if you could only let it be
title: if you could only let it be
pairing: Chris/Dustin
author: reogulus
rating: PG-13
wordcount: ~5,800
disclaimer: Not mine, not true, not used for profit.
summary: He hates every guy Chris dates, and he doesn't know why.
notes: Written for this prompt on tsn_kinkmeme for rei17 , featuring oblivious!Chris and even-more-oblivious!Dustin.
Title from Complicated by Avril Lavigne.
-1-
Once the chicks learn from the Crimson that he was somehow involved in the making of FaceMash, they all look at Dustin differently. The classy ones turn their backs without a word, the others glare at him like he’s some kind of lowly scum. He hasn’t been invited to parties other than the ones hosted by AEPi, but that’s okay, because even though it’s unfair, it makes sense.
Chris tries to cheer him up, but Dustin waves those efforts away: “Chris, since you’re the only person in this dorm whose dating life isn’t suffering from the collateral damage of FaceMash, I believe you shouldn’t talk.”
Chris rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, it’ll all blow over soon. At least you weren’t called in front of the Ad Board,” he hooks an arm around Dustin’s shoulder, “which is enough cause for celebration. Come on, let’s go get drunk.”
Sometimes Dustin really wonders if turning Chris down would be easier if the blond doesn’t have such a nice smile.
*
Sitting at the bar with a beer in front of him doesn’t really make Dustin feel better. A brunette girl keeps hitting on Chris, and fifteen minutes later he gets tired of watching Chris declining her flirtatious efforts so he tells her straight up that his friend is gay. The girl glares at him before leaving their side, and Dustin stares back, completely unapologetic.
“Well, you could have been nicer,” Chris cocks an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Dustin downs his fourth beer, “just tired of the unoriginality. Oh my gosh, you look totally gorgeous in this shirt, buy me a drink, will ya?” He mocks her voice and throws his arms up for unnecessary dramatization.
Chris laughs, “I know what you mean. My jaw actually hurts from the fake smiling, you know.”
He’s about to tell Chris to stop playing nice all the time when he sees some stranger walking towards them, calling Chris’s name and saying something about coincidences. Chris turns around and smiles at him, all wide and genuine.
Dustin squints; this guy is way too well-dressed to be straight. The longer he looks at him, the stronger that weird feeling in the pit of his stomach gets. He’s not sure if it’s the beer or the stranger’s face.
“Dustin, this is Ryan, I met him last week at a GSA event. Ryan, this is Dustin, my roommate.”
“And best friend,” he blurts out. Ryan smiles and extends his hand, but he deliberately doesn’t shake it until Chris gives him a strange look.
“Nice to meet you, Dustin,” Ryan says casually, smiling like he’s not offended at all, “May I borrow Chris for five minutes?”
“Actually,” Chris says before Dustin can think of a rude answer, “Dustin’s a little drunk right now and I better take him back to Kirkland. Maybe we can grab a coffee together some time?”
Ryan nods, and they have a brief exchange about time and location. Yep, Dustin thinks to himself, that guy really can’t disappear fast enough. Chris waves goodbye as Ryan leaves the bar before turning back to Dustin.
“What’s your problem?” There’s more concern than frustration in Chris’s voice, the way it’s always been.
“Come on, Chris, you’re slumming. Goody Two-Shoes Ryan is more boring than my grandpa.”
Chris snorts. “For god’s sake, Dustin, you don’t even know him.”
“I know he’s not your type,” Dustin mumbles and orders another beer.
Chris ignores him. “You really need to get laid, Moskovitz.”
He snorts. “Yeah well, I think we both know that the girls are more interested in talking to you.”
“Hell,” Chris shoots him a bemused look, “it’s not really fair to blame it on the gay guy, is it?”
He shakes his head and sighs dramatically. “No offence, Chris, but sometimes having a gay best friend isn’t as glamorous as it sounds.”
Chris rolls his eyes, “Fine, if you want to make a big deal out of my sexual orientation, how about you give the gay thing a try and see how the girls like that.”
Dustin holds up a finger and smiles smugly. “Ah, but Christopher, I’m not that drunk. If I’m gay, why would I care if girls talk to me or not? I would be hitting on guys! Like, you or something.”
Chris almost chokes on his beer laughing: “Oh yes, you’re definitely that drunk.” Then he proceeds to pay for the drinks and drag Dustin back to Kirkland. Stumbling out of the bar with Chris’s hands around his shoulders and his arm, he sighs contently and nudges into the familiar touch almost instinctively.
When he staggers onto his bed that night, Dustin drifts off to sleep before he can remember if he really meant what he said.
-2-
Chris texts Dustin when he’s on his way back from lit class: sry cant do study session today, dinner w/ryan, how bout tmr at 4?
Dustin sighs and sinks into the couch. Mark has holed himself in his room for a week coding god-knows-what, and this is probably the third time that Chris has to reschedule their thing for his thing with Ryan.
Dustin kicks the lonely XBOX controller aside to make room for his feet on the coffee table. fine :( but dont let him get into ur pants!
Five minutes later Chris strides through the door and throws his backpack at Dustin. “What was that supposed to mean?”
“Whoa, careful,” Dustin ducks out of the way and catches the bag before it hits his face, “I was joking! Relax!”
“I don’t need your input when it comes to my personal life, Dustin.” Chris bites his lips, his blue eyes dark with disappointment, “Just, please respect my privacy.”
The knowledge of Chris being seriously upset leaves Dustin’s mind drawing a blank.
“I...I’m sorry, okay? I really didn’t mean it.” he runs a hand through his hair, struggling with the words, “Listen, I was drunk and pissed off that night and I could have been nicer. Ryan, he, uh, he seemed like a decent guy. A little predictable and puts too much gel in his hair -”
“Don’t push it -”
“But I hope you guys have a good time tomorrow!” Dustin quickly finishes the sentence and beams at Chris.
The blond cracks into a smile and sits down beside Dustin, “Apology accepted, and thank you.” He nods in the direction of Mark’s room. “What’s up with Mark? I feel like I barely see him now. Has he been going to class?”
“I don’t know, I saw him in the CS lab a couple of days ago, but he was wired-in and didn’t talk to me,” Dustin muses, “I wonder if he’s working on something like CourseMatch again -”
At this exact moment, Mark’s door creaks open, and a creature with bloodshot eyes and a crazy nest of brown curls emerges to interrupt Dustin’s sentence. He shuffles over and grabs a bottle of water from the mini-fridge in the corner while Chris and Dustin gape at him.
“You look terrible,” Dustin finally manages to comment when Mark has already chugged half of the bottle.
“I’m still alive and functioning, but I’m doing nothing like CourseMatch,” Mark mumbles, wiping his mouth, “by the way, Dustin, you should really keep your comments about Chris’s dating life to yourself.”
Dustin scoffs, “Eavesdrop less and feed yourself more, asshole.”
“Wardo’s been bringing me food, thanks for asking,” Mark grabs some granola bars from the coffee table before disappearing into his room.
Chris exchanges a concerned look with Dustin, and the redhead mouths I know, what would we ever do without Wardo?
A few seconds later Mark pops out again, “Hey, um, Dustin, I’m gonna need you to look over some of the code tomorrow. You free at four?”
Dustin is about to tell him about the study session with Chris, before the blond squeezes his hand and whispers, “It’s alright, we can do it on Wednesday.”
