The Things That Cost You Too Much 2/5
---November 2010---
"Anything you care to tell me?" Chris asks when Darren lets himself into his apartment.
"You look nice?" Darren asks, setting down his tote bag and slipping out of his cardigan to rest it on the rack by the door. "You did a really good job in that scene when Pavarotti's molting?” He grins. “I don't know. Help me out a little."
"You 'came out as straight?'" Chris asks, holding up a magazine with one hand. "Interesting thing to do when you're here almost every night.”
Darren takes in a sharp breath, and he's quick to lock the door before he rushes to take a seat near Chris on the sofa. The right corner, of course. It's where he's always sat. He sits on the right, Chris on the left, and they usually face each other with one foot on the cushions as their hands meet along the back. "Look, Chris," he begins, face grave and voice free of its usual levity. "I told you that the competition for Blaine was pretty stiff. They had a lot of really strong opinions about what they wanted and sometimes you have to say and do things you don't really want to in order to make the things you do want possible."
"Funny words coming from you," Chris says. "Whatever happened to 'the most badass thing you can do is be yourself?'"
"I still believe that," Darren says.
"When it's convenient," Chris supplies, arms crossed tightly against his chest.
"It's more complicated than that," Darren says, leaning forward and into Chris's space. "This is a really good part, and I think Kurt and Blaine's story could be a really powerful thing. I was lucky - I grew up in an environment that celebrated diversity. A lot of kids don't. Maybe I'm selfish for wanting to be a part of something that could help them think they're a little more okay than the rest of the world is willing to tell them, but I'm okay with that. You have to look at the big picture, Chris."
"Oh, I am looking at it," Chris says. "It's a very big picture in which I'm dating - fucking - whatever we're doing, since we never really said - someone who's decided that image is more important than integrity."
Darren winces. It's not entirely accurate but it's not entirely false, either. "It's really not like that, Chris. It's a good part, an important one, and - fuck - I needed a job, okay? This was my last shot before I packed it in and went to Chicago. Nothing was happening here for me. I needed a job, and I wanted this one because -"
"Don't even say it," Chris says wearily, knowing full well Darren's going to say it anyway.
"I want us to have a second chance," Darren says. "I've thought about you every day since I walked out that door, and I don't want to have to do it again. Not like before." He leans forward even more, face fitting into the curve of Chris's neck as he brushes his lips against the warm skin.
"Darren," Chris protests weakly. "We can't."
"Yes, we can," Darren insists, slipping an arm around Chris's back and pulling him close. "You've always said that you don't want to make your personal life public. What does it matter what everyone else thinks as long as you and I know what's real?" He kisses his way across Chris's throat, wrapping his lips around the hard bulge of his Adam's apple and giving it a gentle suck. "This is real," he tells him, breaking away to look up and into his eyes. "Every minute we're together is real. Don't say-"
"What, Darren?" Chris asks, placing his hands on Darren's shoulders and giving him a gentle shove so their faces are arm's width apart. "Don't say what? That it's okay to deny who you are, as long as the lie inspires people? That your integrity is worth less than a job? That it's okay to pretend parts of you don't exist?
Chris shifts beneath Darren's weight, getting both feet to the floor, and lifts himself off the sofa. He digs his hands into his hair, clutching at fistfuls as he breathes deep. In and out, in and out, the breaths come and go as he tries to find an anchor. Something he can hold on to that will make things okay. Something - anything - that will make sense of all of this.
"We all pretend parts of us don't exist," Darren pleads. "All of us. We do our best with what we have, but sometimes we have to push parts aside and focus on other things."
"You don't get it, do you?" Chris asks, arms wrapped around himself as he stares through his open window. "The parts we hide are the parts we hate. The parts we wish didn't exist. If you're okay with this, how can I think you're okay with yourself? How can I think you're okay with us? Public and private are the end points, Darren. Not wanting to parade you around for the paparazzi isn't the same as not wanting to be seen with you at all. There are places we could have gone and people we could have told, but not if you have to hide what you really are. Did you ever think about that? What if we hadn't been waiting to tell anyone? How do you think Ryan would have taken this publicly declared heterosexuality of yours if he knew what we did here every night?"
"You're making it sound like it's all about sex," Darren says.
"What else can it be about if you're so willing to deny what you really are?" Chris asks. "Tell me, Darren. I'd really like to know."
"Chris," Darren's voice comes from behind him on the couch. "Look at me? Please?"
