Fic: A Nonverbal Spell (2/3)
Title: A Nonverbal Spell (2/3)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 20.089
Warnings: RPF, blink-and-you-miss-it mention of underage drinking, homophobia, internalized homophobia, underage sex
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All events in this have been completely made up and do not represent a truthful depiction of these people or their lives. I ask that you please do not share this with any of the people involved.
Summary: A drunken party game reminds Darren of a secret from his past and he doesn’t react well. Chris is determined to figure out what’s wrong and what he can do to fix it.
Author's Notes: So here it is! This is by far the longest anything I've written, and I'm honestly a bit surprised I made it this far. I thought I was crazy when I signed up for the big bang back in October, and at this point, I know I was crazy. My unending gratitude goes out to my beta, anodrethlluvine, who has also listened to me rant and rave and let me go generally nuts on him over this.
---
Ryan called a cut to the scene and Darren sobered immediately, pulling back from Chris and sitting stiffly upright. This was completely different from how Darren usually behaved between takes. Normally he would be laughing and joking around, but today he was so serious. Chris didn’t get it. Darren was able to get past whatever this issue was in order to film the heated scene - he was a professional after all - but something was definitely wrong. Chris had been pretty sure the strange behavior had to do with the truth or dare game, but now he wasn’t so sure. Was Dianna right? Had he done something to cause this?
“Again!” Ryan called out, and Chris pushed Darren down so that Kurt is straddling Blaine on the bed when the cameras started to roll.
Kurt and Blaine lie next to each other, caressing each other gently. “I love you so much,” Kurt says after a short while, punctuating the declaration with a light kiss. Blaine deepens the kiss, reaching up and pulling Kurt closer to him.
Kurt jumps backward and Blaine’s face reddens when the doorknob begins to turn.
“I saw Blaine’s car in the driveway, kid. Open the door,” Burt’s voice booms from the other side of the door.
Kurt struggles to rearrange his clothes and hair as he backs away from the bed. He pleads silently with Blaine to do the same before turning the lock to let his father in.
“Uh, sorry, Dad.”
“You know the rules,” Burt says, looking between the two guilty faces. “If Blaine’s here, no closed doors and definitely no locked doors.”
Kurt nods, looking at the floor.
“I think you should go,” Burt says, looking straight at Blaine.
Blaine hops up, grabbing his school bag and making a run for it. Burt steps to the side to let him pass.
“Come on, kid. I think it’s time we had a talk.”
Kurt gulps but follows his dad out of his room.
“Great!” Ryan shouted, gesturing them to come toward him. “I want to look things over and may want to get a few more takes, but I think we’re good. Go grab lunch and I’ll let you know.”
They nodded and headed over to craft services. The silence was awkward, and Mike either wanted to give them time to talk or wanted out of the situation, because he made an excuse to head to his trailer.
Chris fully expected Darren to make some sort of excuse to get away as well, but he stayed silent while they had grabbed sandwiches and drinks.
Darren sat down at an empty table, and as luck would have it, most of the other tables were full. There was an empty seat at a table with Matt and Jayma, but Chris made a split-second decision to sit across from Darren. He wanted answers.
“What’s going on?” he asked without preamble as they settled into the seats.
Darren took a bite of his sandwich and smiled sheepishly while he chewed. Like he couldn’t have waited to eat until after he responded, Chris thought.
“What do you mean?” Darren asked.
“Really?” Chris countered. “You have no idea what I’m talking about?”
Darren shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich so that he couldn’t respond.
“Ignoring my texts? Avoiding me yesterday? Skipping out on dinner so you didn’t have to see me? Suddenly becoming Mr. Serious between takes? Any of that sound familiar?” Chris asked, fuming.
“I’ve just been really busy,” Darren responded calmly, sipping at his drink. “And I don’t see anything wrong with acting like a professional.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just not you.”
“Oh, I’m not a professional?” Darren asked, raising an angry eyebrow.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“Really, Chris? What did you mean?”
“I meant,” Chris said as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “that you’ve been acting distant since you left my house this weekend. Since before then, actually. You’ve been avoiding me and when you couldn’t do that, you’ve been cold and aloof and - Darren, did I do something wrong?”
Darren opened his mouth to protest or to argue but closed it again without saying anything. He seemed to deflate before Chris’s eyes.
“Darren?” Chris asked gently.
Darren shook his head, eyes screwed tightly shut. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, opening his eyes only to let them bore into Chris’s. He looked frightened and small, and Chris felt a sudden, strong urge to wrap him up in his arms and never let go. Instead, he reached over, setting his hand on top of Darren’s and giving it a squeeze. “It’s okay,” he said just as quietly. When he didn’t get a response, he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” he replied quickly, shaking his head again. “Not here.” He reached for his sandwich with his free hand, and Chris reluctantly pulled his back.
“My place?” he asked.
Darren nodded. “But only if you provide me with dinner, Colfer,” he said, grinning.
Chris felt as if a small weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Deal,” he said. “But you’re not allowed to complain about my cooking. I’m no Kurt Hummel, after all.”
“You take all the fun out of it.”
Chris stuck out his tongue. “You want free food or not?”
“Oh, I’m definitely in.”
“Tomorrow night? I know I’m going to be way too exhausted to do anything after we get out of here today.”
Darren hesitated, as though remembering why they were making dinner plans. “Good by me,” he said finally.
Chris took a sip of his Diet Coke. “Me too,” he said with a smile.
---
Bringing the sautéed ground beef down to a simmer on the stove, Chris glanced at the clock. It was a few minutes after seven. Darren was only a few minutes late. It wasn’t a big deal at all. He told himself he was jumping to conclusions, that Darren would be there soon. Things had seemed to be a little less tense between them after their lunch the day before, so there really wasn’t any reason for Darren to change his mind and stand him up. Right?
Before Chris could build any more mountains out of the handful of minutes it was past seven, the doorbell rang. He breathed a sigh of relief and went to let Darren in.
“Hey,” Darren said as soon as the door opened. He handed over a bottle of pinot noir. “Sorry I’m late. I hope the offering of alcohol will buy me a bit of forgiveness.”
“We’ll see about that, Criss.” He smirked and stepped aside to let Darren through, closing the door behind him while the other man shrugged his coat off and tossed it onto an armchair.
“What’s for dinner?” Darren asked. “Smells good.”
“Tacos,” Chris replied. “Have a seat. Everything’s out on the table except the meat, and I’m just gonna put that in a bowl now.”
“Awesome,” Darren said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
Chris came into the dining room a few seconds later to set a bowl of ground meat on the empty trivet on one end of the table. He returned to the kitchen, pouring two glasses of the wine Darren had brought, and took them to the table.
“I’ve never had wine with tacos before,” he said, sliding into the seat across from Darren.
“Me neither. I bet it’s awesome.”