“Uh...sure, Mark, okay.” Dustin nods at Mark and watches him shut the door. Somehow he can’t shake that quirky feeling in his stomach. He doesn’t know why it feels like he’s spending less and less time with Chris, even when he’s on the same couch as him right now.
“So,” Chris smiles at him, “looks like we both got some free time on our hands. Wanna play Halo?”
“Yeah, actually,” Dustin avoids Chris’s eyes as he gets up from the couch, “I have to go read something for lit.”
“Oh, okay.” He hears the confusion in Chris’s voice as he shuts the door of his bedroom.
stop being so fucking sensitive and nosy and stupid it’s just a rain check (okay, two consecutive rain checks) what the fuck do you care he has a right to date other people but GOD I hate Ryan and his polished outfit and his stupid girl hair (come to think of it, I’ve never had dinner with Chris outside of the dining hall)
Dustin buries his face in his pillow and tries to mute his thoughts.
-3-
They start going out. They continue going out. They are still going out.
Ryan and Chris have been steady for seven weeks now and Dustin is doing everything he can. He calls Billy Olsen over to disturb the peace when Ryan is helping Chris with Calculus problem sets, he sits between them on the common room couch and hides the remote control when they try to watch DVD, he inserts awkward comments with a 500-Watt smile when Chris asks him to get a Mountain Dew for Ryan, and he tells embarrassing stories of Chris to Ryan (well, the boyfriend was interested).
So far, none of these is working. Dustin figures it’s because Chris knows his M.O. too well, having cleaned up so much of the mess he made over the years. Like when Billy makes too much noise, Chris just calls up Billy’s girlfriend, Tess (who happens to be his close friend) and has him removed. Tess even made a joke about towing service once, and Dustin had to laugh even though he was totally not impressed. When Dustin sits between them for too long, Chris just wrestles the remote out of the waistband of his jeans, flips to the History Channel and waits until Dustin retreats because the boredom is just too much. Fucking history majors. And when it comes to embarrassing stories, Chris has way more dirt on him than he on Chris. One subtle hint of blackmail and Dustin’s done.
Dustin has stopped trying for the past week. TheFacebook has thousands of users now, and Mark is spitting out new ideas for the site like a vomiting freshman at a frosh week party. Everything in Dustin’s life has stalled except coding for TheFacebook; when he uses the washroom, his ears feel strangely naked without headphones.
He hasn’t talked to Chris for longer than five minutes in a while. Not through emails, not face-to-face, not even texting. Chris doesn’t stay at the dorm much either, his time split between schoolwork and promoting TheFacebook at Yale and Columbia. Sometimes Dustin can see Ryan walking Chris back to Kirkland out his bedroom window, but he turns back to code as soon as he catches a glimpse.
On the other hand, Eduardo has been spending an awful lot of time at Kirkland, in Mark’s room specifically. He talks to Mark, sometimes it leads to a conversation, sometimes an argument, sometimes nowhere. Dustin is grateful for the late night takeout and snacks from the dining hall that Eduardo brings them, but somehow his life feels empty even when his stomach is full, which is not a common occurrence at all.
“You need Chris,” answers Eduardo casually to his question. “How long has it been since you guys hanged out?”
Dustin thinks long and hard. “We re-watched Chris’s old Shark Week tapes...oh fuck that was last month.”
“See?” Eduardo grins, “You guys should go, I don’t know, grab a coffee or watch a movie or something. Really, you should do it tomorrow.”
“Yeah, about that,” Dustin frowns, “I’m scheduled to be wired-in again at 11 and I -”
“I’ll ask Mark right now, see if he can reschedule or find someone to fill in,” Eduardo waves his excuse away. “It’ll be a well-deserved break for you, anyhow.”
Dustin chews on his bottom lip. “All right, I guess that could work. Thanks, Wardo.”
Eduardo nods with a smile before he starts texting.
The next evening at their favourite café, Dustin nearly drops his jaw when he sees his best friend beaming at him before walking through the double doors.
Admittedly, Chris looks good. The white t-shirt is fitted but not too tight, accessorized with a simple fossil necklace, and the dark jean vest shows off his shoulders quite nicely. Then it’s straight black jeans and classic Converse shoes.
Dustin lets out a silent wow . He never realized how comprehensive he is when it comes to fashion.
“Hey,” Chris makes a beeline for Dustin’s table by the window, “you’re early.”
“So I’ve been told,” The line escapes his brain-to-mouth filter a bit more quickly than Dustin would like, “I haven’t ordered yet, - by the way, I didn’t accidentally tell you this is gonna be a dinner date on the phone, did I?”
Chris rolls his eyes with a smile, “No, you didn’t. I dressed up for other plans.”
“Oh.” That turns out to be more disappointing than Dustin’s expected, “What plans?”
“Ryan wants me to meet some of his friends,” the casualness in Chris’s voice doesn’t sound easy, “and we’re meeting at a club. I’m going there after this.”
“I see,” Dustin nods slowly, “I didn’t realize I was competing for your spare time.”
“Of course you weren’t,” replies Chris in haste, “the club thing was last minute.”
“Dude,” Dustin pouts, “the last time we sat down like this was in January. January , okay? Now tell me this is gonna be a nice break from that pathetic cycle of ‘eat, sleep, piss, shit and code’ of a life.”
“I promise it will be,” Chris laughs, “I’m proud of the work you’ve done, Dustin, and I’m not the only one. You know that no longer expandable is a very high praise, coming from Mark.”
“I know,” Dustin smiles with a sadness he doesn’t quite understand himself, “I know.”
The food is nice, just the way they liked it in freshman year. Taylor, the bespectacled waitress they’ve come to know flirts outrageously with Dustin until he turns red behind his ears and blames her for his dysfunctional love life. Chris just sits back and smirks quietly at his cinnamon rolls. Finally Taylor returns to the counter, and Dustin turns around, still muttering incoherently to himself.
But his breath hitches at the sight he’s caught in his periphery. Dustin’s pretty sure he’s seen Chris’s profile for a million times, but there’s something to this image that makes him dazed and flustered.
The blush on Chris’s cheeks is just the right shade of pink. The night of Cambridge is but a distant noise, the flashing lights and blurred motion animates the darkness in the background. But Chris’s face glows under the warm lights of the café, from the bright blue eyes to smooth curve of his nose, from the brackets of his lips to the tip of his chin. The lines and shadows are fluent and serene; the only stir of movement is from the slight tremble of Chris’s eyelashes.
All right, Taylor must have roofied his guava juice, or else there is no explanation for this dizziness that’s making Dustin’s head spin right now.
Chris checks his watch, oblivious of the pair of feverish eyes pinned on him. “Damn, I gotta go now.” He signals another waiter for the cheque, “Thanks for everything, Dustin. I’ve had a great time.”
“Don’t worry about the cheque,” Dustin bursts out, fumbling for his wallet to avoid eye contact, “I’ll pick it up. Uh, you’re gonna be late if you don’t get going now.”
“This is not a date,” Chris gives him an amused look, “but we should definitely do it again.”
Dustin beams at the last six words, “So I scored a second date just like that?”
“Don’t fuck with me,” Chris scoffs affectionately, “you know I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Right,” Dustin can feel the heat in his cheeks. Luckily the cheque has made its way to their table, so he starts digging change with false focus.
Then a light touch falls on his shoulder.
“I know you need me more than TheFacebook or Ryan does, so don’t ever assume you’re third place. Just call me, anytime.”
By the time Dustin snaps out of his absent-mindedness, there are bills lying on the opposite side of the table, and the ghost of that touch is fading as the swinging double doors grow still.
