fic: whisper 'i love you' (part 12/15 + epilogue)
title: whisper 'i love you'
pairing: crisscolfer
rating: nc-17
word count: 3600+ (this part)
summary: Chuck has a new best friend and Darren finds himself falling head over heels for something more curious and lovely than he thought could be real.
a/n: huge apology for the delay. real life was utterly INSANE but i'm on holidays for a little bit so hopefully i'll be able to write more very soon. please don't hate me after this chapter. a multitude of thank yous to the lovely Victoria, without whom this entire story would be utter shit. ily
prologue ll chapter 1 ll chapter 2 ll chapter 3 ll chapter 4 ll chapter 5 ll chapter 6 ll chapter 7 ll chapter 8 ll chapter 9 ll chapter 10 ll chapter 11
--
As the sun began to fade, the crowd slowly melted over the fields as they gathered for the second night in a row. The excitement under his skin itched and scratched. He was restless, unable to stop moving, switching the weight from foot to foot and constantly fiddling with his fingers and nails.
Even the constant presence of Chris did nothing to steady him. The buzz of his own unique energy hummed through Darren, and it set him more on edge than anything else. He could practically feel Chris, without even having to touch.
It was electric.
They settled under their tent again and waited until the first group of musicians took to the stage, their unique sound like magic to Darren’s ears. The lead singer was stunning, his voice soaring like a motherfucking shooting star over the wave of people moving to his unique beat.
Darren thought it must be an incredible feeling, to perform out here, but he didn’t think it was his turn, not just yet.
Instead he turned to the face closest to his and held out his hand.
“Wanna dance?”
--
It was less dancing, more letting the movements of the crowd carry him. Doris’s hand was like a tether in his, and although he preferred the warm caress of Chris’s impossibly soft fingers, her hands were cool and somehow he felt like she was his oxygen and he was breathing her. They were breathing together and she kept him from falling.
Maybe Chuck was right and he should have stopped after the first beer.
The man’s voice faded out eventually but there was no gap, just easy transition before another voice, another tune was filling the space. The strum of the guitar was utterly insane and Darren couldn’t see straight as he moved as wildly as his body would let him, his smile so wide his cheeks ached. Doris was laughing deep and rich in his ear and he twirled himself under the sturdy frames of her arms, making her laugh louder.
As the night blurred on, they ventured back to the tent and were greeted by the wispy ghosts of smoke that had come to keep them company. Chuck bit his lip worriedly as Darren sat around the circle with them, his hands reaching for the joint Jacob was offering.
“I’m not a kid anymore, Chuck,” Darren said, his voice quiet and warning.
Tensing his jaw, Chuck looked away, un-answering as Darren took a long drag of the joint, and choked a little on the unexpected intensity, his eyes watering as the smoke filled his lungs, spreading inside his body. He gasped for air, trying to let it out as his brain screamed for a moment.
A hand curled at the edge of his sleeve, a broad palm rubbing soothingly up and down his back and he was calm again.
“Water,” Chris said softly, prying his fingers from the cotton of Darren’s shirt for a moment to reach for the water bottle, and handed it to him. Darren took it eagerly, blushing deeply as he gulped it down.
“It’s okay,” Chris said gently, a small smile and laugh falling from his lips, suddenly so close, so close to his, “you should have seen me the first time I tried anything…”
And Darren knew he didn’t want to know.
He didn’t like the thought of Chris before, Chris young and fragile, unprotected. It made his heart shrivel up and shake with fear for him, made him want to wrap Chris up in his arms and kiss away the memories, touching him in ways he knew he never could.
It all just really fucking hurt.
Chuck looked like he was about to speak, but before he could, Chris’s fingers hooked around the crook of Darren’s sleeve and a wave of comfort shot through him, startlingly warm and familiar, unlike the usual electric shocks that usually accompanied the gesture. The new feeling took a hold of his heart and he felt a giddy smile crease at his lips, one that Chris returned, albeit more carefully.
Wordlessly, they all rose and they filtered back through to the crowd again.
It’s where he belonged, Darren thought, unsure whether that was true or just wishful thinking.
--
As the music bled through the crowd, like a never-ending song in its own, they marched in a rhythmless waltz, losing themselves in time, in feverish feeling. Darren couldn’t feel Chris’s hand still latched on his sleeve, nor the bodies bumping into his missteps. He could only feel the music, the hum of atmosphere through them all, and then the familiar songs and the names and the lyrics he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind.
