fic: whisper 'i love you' (part 4/?)
title: whisper 'i love you'
pairing: crisscolfer
rating: nc-17
word count: 1600+ words (this part)
summary: Chuck has a new best friend and Darren finds himself falling head over heels for something more curious and lovely than he thought could be real.
a/n: aaaaaand i'm back. aaaaaand i've pretty much done the next chapter so that'll be up tomorrow morning. thanks to my lovely Darren, Jordan for looking over this for me. she's ever so wonderful :*:*
look out for ~foreshadowing, and a very little bit of Chris's story unfolding. song used was Teething by Chuck Criss and I think you can probably guess the one Darren's writing at the end ;)
prologue ll chapter 1 ll chapter 2 ll chapter 3
--
The humid air soaked through the summer stained window and Darren writhed helplessly against his tangled sheets. Sweat dripped, running lines across his too hot skin and his eyes were clenched shut, his mind whirling with his overworking subconscious.
In his mind he was not alone.
There was a warm - no, burning, solid figure hovering over him, pressing its body against his. Beneath Darren’s hands he felt muscle and he felt skin, hot enough to match his own. He felt silky hair under his fingertips and he moaned at the feel of sharp teeth against his throat. A heavy mouth finally pushed against his, kissing him dizzy, kissing him breathless. He arched under their touch and a bright burst of colour burnt through his mind, shattering the illusion.
The eyes were glasz.
--
“Darren…Darren, are you okay?”
Aubrey’s gentle voice, laced with concern, brought him back out of the too vivid memory and he blinked himself back to reality.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Bad sleep.”
Her eyes told him she didn’t really buy it but she stayed silent, taking a simple sip of her tea, her pale brows drawn together.
She didn’t say anything and Darren didn’t either.
A part of him thought that maybe he should invite her to come to Chuck’s gig the next night.
But he didn’t think she’d have a very good time. It wasn’t really her kind of music anyways.
--
He realised when he got home that he probably should have given her the benefit of the doubt.
--
By the time Friday night rolled around, Darren thought he might have lost hearing in both ears.
Chris had been over every night and he and Chuck had sung and played until the morning hours when his father finally came in and wearily asked if it was time for Chris to go home yet.
It had seemed suspicious at first, that Chris was always over so late. Darren had once asked Chuck whether or not his parent’s minded him spending all his time there.
Chuck had given him a funny look.
“You know his parents still live in Clovis, right?” he asked.
No. he hadn’t.
“He lives by himself near the college,” Chuck continued at Darren’s confused expression. “He only has his cousin, Judah.”
“Oh,” is all Darren can think of to say.
It made sense, but Darren can’t help but feel slightly saddened.
He must be lonely sometimes, he realised.
--
The venue was not what Darren was expecting (although, admittedly, he’d tried not to think about it at all).
It was done up in the style of an old diner, with classic red leather seat booths and shiny black and white linoleum floors. But there was a lovely large stage and good acoustics. There was even a dance floor off to the front of the stage.
When they arrived, Chris and Chuck disappeared backstage and Darren took a seat with his parents at the booth closest to the front of the stage. If they weren’t so endearing, their excitement would have been embarrassing. His mom already had her camera out…
Upon the offer that he could order whatever he wanted for dinner, Darren ordered a giant caramel sundae and laughed at his mom’s disapproving look.
So what if he was eating his feelings?
He would go running tomorrow. If it was still raining…
--
Chris arrived back at their table in time for Chuck’s opening number. Darren didn’t miss the flush of his cheeks and his stomach turned at the sight.
He took an extra-large bite of his sundae.
Chuck’s opening number was Teething and despite Darren’s mood he found himself humming along.
Chris caught his eye with a smile and a blush burned against his cheeks.
But he managed to smile back.
Don’t tell your friends
Don’t tell them you’re teething
--
That night when they got home, Darren found that he had had a surprisingly good time. Chuck insisted on driving and dropped them all off at the house so he could take Chris home. Good mood shattered by the implications there, Darren climbed the steps two at a time, slamming himself in the room and locking the door behind him.
He stripped his clothes quickly, throwing them in the general direction of the hamper, letting out a loud growl of frustration when it hit his bedside table first, dragging the cup of half-finished tea he had resting there to the ground, the carpet cushioning its fall before the ceramic could break, but the brown liquid spilling over the cream carpet. He would have to clean that up later when he decided to give a fuck.