-4-
Dustin pulls his feet up on the couch. As soon as he turns off the TV, the bleak silence starts to seep through every crack in the room. He takes a deep breath, feeling his lungs expand. All of his senses, at once, refreshed and lonesome.
Mark and Eduardo are away, probably landing in New York City right now. At first, the peace is a bliss; god knows how much they argued about Sean Parker in the past week. They hurled words at each other like conversations are supposed to be tug-of-wars, and Dustin was probably the only one who really tried to listen.
Thank fuck Chris is going to be back tomorrow from his promotion trip to Texas. Sure, Mark assigned him a ton of programming work before taking off, but he doesn’t feel like spending the weekend coding. Because things have been shitty, Dustin has been feeling shitty about them, and Chris is his fix. He always has been.
Just call me, anytime.
Dustin knows it’s pathetic of him to deliberately do the exact opposite of that. He hasn’t called Chris once since the blond left for Texas to promote TheFacebook, but have quite enjoyed the privilege of faking a Jamaican accent when speaking to Ryan on the phone.
He has prohibited himself from thinking about Chris in detail after Ryan’s call. Obviously, the guy is not right for Chris just because he is a very nice and laid-back person. But regardless of right or wrong, Chris chose him. Besides, Mark and Eduardo have left Dustin confused and alone for long enough. He’s not going to let his own trivial and chaotic feelings for Chris to mix things up any further. If long coding tears and cold showers at 3am is the price for temporary clarity, so be it.
Sighing with boredom, Dustin rolls off the couch and flips through the old Shark Week tapes in the bottom cupboard. They’ve been left alone for a while now, stacked neatly under a film of dust. Shark Week tapes are one of the few things that Dustin has ever taken initiative to organize, and that’s because Chris would usually come and help him. They would crouch beside each other, shoulder to shoulder, and argue if the barely legible writing on the label is an a or an e. Whenever Dustin took the disagreement too seriously, Chris would frown and purse his lips before telling Dustin that -
Stop it you dumbass, I’m your fucking best friend and I’m not even available.
Dustin shakes his head, grabs a random tape and shuts the cupboard close, not bothering to re-stack the other tapes he has knocked over.
The lock turns just as Dustin is about to pop it in the VCR.
Dustin stands up, balling his hands into fists without even knowing it. He holds his breath until he sees Chris, wearing a blue sweatshirt, bleached jeans and a pale smile.
“Hey,” says Chris, after he drops the bags on the floor and grabs two Mountain Dews. “Surprise, I’m early.”
“Well, uh,” Dustin follows him back to the couch, “Great! Mark will be glad.”
“Yeah. I didn’t expect everything to go so smoothly at Baylor, but it did.They are in New York already?” Chris sips his soda. If Dustin is delusional, he would say Chris’s smile just lights up a little when he turns to look at Dustin.
Dustin nods while opening the Mountain Dew. “Most likely.”
“How are things between them now? Still fighting over advertising?”
Dustin sighs, “It’s only gotten worse since you left.”
Chris bites his bottom lip, intertwining his fingers. “You could have called me, you know. Things may have been difficult, but it’s not your burden to shoulder.”
“I know,” answers Dustin curtly. “But I’m doing fine.”
“You are?”
“Yeah.” replies Dustin, but Chris’s gaze is making him shifty. He looks away to see the abandoned Shark Week tape lies quietly beside the TV.
“Well,” Chris sighs, running a hand through his blond locks. “I’m not.”
Dustin whips his head around almost immediately, “What? But Baylor was good - I mean, Ryan -”
“I talked to Ryan before I left for Texas, Dustin. We agreed to take a break. I need to take a break.”
Dustin blinks, unable to utter a word. Chris continues, “It’s moving faster than we could ever imagine. I’m the Director of Publicity and Outreach, Dustin, I’ve seen it a dozen times and I still can’t believe it. This site is going to take the world. Don’t you ever get that feeling, when you’re working on TheFacebook, that you’re afraid you can’t keep up with it? That it’s no longer just our project? It’s impossible to invest the amount of time and energy needed to develop a real relationship with TheFacebook on my side. I know this sounds incredibly selfish -”
“No,” Dustin interrupts, “I totally understand what you mean, man. At least you were upfront with him.”
Chris grimaced, “I wish it didn’t have to come to this. Ryan was a great guy. He really was. He deserved better than what I could give.”
The last syllable trails off, muffled by the palm Chris buries his face in. Dustin wraps an arm around Chris’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. Chris leans into his touch by an inch, maybe, but Dustin feels it against his chest. His heart is pounding like crazy and his head is spinning desperately, trying to find the right words to say.
But there is none. The silence creeps in, again, no longer bleak, no longer distant, but louder than ever. Dustin sits there, with Chris’s head against his shoulder, his ear on his chest. He waits. The feelings are flooding over him, and for the first time Dustin knows he’s powerless against them, like a pebble at the bottom of a rushing stream. He can fight, he can wait, but he can’t run.
A moment later, Chris breaks the silence in a croaky voice. “Did he call?”
“Ryan?” asks Dustin, knowing full well what Chris means.
“Did he?”
There is a quiet longing in Chris’s voice that Dustin doesn’t know how to respond to. He lets go of Chris’s shoulder, and looks away.
“Yeah.”
Chris closes his eyes, his expression placid and serene. “Okay.” He pauses, then whispers to himself again. “Okay.”
And when Chris nudges closer and pulls him into an abrupt hug, Dustin is almost overwhelmed with the shock of the contact. They are neck to neck now, Chris’s skin warm against his.
“Thank you, Dustin,” His best friend murmurs in his year, those soft lips brush gently over the stubble on his chin. “Thank you for everything. For being here with me. For not letting go.”
For not letting go. The last word fades in a light peck on Dustin’s cheek, near his ear. Dustin has to grip the arm of the couch so tightly, until his knuckles turn white.
But before Chris pulls away, Dustin shifts his arm and grasps the small of his back firmly, locking their bodies tightly. Their chests rub against each other, and Dustin presses his lips onto Chris’s slightly open mouth. He can see his own image in those blue pupils, full-blown by shock, but his tongue darts past Chris’s teeth, eager and bitter with want. By the time Chris struggles free from his hold, the tinge of the tongue twine is still haunting Dustin’s mouth.
When Chris stands up and looks down at him, Dustin sees the same ache in his eyes.
A slam of a bedroom door later, the world goes mute.
-5-
It was raining when he got up at 4 the next morning to code. It’s still raining when Chris yanks his headphones off at 7, and says to him “we need to talk”.
Dustin rubs his eyes and lets out a soft grunt. For a moment, he’s just too tired to say anything back. The fact that Chris is still looking at him doesn’t make it easier, either.
“All right.” Despite the knots in his stomach, Dustin nods, “what do you wanna know?” He wants to keep aloof, but the uncertainty and nervousness won’t leave his head alone.
“How long has it been, Dustin?” says Chris, the words soft but detached, like he’s trying to comfort Dustin after the terrible death of a pet he never had.
Something stirs in Dustin’s chest. He bites his lips, but fails to choke down the repressed frustration before the words come out.
“How long have I wanted to do what I did last night, you mean?”