“Of course you would,” Chris said, rolling his eyes.
“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied. “Okay, there’s soft shells here, and tortilla chips over here if you want to make a salad instead. Meat’s there, obviously, and lettuce, rice, tomato, onion, cheese, peppers, salsa, and sour cream are out too. Need anything else?”
“Nope,” Darren said, already helping himself to the taco shells. “This is fantastic.”
Chris reached for the tortilla chips and started building his dinner. He wanted to bring up what they were supposed to be discussing, but he figured it would probably be best if Darren brought it up on his own. If that meant he had a little bit longer to enjoy things being relatively normal between them, well, then, so be it.
“Wine and tacos totally go together,” Darren said, setting his wine glass back on the table.
“Uh huh, if you say so,” Chris said, determined to try to keep a straight face. Because, really - wine with tacos? Who in their right mind would think that that’s in any way palatable?
“Oh come on,” Darren replied around a mouthful of food. “You’ve got to at least give it a try.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Darren grinned, swallowing the food.
Chris swallowed the food in his mouth and reached for his wine glass. “Happy?” he asked, looking at it as if he had never seen such a thing before in his life.
“Not until you try it.”
He narrowed his eyes at the glass but lifted it to his lips and sipped. He let the dry liquid float over his tongue and glide down his throat, and logic be damned, that wine actually tasted amazing mixed with the flavor of the tacos.
Darren raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response.
“I hate you.”
“I told you so!”
“Really, Darren,” Chris said with a straight face, “arrogance is not an attractive trait.”
“You know you love it.”
“You know you’re lying.”
“I’m not the one whose pants are on fire.”
“That makes no sense. You don’t see me stopping, dropping, and rolling around here, do you?”
Darren shrugged. “It totally makes sense in my head.”
“Well, your head is a very special place.”
“And you know you love it.”
Chris shook his head and took another bite of his salad. Clearly neither of them was going to win this conversation.
The rest of the meal went on in the same manner. Darren would do something to try to annoy Chris, and Chris would do his best to keep his poker face from slipping. About halfway through the meal, he gave up, laughing and joking with his coworker.
It felt like things were back to normal. Conversation was easy, and it was as if the past week hadn’t happened at all.
Chris had completely forgotten that things hadn’t been normal for a while and was shaken out of the illusion of normalcy when Darren started to talk as they cleared the table.
“I’m sorry,” he said, so softly that Chris wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it.
Chris set the dishes he was carrying down in the sink and turned around to give Darren his full attention. “What’s been going on?”
“Uh,” Darren began, as articulate as ever. “Can we go sit down first?”
“Sure,” Chris said, starting for the living room.
“And have more wine?” Darren asked from behind him.
“Of course.” Chris grabbed the open bottle from the refrigerator and scooped up his glass on his way through the dining room. “Grab your own glass - I only have two hands.”
Darren followed him silently and stayed quiet until they had sat down on opposite ends of the couch and Chris had poured them each another glass of wine. He took a long sip before clearing his throat.
“I’m sorry, Chris. You were right. I’ve been ignoring you and avoiding you and holding myself back around you and I’m sorry.”
Chris waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. Chris wondered how much prompting he was going to need. “What did I do?” he asked, voice a lot smaller than he expected it to be.
Darren had been examining the color of the wine as he swirled it around in the glass, but he turned his head sharply as Chris spoke. “What?”
Chris swallowed down a bit of the wine, and suddenly it didn’t taste nearly as good as it had paired with the tacos fifteen minutes ago. “What did I do to… to cause this?” he asked, flinging an arm out to try to reference everything that had been going on recently. “I’m sorry for whatever it was.”
“Chris,” Darren said, letting out a long breath. “You didn’t do anything. Nothing.” He started to reach his free hand over toward Chris’s, which was resting on the couch, but before he got very far he seemed to think better of it and let it drop to his side. The movement was so fast that Chris wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it.
“Then what’s going on?” he asked.
Darren took a deep breath and latched his hazel eyes onto Chris’s own. “I was suspended for a week in high school,” he began. “So was my best friend. I think his reaction to the whole thing was the worst part. It’s not something I try to think about, though, and Lea’s question just hit me and I reacted really badly and I’m sorry.”
Darren trailed off, sipping at his wine, and Chris waited for him to continue, his eyes never wandering. Chris already knew most of what Darren was saying, but he felt like the time wasn’t right for prompting. Darren needed to get whatever this was out on his own.
After what seemed like an eternity, Darren knocked back the rest of the drink and set the empty glass back down on the table. He cleared his throat and ducked his head so that his eyes were on his fidgeting hands rather than locked on Chris’s face. “I’ve been lying to you.”
---
Darren Criss was lucky enough to have grown up in San Francisco. Like most of his classmates, his family had raised him to treat everyone the same, regardless of whatever differences they may have had. He knew that his family and friends would always accept him for who he was, no matter what.
Of course, there was a handful of kids in his school that he knew hadn’t been raised that way. Angela Michaelson, for one, went to a very conservative Catholic elementary school and had held fast to her upbringing once she found herself in the public school system for her last four years of schooling.
Angela was in the minority, though, so she was pretty easy to ignore. The teachers were always on the ball, making sure that Angela and the few other students like her stayed in line. All in all, it was a mostly safe environment for high school students - at least in comparison to McKinley or any real high school in most parts of the country.
Brendan Walsh was one of the small group of students whose parents had raised him with the same values as Angela but who had developed his own views as he grew closer to his classmates and began to see that being different wasn’t something bad; it simply was.
Darren first met Brendan when they were in the same second grade class, and by the time they had gotten to high school, they had already been best friends for half their lives. They both enjoyed theater and regularly auditioned against each other for roles in both school and community productions. When Brendan got the idea to start an improv club, Darren was first in line to join. They sat together at lunch and hung out after school and were pretty much as inseparable as any other pair of friends that had gone through the San Francisco public school system.
The edge of the woods that bordered the school’s property turned into one of their favorite hangout spots, mostly because it was easy to access and offered them a lot more privacy than either of their houses was able to provide. They found themselves there for several hours out of the week. Sometimes they’d do homework, but mostly they would just talk and joke around and have a good time out of eye- and ear-shot of anyone else.
One day in tenth grade, Darren noticed that Brendan was much quieter than usual while they sat on some rocks near the tree line and read their way through Romeo and Juliet. Brendan’s eyes kept shooting upward, toward the student parking lot that was halfway visible from their hangout spot. Darren wasn’t sure what he was waiting for - there was only one car left - and it never seemed to bother him before now.
Darren had just finished a scene involving banter between Romeo and Mercutio (that was what he liked about Shakespeare - the crazy, contrived plots didn’t do anything for him, but he absolutely adored all of the witty dialogue) when he heard a puff of air whoosh from his right. He looked up from his book, shoved his pencil in haphazardly as a bookmark, and watched as Brendan ran a hand through his ash blonde hair. He followed Brendan’s gaze to the parking lot, where Angela was peeling away in her parents’ sedan, leaving them completely alone.