“Hey,” he shouted, whirling around frantically, reclaiming himself in an effort to find Chris, “that’s-that’s Chuck!”
“Yes,” Chris said with a small giggle and Darren jumped as he realised he had been right beside him this entire time, “they’re playing now.”
“They’re beautiful,” Darren breathed and he wasn’t sure that Chris heard but he was entranced. The melody was swimming around his ears and the beat of the drum pulsed under his skin. He could feel the song sinking under, into him and seeping through the blood pulsing through the thick veins that poked out from under his sweaty skin.
Oh please believe the ghost in me
Suddenly he felt the urgent need to meet Chris’s eyes again, turning his head quickly to catch them in his own, and was startled when they were closer than he imagined, brighter than he thought were possible and more beautiful than words and air and music and all things of feeling.
“Beautiful,” Darren gushed, utterly mesmerised, “your eyes… beautiful.”
Is doing what I can to find you out
Chris just smiled, soft and a little incredulous, his eyes, not fading under the dimming lights but still brighter than ever, piercing through the messy haze of his mind and catching the only coherent thoughts he could find.
Beautiful.
Incredible.
Wonderful.
“Okay then,” Chris said, under a watery chuckle, “looks like someone needs an early night…”
Darren frowned. “’m not tired… you’re just…” he made a wild gesture in an effort to explain his muddled thoughts, “you.”
Chris looked away then, his gaze seeking out his brother and their band onstage as they filtered off, the last notes of their melodies hanging in the air, and an indescribable expression faded over his features as he turned back to Darren.
“Let’s go back to the tent,” he said, tugging on his sleeve a little, “I think… I need some air.”
--
The next morning Darren woke to the turn of nausea in his stomach. He bolted out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom and threw himself to his knees in front of the toilet, heaving into the bowl. After throwing up what felt like half of his stomach he glanced up, trying to catch his breath and caught Chris’s eye as he walked past, whose eyes widened in alarm. After pausing for a moment, he kept walking, faster now, calling after Chuck.
Chuck found him a minute later, throwing up again, clutching the sides of the toilet as he retched and heaved, his head spinning and nose filled with the putrid smells. Chuck rubbed his back until he was done, and Chris returned a moment later with a glass of water and some aspirin.
Gulping the water and the tablet down eagerly, he shot Chris a grateful smile, who only nodded weakly in return. Darren felt a small buzz of worry when he realised he couldn’t quite remember a whole lot from last night, only a blur of music and feelings and a stab of piercing eyes.
He hoped he hadn’t said or done anything stupid.
Although given the way Chris moved quickly back out of the room, he wasn’t quite so sure.
--
They didn’t go out again that day. Doris and Jacob had been sleeping for most of the day and Kevin and Chuck were tossing a football outside, Chris watching them from under his notebook, while scratching out broken fragments of stories and prose with his inky black pen, the sun hugging him in the most delightful way.
Darren watched them wistfully for a little while before returning inside and sitting on his bed with his guitar, strumming over the melody that had been in his head for days now, but refusing to allow any lyrics to come to the surface.
No matter how hard they fought with him.
Eventually Jacob got up and made them all eggs and Darren hadn’t even realised how hungry he was until he was scoffing them down, still burning on his throat. Doris woke just as he was putting the bacon on and she sat down next to Darren, leaning in and whispering in his ear.
“Careful now, Criss… you’re running out of chances.”
Darren had no idea what the fuck she meant but Chris’s high, ringing laughter shot across the table as Kevin and Chuck fought over orange juice, splashing it all over the table. His chest swooped at the sight and sound of him, aslovely as ever.
And all of a sudden, he knew exactly what she meant.
“Chuck,” he said suddenly, and Chuck looked up to catch his eye. “Can I… can I play with you guys tonight?”
A beat passed before a slow grin etched its way across Chuck’s face.
“Of course you can, little bro. Of course you can...”
--
The third night was a glitter of stars and people, all little dashes of colour on the canvas fields alive with music and life. Darren let himself quieten and still and pause and just take it all in. They offered beer and cigarettes and all fabulous things but tonight Darren just wanted this. He wanted clarity and fucking beauty and all the things he had lost.
He wanted to take what was his and fuck the night.
He wanted to take the night.
It was his.
He lingered, he stilled, slow and languid, drifting towards the back. He listened and he learnt, their conversation rolling over him like the calm of a swimming pool. And then he spoke and it was like a fucking ocean and it took control of him and he was swept along helplessly, drowning in the crashing tune of his melody.