He sees the flutter of Chris’s eyelashes, as if taken aback by Dustin’s bluntness, but he’s not stopping here. “Honestly, I can’t even remember, Chris. For the past two years, I’ve lived in the same suite as you, your number is on my speed dial, we share the last beer when Mark forgets his turn to buy, and you’re the only one who has ever waltzed to my desk and interrupt my coding at 7 fucking am. You’re in every fucking second of my existence, before TheFacebook, before all those other people. Fish don’t realize they live in water, Chris. They don’t know what would happen to them until it happens.” Dustin pauses, trying to suck more air into his lungs. “Until that water slips away.”
He stops. Chris is looking intensely at the desk lamp, as if some sort of fungi is growing on its stand. The blinds are shut tight, and half of his face is in the shadows.
“The only reason you would say that when I’m standing right here is, I’m not being who you want me to be.” Chris muses.
“I...” There is no real explanation that Dustin can offer.
“Ryan, then. Have you always hated him?”
“I don’t hate him. I hate him for what he is to you.”
“Is that why you faked a Jamaican accent when he called?”
“Wait,” Dustin’s mouth falls open, “You knew, didn’t you?”
“He called me when I was on my way from Boston to Cambridge and it wasn’t a pretty conversation. He thought I told you to mock him as an effort to further tell him off.” Chris rolls his eyes, “And apparently he assumed it was your way of gloating, for stealing me from him.”
“Gee,” Dustin scratches his neck, trying to wipe his clammy hands dry, “way to desperate and, and clingy. I can’t believe he said that. But seriously, if I knew you guys were over then, I would have gloated the hell out of it. Maybe throw in an Indian accent, too.”
Chris snickers, in spite of his best effort. “I thought his theory was ridiculous at first, of course, but I can’t shake off that feeling. So I decided to test it out -”
“What feeling?” Dustin drags his chair closer to Chris, his eyes suddenly stern and eager.
Chris doesn’t answer. “- by asking you if Ryan called. I figured if you really wanted to break Ryan and me off, you’d tell me he didn’t. I was so happy that you were honest -”
Dustin jumps out of his seat and muffles Chris’s mouth with his hand. “Shut up. I didn’t lie, and you thought it would be safe to give me a peck on the cheek, but ended up with my tongue in your mouth instead, yes, we remember and will probably never forget it.”
He takes a deep breath after sputtering everything out, “I’d never lie. Hell, I’m too slow to lie when it comes to you. So I’m going to ask you one more time, Hughes, because I don’t think I can ever figure it out on my own.”
They are close enough to feel the heat from each other’s body. Neither of them move, holding their breath for the words to come.
“What made you pull that shit on me, what made you even remotely believe what Ryan said about me? That feeling you can’t shake off. Tell me, tell me what it is.”
Dustin removes his hand from Chris’s lips, but Chris takes it before Dustin pulls back. The silence stretches as the temperature rise in their palms.
“I could have pulled back when you held me, you know.” Chris whispers, “I could have kissed back, too. But I couldn’t do either, because I don’t know what it is. It just sat there in the pit of my stomach, it gnawed at me in the back of my mind the entire night and it’s still there when I’m talking to you right here, right now.” He sighs, rubbing his temple. “I can’t believe I didn’t know about it earlier.”
“Me neither.” Dustin lets out a long exhale. “But it’s not gonna go away until you say there’s no way.”
Chris smiles, with more shyness than confidence and Dustin can’t stop staring. “I’m not sure if I want it to go away just yet.”
“Really?” Dustin squeals a little from surprise and glee, but he clears his throat as soon as he catches himself, “I mean, maybe, if you want to figure it out together, I’m totally up for it.”
“Well,” Chris chuckles, “the first step out of that ridiculous oblivion is breakfast. Hungry?”
Dustin’s stomach growls, as if on cue. “Yeah. All that ‘it’ talk sure is exhausting.”
Chris wraps an arm around his shoulder, as they walk out the door. “Just give it time.”
-6-
Having the dorm all to themselves is far better than Dustin expected (not that they actually did everything they could without Mark and Eduardo here, of course). Most of the time, Dustin is just reasonlessly happy from spending time with Chris, from knowing Chris is just a few steps away. It’s probably the best spring break he’s ever had.
But all good times zip by so fast and before Dustin knows it, it’s almost the last day of spring break. During the time Dustin has taken to make a shortlist of what monumental activities to take part in with his best friend, Chris has vacuumed the floor and is currently dusting the living room.
“Jesus Christ, Dustin,“ Chris facepalms from across the room, “do you ever clean those Shark Week tapes?”
“Sorry,” Dustin rolls his eyes at his half-finished shortlist, “Mark’s been pretty fascist and I don’t know where I can find the time to watch them, let alone clean them.”
“Well, you have time now, don’t you?” Footsteps approach from behind Dustin, and familiar hands fall on his shoulders. “Let’s watch Shark Week together. I did spend a lot of time reminding you to tape them.”
Dustin smiles, crumbles the paper in front of him into a ball and shoots it into the garbage bin. “I hate you and your good ideas.”
“I know.” Chris bends over and inserts a tape into the VCR. Dustin would have realized it was the one he tried to watch before if he wasn’t busy fighting the urge to check out Chris’s butt.
The narrator starts talking. Chris turns off the ceiling light, so that only Dustin’s desk lamp is on. Great Whites swim circles in murky sea water. Dustin can feel Chris sinking into the cushioned seat next to him. Suddenly one of his favourite episodes loses its appeal. Dustin shifts his knee, trying to figure out how to position his leg so that their hips are not touching too much, but still within close proximity. He keeps his eyes on the screen and Chris’s profile in his periphery. Ten minutes later, he’s completely fixated on the hunting patterns of Great Whites.
It almost works.
“Dustin?” Chris squeezes his thigh lightly. Their calves bump into one another, a dull contact. Dusitn turns around.
“Yeah?” He answers absent-mindedly.
“Did you hate every guy I’ve dated at Harvard? ‘Cause I’m starting to think the reason why they never last long enough is because you have their voodoo dolls under your bed.”
The room is dark and strangely, it makes Dustin’s vision sharper. The faint yellow light from the desk lamp bounces off Chris’s blue eyes, leaving a fragile, phantom glow.
He tries to answer Chris’s question before he forgets it, “I never liked any of them, that’s for sure. I used to think you have horrible taste in freshman year, you know. You always go to the extremes; either you date the cocky, possessive ones who don’t know when to shut up, or the quiet, boring ones who never start a conversation.”
“Is Ryan the worst?” Chris stretches his arm and runs his fingers through Dustin’s hair, and continues to talk casually like he hasn’t just touched Dustin in an impossibly intimate way. “He did get the most vigorous reaction from you.”
“No,” Dustin tries to keep his breathing even, Shark Week is but white noise in the background. “Sometimes I still want to kill that punk kid who wears ugly shoes and deliberately spilled orange juice on my Shark Week tape.”
Chris laughs. “He dumped me the next day because I have friends with bad taste in TV programs. I told him to fuck himself because I’m not gonna do it for him anymore.”
Dustin nods solemnly. “I really think people who hate Shark Week don’t deserve to have sex.” He says it with such unintended seriousness that he almost convinces himself.
But Chris slings a leg over Dustin’s thighs, his breath hot on Dustin’s neck. “And I really think people who love Shark Week deserve to have the best sex.”
Their foreheads touch, and this time when Dustin leans in, he can feel Chris grinning against his lips.
In the background, the Great White finally bites into a struggling seal.
“I know what it is now. I think I love you, Christopher Hughes.”
“Took us long enough, Dustin Moskovitz. But I think I love you, too.”
