Psychobabble (Deatils) Part 3
Title: Psychobabble (Details)
Fandom: RPF
Pairing: Pinto
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, just love 'em
Warnings: long-term angst, OFC, mild het
Summary: Part 3 of 11. Zach has a crush on Chris but Chris really doesn't want to know. A lot of angst, UST and crappy decision making follows and eventually, Zach has to make a choice.
Follows the songs from Frou Frou's album, Details - which is my favourite album of all time, just to be melodramatic. The song's aren't in order, I sorted them as needed for the story arc. Normally I don't do songfics but this story just flowed out of the album for me, so I went for it.
Psychobabble is track 5 on the album and the lyrics for all the songs on Details can be found here. If you haven't heard it and you can get your hands (electronic or otherwise) on the album, I thoroughly recommend it.
Download Psychobabble
A/N: I love this chapter but it kind of sashays from angst into Melodrama. Okay, it runs crying and shrieking into melodrama but I think I'm ok with that.
Also, any usage of the LA garbage disposal system and maid services in this chapter stem from my vast knowledge of such matters as a middle-class Australian person-type-thing.
It was nearly six weeks after Chris’ blowout party and he was still finding fluff-covered pastries under the couch cushions and empty beer bottles in the bushes of his front yard. He knew he could just point them out to his lovely cleaning lady but really, it took a certain kind of laziness to walk past the same bottle four or five times - waiting for someone else to inevitably pick it up. Luckily, garbage night had been two days after the party - Chris had counted at least four bags stacked by his already overflowing bins and the smell had quickly become... unpleasant. Michelle had complained about the ‘horrifying stench’ for much of those two days and Chris had resorted to kissing her in order to distract her, until she stopped talking and started kissing him back.
A clinking of glasses from the kitchen and Chris was reminded that the woman in question was currently making them a cocktail that she had ‘discovered’ last night at a club that for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the name of.
“You alright, honey?”
A pause as the fridge door opened and closed.
“Yeah, baby I’m fine. It’s just a little hard to juggle all these bottles!”
Chris grinned to himself; she was always so bright and bubbly, even when she was annoyed.
“Why don’t you try grabbing them one at a time, then?”
“Why don’t you come out here and help me?!”
“I thought this was supposed to be a surprise for me,” he said, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. “Don’t you want to knock me head over heels with this fabulous new creation?”
“Oh yeah... Don’t come in here until I tell you!”
Shoving the cushions to one side, Chris threw himself unceremoniously onto the couch. Hooking on leg over the other, he laced his hands behind his head and entertained himself by looking for patterns in the ceiling as he listened to Michelle swish around the kitchen.
----------------------------
It was well past three in the morning when the phone rang. Staring owlishly at the glowing readout of his watch, Chris stifled a yawn and rolled over to see Michelle fast asleep beside him. As he unconsciously licked his lips, he could still taste a whisper of the blueberry sweetness from their earlier, syrupy cocktails. His phone continued to burrow its way into his brain via his ear canal and he stumbled as quickly as he could into the hall before it woke Michelle as well.
“’lo?”
“... Chris?”
“Who’zis?”
“S’me, Zach.”
“Zach?” Sudden images of friends in hospital beds flooded his vision and adrenaline kicked him all the way awake. “What wrong, what’s happened? Is it Joe? Or Zoe? Are you okay?”
What sounded like bitter laughter danced along the phone line and Chris quickly swapped hands, pressing the phone to his left ear.
“No, I’m fine! I’m always fine, aren’t I? I’m the Queen of Fineness!”
A fit of giggles followed the sarcastic comments and Chris felt his concern washing away in the face of something darker.
“Then why are you calling, Zach?” Chris asked in precise tones.
A sniff and a shuffling of movement on Zach’s end.
“Why not?”
Chris stood there in his track pants, his bare feet chilly on the caramel coloured floorboards and he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“It’s twenty to four, Zach. It’s generally the rule not to call people in the middle of the night unless it’s an emergency.”
“’Tis a remergency.”
Chris wondered for a moment if alcohol fumes could be transferred across phone lines before deciding the take the well-trodden path of the fucking obvious.
“You’re drunk.”
“W’zat a question?”
“No.”
“Good, coz I’m sick of answering questions. Fucking three months of the same fucking questions over and over. So sick and tired of it. So sick and tired’ve everything Chris.”
Another twinge and a spark of adrenaline and Chris squeezed the phone a little harder in his grasp.