“Darren?” Brendan asked, voice strangely timid.
“Yeah?”
Brendan lifted his legs up and spun around on the rock so that he was facing Darren. “Can I tell you something?”
Normally Darren would have made some sort of smartass remark, but he could tell that now wasn’t the time. “Sure,” he said, setting the book down on top of his backpack.
“I think I’m gay.”
Darren blinked at him before responding. “Cool.” He wasn’t really that surprised by the confession, and he didn’t see it as that big of a deal - just like he didn’t see his own sexuality as a big deal, which is why he hadn’t actually said anything to anyone before now. “I think I am, too. Maybe. Kind of.”
“Really?” Brendan asked, a hopeful tone suddenly present in his voice.
Darren nodded and got ready to vocalize a response but he found his mouth otherwise occupied before he had a chance to form any words. Brendan’s lips were a bit rough against his, but they felt strong and good.
All too quickly, Brendan was pulling back, a red flush beginning to creep up his neck toward his freckled face. “Was that okay?”
Darren pulled his head back gently to connect their lips again. This time he took control, suckling on Brendan’s bottom lip before tentatively running his tongue along the other boy’s lips to request access to his mouth.
They spent the next few minutes (or hours or days - Darren would have been hard pressed to narrow down a time frame) exploring each other’s mouths, everything tongues, lips, and teeth. It started off very awkward; Darren pulled back at one point after their noses bumped into each other one too many times, but Brendan pulled him back quickly and they slowly found a rhythm that was less awkward. After a while, Darren wasn’t quite sure why they didn’t do this all the time because it felt absolutely incredible.
At some point, one of them had pulled the other up and they moved back further into the woods to give them a little more privacy, even though they hardly ever saw anyone in all the time they spent out there. Brendan was standing with his back against a large tree, and Darren was pressing closer to him, needing to keep their mouths together like he needed air.
All of a sudden, Brendan was pushing his hips against Darren’s and an electric spark shot through his whole body. “Oh my God,” Darren muttered against Brendan’s mouth. It hadn’t even really registered that he was hard, but now he was acutely aware of that fact and it was more than obvious that Brendan was as well. Everything was moving so fast but it all felt so good and he experimentally pushed his own hips back against Brendan’s. He felt the same indescribable jolt of pleasure, and from the sounds the other boy was making, he was feeling the same thing.
Darren cautiously brought a hand down from where it had been on Brendan’s face and he trailed it down his body, finally cupping it against the bulge in the other boy’s pants. It caused Brendan to suck in a breath, and suddenly what they were doing was very real to both of them.
“Can… can I?” Darren asked, for once feeling very out of his element.
Brendan nodded his assent, and Darren fumbled fruitlessly with the button of Brendan’s jeans for a few seconds before the blonde took mercy on him and undid his pants, pushing them and his boxers down in one smooth motion.
Darren looked down and there he was. It was the first time he had seen another boy naked, and he couldn’t help but compare him to himself. Brendan was probably a little thicker than he was and maybe a little more than half an inch shorter, but Darren didn’t care at all. He looked gorgeous. Darren tentatively brought a hand around him and gave a preliminary stroke. He received a twitch and a groan in response.
Darren’s mouth was watering. He gave another, more confident stroke while running his tongue absently over his own lips. It was a seriously overwhelming idea, but he really wanted to taste Brendan. Without giving it a second thought, he sunk down to his knees and kissed the tip of Brendan’s cock. He looked back up at Brendan’s face through his eyelashes, wanting to make sure that this was okay.
“Please, Darren,” was the only response he got. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and gripped the base of Brendan’s cock before stretching his lips around the tip. He tasted a bit salty and a bit sweaty and there was a new, musky smell mixing in with everything, and Darren liked it. It wasn’t the best thing he had ever tasted, but it was far from the worst.
He took the whining sounds from above as encouragement, and he sunk down a little farther. He didn’t want to go too far because he was worried that he would start to gag, so he pulled back and swirled his tongue around the tip some. He built up a pattern of bobbing up and down and then pulling back to use his tongue some more, using Brendan’s breathy sounds above his head as guidance.
He was really getting into the rhythm of it, still sort of dazed that he was actually giving Brendan a blow job, and it took a moment for the sound of a throat being cleared to reach his ears. He realized that someone else was there just as Brendan was shoving him away and turning to pull his pants back up.
Darren landed on his back and stared up at the face of Ms. Garcia, the assistant principal. Normally he could charm his way out of trouble when it came to her, but for some reason he didn’t think that would work this time. When he realized that he was still lying on the ground with a very prominent bulge in his pants, his face reddened even more than it already was and he scrambled to get to his feet and hold his hands in front of himself.
“Darren, Brendan,” she said, nodding and acknowledging both of them. “I’ll need you both to follow me, please.”
The boys both nodded in silence and followed her from the woods and into the school, grabbing their backpacks on the way. The sound of her heels click-clacking on the floor flooded Darren’s ears, and he concentrated on that to avoid thinking about what had just happened and what was going to happen.
“Have a seat,” Ms. Garcia told them, gesturing to the chairs in front of her desk once they arrived at her office.
Both boys did as they were told. Darren noticed some dirt on the back of Brendan’s shirt, but he didn’t dare reach over to brush it off.
“I’m going to have to call your parents,” she began once she was settled in behind her desk. Darren ducked his head, already having figured out that that was inevitable. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brendan visibly pale, his hands shaking ever so slightly where he held them against his lap.
“Darren,” she continued, clicking her mouse a few times, probably to get into student records. “Would you prefer I call your mother or father?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She nodded an acknowledgement and jotted down a phone number. “Brendan?”
“My... my mother,” he stuttered, voice as small as a mouse. “Please.”
“Very well,” she said, making another note.
She made the phone calls, requesting that the parents come to the school to pick up their children and she would explain the details once they arrived.
The boys stayed silent, looking down at their hands while they heard her no-nonsense voice letting their parents know they were in trouble. Darren could sense Brendan start to fidget next to him when they realized that, although Ms. Garcia was talking to his mom, his dad must be in the same room and would be coming to the school, too. After she hung up the phone a second time, the hum of the computer was the only thing preventing them from hearing a pin drop.
“This is a very serious matter, boys,” Ms. Garcia said after a few minutes. “Sexual activity on school property - or close enough - is strictly prohibited by our code of conduct. I have no choice but to suspend you both for a week. Should you choose to engage in this kind of behavior again, you will find yourselves facing expulsion. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” Darren said numbly, and he could barely make out Brendan nodding his head in his peripheral vision.