For now, that’s sufficient reason for sleeping in the living room and leaving the TV on all night.
pairing: Chris/Dustin
author: reogulus
rating: PG-13
wordcount: ~5,800
disclaimer: Not mine, not true, not used for profit.
summary: He hates every guy Chris dates, and he doesn't know why.
notes: Written for this prompt on tsn_kinkmeme for rei17 , featuring oblivious!Chris and even-more-oblivious!Dustin.
Title from Complicated by Avril Lavigne.
-1-
Once the chicks learn from the Crimson that he was somehow involved in the making of FaceMash, they all look at Dustin differently. The classy ones turn their backs without a word, the others glare at him like he’s some kind of lowly scum. He hasn’t been invited to parties other than the ones hosted by AEPi, but that’s okay, because even though it’s unfair, it makes sense.
Chris tries to cheer him up, but Dustin waves those efforts away: “Chris, since you’re the only person in this dorm whose dating life isn’t suffering from the collateral damage of FaceMash, I believe you shouldn’t talk.”
Chris rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, it’ll all blow over soon. At least you weren’t called in front of the Ad Board,” he hooks an arm around Dustin’s shoulder, “which is enough cause for celebration. Come on, let’s go get drunk.”
Sometimes Dustin really wonders if turning Chris down would be easier if the blond doesn’t have such a nice smile.
*
Sitting at the bar with a beer in front of him doesn’t really make Dustin feel better. A brunette girl keeps hitting on Chris, and fifteen minutes later he gets tired of watching Chris declining her flirtatious efforts so he tells her straight up that his friend is gay. The girl glares at him before leaving their side, and Dustin stares back, completely unapologetic.
“Well, you could have been nicer,” Chris cocks an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Dustin downs his fourth beer, “just tired of the unoriginality. Oh my gosh, you look totally gorgeous in this shirt, buy me a drink, will ya?” He mocks her voice and throws his arms up for unnecessary dramatization.
Chris laughs, “I know what you mean. My jaw actually hurts from the fake smiling, you know.”
He’s about to tell Chris to stop playing nice all the time when he sees some stranger walking towards them, calling Chris’s name and saying something about coincidences. Chris turns around and smiles at him, all wide and genuine.
Dustin squints; this guy is way too well-dressed to be straight. The longer he looks at him, the stronger that weird feeling in the pit of his stomach gets. He’s not sure if it’s the beer or the stranger’s face.
“Dustin, this is Ryan, I met him last week at a GSA event. Ryan, this is Dustin, my roommate.”
“And best friend,” he blurts out. Ryan smiles and extends his hand, but he deliberately doesn’t shake it until Chris gives him a strange look.
“Nice to meet you, Dustin,” Ryan says casually, smiling like he’s not offended at all, “May I borrow Chris for five minutes?”
“Actually,” Chris says before Dustin can think of a rude answer, “Dustin’s a little drunk right now and I better take him back to Kirkland. Maybe we can grab a coffee together some time?”
Ryan nods, and they have a brief exchange about time and location. Yep, Dustin thinks to himself, that guy really can’t disappear fast enough. Chris waves goodbye as Ryan leaves the bar before turning back to Dustin.
“What’s your problem?” There’s more concern than frustration in Chris’s voice, the way it’s always been.
“Come on, Chris, you’re slumming. Goody Two-Shoes Ryan is more boring than my grandpa.”
Chris snorts. “For god’s sake, Dustin, you don’t even know him.”
“I know he’s not your type,” Dustin mumbles and orders another beer.
Chris ignores him. “You really need to get laid, Moskovitz.”
He snorts. “Yeah well, I think we both know that the girls are more interested in talking to you.”
“Hell,” Chris shoots him a bemused look, “it’s not really fair to blame it on the gay guy, is it?”
He shakes his head and sighs dramatically. “No offence, Chris, but sometimes having a gay best friend isn’t as glamorous as it sounds.”
Chris rolls his eyes, “Fine, if you want to make a big deal out of my sexual orientation, how about you give the gay thing a try and see how the girls like that.”
Dustin holds up a finger and smiles smugly. “Ah, but Christopher, I’m not that drunk. If I’m gay, why would I care if girls talk to me or not? I would be hitting on guys! Like, you or something.”
Chris almost chokes on his beer laughing: “Oh yes, you’re definitely that drunk.” Then he proceeds to pay for the drinks and drag Dustin back to Kirkland. Stumbling out of the bar with Chris’s hands around his shoulders and his arm, he sighs contently and nudges into the familiar touch almost instinctively.
When he staggers onto his bed that night, Dustin drifts off to sleep before he can remember if he really meant what he said.
-2-
Chris texts Dustin when he’s on his way back from lit class: sry cant do study session today, dinner w/ryan, how bout tmr at 4?
Dustin sighs and sinks into the couch. Mark has holed himself in his room for a week coding god-knows-what, and this is probably the third time that Chris has to reschedule their thing for his thing with Ryan.
Dustin kicks the lonely XBOX controller aside to make room for his feet on the coffee table. fine :( but dont let him get into ur pants!
Five minutes later Chris strides through the door and throws his backpack at Dustin. “What was that supposed to mean?”
“Whoa, careful,” Dustin ducks out of the way and catches the bag before it hits his face, “I was joking! Relax!”
“I don’t need your input when it comes to my personal life, Dustin.” Chris bites his lips, his blue eyes dark with disappointment, “Just, please respect my privacy.”
The knowledge of Chris being seriously upset leaves Dustin’s mind drawing a blank.
“I...I’m sorry, okay? I really didn’t mean it.” he runs a hand through his hair, struggling with the words, “Listen, I was drunk and pissed off that night and I could have been nicer. Ryan, he, uh, he seemed like a decent guy. A little predictable and puts too much gel in his hair -”
“Don’t push it -”
“But I hope you guys have a good time tomorrow!” Dustin quickly finishes the sentence and beams at Chris.
The blond cracks into a smile and sits down beside Dustin, “Apology accepted, and thank you.” He nods in the direction of Mark’s room. “What’s up with Mark? I feel like I barely see him now. Has he been going to class?”
“I don’t know, I saw him in the CS lab a couple of days ago, but he was wired-in and didn’t talk to me,” Dustin muses, “I wonder if he’s working on something like CourseMatch again -”
At this exact moment, Mark’s door creaks open, and a creature with bloodshot eyes and a crazy nest of brown curls emerges to interrupt Dustin’s sentence. He shuffles over and grabs a bottle of water from the mini-fridge in the corner while Chris and Dustin gape at him.
“You look terrible,” Dustin finally manages to comment when Mark has already chugged half of the bottle.
“I’m still alive and functioning, but I’m doing nothing like CourseMatch,” Mark mumbles, wiping his mouth, “by the way, Dustin, you should really keep your comments about Chris’s dating life to yourself.”
Dustin scoffs, “Eavesdrop less and feed yourself more, asshole.”
“Wardo’s been bringing me food, thanks for asking,” Mark grabs some granola bars from the coffee table before disappearing into his room.
Chris exchanges a concerned look with Dustin, and the redhead mouths I know, what would we ever do without Wardo?
A few seconds later Mark pops out again, “Hey, um, Dustin, I’m gonna need you to look over some of the code tomorrow. You free at four?”
Dustin is about to tell him about the study session with Chris, before the blond squeezes his hand and whispers, “It’s alright, we can do it on Wednesday.”
“Uh...sure, Mark, okay.” Dustin nods at Mark and watches him shut the door. Somehow he can’t shake that quirky feeling in his stomach. He doesn’t know why it feels like he’s spending less and less time with Chris, even when he’s on the same couch as him right now.
