Turn The Lights Down Low - Commentary Edition 6/7
A week later, Chris is lost in the rhythms of the dance floor. The song, “Come Around,” by M.I.A., is a lot slower than the club's usual DJ likes, but there's a guest tonight, and Chris is glad for the break. What the song lacks in speed, it makes up in stimulation, and Chris's body is practically on fire. He swivels his hips languidly in time with the song, and when he spots a particularly hot guy giving him the eye, he feels bold enough to extend a finger and beckon him to come closer. (I hadn't originally had a song in mind for this scene, but this came up on shuffle as I was writing, and I couldn't help myself. Check it out and picture Chris with a faint sheen of sweat, one arm up to push away the hair that's fallen in his hair in his face and his eyes closed as he slowly writhes in tune with it under the dim lights of a club.
You're welcome. ;> )
The guy's about an inch taller, with a shaved head and a tight black shirt that hugs him in all the right places. (I am either a very boring costumer or I really love black, because I picture Chris wearing a tight, black shirt as well. Of course, Steve's is more of a t-shirt, and Chris's is a short-sleeved button-up, but still…tight and black. Can you tell I'm a former goth?) Chris slings an arm over one the guy's shoulders, then brings him close enough to grind against. When the guy meets his eye, Chris does his best to answer the unspoken question. "Yes, I am," he says with his eyes before closing them and allowing the music to take over, not even breaking when the guy calls the words, "I'm Steve." (Incidentally, Steve looks kind of like a cross between Vin Diesel and that guy from Anthrax who's in all of the VH-1 'I Love The____' shows. No clue why; it's just what popped into my head.)
Chris dances against him, relishing the feel of another man's body so close. After his last talk with Darren, it's all he's been able to think about - the feel of someone else invading his space and making him feel wanted. If nothing else, Steve is good for that much. Closer and closer, their bodies come together, until Chris can feel the heat of Steve's chest against his own. He tilts up his chin, capturing Steve's lips in a hungry kiss, and clutches at him, writhing hard enough against him that very little is left in doubt.
A few minutes into the song, Chris considers asking Steve to follow him into the back room for a little fun. Screw Burt Hummel and his 'you matter' - Chris isn't looking to fall in love, or even like. He just wants to try something new. Someone new is really more like it. He's twenty-two, and he wants to make up for lost time.
(I feel compelled to state that I see absolutely nothing wrong with that attitude, so long as everyone is careful.)
Then it happens. Steve starts singing. Not just singing along, but really putting in an effort.
"Oh god," Chris groans, "are you serious?"
"What?" Steve asks, his face a mask of poorly feigned innocence. "Timbaland's hot, and so are you. You can't blame me."
"I can," Chris says, "and I do." He pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to his bodyguard, then walks away without so much as a good-bye.
(Part of my backstory for Chris with this is that since he didn't really "blossom" until he'd reached a certain amount of fame, he's never really sure if guys are attracted to him for himself, or because of his celebrity. Any time someone makes even the vaguest indication that they're in some way an entertainer, he gets very uncomfortable taking things any further. Even if it's just a hand job in the backroom, he wants to make sure it's because the guy actually wants to jerk him off - not because they're hoping he'll introduce them to Ryan if they do.)
Just before he reaches the back exit, he hears the DJ begin to play a dance remix of the Glee version of “Teenage Dream,” and the whole thing is so ridiculous, all he can do is laugh. (I think most people have had that experience when we're trying to get over or forget someone, but keep finding ourselves confronted with more and more reminders the harder we try to run away. It's so frustrating and exasperating and I really liked the image of Chris dealing with that just seconds after he thought he may have found a distraction.)
---
"What am I doing?" Chris whines into the phone once he's dropped his bodyguard off.
"Same thing everyone does," Ashley's voice comes through the receiver. "Trying to find someone who doesn't suck. Surprisingly hard, in a city of over three million people." (Or a planet of billions. I'm of the opinion that not finding love easily makes it all the more precious, but I'm a happy single person who just ended an eight year relationship and marriage, so what do I know?)
"Hrm," Chris hums noncommittally. "I wouldn't mind some sucking, but I know what you mean."
"Christopher Paul Colfer," Ashley says, playing the part of the wilting flower. "Do you kiss me with that mouth?"
"Occasionally," Chris says, not skipping a beat. "I know it's not exactly reasonable to be this frustrated, but I've been out every night since we got home from tour, and I've yet to find anyone I'd want to spend more than five minutes with." (Another part I really wish I could go back and change in terms of wording. It just feels too stiff for him in general, and their rapport in specific.)
"It's an unfortunate side effect of having standards, Boo."
"Yeah," Chris sighs, kicking off his shoes and flopping onto his sofa. "I guess. I don't think I'm asking for very much, Ashley. I want someone who's cute, but not too much cuter than me -"
"Impossible," Ashley breaks in.