There was no dancing, they had an early performance. Darren felt his heart beating wildly in his throat as they gathered their things to head backstage. As they set up, tuning instruments, Darren was immersed in his own little headspace, going over the melodies in his mind when he felt a familiar curl of skin at his wrist.
“Hey,” Chris said softly, cheeks blushing so prettily Darren felt his lips part in sudden awe. His eyes sparkled as he leant closer, those lips, those fucking gorgeous, perfect, so soft, so pretty looking lips leaning closer and nearing and-
He kissed his cheek.
The press of his lips, touching his skin for only the slightest of seconds fucking burned and Darren could feel the undercurrents of the light caress buzzing through him for a moment as he blinked, frantically trying to find himself again.
But Chris only smiled, looking a little pleased with himself, squeezing Darren’s wrist before letting go.
“Good luck,” he said warmly, either totally oblivious or totally fine with Darren half dying in front of him (or maybe it wasn’t as bad as he felt…). “You’ll be amazing.”
You’ll be amazing.
You’ll be amazing.
Darren couldn’t be bothered to snap his jaw shut as he watched Chris walk off, his words still ringing in his ears.
You’ll be amazing.
Chris believed in him, he thought he would be amazing.
Darren’s heart sang and he heard the light chuckles of his friends in the background but it didn’t matter because he was just so fucking in love with this boy, this crazy, curious, lovely boy who had just kissed his cheek and who thought he would be amazing.
“Come on, Dare!” Chuck’s voice called out, layered with amusement, but Darren was too far gone to care. “Let’s go be amazing!”
Fuck. Yes.
--
The grungy deep tones of their melodies hummed harshly through the stage. It was so very different from here; he could see the kingdom of music swept out before them, like they were kings standing before their people. Darren felt the usual thrill of nervous energy swimming around his veins from being onstage. It always made him feel oddly powerful, like the floor was belonging to him.
And tonight, it did.
Tonight, the night, the floor, the people, the music… he could hold it in his palm and hug it close.
It was his.
He twirled and played and sang his little heart out, the lyrics bleeding off his tongue like a prayer or a type of expression he didn’t have a name for yet. Kevin shot him a grin and he knew he was doing okay.
He was doing just fine.
They were so powerful, the musicians they were. They held the power, the held the evoking fumes, the ability to produce tears, to make people sing and laugh and dance.
They were the creators, the divine beings of the world.
Darren felt himself drowning in it all.
It was just so fucking much.
And he felt amazing and he felt on top of the motherfucking world and with one last wail of his guitar their hour was up and they were being swept off-stage and there were hands, so many hands pressing warm and hearty against his back, screams of praise and laughter and happy thank yous and charitable you were fantastics.
And then there was Chris.
He lingered, he stilled, slow and languid, drifting towards the back. He listened attentive and peaceful, resting against the back of the staging area. Darren felt the grin fade slowly from his face as Chris’s eyes shot up to meet his, acute and sharp.
As he had always been.
The others drove on past, still swimming in the excitement and fervour of performance. Darren knew, he understood, there was still nervous energy pulsing under his skin. He held onto it, nearly shaking, trembling with the force of it as Chris took a step off the wall.
A step closer to him.
“I told you you’d be amazing,” he said quietly.
He felt a rush in his chest and he stretched up on his tippy toes in a little awkwardly excited bounce, feeling the grin stretch back over his face.
“Thanks,” he breathed happily, although the words seemed rather inadequate. “Did you… did you really think so?”
“Darren,” Chris laughed a little, a smile curving at his lips. He took another step closer, his fingers toying with the collar of Darren’s shirt. “You are extraordinary.”
And then a beat
And he was gone.
--
Darren let the wave of the crowd carry him, and he rolled through the groups of people aimlessly, feeling only a little unsure of his loneliness. He managed to find his way back, however, spotting the familiar (was it really already familiar?) set up in their little spot. But he found himself turning away.
It wasn’t what he needed.
His footsteps ghosted up the path through the back of the field as the crowd began to wind thinner and soon there was the cluster of trailers. He found their own quickly enough, finding his own key in his pocket and unlocking the door, slipping inside.
The lights were already on and he spotted him in a millisecond, sitting on the kitchen counter, his legs swinging in a way that was adorably childlike, and he suddenly looked so beautifully and blissfully young.
At Darren’s entrance, the hand that had been frantically scribbling across the pages of his notebook paused and he stilled.
Half a second later he was tossing the notebook aside, launching himself across the room, meeting Darren halfway.