“So,” Chris smiles at him, “looks like we both got some free time on our hands. Wanna play Halo?”
“Yeah, actually,” Dustin avoids Chris’s eyes as he gets up from the couch, “I have to go read something for lit.”
“Oh, okay.” He hears the confusion in Chris’s voice as he shuts the door of his bedroom.
stop being so fucking sensitive and nosy and stupid it’s just a rain check (okay, two consecutive rain checks) what the fuck do you care he has a right to date other people but GOD I hate Ryan and his polished outfit and his stupid girl hair (come to think of it, I’ve never had dinner with Chris outside of the dining hall)
Dustin buries his face in his pillow and tries to mute his thoughts.
-3-
They start going out. They continue going out. They are still going out.
Ryan and Chris have been steady for seven weeks now and Dustin is doing everything he can. He calls Billy Olsen over to disturb the peace when Ryan is helping Chris with Calculus problem sets, he sits between them on the common room couch and hides the remote control when they try to watch DVD, he inserts awkward comments with a 500-Watt smile when Chris asks him to get a Mountain Dew for Ryan, and he tells embarrassing stories of Chris to Ryan (well, the boyfriend was interested).
So far, none of these is working. Dustin figures it’s because Chris knows his M.O. too well, having cleaned up so much of the mess he made over the years. Like when Billy makes too much noise, Chris just calls up Billy’s girlfriend, Tess (who happens to be his close friend) and has him removed. Tess even made a joke about towing service once, and Dustin had to laugh even though he was totally not impressed. When Dustin sits between them for too long, Chris just wrestles the remote out of the waistband of his jeans, flips to the History Channel and waits until Dustin retreats because the boredom is just too much. Fucking history majors. And when it comes to embarrassing stories, Chris has way more dirt on him than he on Chris. One subtle hint of blackmail and Dustin’s done.
Dustin has stopped trying for the past week. TheFacebook has thousands of users now, and Mark is spitting out new ideas for the site like a vomiting freshman at a frosh week party. Everything in Dustin’s life has stalled except coding for TheFacebook; when he uses the washroom, his ears feel strangely naked without headphones.
He hasn’t talked to Chris for longer than five minutes in a while. Not through emails, not face-to-face, not even texting. Chris doesn’t stay at the dorm much either, his time split between schoolwork and promoting TheFacebook at Yale and Columbia. Sometimes Dustin can see Ryan walking Chris back to Kirkland out his bedroom window, but he turns back to code as soon as he catches a glimpse.
On the other hand, Eduardo has been spending an awful lot of time at Kirkland, in Mark’s room specifically. He talks to Mark, sometimes it leads to a conversation, sometimes an argument, sometimes nowhere. Dustin is grateful for the late night takeout and snacks from the dining hall that Eduardo brings them, but somehow his life feels empty even when his stomach is full, which is not a common occurrence at all.
“You need Chris,” answers Eduardo casually to his question. “How long has it been since you guys hanged out?”
Dustin thinks long and hard. “We re-watched Chris’s old Shark Week tapes...oh fuck that was last month.”
“See?” Eduardo grins, “You guys should go, I don’t know, grab a coffee or watch a movie or something. Really, you should do it tomorrow.”
“Yeah, about that,” Dustin frowns, “I’m scheduled to be wired-in again at 11 and I -”
“I’ll ask Mark right now, see if he can reschedule or find someone to fill in,” Eduardo waves his excuse away. “It’ll be a well-deserved break for you, anyhow.”
Dustin chews on his bottom lip. “All right, I guess that could work. Thanks, Wardo.”
Eduardo nods with a smile before he starts texting.
The next evening at their favourite café, Dustin nearly drops his jaw when he sees his best friend beaming at him before walking through the double doors.
Admittedly, Chris looks good. The white t-shirt is fitted but not too tight, accessorized with a simple fossil necklace, and the dark jean vest shows off his shoulders quite nicely. Then it’s straight black jeans and classic Converse shoes.
Dustin lets out a silent wow . He never realized how comprehensive he is when it comes to fashion.
“Hey,” Chris makes a beeline for Dustin’s table by the window, “you’re early.”
“So I’ve been told,” The line escapes his brain-to-mouth filter a bit more quickly than Dustin would like, “I haven’t ordered yet, - by the way, I didn’t accidentally tell you this is gonna be a dinner date on the phone, did I?”
Chris rolls his eyes with a smile, “No, you didn’t. I dressed up for other plans.”
“Oh.” That turns out to be more disappointing than Dustin’s expected, “What plans?”
“Ryan wants me to meet some of his friends,” the casualness in Chris’s voice doesn’t sound easy, “and we’re meeting at a club. I’m going there after this.”
“I see,” Dustin nods slowly, “I didn’t realize I was competing for your spare time.”
“Of course you weren’t,” replies Chris in haste, “the club thing was last minute.”
“Dude,” Dustin pouts, “the last time we sat down like this was in January. January , okay? Now tell me this is gonna be a nice break from that pathetic cycle of ‘eat, sleep, piss, shit and code’ of a life.”
“I promise it will be,” Chris laughs, “I’m proud of the work you’ve done, Dustin, and I’m not the only one. You know that no longer expandable is a very high praise, coming from Mark.”
“I know,” Dustin smiles with a sadness he doesn’t quite understand himself, “I know.”
The food is nice, just the way they liked it in freshman year. Taylor, the bespectacled waitress they’ve come to know flirts outrageously with Dustin until he turns red behind his ears and blames her for his dysfunctional love life. Chris just sits back and smirks quietly at his cinnamon rolls. Finally Taylor returns to the counter, and Dustin turns around, still muttering incoherently to himself.
But his breath hitches at the sight he’s caught in his periphery. Dustin’s pretty sure he’s seen Chris’s profile for a million times, but there’s something to this image that makes him dazed and flustered.
The blush on Chris’s cheeks is just the right shade of pink. The night of Cambridge is but a distant noise, the flashing lights and blurred motion animates the darkness in the background. But Chris’s face glows under the warm lights of the café, from the bright blue eyes to smooth curve of his nose, from the brackets of his lips to the tip of his chin. The lines and shadows are fluent and serene; the only stir of movement is from the slight tremble of Chris’s eyelashes.
All right, Taylor must have roofied his guava juice, or else there is no explanation for this dizziness that’s making Dustin’s head spin right now.
Chris checks his watch, oblivious of the pair of feverish eyes pinned on him. “Damn, I gotta go now.” He signals another waiter for the cheque, “Thanks for everything, Dustin. I’ve had a great time.”
“Don’t worry about the cheque,” Dustin bursts out, fumbling for his wallet to avoid eye contact, “I’ll pick it up. Uh, you’re gonna be late if you don’t get going now.”
“This is not a date,” Chris gives him an amused look, “but we should definitely do it again.”
Dustin beams at the last six words, “So I scored a second date just like that?”
“Don’t fuck with me,” Chris scoffs affectionately, “you know I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Right,” Dustin can feel the heat in his cheeks. Luckily the cheque has made its way to their table, so he starts digging change with false focus.
Then a light touch falls on his shoulder.
“I know you need me more than TheFacebook or Ryan does, so don’t ever assume you’re third place. Just call me, anytime.”
By the time Dustin snaps out of his absent-mindedness, there are bills lying on the opposite side of the table, and the ghost of that touch is fading as the swinging double doors grow still.