"Thank you," Chris smiles, then continues. "He has to be smart, and funny, and he has to have a life of his own. I'm always running in ten directions at once, and it would be nice knowing that they didn't need me around all the time."
"Have you talked to him?" Ashley asks after an extended silence.
"No," Chris says quietly. He'd told Ashley everything after she'd finally let him trade rooms back with Harry, and the two of them must have gone through two bottles of champagne and three cheesecakes before Chris finally threw up until he passed out on the bathroom floor. "He sent me an e-mail a couple of days ago, but I haven't written back."
"What'd he have to say?"
Chris runs the contents of the email over again in his head. He's read it so many times that he's practically got it memorized. "He talked about Greek food," he finally answers. "Kind of."
"That's random, even for him," Ashley says, and Chris can hear her frown through the phone.
"It was kind of a metaphor," Chris mumbles, knowing he's going to have to explain, but not particularly wanting to. "He wants to make sure I wouldn't rather have cannoli."
"That's not Greek, Boo."
"I know, I know," Chris says, shaking his head and rubbing one sleepy hand over his face. "This isn't going to make any sense, but he said that even though Greek food is awesome, no one should keep eating baklava if they might like cannoli better." (I'm sure it will surprise no one to find that Darren wrote said e-mail while drunk.)
"Soooo, he's comparing himself to something sweet and flaky with delicious nuts, and making sure you don't want to suck creamy filling from a tasty tube. That makes total sense."
Chris laughs in spite of himself. "Yeah, I suppose."
"That's what going to all these clubs is about, isn't it? Trying to get your cannoli on?"
"Kind of, I guess," Chris admits. "I just need to know what's out there."
"Yeah," Ashley yawns, "but you don't have to do it all at once, you know. You don't need an answer today. Take your time and just let things happen." (I know I'm biased, but this is my single favorite piece of advice whenever anyone I know is confused about sex or relationships. Slow down, take your time, and don't do rush anything.)
"You're right," Chris says. "Get some sleep, Ashley. Sorry for calling so late."
"Any time, Babydaddy," she coos into the phone. "MWUAH!"
The call disconnects, and Chris drops his phone to his chest. Ashley's right, he knows she is. So why does it all feel so wrong?
---
Five days later, Chris is sitting across from what may be the hottest guy he's ever seen in person. (Tall, blonde, blue eyes, chiseled features, broad shoulders, pretty much looks like an Abercrombie catalog made flesh by way of Ivy League.)
Alex belongs to a class Chris swore he'd never consider - that of actor-slash-model. It hadn't taken Chris long after arriving in Los Angeles to realize that at least half the potential dating pool consisted of this dreaded classification, and he'd vowed early on to never "go there." If he hadn't been a friend of Joanie's - one of the makeup artists on the show - Chris never would have agreed to this date. She'd tried suggesting it for almost a year before finally giving up, and was more than thrilled to give him Alex's phone number when Chris called her in a fit of frustration the day the day after his last club adventure. (Alex's name was not a coincidence. It was a deliberate callback to 'taking fornication for a thousand, Alex.' I know I've said this in the comments, but I'm going to say it again: In another world where Chris hadn't been in such a hurry, he and Alex could have been really happy. I honestly wasn't sure at times how the story would end, and could see endings both where Chris ended up with Darren and one where he didn't. Not because he and Darren didn't care about each other, but because for whatever reason, they just couldn't get over the fallout of what happened well enough to make a relationship work. If that had happened, there would have been a moment at the end with Darren and Chris bumping into each other while on dates with their respective significant others and acknowledging how happy the other look. It would have had them showing the first signs of relaxing and possibly becoming friends again, but still happy being with other people. I prefer the way it did end, but I think both possibilities had a fair amount of validity in light of everything that came before.)
True to Joanie's word, Alex seems pretty near perfect. Their conversation flows more freely than the wine they're drinking, and Chris doesn't have to explain any of the obscure references he drops into the conversation. Alex keeps him on his toes, and keeps him laughing, and when, after their plates are taken away, Alex takes his hand, Chris practically has their china pattern picked out. (Simple, clean, white, with thin blue and silver stripes around the rim, because Chris is seemingly unaware that other colors exist.)
"How are you single?" Chris blurts without thinking.
"I'm picky," Alex shrugs. "I had a pretty serious boyfriend for about three years when his company transferred him. We agreed that the long-distance thing wouldn't work, so we went our separate ways. We stayed in touch, and he's still my best friend. I guess that when you've been with someone who treats you like you really deserve, you're less willing to settle for anything less."
Chris goes quiet, and Alex begins to look nervous. "He left over a year and a half ago. We really are just friends. I'm just saying that I know what I'm worth, I know what I want, and I don't see the point in acting like I don't.
"Listen," Alex says with a shy smile. "Enough about the past. I'd rather focus on the now. They usually have live music here, but they skipped it tonight because they knew it'd be a thin crowd. I think I could talk them into turning on a stereo, if you'd like to dance."