"No," Chris says, shaking his head. "I don't think I can." He wants to, he really does, but he knows that if he does, if he looks in those big eyes that he knows are brimming with emotion, he'll give in. That he'll say it doesn't matter even though it does. One look at Darren, and he won't have a choice. "Answer the question."
"Chris…" Darren sighs. "Ryan already knows."
---September 2010---
"Tell me a little about yourself."
It's not a question but a command, and Darren was smart enough to recognize it when he heard it.
"My name's Darren, I've been acting since I was about ten, mostly Community Theater and stuff, but I've done a few things professionally. I'm part of a theater company in Chicago - StarKid Productions - that I formed with my buddies from college. I was a Theater Performance major, I'm from San Francisco, I'm really passionate about LGBT causes, I'm-"
"Fascinating," the man sitting across from him said in a voice that made it painfully clear he found it anything but. "Tell me about your last relationship."
Darren leaned back in the chair, arms against the rests and hands clutching at the ends. He let out an involuntary 'whoo' of breath as he turned to look out the window and fill his lungs with new air. "It's been a while," he said. "About nine months?"
"Messy breakup?" the man asked, eyes unblinking as he clicked his pen over and over.
"Uh, no," Darren said, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. "We uh, just didn't work out, I guess."
"Why?" Click-click. "Be specific."
His palms were sweating, and he knew this whole thing would probably going to end very badly. He wasn’t even sure why he was there or why he was answering these questions, but something told him his answers could be as important as - and maybe more than - how he did in his audition. "Insecurity, I guess. Twenty-two and nineteen can feel really far apart, and I had more experience, so there was that. I was a lot more outgoing, and I think sometimes it was too much for them to deal with. I wanted to be more open, they didn't." He shrugged and shook his head.
"Why are you playing the pronoun game?" The guy looked at him without a shred of amusement, and it was hard not to squirm. It would have been unnerving to answer these questions from anyone but having to answer them for Ryan freaking Murphy was almost like torture.
"Do the pronouns matter?" Darren asked without thinking.
"Hrm…" Ryan said, clicking that infernal pen yet again and leaning far back in his chair. "I'm going to ask you another question, and I want you to be both honest and direct."
"Sure," Darren nodded, mouth going dry as he wondered what was in store.
"How much do you know about why we're casting this part?"
"Kurt's been kind of a breakout character and giving him a boyfriend would be good for both ratings and LGBT visibility," Darren said, sliding instantly into PR mode.
"No," Ryan said, shaking his head and scribbling something on his pad of paper. "We're giving Kurt a boyfriend because it's what fans want to see. We're casting this part because our first attempt was a bigger failure than 'Cop Rock.'"
Darren blinked. "Excuse me?"
"The original plan," Ryan said, "was to bring in a cute, popular jock. I never really liked the guy they cast, but we were running out of time and I got voted down. He's not terrible, he's just not very good at playing the game."
"The game, sir?"
"Look, kid," Ryan said, kicking his feet onto his desk and crossing them at the ankles. "I'm going to be perfectly frank. The kid made one blunder after another, and the press stopped rooting for him and his character almost immediately. He couldn't get the subtext across on screen, and he really couldn't say the right thing off screen."
"I'm not sure I understand," Darren began, sure he was walking through dangerous waters.
"If we want this storyline to carry the maximum amount of weight, we need to have both sides of the coin. We have the smart and articulate openly gay performer. Chris is very good at saying what needs to be heard, and he's good at breaking through to audiences that might otherwise resist the message. If we cast another, we won't have much chance of reaching the portion of the audience that still doesn't get it. What this part needs - what our PR needs - is an ally. Someone who supports the community but isn't a part of it. That's why your pronouns matter. If they're the wrong ones, you could undermine the very message we're trying to send."
"Let me get this straight-"
"Good choice of words," Ryan said, face still stern and unreadable. "I hope for both our sakes you are."
"I'm bi," Darren said, voice a little lower than he'd like. "I've known since before I knew what 'bi' even was. I've never tried to hide it. I'm proud of who and what I am."
"So your last relationship was-"
"With a guy, yeah. Kind of an amazing one."
Ryan sighed and clicked his pen about a hundred more times before saying anything more. "Look, I can't tell you what to do or who to be, but I can tell you this. Based on your audition, you're our top pick for the part."