-4-
Dustin pulls his feet up on the couch. As soon as he turns off the TV, the bleak silence starts to seep through every crack in the room. He takes a deep breath, feeling his lungs expand. All of his senses, at once, refreshed and lonesome.
Mark and Eduardo are away, probably landing in New York City right now. At first, the peace is a bliss; god knows how much they argued about Sean Parker in the past week. They hurled words at each other like conversations are supposed to be tug-of-wars, and Dustin was probably the only one who really tried to listen.
Thank fuck Chris is going to be back tomorrow from his promotion trip to Texas. Sure, Mark assigned him a ton of programming work before taking off, but he doesn’t feel like spending the weekend coding. Because things have been shitty, Dustin has been feeling shitty about them, and Chris is his fix. He always has been.
Just call me, anytime.
Dustin knows it’s pathetic of him to deliberately do the exact opposite of that. He hasn’t called Chris once since the blond left for Texas to promote TheFacebook, but have quite enjoyed the privilege of faking a Jamaican accent when speaking to Ryan on the phone.
He has prohibited himself from thinking about Chris in detail after Ryan’s call. Obviously, the guy is not right for Chris just because he is a very nice and laid-back person. But regardless of right or wrong, Chris chose him. Besides, Mark and Eduardo have left Dustin confused and alone for long enough. He’s not going to let his own trivial and chaotic feelings for Chris to mix things up any further. If long coding tears and cold showers at 3am is the price for temporary clarity, so be it.
Sighing with boredom, Dustin rolls off the couch and flips through the old Shark Week tapes in the bottom cupboard. They’ve been left alone for a while now, stacked neatly under a film of dust. Shark Week tapes are one of the few things that Dustin has ever taken initiative to organize, and that’s because Chris would usually come and help him. They would crouch beside each other, shoulder to shoulder, and argue if the barely legible writing on the label is an a or an e. Whenever Dustin took the disagreement too seriously, Chris would frown and purse his lips before telling Dustin that -
Stop it you dumbass, I’m your fucking best friend and I’m not even available.
Dustin shakes his head, grabs a random tape and shuts the cupboard close, not bothering to re-stack the other tapes he has knocked over.
The lock turns just as Dustin is about to pop it in the VCR.
Dustin stands up, balling his hands into fists without even knowing it. He holds his breath until he sees Chris, wearing a blue sweatshirt, bleached jeans and a pale smile.
“Hey,” says Chris, after he drops the bags on the floor and grabs two Mountain Dews. “Surprise, I’m early.”
“Well, uh,” Dustin follows him back to the couch, “Great! Mark will be glad.”
“Yeah. I didn’t expect everything to go so smoothly at Baylor, but it did.They are in New York already?” Chris sips his soda. If Dustin is delusional, he would say Chris’s smile just lights up a little when he turns to look at Dustin.
Dustin nods while opening the Mountain Dew. “Most likely.”
“How are things between them now? Still fighting over advertising?”
Dustin sighs, “It’s only gotten worse since you left.”
Chris bites his bottom lip, intertwining his fingers. “You could have called me, you know. Things may have been difficult, but it’s not your burden to shoulder.”
“I know,” answers Dustin curtly. “But I’m doing fine.”
“You are?”
“Yeah.” replies Dustin, but Chris’s gaze is making him shifty. He looks away to see the abandoned Shark Week tape lies quietly beside the TV.
“Well,” Chris sighs, running a hand through his blond locks. “I’m not.”
Dustin whips his head around almost immediately, “What? But Baylor was good - I mean, Ryan -”
“I talked to Ryan before I left for Texas, Dustin. We agreed to take a break. I need to take a break.”
Dustin blinks, unable to utter a word. Chris continues, “It’s moving faster than we could ever imagine. I’m the Director of Publicity and Outreach, Dustin, I’ve seen it a dozen times and I still can’t believe it. This site is going to take the world. Don’t you ever get that feeling, when you’re working on TheFacebook, that you’re afraid you can’t keep up with it? That it’s no longer just our project? It’s impossible to invest the amount of time and energy needed to develop a real relationship with TheFacebook on my side. I know this sounds incredibly selfish -”
“No,” Dustin interrupts, “I totally understand what you mean, man. At least you were upfront with him.”
Chris grimaced, “I wish it didn’t have to come to this. Ryan was a great guy. He really was. He deserved better than what I could give.”
The last syllable trails off, muffled by the palm Chris buries his face in. Dustin wraps an arm around Chris’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. Chris leans into his touch by an inch, maybe, but Dustin feels it against his chest. His heart is pounding like crazy and his head is spinning desperately, trying to find the right words to say.
But there is none. The silence creeps in, again, no longer bleak, no longer distant, but louder than ever. Dustin sits there, with Chris’s head against his shoulder, his ear on his chest. He waits. The feelings are flooding over him, and for the first time Dustin knows he’s powerless against them, like a pebble at the bottom of a rushing stream. He can fight, he can wait, but he can’t run.
A moment later, Chris breaks the silence in a croaky voice. “Did he call?”
“Ryan?” asks Dustin, knowing full well what Chris means.
“Did he?”
There is a quiet longing in Chris’s voice that Dustin doesn’t know how to respond to. He lets go of Chris’s shoulder, and looks away.
“Yeah.”
Chris closes his eyes, his expression placid and serene. “Okay.” He pauses, then whispers to himself again. “Okay.”
And when Chris nudges closer and pulls him into an abrupt hug, Dustin is almost overwhelmed with the shock of the contact. They are neck to neck now, Chris’s skin warm against his.
“Thank you, Dustin,” His best friend murmurs in his year, those soft lips brush gently over the stubble on his chin. “Thank you for everything. For being here with me. For not letting go.”
For not letting go. The last word fades in a light peck on Dustin’s cheek, near his ear. Dustin has to grip the arm of the couch so tightly, until his knuckles turn white.
But before Chris pulls away, Dustin shifts his arm and grasps the small of his back firmly, locking their bodies tightly. Their chests rub against each other, and Dustin presses his lips onto Chris’s slightly open mouth. He can see his own image in those blue pupils, full-blown by shock, but his tongue darts past Chris’s teeth, eager and bitter with want. By the time Chris struggles free from his hold, the tinge of the tongue twine is still haunting Dustin’s mouth.
When Chris stands up and looks down at him, Dustin sees the same ache in his eyes.
A slam of a bedroom door later, the world goes mute.
-5-
It was raining when he got up at 4 the next morning to code. It’s still raining when Chris yanks his headphones off at 7, and says to him “we need to talk”.
Dustin rubs his eyes and lets out a soft grunt. For a moment, he’s just too tired to say anything back. The fact that Chris is still looking at him doesn’t make it easier, either.
“All right.” Despite the knots in his stomach, Dustin nods, “what do you wanna know?” He wants to keep aloof, but the uncertainty and nervousness won’t leave his head alone.
“How long has it been, Dustin?” says Chris, the words soft but detached, like he’s trying to comfort Dustin after the terrible death of a pet he never had.
Something stirs in Dustin’s chest. He bites his lips, but fails to choke down the repressed frustration before the words come out.
“How long have I wanted to do what I did last night, you mean?”