He stormed into his bathroom (not for the first time grateful for the privacy his parents gave them by giving them each their own bedroom with a lock and individual bathroom), and hastened to turn on the shower, shivering as he stepped into the burning spray.
He rubbed the water all over himself, trying to let his body adjust to the overwhelming heat before leaning his head against the tiles, the spray scalding against his back and thighs. He ignored it, letting a few tears escape as he sobbed against the wall.
He hated this.
He hated that he couldn’t be happy for his brother on what must have been a really big night for him.
He hated that he was in love with someone untouchable.
He hated that he had a lovely girlfriend who cared for him, when he couldn’t even feel anything more than friendship for her.
He hated the University of London for bringing Chris here and ruining his life.
And more than anything he hated himself for letting him.
Pounding his fist against the wall, he felt pain shoot up his arm. He scowled at himself, now hating Hollywood for false misconceptions on what worked as a stress release and what didn’t.
Realising that this wasn’t helping anything, he flicked his hand angrily at the shower taps, accidently turning off the hot water. The spray turned icy and Darren let out a loud yelp, jumping out of its path and stumbling as quickly as he could out of the shower. Turning the tap off, he grabbed his towel, wrapping it around his waist.
He caught a glimpse of himself behind the fog of the mirror and the darkness in his eyes scared him.
That wasn’t him.
Swallowing tightly, he re-entered the chaos of his room, pulling on a pair of sweatpants before reaching for his guitar and notepad. There was something he had to do and as much as he wanted to run out into the night, curl into a ball under the moonlight or perhaps go for a calming swim in the lake, he had to solve this here and now.
In the middle of all the shit he had created.
--
Slumber found him by dawn and he fell asleep with his cheek pressed against his open notebook.
When he woke up he had ink blotted against his cheek and he giggled.
He was laughing; it was a start.
He had managed to pull together a few verses and a chorus. He just needed to find an end.
It felt good to be writing again. Maybe no one would ever hear it… but it meant more to him than it ever could another’s ear or another’s voice. It was a part of him.
His very own soul in words.
A glance at the clock told him it was midday, but both his parents would be working (his father worked for a law firm down the block and his mom worked in a bakery) and he didn’t even want to think about where Chuck would be…
But as he trudged down the stairs to the kitchen he found him sitting up at the counter, flipping through a newspaper with delighted eyes.
“Hey,” Darren greeted him, trying to keep his tone neutral. Chuck grinned when he saw him.
“Hey, little bro,” Chuck said enthusiastically. “I was thinking… today we should hang out just the two of us. We could go see a movie or just hang about here…?”
Darren’s brow creased in confusion. Chuck never really wanted to hang out with him anymore.
“Why?” he couldn’t help but ask. He felt a little guilty at the flicker of hurt in Chuck’s dark eyes (but only a very little; he was still unsure of his angle here…).
“Because I want to spend time with my little brother,” Chuck said defensively. “Is that so bad?”
But then it hit him and Darren glared, moving around the counter to get to the pantry. He was going to make pancakes and he wasn’t going to go outside all day.
Maybe he’d finish his song after all.
“Mom pushed you to do this, didn’t she?” Darren asked quietly, not even looking at him as he
began sifting flour into a large cooking bowl.
Chuck was silent for a moment before he assumed an apologetic expression.
“Dad, actually,” he said sheepishly. “He said you’d been really quiet lately… and that last night after the show you came straight up to your room and locked yourself in.”
“I was tired,” Darren said.
He was tired then and he was still tired now.
So very tired…
“Bullshit, Darren,” Chuck said, non-surprisingly not believing him. “Come on, I want you to be able to talk to me?”
“So what?” Darren snapped. “So you won’t be lonely when Chris isn’t around?”
“Darren…” Chuck pleaded softly, his expression wounded. “It’s not like that… you know that.
What’s really wrong?”
“Ugh,” Darren growled, smashing an egg against the edge of the bowl so viciously he was picking shell out of the mix. “Just leave me alone, Chuck. I really don’t want to talk to you right now.”
Darren didn’t meet his eyes and Chuck was silent and still for a few moments before he finally found his feet.
“If you want to talk later,” he said gently, “you know where to find me.”