"Thank you, sir, I-"
"But I don't think we can give it to you. You're really talented and a great fit on camera, but off-camera, we need someone who can say the right things, go to the right events, and put on a big, shiny, 'there's nothing wrong with playing a gay character because not all straight actors are borderline homophobic nincompoops who don't have the sense God gave a chimp' smile on things."
"So…I don't get to play a gay character because I'm not straight?"
"Pretty much," Ryan said before clicking his pen one more time and laying it on the desktop. "We'll keep you in mind for future parts."
Darren sensed the unspoken dismissal and pushed himself out of his chair to head for the door. He gripped the knob, began to turn it, then spun around, his heart beating fast. "Audition me again," he said breathlessly.
"It's not the audition that's the problem," Ryan said, not even bothering to hide his disinterest.
"Not for Blaine," Darren said, not quite believing the words that came out of his own mouth. "For the actor you need. Ask me the questions he'd have to answer. If I get them right, you give me the part. If I don't convince you, I'll walk out, go to Chicago, and you'll never have to see me again. Just-" he broke off and walked back to the desk. He pressed his palms flat and leaned into Ryan's space; "give me a chance to prove that I can be the guy you need. I want this part, and I want it for more than just the check."
Ryan straightened and brought himself eye-to eye with the wild-eyed man before him. "It's not that simple. You'd have to play two parts; one on camera and the other off."
"I know," Darren breathed, chest rising and falling as he looked into Ryan's eyes. "I'm willing to do it."
"For the part?" Ryan asked, tilting his head as if trying to see what's going on inside Darren's head.
"For reasons," Darren answered, voice hard and cool and more controlled than the tremble in his arms suggested. “More than you could know.”
Ryan paused before picking up his pen and giving it another click. He looked Darren up and down and gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Hello, Mister Criss,” he said coolly. “I was very impressed with your initial audition. Won’t you take a seat?”
---February 2011---
Chris groans and throws the magazine across his trailer. If he had a dollar for every copy of that damned 'Entertainment Weekly' he's been asked to sign, he could probably buy half of Kurt's wardrobe. Not that he'd want to - he just can't think of anything more ridiculous to spend the money on.
It's not that he doesn't get it. He does. He gets it all too well. Blaine has brought a new dimension to Kurt, and the two of them together are something he knows he would have loved to see when he was their age. Hell, he'd love to see them now if he weren't part of bringing them to life. He loves Kurt and he loves Blaine, but the whole thing would be a lot easier to enjoy if someone else were playing the part. It's not fair. He knows that. He knows that Darren is a big part of why Blaine's gone over so well. He imbues the character with warmth and kindness, and the fact that he's so freaking charming doesn't hurt. Blaine is the perfect future boyfriend for Kurt, and Darren really is the perfect guy to play him.
Chris tries not to think about the other ways in which Darren is perfect. The way he touched him. The way he looked at him. The way he said his name as they wrapped around each other late at night and talked about the future this second chance could give them. The way that only Darren has ever seemed to fit him perfectly in every way. The way every time Chris has tried to date since they went their separate ways has failed. It's not that Chris hasn't tried - he has. It's not his fault that they all came up painfully short.
He wants to go home. He wants to hide. He wants to be anywhere but here and do anything but what he knows he has to do. After the next scene is shot, Kurt and Blaine will go from theoretical possibility to absolute fact. It won't be long before it's all kissing and holding hands and loving gazes and Chris can't stand it.
---
There must be at least two dozen people on set. There are cameras and mics and lights everywhere he looks, and more than once, the tiny crystals Kurt is using to bedazzle the tiny coffin slip through Chris's sweat-slick fingers.
Blaine enters the room, and Chris feels himself being ripped apart by how open he looks. How soft. How vulnerable. How much he looks the way Darren did the night they'd broken what Chris had thought would be the last barrier between them. His heart hurts at how handsome he is, and it's all he can do to keep Kurt in focus through take after take.
Most takes are fairly easy. No matter what they're both feeling (and Chris knows he can't be the only one who's feeling things), they're both professionals. They do what they have to do.
Until they don't.
The take begins the same as every other, but this time, Chris can feel that something's off. He feels his heart race, his breathing becomes shallow, and when Blaine comes in for a kiss, instead of simply placing his hand on the back of Kurt's neck and bringing their foreheads together in a show of shy new love, Chris feels everything spin around him. No one's called to cut, so he does his best to go with it, to try and imagine how Kurt would feel, what he would do, and when his hand comes up to press against the faint stubble at Darren's jaw, a thousand other kisses flood his memory. It's all too much, and Chris is relieved beyond words when the director finally calls cut.
