Flicks (Details) Part 10
Title: Flicks (Details)
Fandom: RPF
Pairing: Pinto
Series Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, just love 'em
Warnings: long-term angst
Summary: Part 10 of 11. Zach has a crush on Chris but Chris really doesn't want to know. A lot of angst, UST and crappy decision making follows and eventually, Zach has to make a choice.
Follows the songs from Frou Frou's album, Details - which is my favourite album of all time, just to be melodramatic. The song's aren't in order, I sorted them as needed for the story arc. Normally I don't do songfics but this story just flowed out of the album for me, so I went for it.
Flicks is track 10 on the album and the lyrics for all the songs on Details can be found here. If you haven't heard it and you can get your hands (electronic or otherwise) on the album, I thoroughly recommend it.
A/N: Okay, second last chapter, woo!
Zach's play stems from my unrivalled knowledge of Shakespeare and my chosen actors, while perhaps not to everyone's taste, really makes me want to see this version. Really, really.
Also, I finally got around to uploading the songs so - tada!
Download Flicks
It happened at a funeral, which Chris distantly thought was a little bit of an odd place to have such a revelation.
Everyone around him was crying quietly or at least standing in solemn silence but Chris - only a distant relation to the deceased - had let his mind wander as the priest had read over the lowering of the coffin. She had been a great aunt, one that he had visited only a few times when he was a child.
No one seemed to notice as he cast his gaze over the stand of trees beyond the gravesite, the words of the priest fading into the background. The force of his revelation had left Chris a little breathless and he found after a moment that he’d stopped breathing - the pressure was building slowly against the inside of his chest.
Drawing in a breath, deep and long, he tried to hold onto the flittering thought that had crossed his mind. It had been a feeling of... He couldn’t find the words. Lightness? No, not quite - more the lifting of a weight, like the greatest of burdens had just been taken from his shoulders. What had he been thinking about?
Zach.
And that was unsurprising really. Zach had been ever-present in his thoughts for a long time now. He’d like to say that he’d lost count of how long it had been since... whatever it was they had had together ended but he knew exactly, to the day how long it had been. Four months, two weeks and five days... but that knowledge didn’t bring its usual stab of pain, it was simply a fact. A little sad perhaps but no longer some terrifying record of time, reminding him that every moment tore him further away from those moments of love and happiness.
So what had changed? He conjured an image of Zach as he remembered him, all dark colour and passion and found himself smiling. He imagined how Zach was doing on the New York stage -Iago to another man’s Othello - and the only emotion he felt was sadness at not being able to witness Zach make the role his own, as he inevitably would.
The priest was finishing the last of the ceremony - ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Chris watched as his family gathered around the coffin to pay their last respects and suddenly he was compelled to join them. Children and grandchildren, mingled together in varying shades of family resemblance. As each threw their own fist of dirt onto the coffin below them, Chris fell into step behind, sinking his fingers into the cool grit of the grave-dirt. The people ahead of him murmured heartfelt words and emotions but they were for the ears of the dead and Chris kept a respectful distance.
His turn came and he found himself at a loss for words to speak. Death had never frightened him as such but it had confused him - not just the death itself but all of the ritual that went with it. The hole in the ground before him wasn’t the woman he’d once met -all aniseed and fresh cotton - and so he spoke to the few memories he had of her instead. The shyness of a child meeting a strange woman who swept him up in a hug that only family could get away with, the small bowl of foil-wrapped chocolate balls that sat like glittering treasure on the polished mahogany of the dining table, the murmur of her voice as she and the other adults talked above his head - a reassuring roll of nonsensical noise.
“Goodbye, Aunty Dee,” he said as he threw down the soil as gently as he could.
It was all about memories really, what you chose to recall - the moments that would warm you as you sat with a glass of wine, watching a movie or listening to a song that reminded you of a lost friend or relation. Or lover.
Chris let the rest of the mourners file out of the graveyard in a long, slow line of dull black cloth. He remained behind, standing by the open grave, still thinking, still trying to work out who he was really saying goodbye to.
The rustle of wind through foliage eventually became the only other noise save for Chris’ feet as he crunched his way through the gravel of the footpath. He wandered past tombstones, some littered with flowers and cards, others as bare as the earth of the freshly dug graves.