Chris pictures it, and when he nods in agreement, his smile is completely genuine.
Alex gets up from the table and talks to one of the waiters for a minute, then comes back and offers Chris his arm. "May I have this dance?" he asks.
"Since you asked so nicely," Chris smiles, and takes it as they make their way to the empty banquet room.
"We're lucky," Alex says softly as he begins to twirl Chris around the floor. "One of the waitresses had her iPod with her. Even if she hadn't," he whispers, bringing his face just inches from Chris's, "I'd have tried to talk you into dancing with me."
Their lips meet, and Chris feels himself turn into a bundle of rubber bands, both tangled and tight, all at once. Alex is gorgeous, and he smells amazing, and the night has been as perfect as he could have asked, but as wonderful as the kiss is, it doesn't feel right. Chris deepens it, hoping for more, but a sick feeling begins to form in his stomach, and he has to stop. (I think there are few things more disappointing on a date than realizing that the absolutely dreamy person you've been goo-goo eyed over all through the evening fails to produce a single spark when you get right to it. It doesn't matter how amazing someone is, if the chemistry isn't there, you can't really do anything about it. If Chris weren't otherwise occupied with thoughts of someone else [even if those thoughts are largely about how much he wants to forget them] the chemistry could have been there, but it almost never is when you're already mentally comparing it against someone else.)
He holds tighter and hooks his chin over one of Alex's broad shoulders, his own fingers flying up to trace his lips. 'You're being ridiculous,' he tells himself, trying to find the happiness that had filled him just moments before.
A new song begins, all melancholy piano and subdued drums, and when the lyrics start, it's all that Chris can do to keep from falling. It may be a cover of one of his mother's favorite songs, but it's Darren's voice singing it.
"'Cause I can't make you love me if you don't. You can't make your heart feel something that it won't. Here in the dark in these final hours, I will lay down my heart, and I'll feel the power…but you won't."
The sick feeling on his stomach only deepens when he remembers that Darren's first major solo album was just released a few days before, and Darren's coy allusions to a cover that had really resonated while he'd been recording it just before filming ended.
(Aubreyli recently asked me for headcanon about this song, so please forgive me while I copy-paste what I posted on Tumblr in response:
It’s a late addition to the album, and he has to fight to get it there. "His people" try telling him that he needs to focus on original songs if he wants to be taken more seriously away from Glee, and he really needs to stop singing songs by women if he cares about his image. Darren, of course, doesn’t really give a shit about his image, but he does care that he’s been finding himself singing it at his piano pretty regularly since he decided to say yes to Chris’s request.
It starts as being a song about acceptance and resignation. When he agrees - and even through the event itself - Darren is genuinely okay with having their one night and leaving as friends. The next morning, he means it when he says he’d like to hang out. Part of him is kind of hoping it could lead to more, but what they have at that moment is enough, and he’s honestly just happy that he finally understands what he feels and that Chris’s first time was with someone who understood how amazing he is. He thinks he’s given Chris both what he wanted and what he deserved, and that, for him, is enough.
When they show up for tour rehearsals, however, it changes. That’s when he begins to think he screwed up, and he genuinely gets angry with himself for about a hundred different things (saying yes, not telling Chris what he was feeling, forcing himself to give Chris space - he literally runs every possibility through his head and finds a reason to be upset with himself for it), but he’s convinced that he’s fucked up any chance of things being even friendly, so the song takes on a more melancholy tone for him. It’s already been recorded by that point, but he still sings it at home, sitting at his piano and plinking it out slowly between sips of wine or whiskey. What used to be his promise to be okay with whatever happened is now a reminder of how he went wrong, and he sees it almost as a kind of penance.
He fights for it to be the first single, but it’s doomed to be an album cut forever. It does, however, turn out to be a favorite when he performs it live, and it also ends up on his eventual “best of” album. It’s also much closer to George Michael’s cover than Bonnie Rait’s original, though I love both. Finally, I picked it not just because it’s a beautiful song that’s full of longing and resignation [the two feelings he needed to feel at different times], but because of the first line - ‘turn down the lights, turn down the bed,’ and the parallel with the song that accompanied their fictional counterparts’ first time.)
"I'm sorry," Chris says in a choked voice, "I think I should go."
"What's wrong?" Alex asks. "Are you okay? We don't have to dance, we could just…have some desert, maybe? They have really good cannoli."
(It's never said outright, but the place Alex picked out for their date? A very trendy Italian place. Very light and airy and pretty much the opposite of the one Darren took him to, but equally nice in its own right.)
The lump in Chris's throat grows even larger, and it's all he can do to tilt up and place a kiss to Alex's cheek. "I'm sure they do," he sighs, "but my heart is set on baklava."
(Fun fact: I hate baklava. Greek food in general, really. I'm a very boring eater.)
(Part seven)
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