“You mean the press tour? The movie stuff, right?”
A pause.
“Mmm, not just that. I’m sick of having the answer when no one, when someone won’t ask me the question.”
“Oh Zach,” Chris sighed. “I know you’re a miserable drunk but you don’t normally stoop to waking up your buddies for a midnight -- beyond midnight chat.”
“C’n I come over?”
Chris pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against, swiping a painting as he did so and sending it swinging wildly from side to side.
“No, Zach! Of course you’re not coming over! It’s nearly four in the morning and Michelle’s in bed asleep. Which is where I should be by the way.”
“Please?”
“No, you drunk bastard! Come round tomorrow when you’re sober and hung over. You can apologise to me then and we can get pissed together.”
“...Wanna see you now.”
The frustration returned but now it had brought a friend, a feeling that Chris had thought laid to rest months ago when they had still been on the press circuit. A shaky, uncomfortable sensation of vulnerability and... Fear. Basic, instinctual fear that someone wasn’t whom you thought they were, who you wanted them to be.
“You can’t come over, Zach.” Chris stated with no small amount of steel in his voice. He hoped it covered the thinner strands of fear that had threaded their way through his words.
“Coz of Mmmmmmmichelle? Huh.” Zach scoffed.
“Don’t say her name like that. And yes because of her.” ‘I don’t want you anywhere near her in the state you’re in,’ he thought to himself.
“Where’re my keys?”
“Zach? Zach! Snap out of it. You’re too drunk to drive. Anyway we only live a couple of minutes apart, not that that makes a difference, you still can’t come over.”
“Can’t find ‘em, Noah’ll have to do.”
“Huh? Zach, you’re not making any sense,” said Chris but he was talking to a dial tone. Placing the phone very carefully back into its cradle, he ran a hand through his bed hair. Would he come? Zach was pretty decisive when it came down to it. He could just keep the front door locked and go back to bed, see if he had a dead or unconscious body on his front step in the morning? Padding back to the bedroom he could see the long, shapely form of Michelle tangled in the sheets, her chest rising and falling gently. She was a heavy sleeper, maybe if he was careful he could shoo Zach away from the house without waking her up.
Minutes later as he sat on the couch, running things over and over again in his head, the sound of shuffling feet caught his attention. Moving quickly, he headed for the front door and out into the front yard, nearly running into a severely swaying Zach. Grabbing his friends’ shoulders before he went ass first into the concrete, Chris forgot for a moment that he and Zach had a problem but he was quickly reminded of the fact when Zach raised his head, bleary eyed and caught sight of Chris’ bare chest. Chris could feel Zach’s gaze trail over his skin and he cursed himself for not thinking to put on a t-shirt when he had the chance. He resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest like a woman covering her breasts but it was a close thing.
Stepping back and settling for folding his arms in a manly, respect-my-personal-space kind of way, he tried to make eye contact with Zach.
“I told you not to come.”
“I had to, got my Dutch courage up ‘n everything.”
“I think you passed Dutch courage about three hours ago. This is just plain wasted.”
Zach tried to shrug nonchalantly and nearly tipped over.
“I had to tell you. I’ve tried doing the... the friend thing, being happy... I can’t do it anymore, I jus’ can’t.”
“’Friend thing’?”
Zach shot him a scornful look before falling back into despondency.
“I just though,” he continued, “that if I told you now, to your face, I might get something real out of you. I mean, before all this you were... different.”
“Different?”
“Mmm. You used to touch me - a hand on my shoulder or round my waist, grabbing my wrist when you wanted to show me something. That’s when I thought... I thought maybe... that you were... that you might...”
Zach had closed his eyes as he said this, his head tilted towards the sky in remembrance. Now he lowered it and looked at Chris.
“And then... You just closed off, you wouldn’t even look at me anymore. As soon as I tried to... You just became someone else.”
Chris tried to wrap his head around Zach stumbling explanation.
“So... because I was friendly, because I treated you like one of the best friends I had, you thought I was gay?”
Zach stared quietly at Chris.
“Not necs’sarily gay, just... maybe interested in something. I was just trying to read the signs.”
“Well you read them wrong,” Chris stated bluntly. “You were wrong. You couldn’t be more wrong. I never gave out these ‘signs’, okay? You just... misunderstood me.”
“Did I? Did I really?” challenged Zach and with that he took two steps forward and kissed Chris with all the passion of the heartbroken, his hands on either side of Chris’ face, tracing his cheekbones and the rasp of early morning beard as he closed his eyes and tasted blueberry on his lips.