The silence returned, and it seemed like hours later when they heard footsteps making their way down the hallway. Darren could hear his parents voices mingling with those of both of Brendan’s parents, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He heard, rather than saw, them enter the assistant principal’s office, and their chatter died away.
“Maria,” he heard his mother’s voice say, greeting Ms. Garcia by her first name.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Criss, Mr. and Mrs. Walsh,” she replied, nodding at each couple in turn. “I’m sorry to have called you all here today, but your boys have gotten themselves into a bit of trouble.”
Brendan’s dad chuckled, patting his son on the shoulder. “What’ve our boys done this time?” he asked, unfazed by the situation.
Ms. Garcia breathed in deeply. “I was walking outside the school this afternoon and noticed some bags abandoned along the edge of the woods. I investigated, only to find these two-” She paused, clearing her throat. Darren felt his face reddening, and Brendan was slouching down in the chair, like he was trying to melt into the furniture. “They were involved,” she continued. “Sexually.”
Darren felt like all of the eyes in the room were boring straight into the back of his head.
“They’re both suspended for the next week,” Ms. Garcia added.
The room stood still for a moment, no one wanting to break the tension. Finally, Darren’s mom spoke up. “Come on, Darren.”
Darren hopped up like he had been shocked. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and let his parents usher him out of the office. He didn’t risk a look back at Brendan, but he couldn’t miss the matching looks of pure disgust on the faces of Brendan’s parents.
The car ride home was quiet and tense, and no one spoke until they were home and Darren had set his things down in his room and kicked off his shoes.
His dad knocked on his bedroom door. “Come on,” he said, nodding toward the stairs.
Once they were all sitting in the living room - Darren on an armchair and his parents together on the couch - no one really seemed like they wanted to talk. Darren stared at his hands, picking a little at the skin around his thumbnails.
“Darren,” his father finally began. “You’re a teenage boy. Your mother and I realize that.”
Darren looked up to see his mother nodding in agreement.
“We know you’re going to want to... do things,” she said. “We just want you to be safe about it.”
“Were you using a condom?” his father asked.
Darren felt his face flush. “No,” he admitted, looking back at his lap.
“It’s important that you do, even if you’re not with a girl.”
Darren nodded.
“You understand?”
“Yes,” he said quietly, wishing he were anywhere but there at that moment. “I understand.”
“If you don’t feel comfortable buying them yourself, we can-“
“No, Mom,” Darren interrupted. “No. I can definitely handle this myself.” He bit his tongue, hoping that they really didn’t need to have any more of this conversation.
He was in luck. “Then that’s that,” his father said, standing up and heading for the kitchen.
His mother nodded primly. “And for goodness sake, honey, make sure you’re not going to get walked in on.”
If he hadn’t been the one she was talking to, Darren would have found it hilarious. As it was, he nodded again. “May I be excused?”
“Of course.”
He didn’t need to be told twice; he was back in his room with the door closed before his father had returned from the kitchen with his beer.
An hour later, his cell phone rang. It was one of those cheap, prepaid phones, but he wasn’t going to complain. He picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Darren,” began the timid voice on the other end.
“Brendan!” he exclaimed. “What did your par-”
“No, listen. I can’t really talk. I was allowed to call you to tell you that I’m not allowed to talk to you or see you anymore.”
“What?” Darren asked, not sure he was hearing things correctly. Brendan was his best friend. He couldn’t just not see his best friend.
“Yeah,” Brendan replied, and Darren could actually hear him swallow. “My parents are really mad. They’re thinking of sending me to one of those camps, the kind that cure people like me. Like... us.”
Darren felt his heart rushing in his chest, but he couldn’t seem to come up with any words to say that could possibly help.
“They think you’re a bad influence on me,” Brendan said quietly. Darren heard angry voices far off in the distance, and then Brendan was back on the line. “I... I have to go.”
Darren replied with the only thing that he could think of to say. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too. Bye.”
“Bye,” Darren said, but the line had already gone dead.
Darren tossed his phone onto his bed and flopped down dramatically. He knew Brendan’s parents were probably going to react a lot worse than his had (and he had to admit, his parents were actually really cool about the whole thing), but this was beyond anything he had imagined.
He felt guilty. Brendan had trusted him with this secret of his sexuality, and because of how he had acted on it, Brendan was facing a lot of shit from his parents. The fact that it had been Brendan in that office with him didn’t matter to his own parents at all, but to Brendan’s parents, being involved with another boy was the crux of the issue.
He sat up and punched his pillow until his hand hurt. It wasn’t fair. Brendan’s parents were taking something that wasn’t a big deal at all and turning it into this huge thing that meant his best friend was hurting for something he couldn’t control and Darren wasn’t even allowed to be there to help him out.
He sighed, swearing under his breath, and flopped down onto his back. It was going to be a long week.
---
When they were finally allowed to return to school the following Wednesday, Darren looked around immediately for Brendan. He didn’t find him at his locker when he got to school, they didn’t share any morning classes, and at lunch, the seat next to Darren remained empty. At least he hadn’t heard any whisperings of rumors about why they had been suspended. He didn’t know if either of them could deal with that, and he was grateful that the whole thing was still private.
He finally ran into Brendan in the locker room when they were getting changed for gym class.
“Brendan!” Darren shouted out, noticing the other boy sitting on a bench tying his sneaker. “There you are! Where’ve you been?”
“Darren,” the other boy replied, sounding resigned. He finished tying his shoe, set his foot back down on the floor, and turned his head so that he could see Darren. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”
“Your parents are still on that?” he asked, dropping his hands to his sides from where they were at the door to his locker.
“Yeah,” he said, focusing on a scuff on the floor he was working on getting out with the tip of his shoe. “And I am, too.”
“What?” Darren asked, not following.
“I can’t do this, Darren. I can’t hang out with you and lie to them about it, and I can’t... I can’t handle being your friend, either.”
Darren felt like the ground had cracked open at his feet, and he sort of wished it had so that it would just swallow him up and make him disappear. Instead, he nodded, face hardened as a precaution against tears. “I see.”
“I’m sorry.”
Darren didn’t respond. He slammed his locker shut and jogged off to join the rest of the class in the gym.
They spent the next forty minutes hurling dodge balls at one another, trying to work out anger and frustration and fear but only creating even more emotions. At the improv club meeting after school that day, Brendan showed up for the first five minutes to announce that he was leaving the club and that he looked forward to seeing all of their shows from the other side. He stuck around to finish the community theater production of Grease (“I already made the commitment,” he explained with a shrug), but after that was over, he didn’t audition for anything else.
Brendan Walsh was systematically removing himself from everything that had to do with Darren Criss.
The only photos of the two of them together at their graduation ceremony two years later were coincidental - intentional photos of one of them that were taken at just the right angle for the other to be in the background.
Brendan deleted those photos off of his camera.
Darren printed them, even the ones where he looked absolutely awful, and laid them in the shoebox of things that Brendan had left at his house and never asked to have returned.