It was to those headstones that he was drawn - the forgotten people, the memories that had finally passed the same way as the people, until these stones were the only marks of them left in the world.
It all came back to memories - the links in the chains of remembered history, good and bad. And perhaps that was the lesson. There would always be the bad memories, the trick; the lesson was to know them to be unchangeable. Hang on to the good memories and leave the bad behind.
He tried to think of this in relation to Zach... and found that the bad memories didn’t rip into him as they once had. He turned to the light-washed memories of them having coffee, wrestling with Noah, getting drunk together - and felt that gentle press of fondness and an almost-nostalgia that came with time. It was the same way that he felt recalling his memories of Aunty Dee and that more than anything; let Chris understand what was happening.
He was letting go of Zach.
Letting go of all the guilt and angst that he had been feeling for so long. Moving on, moving forward.
And Chris couldn’t help but think that if Zach could see him now, he’d smile.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He met Zoe at the after party drinks for some forgettable Hollywood blockbuster. It had been awhile since he had seen anyone but Zach from the Trek cast and the first half an hour of their conversation was taken up with discussions and banter about who was doing what -anecdotes from Zoe about John and Karl, even one about Simon and a public fountain that Chris really thought should be written down for posterity’s sake.
But eventually that well of conversation ran dry and Zoe turned to the one topic she had been avoiding.
“So... have you talked to Zach lately?”
Chris smiled at her enigmatically, sipping his beer.
“Not since he left for New York. I heard his play’s doing well though.”
“Oh yeah,” replied Zoe in a strange voice, “the play’s the thing.”
“Very funny,” snorted Chris, not noticing the tone, “but that’s Hamlet, not Othello.”
“It’s all Shakespeare,” Zoe sniffed as she recrossed her legs.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it. That Zach’s doing so well I mean.”
Zoe’s face sobered.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you said...”
“I said that his play was doing well... Actually, I didn’t even say that though it is true.” Zoe sighed and leaned forward to meet Chris’ eyes, “It’s the play that has me worried.”
“He’s... he’s not doing well? But - “
“Have you read any of his reviews?” Zoe interrupted suddenly.
Chris flushed slightly. He may have been able to think of Zach without pain now but having to witness how happy and successful he was - how easily he had moved on... No, he hadn’t been that brave.
“No, I... no.”
Zoe grabbed her iPhone out of her bag and typed in an address, pursing her lips as she waited for the page to load.
“Here,” she said as she passed Chris the phone, “It’s from the New York Times.”
Chris, already slightly confused, became more so as he read through the newspaper’s review.
The stage is dark and the speeches darker as Othello - the classic Shakespearean play of love, jealousy and betrayal - makes its way onto the Broadway stage. Thomas Bennington’s modern revival of the Elizabethan tale could have very easily gone the way of many modern renditions but with his superb new script and a very successful choice of actors, this is one of the best new adaptations of a Shakspearean play in a long time.
Set in modern day America, Othello (played by British born Idris Elba) is a man in the service of his country. The son of an African immigrant he is sent to Iraq as a Colonel, alongside his trusted aides and fellow soldiers, Iago (Zachary Quinto) and Cassio (Josh Hopkins).
Interestingly, Desdemona (Tricia Helfer) is also written as a soldier and her illicit marriage to Othello leads to what is closer to a military court-martial than the racially-motivated trial at the hands of Brabantio that occurs in the original play. Helfer brings a wonderful duality to the often extremely passive role of Desdemona but it is Quinto in the role of Iago that is the standout in this production. From the first, Quinto brings with him a roiling mass of barely restrained energy, his Iago a deeply passionate and deeply frustrated man. From his intense manipulation of Othello and others to his fragile hostility against all who dare to engage with him, Quinto projects the despairing, revenging anger of a man deeply wronged and comes as close as any to making the character of Iago a sympathetic one. His final scene with Othello is perhaps, one of the most riveting pieces of theatre on Broadway today and Elba’s headstrong Othello plays against Quinto’s damaged soldier beautifully.
Set designer Sasha Redford’s creations have lent the play an almost sepia-like tone, with the Iraq scenes presented like...