The relief is short-lived; however, thanks to Brad's insistence that it works. There's a short break while the lights and cameras are repositioned, then Chris is plunged into the odd blend of heaven and hell that is kissing his ex-who's-not-really-his-ex-at-the-moment-because-he-is-Blaine-and-Chris-is-Kurt-and-they-are-not-yet-spoiled and it's all so confusing that he doesn't know how he gets through it but he does because he has to and there's no other option available.
---
Chris sits on his sofa with a too-large order of sushi (thank god for places that deliver; damn them for their minimum order limits) and a bottle of wine Lea slipped him a few days before as an early Valentine's Day present. It’s a Shiraz, and goes horribly with the food, but he doesn’t particularly care. It's too much to drink on his own, but he doesn't really care about that either. If anything, he welcomes the challenge. It emphasizes his misery.
He's on his second roll and third glass of wine when he hears the knock on the door. He sits there for a while, chewing silently and swirling the deep red liquid in his glass. He knows who it is, knows without having to check, because really - who else would it be?
"Chris," comes Darren's voice from the other side after a few minutes pass. "I know you're home. I could see the light on from the sidewalk. Can you let me in, please?"
Chris waits a minute, then curses as he swallows his food, knocks the rest of the wine into his mouth and swirls it for a second before swallowing. He gets up from the couch and pauses in front of the door, hand hovering above the knob for a good thirty seconds before he turns it with more determination than any normal doorknob requires after sliding the lock open with his other hand. He only opens the door a crack, but sure enough, Darren pushes it open enough to squeeze in before falling against it and causing it to shut.
"Why are you here?" Chris asks him, sighing as he leans against the wall.
"I'm sorry," Darren says, eyes still glued to the floor. "I shouldn't have done that."
"Whatever," Chris sighs, turning to head back for the couch. He settles back into his usual corner and picks up bottle from the table, not even bothering to pour some into a glass before taking another swallow. "It happened. It's done. You and I both know it would have happened eventually. Now that Kurt and Blaine are a thing, I think the fans would burn Ryan in effigy if they didn't get some sort of action." He takes another chug from the bottle and sighs, curling his knees to his chest as he rests his feet on the cushions. "Maybe not even in effigy. Not that I'm happy about it, but there are worse things you could have done."
"Well, yeah," Darren says, shifting nervously from one foot to the other with his hands shoved into his pockets. "Still doesn't mean it was cool for me to speed it up." He rocks back and forth a little, biting his lower lip as he looks around the room. "I told them I did it because I thought it was what Blaine would do. That he was feeling so much for Kurt that he wouldn't be able to hold it in."
"Is that so?" Chris asks, poking at his uneaten sushi, appetite suddenly gone.
"Yeah."
"Is it true?"
"What do you think?" Darren asks, a twinge of annoyance seeping into his voice.
"I think the fact that you had a tuna sandwich and Doritos for lunch means it wasn't planned," Chris says, taking another drink. "At least, I hope it does."
"Yeah," Darren nods. "It just…happened. I'm gonna try to be better about it. Not let it happen again." He looks down at the coffee table then back to Chris. "Sorry for interrupting your dinner," he says with a wave of his hand. "I'll let you go so you can finish."
"Don't bother," Chris says, waving the bottle toward it. "I ordered too much to begin with. Go ahead and eat some, if you want. I know how much you like tuna."
Darren looks at him for a second as if not sure how to respond, then bends over and pops a piece into his mouth. "This is from that place down the street, isn't it?" he asks after he swallows. "They always did get it just right."
Chris feels a lump in his throat as Darren mentions the place with such casual familiarity. They'd ordered from there a lot in the past, and it had taken Chris a while before he'd stopped ordering Darren's favorites out of habit. "Yeah," he finally says. "They did."
Darren squats beside the coffee table and looks up at him. "We still could," he says quietly. "Get it right, I mean."
"Darren…" Chris trails weakly. "We've been over this, and no, we can't."
"Yes," Darren insists, crawling on his hands and knees between the sofa and the table until his head is resting against Chris's boot. "We can." He reaches up and takes the bottle of wine, then takes a swig without swallowing. He rises to his knees and cups Chris's face with his free hand, bringing it in close so he can move the wine from mouth to mouth. He pulls away when he feels Chris swallow, then urges Chris's head down so he can brush a kiss against the smooth, pale skin of his forehead. "We can do whatever we want."