Right, Darren thought bitterly, with your fucking boyfriend…
chapter 5
pairing: crisscolfer
rating: nc-17
word count: 1600+ words (this part)
summary: Chuck has a new best friend and Darren finds himself falling head over heels for something more curious and lovely than he thought could be real.
a/n: aaaaaand i'm back. aaaaaand i've pretty much done the next chapter so that'll be up tomorrow morning. thanks to my lovely Darren, Jordan for looking over this for me. she's ever so wonderful :*:*
look out for ~foreshadowing, and a very little bit of Chris's story unfolding. song used was Teething by Chuck Criss and I think you can probably guess the one Darren's writing at the end ;)
prologue ll chapter 1 ll chapter 2 ll chapter 3
--
The humid air soaked through the summer stained window and Darren writhed helplessly against his tangled sheets. Sweat dripped, running lines across his too hot skin and his eyes were clenched shut, his mind whirling with his overworking subconscious.
In his mind he was not alone.
There was a warm - no, burning, solid figure hovering over him, pressing its body against his. Beneath Darren’s hands he felt muscle and he felt skin, hot enough to match his own. He felt silky hair under his fingertips and he moaned at the feel of sharp teeth against his throat. A heavy mouth finally pushed against his, kissing him dizzy, kissing him breathless. He arched under their touch and a bright burst of colour burnt through his mind, shattering the illusion.
The eyes were glasz.
--
“Darren…Darren, are you okay?”
Aubrey’s gentle voice, laced with concern, brought him back out of the too vivid memory and he blinked himself back to reality.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Bad sleep.”
Her eyes told him she didn’t really buy it but she stayed silent, taking a simple sip of her tea, her pale brows drawn together.
She didn’t say anything and Darren didn’t either.
A part of him thought that maybe he should invite her to come to Chuck’s gig the next night.
But he didn’t think she’d have a very good time. It wasn’t really her kind of music anyways.
--
He realised when he got home that he probably should have given her the benefit of the doubt.
--
By the time Friday night rolled around, Darren thought he might have lost hearing in both ears.
Chris had been over every night and he and Chuck had sung and played until the morning hours when his father finally came in and wearily asked if it was time for Chris to go home yet.
It had seemed suspicious at first, that Chris was always over so late. Darren had once asked Chuck whether or not his parent’s minded him spending all his time there.
Chuck had given him a funny look.
“You know his parents still live in Clovis, right?” he asked.
No. he hadn’t.
“He lives by himself near the college,” Chuck continued at Darren’s confused expression. “He only has his cousin, Judah.”
“Oh,” is all Darren can think of to say.
It made sense, but Darren can’t help but feel slightly saddened.
He must be lonely sometimes, he realised.
--
The venue was not what Darren was expecting (although, admittedly, he’d tried not to think about it at all).
It was done up in the style of an old diner, with classic red leather seat booths and shiny black and white linoleum floors. But there was a lovely large stage and good acoustics. There was even a dance floor off to the front of the stage.
When they arrived, Chris and Chuck disappeared backstage and Darren took a seat with his parents at the booth closest to the front of the stage. If they weren’t so endearing, their excitement would have been embarrassing. His mom already had her camera out…
Upon the offer that he could order whatever he wanted for dinner, Darren ordered a giant caramel sundae and laughed at his mom’s disapproving look.
So what if he was eating his feelings?
He would go running tomorrow. If it was still raining…
--
Chris arrived back at their table in time for Chuck’s opening number. Darren didn’t miss the flush of his cheeks and his stomach turned at the sight.
He took an extra-large bite of his sundae.
Chuck’s opening number was Teething and despite Darren’s mood he found himself humming along.
Chris caught his eye with a smile and a blush burned against his cheeks.
But he managed to smile back.
Don’t tell your friends
Don’t tell them you’re teething
--
That night when they got home, Darren found that he had had a surprisingly good time. Chuck insisted on driving and dropped them all off at the house so he could take Chris home. Good mood shattered by the implications there, Darren climbed the steps two at a time, slamming himself in the room and locking the door behind him.
He stripped his clothes quickly, throwing them in the general direction of the hamper, letting out a loud growl of frustration when it hit his bedside table first, dragging the cup of half-finished tea he had resting there to the ground, the carpet cushioning its fall before the ceramic could break, but the brown liquid spilling over the cream carpet. He would have to clean that up later when he decided to give a fuck.