Darren hadn’t realised how hot he was until he touched him. Their combined skin burned between them and Darren’s skin slid across the slippery sweat coating his arms and his neck and he didn’t know where his hands were but he felt Chris wind one of his own around Darren’s waist, the other sliding under his thigh and hitching it up around Chris’s waist. Their lips kissed and kissed and Darren could hardly breathe, not for the taste of him, like apples and not a bit like cigarettes or beer.
They were both achingly, and wonderfully sober.
Whimpering high and pleading against his mouth, Darren felt his body shudder and react without warning. Chris pressed him against the wall, his hips moving sinfully against Darren’s and Darren just closed his eyes and let himself feel, let himself just take it. He felt Chris’s hair between his fingertips and his skin hot and supple beneath his hands, loving lines up the smooth expanse of his back, under his shirt.
Chris rolled his hips messily against Darren’s and moaned against his mouth, so heavy and wanting, in a way that not even his darkest fantasies - the ones he had spent so many sleepless nights tossing and turning in his bed over, ignoring the heat between his legs, trying to forget - could have conjured.
Chris’s own hands wound through Darren’s hair and tugged and shaped him under his skilled hands, touching him in places that he never knew felt so good. He scraped his nails up Darren’s back and traced over his nipples, massaging the skin above his ass, pushing climbing dents in the denim inseams of his jeans.
His wandering hands found the waistband of his jeans and Darren found air as he broke off just for a moment before sucking down the lines of his jaw, making Darren cry out as he bit and nipped and licked at his skin, tracing beautiful patterns across the seams of his neck. Chris kissed slow and languid and deep and consuming, like he wanted to suck up every little drop of his self.
Like he wanted to know him from the inside.
Finally Chris’s hands worked under his pants and Darren cried desperate and frantic as Chris touched him. He paused at the sound and blinked up at Darren with concerned eyes.
“Is this okay?” he whispered, his voice dark and husky from kissing so deep. Darren shivered.
“Okay,” he whimpered. “Yes. Please.”
Chris kissed him sweetly then, not as fast and reckless as the others and oh god this was so much better than kissing any of the girls he had ever kissed. Chris didn’t taste like plastic lipgloss or cream or soft, sweet things. He tasted real and warm and familiar and lovely and he kissed him deeper now, faster as Darren tensed his hips, trying not to buck up at the hot press of Chris’s hands in places where he’d only ever touched himself.
Darren came the second Chris touched his cock, his fingers winding a firm hold around him and he shuddered and screamed into his mouth, clutching desperately at him, trying to hold on, because he needed him, wanted him, oh god, he’d wanted this for so long.
He took a step back, his legs weak and wobbling under him. Chris was watching him with wide eyes, his tousled hair hanging over them. His clothes were askew, his shaking hands covered with Darren’s come. His cheeks were deliciously flushed and he looked so delicious and sexy and Darren choked on the realisation that hit him like a hurricane.
He hadn’t wanted this at all.
He had just lost his virginity, pressed against a wall, with the man he had been pining over for months and had spent so many nights crying over, dreaming and hoping and wishing and not sleeping and doing all the things he shouldn’t.
And now he’d done the one thing he had never thought he would do.
In his dreams they loved. They loved into the night and the morning and Chris wrapped him up in his arms and kissed him sweet and slow and pressed him into soft sheets, caring for his body.
But instead…
They had fucked, fucked meaninglessly under the high of adrenaline and music or whatever rush it was that still hummed through him, making his fingers shake like an abstaining addict. He swallowed and felt no relief. His throat was dry.
There was so much more out here.
Chris didn’t love him like Darren loved Chris . He could see it in his eyes now, guarded, warning, careful, maybe a little concerned.
And suddenly he was angry, so very angry. Angry at himself, for letting this happen, angry at Chris, angry at him for being so beautiful, for waltzing into his life and changing everything. For changing the way he saw the world, the way he saw beauty and other people, for making him feel things he had never felt and now for this. For kissing him dizzy and fucking him against a wall.
It wasn’t what he wanted at all.
The second he found his breath he was speaking and more than ever he hated himself for his next words.
“I can’t do this.”
And like Alice from her wedding day, and Chris from the ghosts of his past, and himself from the song of himself, eating at him from the inside, he ran and he ran until his knees ached and his thighs trembled and the grass was thick around him and he collapsed into it, pollen and dirt thick under his fingernails as he pawed aimlessly through it, digging, searching, desperate for his escape, any escape really.
And he looked up at the stars and realised he didn’t have a fucking clue where he was.