Chris doesn't let himself think before he acts. He knows that if he does, he won't do what he really wants. He won't twist to press his lips against Darren's, cradling his face between his palms as he strokes his thumbs up and down Darren's jaw. If he thinks, he won't whisper the words that he still thinks, still feels, still hears inside his head every time their eyes meet. Words like "I love you," and "I miss you," and "I want this to be real."
---
It isn't long before frantic kisses and desperate whispers take over, and they start the familiar journey from sofa to bed without saying a word about it. Hands grabbing, fingers teasing, buttons being undone, zippers pulled before they even make it into the hall. They're past words, past thoughts, past anything but skin and sweat and want and need; when Chris moves Darren to the wall and pushes on his shoulders until he's on his knees and licking his lips, they both know what's going to happen.
Chris pauses just long enough to push his jeans down his hips before he grabs a handful of Darren's hair and pulls him in close. With his free hand, he urges the tip of his cock to Darren's lips, and the second he feels the warm heat of Darren's mouth upon him, he digs his other hand into Darren's curls and jerks him forward. They both ignore the choked sounds that escape Darren's throat as Chris fucks into his mouth, hard and fast and without care or concern about anything except doing this and having this moment. It isn't pretty and it isn't kind, but it's real and it's raw in a way they've never really been before, and neither one of them is willing to stop it long enough to make negotiating possible.
---
"Fuck," Darren cries out once they've finally made it to the bed, throwing his head back against the pillow as Chris moves above him. 'Kurt Hummel would probably have about six heart attacks if he could see this,' Darren somehow finds the ability to think. Chris didn't waste any time getting down to business once they'd gotten here and now, riding Darren's cock and moaning loudly and without reservation, it's hard to imagine he's the same person who managed to pull off 'baby penguin' so well just a few weeks earlier.
"God, you feel good," Chris pants, palms flat against Darren's chest, rolling his hips and feeling Darren move inside of him. "Always have." His hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat, the muscles in his thighs are taut, and even though this isn't the first time they've done this - the last was just a couple of months before - he doesn't know that he's ever seen Chris look so perfect.
"I wanna make you feel good forever," Darren murmurs, rocking his own hips up to try and bury himself in even deeper. He tightens his grip on Chris's hips and digs his fingers in a little harder, wondering if he could leave an imprint of his fingerprints if he tried hard enough.
Chris looks down at Darren and takes a breath as he throws his head back to stare at the ceiling. They don't have forever. They shouldn't even have tonight.
He knows that without question, but it doesn't stop him from wishing it weren't the case.
---
The next day, they both wake in Chris's bed, hungover on emotion, if not on drink (though in Chris's case, it may be both). Neither one says anything while they shower together, staying on opposite sides and maintaining distance, even though their hands linger a little too long when they hand each other the soap or shampoo.
Darren borrows a nondescript hoodie from Chris so he doesn't give the impression of showing up for work in the same thing he wore the day before. They leave separately, not speaking again until they once again meet on set, wearing the familiar navy blazers of their fictional, less conflicted counterparts.
They avoid eye contact when they're called off-set to film the behind the scenes interviews, and though Chris is full of jokes and laughter, they're both all too aware that this is Chris at his most defensive. His sarcasm is the mask he wears to hide his deepest hurt, and no matter how much the rest of the cast and crew is cracking up at his antics, both Chris and Darren know the moment Chris gets into his car and away from everyone else, his real feelings will finally come through.
There's nothing Darren can do to make it better so he awkwardly plays along, excusing himself at the first possible opportunity.
---
"No."
"But the publicity!"
"No."
"Chris," his agent says, frustration seeping from every pore. "You can't keep turning them down. Kurt and Blaine are the hottest new couple on TV, and the message they're sending is helping a lot of people. If you could just take a half an hour to talk to-"
"Can't Darren do it?" Chris asks, voice cold and weary.
"He already is," the voice says from his earpiece. "They want the both of you. A lot of people want the both of you."
"Let him do it," Chris says. Rubbing his forehead, he stares out his bedroom window at the city beneath him. "He's good at this stuff."
"You could be better, if you tried," comes the accusation, and Chris just wraps his arms around himself and sighs.
"Maybe," he finally concedes, "but I think it's better if you let him do it alone. He's better at saying what people want to hear." He pauses. "He always has been."
III
Web Counter