He stormed into his bathroom (not for the first time grateful for the privacy his parents gave them by giving them each their own bedroom with a lock and individual bathroom), and hastened to turn on the shower, shivering as he stepped into the burning spray.
He rubbed the water all over himself, trying to let his body adjust to the overwhelming heat before leaning his head against the tiles, the spray scalding against his back and thighs. He ignored it, letting a few tears escape as he sobbed against the wall.
He hated this.
He hated that he couldn’t be happy for his brother on what must have been a really big night for him.
He hated that he was in love with someone untouchable.
He hated that he had a lovely girlfriend who cared for him, when he couldn’t even feel anything more than friendship for her.
He hated the University of London for bringing Chris here and ruining his life.
And more than anything he hated himself for letting him.
Pounding his fist against the wall, he felt pain shoot up his arm. He scowled at himself, now hating Hollywood for false misconceptions on what worked as a stress release and what didn’t.
Realising that this wasn’t helping anything, he flicked his hand angrily at the shower taps, accidently turning off the hot water. The spray turned icy and Darren let out a loud yelp, jumping out of its path and stumbling as quickly as he could out of the shower. Turning the tap off, he grabbed his towel, wrapping it around his waist.
He caught a glimpse of himself behind the fog of the mirror and the darkness in his eyes scared him.
That wasn’t him.
Swallowing tightly, he re-entered the chaos of his room, pulling on a pair of sweatpants before reaching for his guitar and notepad. There was something he had to do and as much as he wanted to run out into the night, curl into a ball under the moonlight or perhaps go for a calming swim in the lake, he had to solve this here and now.
In the middle of all the shit he had created.
--
Slumber found him by dawn and he fell asleep with his cheek pressed against his open notebook.
When he woke up he had ink blotted against his cheek and he giggled.
He was laughing; it was a start.
He had managed to pull together a few verses and a chorus. He just needed to find an end.
It felt good to be writing again. Maybe no one would ever hear it… but it meant more to him than it ever could another’s ear or another’s voice. It was a part of him.
His very own soul in words.
A glance at the clock told him it was midday, but both his parents would be working (his father worked for a law firm down the block and his mom worked in a bakery) and he didn’t even want to think about where Chuck would be…
But as he trudged down the stairs to the kitchen he found him sitting up at the counter, flipping through a newspaper with delighted eyes.
“Hey,” Darren greeted him, trying to keep his tone neutral. Chuck grinned when he saw him.
“Hey, little bro,” Chuck said enthusiastically. “I was thinking… today we should hang out just the two of us. We could go see a movie or just hang about here…?”
Darren’s brow creased in confusion. Chuck never really wanted to hang out with him anymore.
“Why?” he couldn’t help but ask. He felt a little guilty at the flicker of hurt in Chuck’s dark eyes (but only a very little; he was still unsure of his angle here…).
“Because I want to spend time with my little brother,” Chuck said defensively. “Is that so bad?”
But then it hit him and Darren glared, moving around the counter to get to the pantry. He was going to make pancakes and he wasn’t going to go outside all day.
Maybe he’d finish his song after all.
“Mom pushed you to do this, didn’t she?” Darren asked quietly, not even looking at him as he
began sifting flour into a large cooking bowl.
Chuck was silent for a moment before he assumed an apologetic expression.
“Dad, actually,” he said sheepishly. “He said you’d been really quiet lately… and that last night after the show you came straight up to your room and locked yourself in.”
“I was tired,” Darren said.
He was tired then and he was still tired now.
So very tired…
“Bullshit, Darren,” Chuck said, non-surprisingly not believing him. “Come on, I want you to be able to talk to me?”
“So what?” Darren snapped. “So you won’t be lonely when Chris isn’t around?”
“Darren…” Chuck pleaded softly, his expression wounded. “It’s not like that… you know that.
What’s really wrong?”
“Ugh,” Darren growled, smashing an egg against the edge of the bowl so viciously he was picking shell out of the mix. “Just leave me alone, Chuck. I really don’t want to talk to you right now.”
Darren didn’t meet his eyes and Chuck was silent and still for a few moments before he finally found his feet.
“If you want to talk later,” he said gently, “you know where to find me.”
Right, Darren thought bitterly, with your fucking boyfriend…
chapter 5