Part 3
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 20.089
Warnings: RPF, blink-and-you-miss-it mention of underage drinking, homophobia, internalized homophobia, underage sex
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All events in this have been completely made up and do not represent a truthful depiction of these people or their lives. I ask that you please do not share this with any of the people involved.
Summary: A drunken party game reminds Darren of a secret from his past and he doesn’t react well. Chris is determined to figure out what’s wrong and what he can do to fix it.
Author's Notes: So here it is! This is by far the longest anything I've written, and I'm honestly a bit surprised I made it this far. I thought I was crazy when I signed up for the big bang back in October, and at this point, I know I was crazy. My unending gratitude goes out to my beta, anodrethlluvine, who has also listened to me rant and rave and let me go generally nuts on him over this.
---
Ryan called a cut to the scene and Darren sobered immediately, pulling back from Chris and sitting stiffly upright. This was completely different from how Darren usually behaved between takes. Normally he would be laughing and joking around, but today he was so serious. Chris didn’t get it. Darren was able to get past whatever this issue was in order to film the heated scene - he was a professional after all - but something was definitely wrong. Chris had been pretty sure the strange behavior had to do with the truth or dare game, but now he wasn’t so sure. Was Dianna right? Had he done something to cause this?
“Again!” Ryan called out, and Chris pushed Darren down so that Kurt is straddling Blaine on the bed when the cameras started to roll.
Kurt and Blaine lie next to each other, caressing each other gently. “I love you so much,” Kurt says after a short while, punctuating the declaration with a light kiss. Blaine deepens the kiss, reaching up and pulling Kurt closer to him.
Kurt jumps backward and Blaine’s face reddens when the doorknob begins to turn.
“I saw Blaine’s car in the driveway, kid. Open the door,” Burt’s voice booms from the other side of the door.
Kurt struggles to rearrange his clothes and hair as he backs away from the bed. He pleads silently with Blaine to do the same before turning the lock to let his father in.
“Uh, sorry, Dad.”
“You know the rules,” Burt says, looking between the two guilty faces. “If Blaine’s here, no closed doors and definitely no locked doors.”
Kurt nods, looking at the floor.
“I think you should go,” Burt says, looking straight at Blaine.
Blaine hops up, grabbing his school bag and making a run for it. Burt steps to the side to let him pass.
“Come on, kid. I think it’s time we had a talk.”
Kurt gulps but follows his dad out of his room.
“Great!” Ryan shouted, gesturing them to come toward him. “I want to look things over and may want to get a few more takes, but I think we’re good. Go grab lunch and I’ll let you know.”
They nodded and headed over to craft services. The silence was awkward, and Mike either wanted to give them time to talk or wanted out of the situation, because he made an excuse to head to his trailer.
Chris fully expected Darren to make some sort of excuse to get away as well, but he stayed silent while they had grabbed sandwiches and drinks.
Darren sat down at an empty table, and as luck would have it, most of the other tables were full. There was an empty seat at a table with Matt and Jayma, but Chris made a split-second decision to sit across from Darren. He wanted answers.
“What’s going on?” he asked without preamble as they settled into the seats.
Darren took a bite of his sandwich and smiled sheepishly while he chewed. Like he couldn’t have waited to eat until after he responded, Chris thought.
“What do you mean?” Darren asked.
“Really?” Chris countered. “You have no idea what I’m talking about?”
Darren shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich so that he couldn’t respond.
“Ignoring my texts? Avoiding me yesterday? Skipping out on dinner so you didn’t have to see me? Suddenly becoming Mr. Serious between takes? Any of that sound familiar?” Chris asked, fuming.
“I’ve just been really busy,” Darren responded calmly, sipping at his drink. “And I don’t see anything wrong with acting like a professional.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just not you.”
“Oh, I’m not a professional?” Darren asked, raising an angry eyebrow.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“Really, Chris? What did you mean?”
“I meant,” Chris said as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “that you’ve been acting distant since you left my house this weekend. Since before then, actually. You’ve been avoiding me and when you couldn’t do that, you’ve been cold and aloof and - Darren, did I do something wrong?”
Darren opened his mouth to protest or to argue but closed it again without saying anything. He seemed to deflate before Chris’s eyes.
“Darren?” Chris asked gently.
Darren shook his head, eyes screwed tightly shut. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, opening his eyes only to let them bore into Chris’s. He looked frightened and small, and Chris felt a sudden, strong urge to wrap him up in his arms and never let go. Instead, he reached over, setting his hand on top of Darren’s and giving it a squeeze. “It’s okay,” he said just as quietly. When he didn’t get a response, he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” he replied quickly, shaking his head again. “Not here.” He reached for his sandwich with his free hand, and Chris reluctantly pulled his back.
“My place?” he asked.
Darren nodded. “But only if you provide me with dinner, Colfer,” he said, grinning.
Chris felt as if a small weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Deal,” he said. “But you’re not allowed to complain about my cooking. I’m no Kurt Hummel, after all.”
“You take all the fun out of it.”
Chris stuck out his tongue. “You want free food or not?”
“Oh, I’m definitely in.”
“Tomorrow night? I know I’m going to be way too exhausted to do anything after we get out of here today.”
Darren hesitated, as though remembering why they were making dinner plans. “Good by me,” he said finally.
Chris took a sip of his Diet Coke. “Me too,” he said with a smile.
---
Bringing the sautéed ground beef down to a simmer on the stove, Chris glanced at the clock. It was a few minutes after seven. Darren was only a few minutes late. It wasn’t a big deal at all. He told himself he was jumping to conclusions, that Darren would be there soon. Things had seemed to be a little less tense between them after their lunch the day before, so there really wasn’t any reason for Darren to change his mind and stand him up. Right?
Before Chris could build any more mountains out of the handful of minutes it was past seven, the doorbell rang. He breathed a sigh of relief and went to let Darren in.
“Hey,” Darren said as soon as the door opened. He handed over a bottle of pinot noir. “Sorry I’m late. I hope the offering of alcohol will buy me a bit of forgiveness.”
“We’ll see about that, Criss.” He smirked and stepped aside to let Darren through, closing the door behind him while the other man shrugged his coat off and tossed it onto an armchair.
“What’s for dinner?” Darren asked. “Smells good.”
“Tacos,” Chris replied. “Have a seat. Everything’s out on the table except the meat, and I’m just gonna put that in a bowl now.”
“Awesome,” Darren said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
Chris came into the dining room a few seconds later to set a bowl of ground meat on the empty trivet on one end of the table. He returned to the kitchen, pouring two glasses of the wine Darren had brought, and took them to the table.
“I’ve never had wine with tacos before,” he said, sliding into the seat across from Darren.
“Me neither. I bet it’s awesome.”
“Of course you would,” Chris said, rolling his eyes.