He sees the flutter of Chris’s eyelashes, as if taken aback by Dustin’s bluntness, but he’s not stopping here. “Honestly, I can’t even remember, Chris. For the past two years, I’ve lived in the same suite as you, your number is on my speed dial, we share the last beer when Mark forgets his turn to buy, and you’re the only one who has ever waltzed to my desk and interrupt my coding at 7 fucking am. You’re in every fucking second of my existence, before TheFacebook, before all those other people. Fish don’t realize they live in water, Chris. They don’t know what would happen to them until it happens.” Dustin pauses, trying to suck more air into his lungs. “Until that water slips away.”
He stops. Chris is looking intensely at the desk lamp, as if some sort of fungi is growing on its stand. The blinds are shut tight, and half of his face is in the shadows.
“The only reason you would say that when I’m standing right here is, I’m not being who you want me to be.” Chris muses.
“I...” There is no real explanation that Dustin can offer.
“Ryan, then. Have you always hated him?”
“I don’t hate him. I hate him for what he is to you.”
“Is that why you faked a Jamaican accent when he called?”
“Wait,” Dustin’s mouth falls open, “You knew, didn’t you?”
“He called me when I was on my way from Boston to Cambridge and it wasn’t a pretty conversation. He thought I told you to mock him as an effort to further tell him off.” Chris rolls his eyes, “And apparently he assumed it was your way of gloating, for stealing me from him.”
“Gee,” Dustin scratches his neck, trying to wipe his clammy hands dry, “way to desperate and, and clingy. I can’t believe he said that. But seriously, if I knew you guys were over then, I would have gloated the hell out of it. Maybe throw in an Indian accent, too.”
Chris snickers, in spite of his best effort. “I thought his theory was ridiculous at first, of course, but I can’t shake off that feeling. So I decided to test it out -”
“What feeling?” Dustin drags his chair closer to Chris, his eyes suddenly stern and eager.
Chris doesn’t answer. “- by asking you if Ryan called. I figured if you really wanted to break Ryan and me off, you’d tell me he didn’t. I was so happy that you were honest -”
Dustin jumps out of his seat and muffles Chris’s mouth with his hand. “Shut up. I didn’t lie, and you thought it would be safe to give me a peck on the cheek, but ended up with my tongue in your mouth instead, yes, we remember and will probably never forget it.”
He takes a deep breath after sputtering everything out, “I’d never lie. Hell, I’m too slow to lie when it comes to you. So I’m going to ask you one more time, Hughes, because I don’t think I can ever figure it out on my own.”
They are close enough to feel the heat from each other’s body. Neither of them move, holding their breath for the words to come.
“What made you pull that shit on me, what made you even remotely believe what Ryan said about me? That feeling you can’t shake off. Tell me, tell me what it is.”
Dustin removes his hand from Chris’s lips, but Chris takes it before Dustin pulls back. The silence stretches as the temperature rise in their palms.
“I could have pulled back when you held me, you know.” Chris whispers, “I could have kissed back, too. But I couldn’t do either, because I don’t know what it is. It just sat there in the pit of my stomach, it gnawed at me in the back of my mind the entire night and it’s still there when I’m talking to you right here, right now.” He sighs, rubbing his temple. “I can’t believe I didn’t know about it earlier.”
“Me neither.” Dustin lets out a long exhale. “But it’s not gonna go away until you say there’s no way.”
Chris smiles, with more shyness than confidence and Dustin can’t stop staring. “I’m not sure if I want it to go away just yet.”
“Really?” Dustin squeals a little from surprise and glee, but he clears his throat as soon as he catches himself, “I mean, maybe, if you want to figure it out together, I’m totally up for it.”
“Well,” Chris chuckles, “the first step out of that ridiculous oblivion is breakfast. Hungry?”
Dustin’s stomach growls, as if on cue. “Yeah. All that ‘it’ talk sure is exhausting.”
Chris wraps an arm around his shoulder, as they walk out the door. “Just give it time.”
-6-
Having the dorm all to themselves is far better than Dustin expected (not that they actually did everything they could without Mark and Eduardo here, of course). Most of the time, Dustin is just reasonlessly happy from spending time with Chris, from knowing Chris is just a few steps away. It’s probably the best spring break he’s ever had.
But all good times zip by so fast and before Dustin knows it, it’s almost the last day of spring break. During the time Dustin has taken to make a shortlist of what monumental activities to take part in with his best friend, Chris has vacuumed the floor and is currently dusting the living room.
“Jesus Christ, Dustin,“ Chris facepalms from across the room, “do you ever clean those Shark Week tapes?”
“Sorry,” Dustin rolls his eyes at his half-finished shortlist, “Mark’s been pretty fascist and I don’t know where I can find the time to watch them, let alone clean them.”
“Well, you have time now, don’t you?” Footsteps approach from behind Dustin, and familiar hands fall on his shoulders. “Let’s watch Shark Week together. I did spend a lot of time reminding you to tape them.”
Dustin smiles, crumbles the paper in front of him into a ball and shoots it into the garbage bin. “I hate you and your good ideas.”
“I know.” Chris bends over and inserts a tape into the VCR. Dustin would have realized it was the one he tried to watch before if he wasn’t busy fighting the urge to check out Chris’s butt.
The narrator starts talking. Chris turns off the ceiling light, so that only Dustin’s desk lamp is on. Great Whites swim circles in murky sea water. Dustin can feel Chris sinking into the cushioned seat next to him. Suddenly one of his favourite episodes loses its appeal. Dustin shifts his knee, trying to figure out how to position his leg so that their hips are not touching too much, but still within close proximity. He keeps his eyes on the screen and Chris’s profile in his periphery. Ten minutes later, he’s completely fixated on the hunting patterns of Great Whites.
It almost works.
“Dustin?” Chris squeezes his thigh lightly. Their calves bump into one another, a dull contact. Dusitn turns around.
“Yeah?” He answers absent-mindedly.
“Did you hate every guy I’ve dated at Harvard? ‘Cause I’m starting to think the reason why they never last long enough is because you have their voodoo dolls under your bed.”
The room is dark and strangely, it makes Dustin’s vision sharper. The faint yellow light from the desk lamp bounces off Chris’s blue eyes, leaving a fragile, phantom glow.
He tries to answer Chris’s question before he forgets it, “I never liked any of them, that’s for sure. I used to think you have horrible taste in freshman year, you know. You always go to the extremes; either you date the cocky, possessive ones who don’t know when to shut up, or the quiet, boring ones who never start a conversation.”
“Is Ryan the worst?” Chris stretches his arm and runs his fingers through Dustin’s hair, and continues to talk casually like he hasn’t just touched Dustin in an impossibly intimate way. “He did get the most vigorous reaction from you.”
“No,” Dustin tries to keep his breathing even, Shark Week is but white noise in the background. “Sometimes I still want to kill that punk kid who wears ugly shoes and deliberately spilled orange juice on my Shark Week tape.”
Chris laughs. “He dumped me the next day because I have friends with bad taste in TV programs. I told him to fuck himself because I’m not gonna do it for him anymore.”
Dustin nods solemnly. “I really think people who hate Shark Week don’t deserve to have sex.” He says it with such unintended seriousness that he almost convinces himself.
But Chris slings a leg over Dustin’s thighs, his breath hot on Dustin’s neck. “And I really think people who love Shark Week deserve to have the best sex.”
Their foreheads touch, and this time when Dustin leans in, he can feel Chris grinning against his lips.
In the background, the Great White finally bites into a struggling seal.
“I know what it is now. I think I love you, Christopher Hughes.”
“Took us long enough, Dustin Moskovitz. But I think I love you, too.”
For now, that’s sufficient reason for sleeping in the living room and leaving the TV on all night.