Hell, he didn’t have a fucking clue who he was.
chapter 13
pairing: crisscolfer
rating: nc-17
word count: 3600+ (this part)
summary: Chuck has a new best friend and Darren finds himself falling head over heels for something more curious and lovely than he thought could be real.
a/n: huge apology for the delay. real life was utterly INSANE but i'm on holidays for a little bit so hopefully i'll be able to write more very soon. please don't hate me after this chapter. a multitude of thank yous to the lovely Victoria, without whom this entire story would be utter shit. ily
prologue ll chapter 1 ll chapter 2 ll chapter 3 ll chapter 4 ll chapter 5 ll chapter 6 ll chapter 7 ll chapter 8 ll chapter 9 ll chapter 10 ll chapter 11
--
As the sun began to fade, the crowd slowly melted over the fields as they gathered for the second night in a row. The excitement under his skin itched and scratched. He was restless, unable to stop moving, switching the weight from foot to foot and constantly fiddling with his fingers and nails.
Even the constant presence of Chris did nothing to steady him. The buzz of his own unique energy hummed through Darren, and it set him more on edge than anything else. He could practically feel Chris, without even having to touch.
It was electric.
They settled under their tent again and waited until the first group of musicians took to the stage, their unique sound like magic to Darren’s ears. The lead singer was stunning, his voice soaring like a motherfucking shooting star over the wave of people moving to his unique beat.
Darren thought it must be an incredible feeling, to perform out here, but he didn’t think it was his turn, not just yet.
Instead he turned to the face closest to his and held out his hand.
“Wanna dance?”
--
It was less dancing, more letting the movements of the crowd carry him. Doris’s hand was like a tether in his, and although he preferred the warm caress of Chris’s impossibly soft fingers, her hands were cool and somehow he felt like she was his oxygen and he was breathing her. They were breathing together and she kept him from falling.
Maybe Chuck was right and he should have stopped after the first beer.
The man’s voice faded out eventually but there was no gap, just easy transition before another voice, another tune was filling the space. The strum of the guitar was utterly insane and Darren couldn’t see straight as he moved as wildly as his body would let him, his smile so wide his cheeks ached. Doris was laughing deep and rich in his ear and he twirled himself under the sturdy frames of her arms, making her laugh louder.
As the night blurred on, they ventured back to the tent and were greeted by the wispy ghosts of smoke that had come to keep them company. Chuck bit his lip worriedly as Darren sat around the circle with them, his hands reaching for the joint Jacob was offering.
“I’m not a kid anymore, Chuck,” Darren said, his voice quiet and warning.
Tensing his jaw, Chuck looked away, un-answering as Darren took a long drag of the joint, and choked a little on the unexpected intensity, his eyes watering as the smoke filled his lungs, spreading inside his body. He gasped for air, trying to let it out as his brain screamed for a moment.
A hand curled at the edge of his sleeve, a broad palm rubbing soothingly up and down his back and he was calm again.
“Water,” Chris said softly, prying his fingers from the cotton of Darren’s shirt for a moment to reach for the water bottle, and handed it to him. Darren took it eagerly, blushing deeply as he gulped it down.
“It’s okay,” Chris said gently, a small smile and laugh falling from his lips, suddenly so close, so close to his, “you should have seen me the first time I tried anything…”
And Darren knew he didn’t want to know.
He didn’t like the thought of Chris before, Chris young and fragile, unprotected. It made his heart shrivel up and shake with fear for him, made him want to wrap Chris up in his arms and kiss away the memories, touching him in ways he knew he never could.
It all just really fucking hurt.
Chuck looked like he was about to speak, but before he could, Chris’s fingers hooked around the crook of Darren’s sleeve and a wave of comfort shot through him, startlingly warm and familiar, unlike the usual electric shocks that usually accompanied the gesture. The new feeling took a hold of his heart and he felt a giddy smile crease at his lips, one that Chris returned, albeit more carefully.
Wordlessly, they all rose and they filtered back through to the crowd again.
It’s where he belonged, Darren thought, unsure whether that was true or just wishful thinking.
--
As the music bled through the crowd, like a never-ending song in its own, they marched in a rhythmless waltz, losing themselves in time, in feverish feeling. Darren couldn’t feel Chris’s hand still latched on his sleeve, nor the bodies bumping into his missteps. He could only feel the music, the hum of atmosphere through them all, and then the familiar songs and the names and the lyrics he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind.
“Hey,” he shouted, whirling around frantically, reclaiming himself in an effort to find Chris, “that’s-that’s Chuck!”