“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied. “Okay, there’s soft shells here, and tortilla chips over here if you want to make a salad instead. Meat’s there, obviously, and lettuce, rice, tomato, onion, cheese, peppers, salsa, and sour cream are out too. Need anything else?”
“Nope,” Darren said, already helping himself to the taco shells. “This is fantastic.”
Chris reached for the tortilla chips and started building his dinner. He wanted to bring up what they were supposed to be discussing, but he figured it would probably be best if Darren brought it up on his own. If that meant he had a little bit longer to enjoy things being relatively normal between them, well, then, so be it.
“Wine and tacos totally go together,” Darren said, setting his wine glass back on the table.
“Uh huh, if you say so,” Chris said, determined to try to keep a straight face. Because, really - wine with tacos? Who in their right mind would think that that’s in any way palatable?
“Oh come on,” Darren replied around a mouthful of food. “You’ve got to at least give it a try.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Darren grinned, swallowing the food.
Chris swallowed the food in his mouth and reached for his wine glass. “Happy?” he asked, looking at it as if he had never seen such a thing before in his life.
“Not until you try it.”
He narrowed his eyes at the glass but lifted it to his lips and sipped. He let the dry liquid float over his tongue and glide down his throat, and logic be damned, that wine actually tasted amazing mixed with the flavor of the tacos.
Darren raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response.
“I hate you.”
“I told you so!”
“Really, Darren,” Chris said with a straight face, “arrogance is not an attractive trait.”
“You know you love it.”
“You know you’re lying.”
“I’m not the one whose pants are on fire.”
“That makes no sense. You don’t see me stopping, dropping, and rolling around here, do you?”
Darren shrugged. “It totally makes sense in my head.”
“Well, your head is a very special place.”
“And you know you love it.”
Chris shook his head and took another bite of his salad. Clearly neither of them was going to win this conversation.
The rest of the meal went on in the same manner. Darren would do something to try to annoy Chris, and Chris would do his best to keep his poker face from slipping. About halfway through the meal, he gave up, laughing and joking with his coworker.
It felt like things were back to normal. Conversation was easy, and it was as if the past week hadn’t happened at all.
Chris had completely forgotten that things hadn’t been normal for a while and was shaken out of the illusion of normalcy when Darren started to talk as they cleared the table.
“I’m sorry,” he said, so softly that Chris wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it.
Chris set the dishes he was carrying down in the sink and turned around to give Darren his full attention. “What’s been going on?”
“Uh,” Darren began, as articulate as ever. “Can we go sit down first?”
“Sure,” Chris said, starting for the living room.
“And have more wine?” Darren asked from behind him.
“Of course.” Chris grabbed the open bottle from the refrigerator and scooped up his glass on his way through the dining room. “Grab your own glass - I only have two hands.”
Darren followed him silently and stayed quiet until they had sat down on opposite ends of the couch and Chris had poured them each another glass of wine. He took a long sip before clearing his throat.
“I’m sorry, Chris. You were right. I’ve been ignoring you and avoiding you and holding myself back around you and I’m sorry.”
Chris waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. Chris wondered how much prompting he was going to need. “What did I do?” he asked, voice a lot smaller than he expected it to be.
Darren had been examining the color of the wine as he swirled it around in the glass, but he turned his head sharply as Chris spoke. “What?”
Chris swallowed down a bit of the wine, and suddenly it didn’t taste nearly as good as it had paired with the tacos fifteen minutes ago. “What did I do to… to cause this?” he asked, flinging an arm out to try to reference everything that had been going on recently. “I’m sorry for whatever it was.”
“Chris,” Darren said, letting out a long breath. “You didn’t do anything. Nothing.” He started to reach his free hand over toward Chris’s, which was resting on the couch, but before he got very far he seemed to think better of it and let it drop to his side. The movement was so fast that Chris wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it.
“Then what’s going on?” he asked.
Darren took a deep breath and latched his hazel eyes onto Chris’s own. “I was suspended for a week in high school,” he began. “So was my best friend. I think his reaction to the whole thing was the worst part. It’s not something I try to think about, though, and Lea’s question just hit me and I reacted really badly and I’m sorry.”
Darren trailed off, sipping at his wine, and Chris waited for him to continue, his eyes never wandering. Chris already knew most of what Darren was saying, but he felt like the time wasn’t right for prompting. Darren needed to get whatever this was out on his own.
After what seemed like an eternity, Darren knocked back the rest of the drink and set the empty glass back down on the table. He cleared his throat and ducked his head so that his eyes were on his fidgeting hands rather than locked on Chris’s face. “I’ve been lying to you.”
---
Darren Criss was lucky enough to have grown up in San Francisco. Like most of his classmates, his family had raised him to treat everyone the same, regardless of whatever differences they may have had. He knew that his family and friends would always accept him for who he was, no matter what.
Of course, there was a handful of kids in his school that he knew hadn’t been raised that way. Angela Michaelson, for one, went to a very conservative Catholic elementary school and had held fast to her upbringing once she found herself in the public school system for her last four years of schooling.
Angela was in the minority, though, so she was pretty easy to ignore. The teachers were always on the ball, making sure that Angela and the few other students like her stayed in line. All in all, it was a mostly safe environment for high school students - at least in comparison to McKinley or any real high school in most parts of the country.
Brendan Walsh was one of the small group of students whose parents had raised him with the same values as Angela but who had developed his own views as he grew closer to his classmates and began to see that being different wasn’t something bad; it simply was.
Darren first met Brendan when they were in the same second grade class, and by the time they had gotten to high school, they had already been best friends for half their lives. They both enjoyed theater and regularly auditioned against each other for roles in both school and community productions. When Brendan got the idea to start an improv club, Darren was first in line to join. They sat together at lunch and hung out after school and were pretty much as inseparable as any other pair of friends that had gone through the San Francisco public school system.
The edge of the woods that bordered the school’s property turned into one of their favorite hangout spots, mostly because it was easy to access and offered them a lot more privacy than either of their houses was able to provide. They found themselves there for several hours out of the week. Sometimes they’d do homework, but mostly they would just talk and joke around and have a good time out of eye- and ear-shot of anyone else.
One day in tenth grade, Darren noticed that Brendan was much quieter than usual while they sat on some rocks near the tree line and read their way through Romeo and Juliet. Brendan’s eyes kept shooting upward, toward the student parking lot that was halfway visible from their hangout spot. Darren wasn’t sure what he was waiting for - there was only one car left - and it never seemed to bother him before now.
Darren had just finished a scene involving banter between Romeo and Mercutio (that was what he liked about Shakespeare - the crazy, contrived plots didn’t do anything for him, but he absolutely adored all of the witty dialogue) when he heard a puff of air whoosh from his right. He looked up from his book, shoved his pencil in haphazardly as a bookmark, and watched as Brendan ran a hand through his ash blonde hair. He followed Brendan’s gaze to the parking lot, where Angela was peeling away in her parents’ sedan, leaving them completely alone.