After a few seconds of paralysis, Chris reared back in shock.
“What the hell! Were you even listening?! Don’t ever try something like that again! Jesus! I don’t care what your problem is, Zach I’ve had it up to here with it. Oh for Christ’s sake, sit down before you fall down!” Chris exclaimed as Zach’s knees buckled.
He looked so much smaller like that, Chris reflected, as Zach lay sprawled on his side, head down and hands to the pavement, his chest rising and falling in a sharp, uneven rhythm. Zach swiped a self-conscious hand across his eyes as they lay shadowed beneath the dark bangs of his un-gelled hair and Chris felt a moment of rising guilt before he twisted it into anger.
“Well? Why are you so quiet all of a sudden? Come on, snap out of it Zach, I’m not falling for this. You can’t win, I'm not going to give in.”
Shivering with intense emotion, Zach’s form straightened as he moved into a kneeling position on the ground, his legs unfolded like a man at prayer. His eyes were blurred with tears now, instead of alcohol and his body was swaying in anguish.
“Come on then,” Chris baited, “you’re just dying to try me. Say something! SAY SOMETHING!”
“I LOVE YOU!” Screamed Zach. A moment of stunned silence followed as if Zach couldn't believe he had finally said it. His look of shock though, quickly changed into one of bitterness.
"Don’t you get it, you bastard? I fucking love you! It’s not about winning, it’s not about surrendering, it’s about the fact that I can’t fucking breathe without you! You think that love is surrender? Then whose fucking war is it, huh?!”
With that, Zach’s impetus was gone and he folded in on himself, like the shrunken remnants of a deflated balloon until his head was resting on his lap.
In that moment, Chris forgot why he was so angry with Zach; he forgot all the words that had gone before. All he could hear, all he could register was the sound of very quiet, very intense weeping as Zach simply... gave up.
Zach had never cried in front of him before. In all the months that they had known each other, nothing had come close to upsetting him this much. And yet he, Chris Pine could reduce this man, who could be so strong and so proud, to tears by doing... what had he done?
Kneeling before him, Chris tried to get Zach to look up.
“Zach. Zach. Look at me. Please look at me. You’re my best friend, okay? Please look at me!”
He didn’t want to touch him, he didn’t want to cup that jaw and gently raise it, force Zach to meet his gaze. He’ll take it the wrong way, he thought. I just want to be there for him, I just want to stop hurting him, that’s all.
But he wants more than that, another voice replied. He wants you to cup his jaw and then kiss his tears away, the tears you caused. He wants you to hold him and tell him that he means something to you, something more than a just a ‘friend’.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Chris firmly took a hold of Zach’s jaw and forced him to look up.
“Okay Zach, do just what I tell you and no one’ll get any more hurt tonight, alright? Now, you’re going to stand up and I’m going to stand up with you. Then I’m going to walk you home to make sure you get there, okay? Then you’re going to promise me, promise me that you’ll go to bed and sleep this off, okay?”
Zach nodded mutely, barely reacting when Chris helped him to rise. Running inside to get shoes and a t-shirt, Chris had a moment of hesitation, as he stood by the door with his shirt half-pulled over his head. But Zach couldn’t stay here and Chris needed to make sure he was safe. He had to know Zach was safe. He owed him that at least.
Zach was slumped against the fence when he returned and they both silently fell into step as they walked out of the gate and down the lamp-lit street. They didn’t talk as they made their way to Zach’s place and they stayed silent as Noah’s barks greeted them at the front door. When Zach turned to Chris and reached out a cold, moon-washed hand, Chris didn’t flinch away, he just kept his own hand still, a few inches away from Zach’s outstretched one, staring at the space between them. Willing Zach not to come any closer because he swore to God, he didn’t know what would happen. He didn’t know how long he could...
“Better get inside, Zach.”
Just a nod in reply as the hand fell slowly away.
So, what do we do now?” Zach asked.
Chris looked at Zach, who sounded so empty now. He looked at him and he wasn’t sure who it was he saw looking back.
“I don’t know. I really don’t know,” he replied, looking away.
The sound of the front door closing was a full stop and Chris began to walk away. Pushing his hands deep into his pockets, he ran his tongue over his lips and tasted... Zach? Certainly not blueberries. And that’s when Chris realised, tongue’s tip paused on the edge of his mouth, that he hadn’t wiped it away. He’d left Zach there on his lips.