Chris stopped reading and sat back in his chair, Zoe’s phone cradled in the heat of his hand. A member of the public reading that review would have only seen the positive but it sent knives of ice down Chris’ spine. He imagined it hadn’t done wonders for Zoe either... or Joe, if he had read it.
“I’ve spoken to him a few times in the last few months,” Zoe sighed, “and he seemed fine - a little distant maybe but fine. The one time I met him, the way he was around his new boyfriend - “
Chris flinched involuntarily - he hadn’t known about that.
“ - it didn’t seem... healthy to me. And now this review? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where the motivation for his character’s coming from.”
“He seemed so sure, so determined to move on,” Chris insisted, “and you say he’s got a new boyfriend? Everything should be fine, everything...”
Chris rubbed his hands over his eyes, of all the possibilities; this was the last thing he had imagined for Zach. The fact that he had played no small part in Zach’s current... emotional state, was busily chipping away at his newly discovered peace.
Zoe gave him a look that was half compassion, half frustration.
“I know, honey. I debated even telling you, since there’s not much you... or I come to that, can do.”
“But... it’s been four months since... I mean, maybe I can call him or text him... email him!”
Zoe looked at Chris again, that same look on her face.
“You can’t do that and you know it. If he’s still that... damaged from your relationship, then you’re the last person that can help.”
“So what can I do?” argued Chris, “I need to do something, Zoe, this is all my fault.”
“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself, Chris. Yes, you did kind of screw him over - ”
Chris grimaced.
“ - And boy do I wish I’d thought of a better phrase there,” Zoe continued, “but Zach has had hang-ups about betrayal since before you met up. I don’t want to tell secrets that aren’t mine but suffice it to say, it’s a long standing issue for him and not entirely your fault.”
Chris gave her a watery smile.
“Hey don’t get me wrong, it’s still mostly your fault,” she joked and Chris half-heartedly kicked her leg underneath the table.
“So what do I do then?” he asked.
Zoe grew serious as she stopped rubbing her shin in mock pain.
“You wait. Until he wants to talk to you... if he ever does. You wait.”
Part Eleven
Fandom: RPF
Pairing: Pinto
Series Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, just love 'em
Warnings: long-term angst
Summary: Part 10 of 11. Zach has a crush on Chris but Chris really doesn't want to know. A lot of angst, UST and crappy decision making follows and eventually, Zach has to make a choice.
Follows the songs from Frou Frou's album, Details - which is my favourite album of all time, just to be melodramatic. The song's aren't in order, I sorted them as needed for the story arc. Normally I don't do songfics but this story just flowed out of the album for me, so I went for it.
Flicks is track 10 on the album and the lyrics for all the songs on Details can be found here. If you haven't heard it and you can get your hands (electronic or otherwise) on the album, I thoroughly recommend it.
A/N: Okay, second last chapter, woo!
Zach's play stems from my unrivalled knowledge of Shakespeare and my chosen actors, while perhaps not to everyone's taste, really makes me want to see this version. Really, really.
Also, I finally got around to uploading the songs so - tada!
Download Flicks
It happened at a funeral, which Chris distantly thought was a little bit of an odd place to have such a revelation.
Everyone around him was crying quietly or at least standing in solemn silence but Chris - only a distant relation to the deceased - had let his mind wander as the priest had read over the lowering of the coffin. She had been a great aunt, one that he had visited only a few times when he was a child.
No one seemed to notice as he cast his gaze over the stand of trees beyond the gravesite, the words of the priest fading into the background. The force of his revelation had left Chris a little breathless and he found after a moment that he’d stopped breathing - the pressure was building slowly against the inside of his chest.
Drawing in a breath, deep and long, he tried to hold onto the flittering thought that had crossed his mind. It had been a feeling of... He couldn’t find the words. Lightness? No, not quite - more the lifting of a weight, like the greatest of burdens had just been taken from his shoulders. What had he been thinking about?
Zach.
And that was unsurprising really. Zach had been ever-present in his thoughts for a long time now. He’d like to say that he’d lost count of how long it had been since... whatever it was they had had together ended but he knew exactly, to the day how long it had been. Four months, two weeks and five days... but that knowledge didn’t bring its usual stab of pain, it was simply a fact. A little sad perhaps but no longer some terrifying record of time, reminding him that every moment tore him further away from those moments of love and happiness.