“Darren?” Brendan asked, voice strangely timid.
“Yeah?”
Brendan lifted his legs up and spun around on the rock so that he was facing Darren. “Can I tell you something?”
Normally Darren would have made some sort of smartass remark, but he could tell that now wasn’t the time. “Sure,” he said, setting the book down on top of his backpack.
“I think I’m gay.”
Darren blinked at him before responding. “Cool.” He wasn’t really that surprised by the confession, and he didn’t see it as that big of a deal - just like he didn’t see his own sexuality as a big deal, which is why he hadn’t actually said anything to anyone before now. “I think I am, too. Maybe. Kind of.”
“Really?” Brendan asked, a hopeful tone suddenly present in his voice.
Darren nodded and got ready to vocalize a response but he found his mouth otherwise occupied before he had a chance to form any words. Brendan’s lips were a bit rough against his, but they felt strong and good.
All too quickly, Brendan was pulling back, a red flush beginning to creep up his neck toward his freckled face. “Was that okay?”
Darren pulled his head back gently to connect their lips again. This time he took control, suckling on Brendan’s bottom lip before tentatively running his tongue along the other boy’s lips to request access to his mouth.
They spent the next few minutes (or hours or days - Darren would have been hard pressed to narrow down a time frame) exploring each other’s mouths, everything tongues, lips, and teeth. It started off very awkward; Darren pulled back at one point after their noses bumped into each other one too many times, but Brendan pulled him back quickly and they slowly found a rhythm that was less awkward. After a while, Darren wasn’t quite sure why they didn’t do this all the time because it felt absolutely incredible.
At some point, one of them had pulled the other up and they moved back further into the woods to give them a little more privacy, even though they hardly ever saw anyone in all the time they spent out there. Brendan was standing with his back against a large tree, and Darren was pressing closer to him, needing to keep their mouths together like he needed air.
All of a sudden, Brendan was pushing his hips against Darren’s and an electric spark shot through his whole body. “Oh my God,” Darren muttered against Brendan’s mouth. It hadn’t even really registered that he was hard, but now he was acutely aware of that fact and it was more than obvious that Brendan was as well. Everything was moving so fast but it all felt so good and he experimentally pushed his own hips back against Brendan’s. He felt the same indescribable jolt of pleasure, and from the sounds the other boy was making, he was feeling the same thing.
Darren cautiously brought a hand down from where it had been on Brendan’s face and he trailed it down his body, finally cupping it against the bulge in the other boy’s pants. It caused Brendan to suck in a breath, and suddenly what they were doing was very real to both of them.
“Can… can I?” Darren asked, for once feeling very out of his element.
Brendan nodded his assent, and Darren fumbled fruitlessly with the button of Brendan’s jeans for a few seconds before the blonde took mercy on him and undid his pants, pushing them and his boxers down in one smooth motion.
Darren looked down and there he was. It was the first time he had seen another boy naked, and he couldn’t help but compare him to himself. Brendan was probably a little thicker than he was and maybe a little more than half an inch shorter, but Darren didn’t care at all. He looked gorgeous. Darren tentatively brought a hand around him and gave a preliminary stroke. He received a twitch and a groan in response.
Darren’s mouth was watering. He gave another, more confident stroke while running his tongue absently over his own lips. It was a seriously overwhelming idea, but he really wanted to taste Brendan. Without giving it a second thought, he sunk down to his knees and kissed the tip of Brendan’s cock. He looked back up at Brendan’s face through his eyelashes, wanting to make sure that this was okay.
“Please, Darren,” was the only response he got. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and gripped the base of Brendan’s cock before stretching his lips around the tip. He tasted a bit salty and a bit sweaty and there was a new, musky smell mixing in with everything, and Darren liked it. It wasn’t the best thing he had ever tasted, but it was far from the worst.
He took the whining sounds from above as encouragement, and he sunk down a little farther. He didn’t want to go too far because he was worried that he would start to gag, so he pulled back and swirled his tongue around the tip some. He built up a pattern of bobbing up and down and then pulling back to use his tongue some more, using Brendan’s breathy sounds above his head as guidance.
He was really getting into the rhythm of it, still sort of dazed that he was actually giving Brendan a blow job, and it took a moment for the sound of a throat being cleared to reach his ears. He realized that someone else was there just as Brendan was shoving him away and turning to pull his pants back up.
Darren landed on his back and stared up at the face of Ms. Garcia, the assistant principal. Normally he could charm his way out of trouble when it came to her, but for some reason he didn’t think that would work this time. When he realized that he was still lying on the ground with a very prominent bulge in his pants, his face reddened even more than it already was and he scrambled to get to his feet and hold his hands in front of himself.
“Darren, Brendan,” she said, nodding and acknowledging both of them. “I’ll need you both to follow me, please.”
The boys both nodded in silence and followed her from the woods and into the school, grabbing their backpacks on the way. The sound of her heels click-clacking on the floor flooded Darren’s ears, and he concentrated on that to avoid thinking about what had just happened and what was going to happen.
“Have a seat,” Ms. Garcia told them, gesturing to the chairs in front of her desk once they arrived at her office.
Both boys did as they were told. Darren noticed some dirt on the back of Brendan’s shirt, but he didn’t dare reach over to brush it off.
“I’m going to have to call your parents,” she began once she was settled in behind her desk. Darren ducked his head, already having figured out that that was inevitable. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brendan visibly pale, his hands shaking ever so slightly where he held them against his lap.
“Darren,” she continued, clicking her mouse a few times, probably to get into student records. “Would you prefer I call your mother or father?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She nodded an acknowledgement and jotted down a phone number. “Brendan?”
“My... my mother,” he stuttered, voice as small as a mouse. “Please.”
“Very well,” she said, making another note.
She made the phone calls, requesting that the parents come to the school to pick up their children and she would explain the details once they arrived.
The boys stayed silent, looking down at their hands while they heard her no-nonsense voice letting their parents know they were in trouble. Darren could sense Brendan start to fidget next to him when they realized that, although Ms. Garcia was talking to his mom, his dad must be in the same room and would be coming to the school, too. After she hung up the phone a second time, the hum of the computer was the only thing preventing them from hearing a pin drop.
“This is a very serious matter, boys,” Ms. Garcia said after a few minutes. “Sexual activity on school property - or close enough - is strictly prohibited by our code of conduct. I have no choice but to suspend you both for a week. Should you choose to engage in this kind of behavior again, you will find yourselves facing expulsion. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” Darren said numbly, and he could barely make out Brendan nodding his head in his peripheral vision.
The silence returned, and it seemed like hours later when they heard footsteps making their way down the hallway. Darren could hear his parents voices mingling with those of both of Brendan’s parents, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He heard, rather than saw, them enter the assistant principal’s office, and their chatter died away.