“Yes,” Chris said with a small giggle and Darren jumped as he realised he had been right beside him this entire time, “they’re playing now.”
“They’re beautiful,” Darren breathed and he wasn’t sure that Chris heard but he was entranced. The melody was swimming around his ears and the beat of the drum pulsed under his skin. He could feel the song sinking under, into him and seeping through the blood pulsing through the thick veins that poked out from under his sweaty skin.
Oh please believe the ghost in me
Suddenly he felt the urgent need to meet Chris’s eyes again, turning his head quickly to catch them in his own, and was startled when they were closer than he imagined, brighter than he thought were possible and more beautiful than words and air and music and all things of feeling.
“Beautiful,” Darren gushed, utterly mesmerised, “your eyes… beautiful.”
Is doing what I can to find you out
Chris just smiled, soft and a little incredulous, his eyes, not fading under the dimming lights but still brighter than ever, piercing through the messy haze of his mind and catching the only coherent thoughts he could find.
Beautiful.
Incredible.
Wonderful.
“Okay then,” Chris said, under a watery chuckle, “looks like someone needs an early night…”
Darren frowned. “’m not tired… you’re just…” he made a wild gesture in an effort to explain his muddled thoughts, “you.”
Chris looked away then, his gaze seeking out his brother and their band onstage as they filtered off, the last notes of their melodies hanging in the air, and an indescribable expression faded over his features as he turned back to Darren.
“Let’s go back to the tent,” he said, tugging on his sleeve a little, “I think… I need some air.”
--
The next morning Darren woke to the turn of nausea in his stomach. He bolted out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom and threw himself to his knees in front of the toilet, heaving into the bowl. After throwing up what felt like half of his stomach he glanced up, trying to catch his breath and caught Chris’s eye as he walked past, whose eyes widened in alarm. After pausing for a moment, he kept walking, faster now, calling after Chuck.
Chuck found him a minute later, throwing up again, clutching the sides of the toilet as he retched and heaved, his head spinning and nose filled with the putrid smells. Chuck rubbed his back until he was done, and Chris returned a moment later with a glass of water and some aspirin.
Gulping the water and the tablet down eagerly, he shot Chris a grateful smile, who only nodded weakly in return. Darren felt a small buzz of worry when he realised he couldn’t quite remember a whole lot from last night, only a blur of music and feelings and a stab of piercing eyes.
He hoped he hadn’t said or done anything stupid.
Although given the way Chris moved quickly back out of the room, he wasn’t quite so sure.
--
They didn’t go out again that day. Doris and Jacob had been sleeping for most of the day and Kevin and Chuck were tossing a football outside, Chris watching them from under his notebook, while scratching out broken fragments of stories and prose with his inky black pen, the sun hugging him in the most delightful way.
Darren watched them wistfully for a little while before returning inside and sitting on his bed with his guitar, strumming over the melody that had been in his head for days now, but refusing to allow any lyrics to come to the surface.
No matter how hard they fought with him.
Eventually Jacob got up and made them all eggs and Darren hadn’t even realised how hungry he was until he was scoffing them down, still burning on his throat. Doris woke just as he was putting the bacon on and she sat down next to Darren, leaning in and whispering in his ear.
“Careful now, Criss… you’re running out of chances.”
Darren had no idea what the fuck she meant but Chris’s high, ringing laughter shot across the table as Kevin and Chuck fought over orange juice, splashing it all over the table. His chest swooped at the sight and sound of him, aslovely as ever.
And all of a sudden, he knew exactly what she meant.
“Chuck,” he said suddenly, and Chuck looked up to catch his eye. “Can I… can I play with you guys tonight?”
A beat passed before a slow grin etched its way across Chuck’s face.
“Of course you can, little bro. Of course you can...”
--
The third night was a glitter of stars and people, all little dashes of colour on the canvas fields alive with music and life. Darren let himself quieten and still and pause and just take it all in. They offered beer and cigarettes and all fabulous things but tonight Darren just wanted this. He wanted clarity and fucking beauty and all the things he had lost.
He wanted to take what was his and fuck the night.
He wanted to take the night.
It was his.
He lingered, he stilled, slow and languid, drifting towards the back. He listened and he learnt, their conversation rolling over him like the calm of a swimming pool. And then he spoke and it was like a fucking ocean and it took control of him and he was swept along helplessly, drowning in the crashing tune of his melody.