He hadn’t wiped his kiss away.
Part Four
Fandom: RPF
Pairing: Pinto
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, just love 'em
Warnings: long-term angst, OFC, mild het
Summary: Part 3 of 11. Zach has a crush on Chris but Chris really doesn't want to know. A lot of angst, UST and crappy decision making follows and eventually, Zach has to make a choice.
Follows the songs from Frou Frou's album, Details - which is my favourite album of all time, just to be melodramatic. The song's aren't in order, I sorted them as needed for the story arc. Normally I don't do songfics but this story just flowed out of the album for me, so I went for it.
Psychobabble is track 5 on the album and the lyrics for all the songs on Details can be found here. If you haven't heard it and you can get your hands (electronic or otherwise) on the album, I thoroughly recommend it.
Download Psychobabble
A/N: I love this chapter but it kind of sashays from angst into Melodrama. Okay, it runs crying and shrieking into melodrama but I think I'm ok with that.
Also, any usage of the LA garbage disposal system and maid services in this chapter stem from my vast knowledge of such matters as a middle-class Australian person-type-thing.
It was nearly six weeks after Chris’ blowout party and he was still finding fluff-covered pastries under the couch cushions and empty beer bottles in the bushes of his front yard. He knew he could just point them out to his lovely cleaning lady but really, it took a certain kind of laziness to walk past the same bottle four or five times - waiting for someone else to inevitably pick it up. Luckily, garbage night had been two days after the party - Chris had counted at least four bags stacked by his already overflowing bins and the smell had quickly become... unpleasant. Michelle had complained about the ‘horrifying stench’ for much of those two days and Chris had resorted to kissing her in order to distract her, until she stopped talking and started kissing him back.
A clinking of glasses from the kitchen and Chris was reminded that the woman in question was currently making them a cocktail that she had ‘discovered’ last night at a club that for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the name of.
“You alright, honey?”
A pause as the fridge door opened and closed.
“Yeah, baby I’m fine. It’s just a little hard to juggle all these bottles!”
Chris grinned to himself; she was always so bright and bubbly, even when she was annoyed.
“Why don’t you try grabbing them one at a time, then?”
“Why don’t you come out here and help me?!”
“I thought this was supposed to be a surprise for me,” he said, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. “Don’t you want to knock me head over heels with this fabulous new creation?”
“Oh yeah... Don’t come in here until I tell you!”
Shoving the cushions to one side, Chris threw himself unceremoniously onto the couch. Hooking on leg over the other, he laced his hands behind his head and entertained himself by looking for patterns in the ceiling as he listened to Michelle swish around the kitchen.
----------------------------
It was well past three in the morning when the phone rang. Staring owlishly at the glowing readout of his watch, Chris stifled a yawn and rolled over to see Michelle fast asleep beside him. As he unconsciously licked his lips, he could still taste a whisper of the blueberry sweetness from their earlier, syrupy cocktails. His phone continued to burrow its way into his brain via his ear canal and he stumbled as quickly as he could into the hall before it woke Michelle as well.
“’lo?”
“... Chris?”
“Who’zis?”
“S’me, Zach.”
“Zach?” Sudden images of friends in hospital beds flooded his vision and adrenaline kicked him all the way awake. “What wrong, what’s happened? Is it Joe? Or Zoe? Are you okay?”
What sounded like bitter laughter danced along the phone line and Chris quickly swapped hands, pressing the phone to his left ear.
“No, I’m fine! I’m always fine, aren’t I? I’m the Queen of Fineness!”
A fit of giggles followed the sarcastic comments and Chris felt his concern washing away in the face of something darker.
“Then why are you calling, Zach?” Chris asked in precise tones.
A sniff and a shuffling of movement on Zach’s end.
“Why not?”
Chris stood there in his track pants, his bare feet chilly on the caramel coloured floorboards and he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“It’s twenty to four, Zach. It’s generally the rule not to call people in the middle of the night unless it’s an emergency.”
“’Tis a remergency.”
Chris wondered for a moment if alcohol fumes could be transferred across phone lines before deciding the take the well-trodden path of the fucking obvious.
“You’re drunk.”
“W’zat a question?”
“No.”
“Good, coz I’m sick of answering questions. Fucking three months of the same fucking questions over and over. So sick and tired of it. So sick and tired’ve everything Chris.”
Another twinge and a spark of adrenaline and Chris squeezed the phone a little harder in his grasp.
“You mean the press tour? The movie stuff, right?”