“Maria,” he heard his mother’s voice say, greeting Ms. Garcia by her first name.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Criss, Mr. and Mrs. Walsh,” she replied, nodding at each couple in turn. “I’m sorry to have called you all here today, but your boys have gotten themselves into a bit of trouble.”
Brendan’s dad chuckled, patting his son on the shoulder. “What’ve our boys done this time?” he asked, unfazed by the situation.
Ms. Garcia breathed in deeply. “I was walking outside the school this afternoon and noticed some bags abandoned along the edge of the woods. I investigated, only to find these two-” She paused, clearing her throat. Darren felt his face reddening, and Brendan was slouching down in the chair, like he was trying to melt into the furniture. “They were involved,” she continued. “Sexually.”
Darren felt like all of the eyes in the room were boring straight into the back of his head.
“They’re both suspended for the next week,” Ms. Garcia added.
The room stood still for a moment, no one wanting to break the tension. Finally, Darren’s mom spoke up. “Come on, Darren.”
Darren hopped up like he had been shocked. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and let his parents usher him out of the office. He didn’t risk a look back at Brendan, but he couldn’t miss the matching looks of pure disgust on the faces of Brendan’s parents.
The car ride home was quiet and tense, and no one spoke until they were home and Darren had set his things down in his room and kicked off his shoes.
His dad knocked on his bedroom door. “Come on,” he said, nodding toward the stairs.
Once they were all sitting in the living room - Darren on an armchair and his parents together on the couch - no one really seemed like they wanted to talk. Darren stared at his hands, picking a little at the skin around his thumbnails.
“Darren,” his father finally began. “You’re a teenage boy. Your mother and I realize that.”
Darren looked up to see his mother nodding in agreement.
“We know you’re going to want to... do things,” she said. “We just want you to be safe about it.”
“Were you using a condom?” his father asked.
Darren felt his face flush. “No,” he admitted, looking back at his lap.
“It’s important that you do, even if you’re not with a girl.”
Darren nodded.
“You understand?”
“Yes,” he said quietly, wishing he were anywhere but there at that moment. “I understand.”
“If you don’t feel comfortable buying them yourself, we can-“
“No, Mom,” Darren interrupted. “No. I can definitely handle this myself.” He bit his tongue, hoping that they really didn’t need to have any more of this conversation.
He was in luck. “Then that’s that,” his father said, standing up and heading for the kitchen.
His mother nodded primly. “And for goodness sake, honey, make sure you’re not going to get walked in on.”
If he hadn’t been the one she was talking to, Darren would have found it hilarious. As it was, he nodded again. “May I be excused?”
“Of course.”
He didn’t need to be told twice; he was back in his room with the door closed before his father had returned from the kitchen with his beer.
An hour later, his cell phone rang. It was one of those cheap, prepaid phones, but he wasn’t going to complain. He picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Darren,” began the timid voice on the other end.
“Brendan!” he exclaimed. “What did your par-”
“No, listen. I can’t really talk. I was allowed to call you to tell you that I’m not allowed to talk to you or see you anymore.”
“What?” Darren asked, not sure he was hearing things correctly. Brendan was his best friend. He couldn’t just not see his best friend.
“Yeah,” Brendan replied, and Darren could actually hear him swallow. “My parents are really mad. They’re thinking of sending me to one of those camps, the kind that cure people like me. Like... us.”
Darren felt his heart rushing in his chest, but he couldn’t seem to come up with any words to say that could possibly help.
“They think you’re a bad influence on me,” Brendan said quietly. Darren heard angry voices far off in the distance, and then Brendan was back on the line. “I... I have to go.”
Darren replied with the only thing that he could think of to say. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too. Bye.”
“Bye,” Darren said, but the line had already gone dead.
Darren tossed his phone onto his bed and flopped down dramatically. He knew Brendan’s parents were probably going to react a lot worse than his had (and he had to admit, his parents were actually really cool about the whole thing), but this was beyond anything he had imagined.
He felt guilty. Brendan had trusted him with this secret of his sexuality, and because of how he had acted on it, Brendan was facing a lot of shit from his parents. The fact that it had been Brendan in that office with him didn’t matter to his own parents at all, but to Brendan’s parents, being involved with another boy was the crux of the issue.
He sat up and punched his pillow until his hand hurt. It wasn’t fair. Brendan’s parents were taking something that wasn’t a big deal at all and turning it into this huge thing that meant his best friend was hurting for something he couldn’t control and Darren wasn’t even allowed to be there to help him out.
He sighed, swearing under his breath, and flopped down onto his back. It was going to be a long week.
---
When they were finally allowed to return to school the following Wednesday, Darren looked around immediately for Brendan. He didn’t find him at his locker when he got to school, they didn’t share any morning classes, and at lunch, the seat next to Darren remained empty. At least he hadn’t heard any whisperings of rumors about why they had been suspended. He didn’t know if either of them could deal with that, and he was grateful that the whole thing was still private.
He finally ran into Brendan in the locker room when they were getting changed for gym class.
“Brendan!” Darren shouted out, noticing the other boy sitting on a bench tying his sneaker. “There you are! Where’ve you been?”
“Darren,” the other boy replied, sounding resigned. He finished tying his shoe, set his foot back down on the floor, and turned his head so that he could see Darren. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”
“Your parents are still on that?” he asked, dropping his hands to his sides from where they were at the door to his locker.
“Yeah,” he said, focusing on a scuff on the floor he was working on getting out with the tip of his shoe. “And I am, too.”
“What?” Darren asked, not following.
“I can’t do this, Darren. I can’t hang out with you and lie to them about it, and I can’t... I can’t handle being your friend, either.”
Darren felt like the ground had cracked open at his feet, and he sort of wished it had so that it would just swallow him up and make him disappear. Instead, he nodded, face hardened as a precaution against tears. “I see.”
“I’m sorry.”
Darren didn’t respond. He slammed his locker shut and jogged off to join the rest of the class in the gym.
They spent the next forty minutes hurling dodge balls at one another, trying to work out anger and frustration and fear but only creating even more emotions. At the improv club meeting after school that day, Brendan showed up for the first five minutes to announce that he was leaving the club and that he looked forward to seeing all of their shows from the other side. He stuck around to finish the community theater production of Grease (“I already made the commitment,” he explained with a shrug), but after that was over, he didn’t audition for anything else.
Brendan Walsh was systematically removing himself from everything that had to do with Darren Criss.
The only photos of the two of them together at their graduation ceremony two years later were coincidental - intentional photos of one of them that were taken at just the right angle for the other to be in the background.
Brendan deleted those photos off of his camera.
Darren printed them, even the ones where he looked absolutely awful, and laid them in the shoebox of things that Brendan had left at his house and never asked to have returned.
Part 3