There was no dancing, they had an early performance. Darren felt his heart beating wildly in his throat as they gathered their things to head backstage. As they set up, tuning instruments, Darren was immersed in his own little headspace, going over the melodies in his mind when he felt a familiar curl of skin at his wrist.
“Hey,” Chris said softly, cheeks blushing so prettily Darren felt his lips part in sudden awe. His eyes sparkled as he leant closer, those lips, those fucking gorgeous, perfect, so soft, so pretty looking lips leaning closer and nearing and-
He kissed his cheek.
The press of his lips, touching his skin for only the slightest of seconds fucking burned and Darren could feel the undercurrents of the light caress buzzing through him for a moment as he blinked, frantically trying to find himself again.
But Chris only smiled, looking a little pleased with himself, squeezing Darren’s wrist before letting go.
“Good luck,” he said warmly, either totally oblivious or totally fine with Darren half dying in front of him (or maybe it wasn’t as bad as he felt…). “You’ll be amazing.”
You’ll be amazing.
You’ll be amazing.
Darren couldn’t be bothered to snap his jaw shut as he watched Chris walk off, his words still ringing in his ears.
You’ll be amazing.
Chris believed in him, he thought he would be amazing.
Darren’s heart sang and he heard the light chuckles of his friends in the background but it didn’t matter because he was just so fucking in love with this boy, this crazy, curious, lovely boy who had just kissed his cheek and who thought he would be amazing.
“Come on, Dare!” Chuck’s voice called out, layered with amusement, but Darren was too far gone to care. “Let’s go be amazing!”
Fuck. Yes.
--
The grungy deep tones of their melodies hummed harshly through the stage. It was so very different from here; he could see the kingdom of music swept out before them, like they were kings standing before their people. Darren felt the usual thrill of nervous energy swimming around his veins from being onstage. It always made him feel oddly powerful, like the floor was belonging to him.
And tonight, it did.
Tonight, the night, the floor, the people, the music… he could hold it in his palm and hug it close.
It was his.
He twirled and played and sang his little heart out, the lyrics bleeding off his tongue like a prayer or a type of expression he didn’t have a name for yet. Kevin shot him a grin and he knew he was doing okay.
He was doing just fine.
They were so powerful, the musicians they were. They held the power, the held the evoking fumes, the ability to produce tears, to make people sing and laugh and dance.
They were the creators, the divine beings of the world.
Darren felt himself drowning in it all.
It was just so fucking much.
And he felt amazing and he felt on top of the motherfucking world and with one last wail of his guitar their hour was up and they were being swept off-stage and there were hands, so many hands pressing warm and hearty against his back, screams of praise and laughter and happy thank yous and charitable you were fantastics.
And then there was Chris.
He lingered, he stilled, slow and languid, drifting towards the back. He listened attentive and peaceful, resting against the back of the staging area. Darren felt the grin fade slowly from his face as Chris’s eyes shot up to meet his, acute and sharp.
As he had always been.
The others drove on past, still swimming in the excitement and fervour of performance. Darren knew, he understood, there was still nervous energy pulsing under his skin. He held onto it, nearly shaking, trembling with the force of it as Chris took a step off the wall.
A step closer to him.
“I told you you’d be amazing,” he said quietly.
He felt a rush in his chest and he stretched up on his tippy toes in a little awkwardly excited bounce, feeling the grin stretch back over his face.
“Thanks,” he breathed happily, although the words seemed rather inadequate. “Did you… did you really think so?”
“Darren,” Chris laughed a little, a smile curving at his lips. He took another step closer, his fingers toying with the collar of Darren’s shirt. “You are extraordinary.”
And then a beat
And he was gone.
--
Darren let the wave of the crowd carry him, and he rolled through the groups of people aimlessly, feeling only a little unsure of his loneliness. He managed to find his way back, however, spotting the familiar (was it really already familiar?) set up in their little spot. But he found himself turning away.
It wasn’t what he needed.
His footsteps ghosted up the path through the back of the field as the crowd began to wind thinner and soon there was the cluster of trailers. He found their own quickly enough, finding his own key in his pocket and unlocking the door, slipping inside.
The lights were already on and he spotted him in a millisecond, sitting on the kitchen counter, his legs swinging in a way that was adorably childlike, and he suddenly looked so beautifully and blissfully young.
At Darren’s entrance, the hand that had been frantically scribbling across the pages of his notebook paused and he stilled.
Half a second later he was tossing the notebook aside, launching himself across the room, meeting Darren halfway.