So what had changed? He conjured an image of Zach as he remembered him, all dark colour and passion and found himself smiling. He imagined how Zach was doing on the New York stage -Iago to another man’s Othello - and the only emotion he felt was sadness at not being able to witness Zach make the role his own, as he inevitably would.
The priest was finishing the last of the ceremony - ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Chris watched as his family gathered around the coffin to pay their last respects and suddenly he was compelled to join them. Children and grandchildren, mingled together in varying shades of family resemblance. As each threw their own fist of dirt onto the coffin below them, Chris fell into step behind, sinking his fingers into the cool grit of the grave-dirt. The people ahead of him murmured heartfelt words and emotions but they were for the ears of the dead and Chris kept a respectful distance.
His turn came and he found himself at a loss for words to speak. Death had never frightened him as such but it had confused him - not just the death itself but all of the ritual that went with it. The hole in the ground before him wasn’t the woman he’d once met -all aniseed and fresh cotton - and so he spoke to the few memories he had of her instead. The shyness of a child meeting a strange woman who swept him up in a hug that only family could get away with, the small bowl of foil-wrapped chocolate balls that sat like glittering treasure on the polished mahogany of the dining table, the murmur of her voice as she and the other adults talked above his head - a reassuring roll of nonsensical noise.
“Goodbye, Aunty Dee,” he said as he threw down the soil as gently as he could.
It was all about memories really, what you chose to recall - the moments that would warm you as you sat with a glass of wine, watching a movie or listening to a song that reminded you of a lost friend or relation. Or lover.
Chris let the rest of the mourners file out of the graveyard in a long, slow line of dull black cloth. He remained behind, standing by the open grave, still thinking, still trying to work out who he was really saying goodbye to.
The rustle of wind through foliage eventually became the only other noise save for Chris’ feet as he crunched his way through the gravel of the footpath. He wandered past tombstones, some littered with flowers and cards, others as bare as the earth of the freshly dug graves.
It was to those headstones that he was drawn - the forgotten people, the memories that had finally passed the same way as the people, until these stones were the only marks of them left in the world.
It all came back to memories - the links in the chains of remembered history, good and bad. And perhaps that was the lesson. There would always be the bad memories, the trick; the lesson was to know them to be unchangeable. Hang on to the good memories and leave the bad behind.
He tried to think of this in relation to Zach... and found that the bad memories didn’t rip into him as they once had. He turned to the light-washed memories of them having coffee, wrestling with Noah, getting drunk together - and felt that gentle press of fondness and an almost-nostalgia that came with time. It was the same way that he felt recalling his memories of Aunty Dee and that more than anything; let Chris understand what was happening.
He was letting go of Zach.
Letting go of all the guilt and angst that he had been feeling for so long. Moving on, moving forward.
And Chris couldn’t help but think that if Zach could see him now, he’d smile.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He met Zoe at the after party drinks for some forgettable Hollywood blockbuster. It had been awhile since he had seen anyone but Zach from the Trek cast and the first half an hour of their conversation was taken up with discussions and banter about who was doing what -anecdotes from Zoe about John and Karl, even one about Simon and a public fountain that Chris really thought should be written down for posterity’s sake.
But eventually that well of conversation ran dry and Zoe turned to the one topic she had been avoiding.
“So... have you talked to Zach lately?”
Chris smiled at her enigmatically, sipping his beer.
“Not since he left for New York. I heard his play’s doing well though.”
“Oh yeah,” replied Zoe in a strange voice, “the play’s the thing.”
“Very funny,” snorted Chris, not noticing the tone, “but that’s Hamlet, not Othello.”
“It’s all Shakespeare,” Zoe sniffed as she recrossed her legs.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it. That Zach’s doing so well I mean.”
Zoe’s face sobered.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you said...”
“I said that his play was doing well... Actually, I didn’t even say that though it is true.” Zoe sighed and leaned forward to meet Chris’ eyes, “It’s the play that has me worried.”