A pause.
“Mmm, not just that. I’m sick of having the answer when no one, when someone won’t ask me the question.”
“Oh Zach,” Chris sighed. “I know you’re a miserable drunk but you don’t normally stoop to waking up your buddies for a midnight -- beyond midnight chat.”
“C’n I come over?”
Chris pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against, swiping a painting as he did so and sending it swinging wildly from side to side.
“No, Zach! Of course you’re not coming over! It’s nearly four in the morning and Michelle’s in bed asleep. Which is where I should be by the way.”
“Please?”
“No, you drunk bastard! Come round tomorrow when you’re sober and hung over. You can apologise to me then and we can get pissed together.”
“...Wanna see you now.”
The frustration returned but now it had brought a friend, a feeling that Chris had thought laid to rest months ago when they had still been on the press circuit. A shaky, uncomfortable sensation of vulnerability and... Fear. Basic, instinctual fear that someone wasn’t whom you thought they were, who you wanted them to be.
“You can’t come over, Zach.” Chris stated with no small amount of steel in his voice. He hoped it covered the thinner strands of fear that had threaded their way through his words.
“Coz of Mmmmmmmichelle? Huh.” Zach scoffed.
“Don’t say her name like that. And yes because of her.” ‘I don’t want you anywhere near her in the state you’re in,’ he thought to himself.
“Where’re my keys?”
“Zach? Zach! Snap out of it. You’re too drunk to drive. Anyway we only live a couple of minutes apart, not that that makes a difference, you still can’t come over.”
“Can’t find ‘em, Noah’ll have to do.”
“Huh? Zach, you’re not making any sense,” said Chris but he was talking to a dial tone. Placing the phone very carefully back into its cradle, he ran a hand through his bed hair. Would he come? Zach was pretty decisive when it came down to it. He could just keep the front door locked and go back to bed, see if he had a dead or unconscious body on his front step in the morning? Padding back to the bedroom he could see the long, shapely form of Michelle tangled in the sheets, her chest rising and falling gently. She was a heavy sleeper, maybe if he was careful he could shoo Zach away from the house without waking her up.
Minutes later as he sat on the couch, running things over and over again in his head, the sound of shuffling feet caught his attention. Moving quickly, he headed for the front door and out into the front yard, nearly running into a severely swaying Zach. Grabbing his friends’ shoulders before he went ass first into the concrete, Chris forgot for a moment that he and Zach had a problem but he was quickly reminded of the fact when Zach raised his head, bleary eyed and caught sight of Chris’ bare chest. Chris could feel Zach’s gaze trail over his skin and he cursed himself for not thinking to put on a t-shirt when he had the chance. He resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest like a woman covering her breasts but it was a close thing.
Stepping back and settling for folding his arms in a manly, respect-my-personal-space kind of way, he tried to make eye contact with Zach.
“I told you not to come.”
“I had to, got my Dutch courage up ‘n everything.”
“I think you passed Dutch courage about three hours ago. This is just plain wasted.”
Zach tried to shrug nonchalantly and nearly tipped over.
“I had to tell you. I’ve tried doing the... the friend thing, being happy... I can’t do it anymore, I jus’ can’t.”
“’Friend thing’?”
Zach shot him a scornful look before falling back into despondency.
“I just though,” he continued, “that if I told you now, to your face, I might get something real out of you. I mean, before all this you were... different.”
“Different?”
“Mmm. You used to touch me - a hand on my shoulder or round my waist, grabbing my wrist when you wanted to show me something. That’s when I thought... I thought maybe... that you were... that you might...”
Zach had closed his eyes as he said this, his head tilted towards the sky in remembrance. Now he lowered it and looked at Chris.
“And then... You just closed off, you wouldn’t even look at me anymore. As soon as I tried to... You just became someone else.”
Chris tried to wrap his head around Zach stumbling explanation.
“So... because I was friendly, because I treated you like one of the best friends I had, you thought I was gay?”
Zach stared quietly at Chris.
“Not necs’sarily gay, just... maybe interested in something. I was just trying to read the signs.”
“Well you read them wrong,” Chris stated bluntly. “You were wrong. You couldn’t be more wrong. I never gave out these ‘signs’, okay? You just... misunderstood me.”
“Did I? Did I really?” challenged Zach and with that he took two steps forward and kissed Chris with all the passion of the heartbroken, his hands on either side of Chris’ face, tracing his cheekbones and the rasp of early morning beard as he closed his eyes and tasted blueberry on his lips.