Darren hadn’t realised how hot he was until he touched him. Their combined skin burned between them and Darren’s skin slid across the slippery sweat coating his arms and his neck and he didn’t know where his hands were but he felt Chris wind one of his own around Darren’s waist, the other sliding under his thigh and hitching it up around Chris’s waist. Their lips kissed and kissed and Darren could hardly breathe, not for the taste of him, like apples and not a bit like cigarettes or beer.
They were both achingly, and wonderfully sober.
Whimpering high and pleading against his mouth, Darren felt his body shudder and react without warning. Chris pressed him against the wall, his hips moving sinfully against Darren’s and Darren just closed his eyes and let himself feel, let himself just take it. He felt Chris’s hair between his fingertips and his skin hot and supple beneath his hands, loving lines up the smooth expanse of his back, under his shirt.
Chris rolled his hips messily against Darren’s and moaned against his mouth, so heavy and wanting, in a way that not even his darkest fantasies - the ones he had spent so many sleepless nights tossing and turning in his bed over, ignoring the heat between his legs, trying to forget - could have conjured.
Chris’s own hands wound through Darren’s hair and tugged and shaped him under his skilled hands, touching him in places that he never knew felt so good. He scraped his nails up Darren’s back and traced over his nipples, massaging the skin above his ass, pushing climbing dents in the denim inseams of his jeans.
His wandering hands found the waistband of his jeans and Darren found air as he broke off just for a moment before sucking down the lines of his jaw, making Darren cry out as he bit and nipped and licked at his skin, tracing beautiful patterns across the seams of his neck. Chris kissed slow and languid and deep and consuming, like he wanted to suck up every little drop of his self.
Like he wanted to know him from the inside.
Finally Chris’s hands worked under his pants and Darren cried desperate and frantic as Chris touched him. He paused at the sound and blinked up at Darren with concerned eyes.
“Is this okay?” he whispered, his voice dark and husky from kissing so deep. Darren shivered.
“Okay,” he whimpered. “Yes. Please.”
Chris kissed him sweetly then, not as fast and reckless as the others and oh god this was so much better than kissing any of the girls he had ever kissed. Chris didn’t taste like plastic lipgloss or cream or soft, sweet things. He tasted real and warm and familiar and lovely and he kissed him deeper now, faster as Darren tensed his hips, trying not to buck up at the hot press of Chris’s hands in places where he’d only ever touched himself.
Darren came the second Chris touched his cock, his fingers winding a firm hold around him and he shuddered and screamed into his mouth, clutching desperately at him, trying to hold on, because he needed him, wanted him, oh god, he’d wanted this for so long.
He took a step back, his legs weak and wobbling under him. Chris was watching him with wide eyes, his tousled hair hanging over them. His clothes were askew, his shaking hands covered with Darren’s come. His cheeks were deliciously flushed and he looked so delicious and sexy and Darren choked on the realisation that hit him like a hurricane.
He hadn’t wanted this at all.
He had just lost his virginity, pressed against a wall, with the man he had been pining over for months and had spent so many nights crying over, dreaming and hoping and wishing and not sleeping and doing all the things he shouldn’t.
And now he’d done the one thing he had never thought he would do.
In his dreams they loved. They loved into the night and the morning and Chris wrapped him up in his arms and kissed him sweet and slow and pressed him into soft sheets, caring for his body.
But instead…
They had fucked, fucked meaninglessly under the high of adrenaline and music or whatever rush it was that still hummed through him, making his fingers shake like an abstaining addict. He swallowed and felt no relief. His throat was dry.
There was so much more out here.
Chris didn’t love him like Darren loved Chris . He could see it in his eyes now, guarded, warning, careful, maybe a little concerned.
And suddenly he was angry, so very angry. Angry at himself, for letting this happen, angry at Chris, angry at him for being so beautiful, for waltzing into his life and changing everything. For changing the way he saw the world, the way he saw beauty and other people, for making him feel things he had never felt and now for this. For kissing him dizzy and fucking him against a wall.
It wasn’t what he wanted at all.
The second he found his breath he was speaking and more than ever he hated himself for his next words.
“I can’t do this.”
And like Alice from her wedding day, and Chris from the ghosts of his past, and himself from the song of himself, eating at him from the inside, he ran and he ran until his knees ached and his thighs trembled and the grass was thick around him and he collapsed into it, pollen and dirt thick under his fingernails as he pawed aimlessly through it, digging, searching, desperate for his escape, any escape really.
And he looked up at the stars and realised he didn’t have a fucking clue where he was.
Hell, he didn’t have a fucking clue who he was.
chapter 13