“He’s... he’s not doing well? But - “
“Have you read any of his reviews?” Zoe interrupted suddenly.
Chris flushed slightly. He may have been able to think of Zach without pain now but having to witness how happy and successful he was - how easily he had moved on... No, he hadn’t been that brave.
“No, I... no.”
Zoe grabbed her iPhone out of her bag and typed in an address, pursing her lips as she waited for the page to load.
“Here,” she said as she passed Chris the phone, “It’s from the New York Times.”
Chris, already slightly confused, became more so as he read through the newspaper’s review.
The stage is dark and the speeches darker as Othello - the classic Shakespearean play of love, jealousy and betrayal - makes its way onto the Broadway stage. Thomas Bennington’s modern revival of the Elizabethan tale could have very easily gone the way of many modern renditions but with his superb new script and a very successful choice of actors, this is one of the best new adaptations of a Shakspearean play in a long time.
Set in modern day America, Othello (played by British born Idris Elba) is a man in the service of his country. The son of an African immigrant he is sent to Iraq as a Colonel, alongside his trusted aides and fellow soldiers, Iago (Zachary Quinto) and Cassio (Josh Hopkins).
Interestingly, Desdemona (Tricia Helfer) is also written as a soldier and her illicit marriage to Othello leads to what is closer to a military court-martial than the racially-motivated trial at the hands of Brabantio that occurs in the original play. Helfer brings a wonderful duality to the often extremely passive role of Desdemona but it is Quinto in the role of Iago that is the standout in this production. From the first, Quinto brings with him a roiling mass of barely restrained energy, his Iago a deeply passionate and deeply frustrated man. From his intense manipulation of Othello and others to his fragile hostility against all who dare to engage with him, Quinto projects the despairing, revenging anger of a man deeply wronged and comes as close as any to making the character of Iago a sympathetic one. His final scene with Othello is perhaps, one of the most riveting pieces of theatre on Broadway today and Elba’s headstrong Othello plays against Quinto’s damaged soldier beautifully.
Set designer Sasha Redford’s creations have lent the play an almost sepia-like tone, with the Iraq scenes presented like...
Chris stopped reading and sat back in his chair, Zoe’s phone cradled in the heat of his hand. A member of the public reading that review would have only seen the positive but it sent knives of ice down Chris’ spine. He imagined it hadn’t done wonders for Zoe either... or Joe, if he had read it.
“I’ve spoken to him a few times in the last few months,” Zoe sighed, “and he seemed fine - a little distant maybe but fine. The one time I met him, the way he was around his new boyfriend - “
Chris flinched involuntarily - he hadn’t known about that.
“ - it didn’t seem... healthy to me. And now this review? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where the motivation for his character’s coming from.”
“He seemed so sure, so determined to move on,” Chris insisted, “and you say he’s got a new boyfriend? Everything should be fine, everything...”
Chris rubbed his hands over his eyes, of all the possibilities; this was the last thing he had imagined for Zach. The fact that he had played no small part in Zach’s current... emotional state, was busily chipping away at his newly discovered peace.
Zoe gave him a look that was half compassion, half frustration.
“I know, honey. I debated even telling you, since there’s not much you... or I come to that, can do.”
“But... it’s been four months since... I mean, maybe I can call him or text him... email him!”
Zoe looked at Chris again, that same look on her face.
“You can’t do that and you know it. If he’s still that... damaged from your relationship, then you’re the last person that can help.”
“So what can I do?” argued Chris, “I need to do something, Zoe, this is all my fault.”
“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself, Chris. Yes, you did kind of screw him over - ”
Chris grimaced.
“ - And boy do I wish I’d thought of a better phrase there,” Zoe continued, “but Zach has had hang-ups about betrayal since before you met up. I don’t want to tell secrets that aren’t mine but suffice it to say, it’s a long standing issue for him and not entirely your fault.”
Chris gave her a watery smile.
“Hey don’t get me wrong, it’s still mostly your fault,” she joked and Chris half-heartedly kicked her leg underneath the table.
“So what do I do then?” he asked.
Zoe grew serious as she stopped rubbing her shin in mock pain.
“You wait. Until he wants to talk to you... if he ever does. You wait.”
Part Eleven