After a few seconds of paralysis, Chris reared back in shock.
“What the hell! Were you even listening?! Don’t ever try something like that again! Jesus! I don’t care what your problem is, Zach I’ve had it up to here with it. Oh for Christ’s sake, sit down before you fall down!” Chris exclaimed as Zach’s knees buckled.
He looked so much smaller like that, Chris reflected, as Zach lay sprawled on his side, head down and hands to the pavement, his chest rising and falling in a sharp, uneven rhythm. Zach swiped a self-conscious hand across his eyes as they lay shadowed beneath the dark bangs of his un-gelled hair and Chris felt a moment of rising guilt before he twisted it into anger.
“Well? Why are you so quiet all of a sudden? Come on, snap out of it Zach, I’m not falling for this. You can’t win, I'm not going to give in.”
Shivering with intense emotion, Zach’s form straightened as he moved into a kneeling position on the ground, his legs unfolded like a man at prayer. His eyes were blurred with tears now, instead of alcohol and his body was swaying in anguish.
“Come on then,” Chris baited, “you’re just dying to try me. Say something! SAY SOMETHING!”
“I LOVE YOU!” Screamed Zach. A moment of stunned silence followed as if Zach couldn't believe he had finally said it. His look of shock though, quickly changed into one of bitterness.
"Don’t you get it, you bastard? I fucking love you! It’s not about winning, it’s not about surrendering, it’s about the fact that I can’t fucking breathe without you! You think that love is surrender? Then whose fucking war is it, huh?!”
With that, Zach’s impetus was gone and he folded in on himself, like the shrunken remnants of a deflated balloon until his head was resting on his lap.
In that moment, Chris forgot why he was so angry with Zach; he forgot all the words that had gone before. All he could hear, all he could register was the sound of very quiet, very intense weeping as Zach simply... gave up.
Zach had never cried in front of him before. In all the months that they had known each other, nothing had come close to upsetting him this much. And yet he, Chris Pine could reduce this man, who could be so strong and so proud, to tears by doing... what had he done?
Kneeling before him, Chris tried to get Zach to look up.
“Zach. Zach. Look at me. Please look at me. You’re my best friend, okay? Please look at me!”
He didn’t want to touch him, he didn’t want to cup that jaw and gently raise it, force Zach to meet his gaze. He’ll take it the wrong way, he thought. I just want to be there for him, I just want to stop hurting him, that’s all.
But he wants more than that, another voice replied. He wants you to cup his jaw and then kiss his tears away, the tears you caused. He wants you to hold him and tell him that he means something to you, something more than a just a ‘friend’.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Chris firmly took a hold of Zach’s jaw and forced him to look up.
“Okay Zach, do just what I tell you and no one’ll get any more hurt tonight, alright? Now, you’re going to stand up and I’m going to stand up with you. Then I’m going to walk you home to make sure you get there, okay? Then you’re going to promise me, promise me that you’ll go to bed and sleep this off, okay?”
Zach nodded mutely, barely reacting when Chris helped him to rise. Running inside to get shoes and a t-shirt, Chris had a moment of hesitation, as he stood by the door with his shirt half-pulled over his head. But Zach couldn’t stay here and Chris needed to make sure he was safe. He had to know Zach was safe. He owed him that at least.
Zach was slumped against the fence when he returned and they both silently fell into step as they walked out of the gate and down the lamp-lit street. They didn’t talk as they made their way to Zach’s place and they stayed silent as Noah’s barks greeted them at the front door. When Zach turned to Chris and reached out a cold, moon-washed hand, Chris didn’t flinch away, he just kept his own hand still, a few inches away from Zach’s outstretched one, staring at the space between them. Willing Zach not to come any closer because he swore to God, he didn’t know what would happen. He didn’t know how long he could...
“Better get inside, Zach.”
Just a nod in reply as the hand fell slowly away.
So, what do we do now?” Zach asked.
Chris looked at Zach, who sounded so empty now. He looked at him and he wasn’t sure who it was he saw looking back.
“I don’t know. I really don’t know,” he replied, looking away.
The sound of the front door closing was a full stop and Chris began to walk away. Pushing his hands deep into his pockets, he ran his tongue over his lips and tasted... Zach? Certainly not blueberries. And that’s when Chris realised, tongue’s tip paused on the edge of his mouth, that he hadn’t wiped it away. He’d left Zach there on his lips.
He hadn’t wiped his kiss away.
Part Four