over, squeezing Jake's bicep softly, "I have to go to the bathroom," he
whispered.  He turned to Topher and Jonas, "Excuse me, sirs."

     Topher raised his glass, "You are excused."  He and Jonas erupted into
a fit of laughs and Jake leaned back in the chair.

     "I know how you two met," Jonas started, motioning to Jake and Chris'
empty chair, "but how did you meet them?" he asked Topher.

     Jake and Topher both shot looks at each other, "Chris wrote a movie I
was in," Topher said slowly, eyeing Jake suspiciously.

     "I'm going to wash my hands," Jake said, "Chris should be out of
there."

     Rushing to the bathroom, Jake pushed Chris back inside as he was
coming out, "I saw them kissing," Jake said, "how did those two...I didn't
think."

     "I know," Chris said, nodding, "they're a couple."

     "And you didn't tell me?" Jake asked, pointing to the closed door,
"Really?"

     "I thought they'd tell you," Chris said, his hand running over Jake's
stomach, "is it that big of a deal?"

     Jake's eyes grew wide, his head still trying to figure out the
details, "How long?"

     "A while," Chris said, "we shouldn't stay in here...that's weird,
right?"

     "Chris," Jake sighed, pulling him close, "I don't know.  I don't want
you to be in the middle if something happens."  He mussed Chris' hair,
"Neither of them have the best track record.  I know how much they mean to
you, especially Grace."

     "I think they're going to make it," Chris said, grabbing Jake's hand,
kissing it softly, "they're really happy."  He pulled Jake out of the
bathroom and back into the dining room, where two sets of eyes locked on
theirs.

     "What's for dessert?" Jake asked, head tilting to one side.

     "What exactly happened between you and Topher, Chris?" Jonas asked.

     Chris' eyes shot to Topher's.  "What do you mean?" he asked.

     'I'm sorry.  So sorry,' Topher mouthed, eyes panicked, he grabbed
Jonas' shoulder, but he shrugged it off, getting up out of his chair.  "Jo,
it's done.  We can't do anything about it now."

     "You," he said turning to Topher, "I can't believe you didn't say
anything.  And you, Jake."

     Jake stiffened, "Jonas, the three of us have been through a lot.  If
you want to be part of what we're going to go through, I think you should
drop this.  We can talk about it, but not when you're mad."

     "You don't think I'll be mad when you bring it up again?" Jonas
snapped, "You're noble, the lot of you, staying friends after that shit he
pulled."

     "Jonas," Chris said, almost pleading, "why are you even doing this?
It doesn't change anything now, it's all in the past, for all of us."

     He scanned them each, head to toe--Jake and Chris on one side of the
table, Topher just a few paces from him.  He let out a sigh and stepped
backwards, his hands up in mock-surrender, "I always thought I was the slut
here, but I'm not the one who's been with half the guys in this room."

     "Watch it," Jake said, voice dropping.  He grabbed Chris' hand, "We'll
see you guys later.  Thank you, Grace, for everything."

     "Don't go," Topher said, "there are things that need to be said."

     "Now?" Chris asked, "now's not good."

     "Now," Topher and Jake said simultaneously.  Their eyes shot to each
other's and Jonas pulled his chair back out, sitting down with his arms
crossed.

     "I'm here to listen," Jonas said, "but I think I've heard enough."

     "Drugs?  Manipulation?  Jumping onto peoples' insecurities?  Is that
what you want to hear about, Jonas?  That's what it was all about, that's
what went on between the three of us.  All of us made mistakes, it wasn't
just me being a slut," Chris said, interrupting both Topher and Jake, who
both looked at him intently.

     Jonas grew pale, his jaw tight, but his eyes still angry.  He took a
deep breath, "Topher said you came onto him, that things happened," Jonas
said softly, "I didn't think it would hit me this hard."

     "Jonas," Chris said, eyes looking to Topher and Jake, "I don't have to
tell you that sometimes, people choose to keep information to themselves
because they don't want anyone to get hurt."  His words were slow and
deliberate, his eyes locked to Jonas'.

     "Right," Jonas said softly, "I think I better go.  I've caused enough
of a row between you."

     "No," Jake said, "you're just mad.  For good reason, but you've got to
see that things are different now."

     "Why the hell does it hurt so much?" Jonas asked, eyes looking up to
Topher.

     "Because you're in...love," Jake said looking at Chris, "that's when
things start to hurt you, hit you."

     "Love is shit," Jonas said, Topher rubbing his shoulder, "but damn,
it's worth it."

     "We're leaving," Jake said gruffly, "you have a good night, both of
you."

     Chris gave Topher a weak wave, and shook his head, Topher looked
worried, pleading, 'I'm sorry,' he mouthed again.  Jake had both of their
jackets and was out on the porch as Chris shut the door behind them, but
Topher opened it again, "Chris."  He and Jake turned around, standing
still, "Chris, I'm sorry."

     "You didn't do anything," Chris said.  Jake was already heading back
to the car.

     "Please don't tell him about what went on before," Topher pleaded.

     "Before?  Topher," he leaned in close, "I'm not going to, but you have
to."

     Topher recoiled, shaking his head slowly.  Chris grabbed his
shoulders, "Topher, don't you let him keep thinking that bullshit about
us."

     "It's not bullshit, it happened."

     "Then tell him the whole fucking story," Chris said, not bothering to
hide the anger in his voice, "tell him about how you fucked me and Jake
over and how I forgave you.  Tell him how long it took.  Tell him
everything."

     He turned around and went over to the car, "Tell him Topher, because
if you don't, he'll come to me."

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