FIC: Behold! Us Wayward Monsters - Act III (Part Two)
Title: Behold! Us Wayward Monsters - Act III (Part Two)
Masterlist: I ( One, Two) | II ( One, Two) | III ( One, Two) | IV ( One, Two)
“I’m sorry, I thought I was dealing with a group of professionals, not fucking children!”
Zach turned and gave a raised eyebrow to Joey. Five months ago, when they had met Louis and he started yelling at them like this, Joey had been shaking in his boots. Now even Joey had learned to tune it out, giving a wink to Natalia next to him.
“Hey, Joe, I didn’t realize we were Match.com and not the fucking Cirque du Soleil!”
At that Joey snapped to attention, suddenly aware of the tiny bald man in his space. Muscular, but still a good foot shorter-probably had a good knee kick.
“In case the whole class was not aware, we give a preview to Guy Laliberté-you know, the man who’s responsible for your paychecks?-in less than seventy-two fucking hours..” Louis was more like a boiled lobster than a man. “Don’t let him think you’ve been screwing around this entire time, because he will scrap a production.”
What a threat. Zach tilted his head-he was quite aware of the stakes, but it was the first time that he had realized that maybe Louis had something at stake. Like, a future, and not just as a salaried choreographer.
“Come on, then!” Louis flapped his arms in exasperation, then went into the back of bleachers to shout at them from afar. “Start at the top of Act III!”
Joey gave Zach a wary look, which Zach definitely shared. The whole shouting match had started because of Act III-because Anton, who was on a tightrope, had not fallen in tune to the music. Nevermind that they had just started practicing with the newly-recorded music two days ago.
On the other hand, Zach found out he liked Anton more than expected. When Anton had not fallen on time, he had only glared at Louis with a visual I am nota fucking child.
Zach had wanted to be bro-like and fist bump, but Anton was back on the high wire already, apparently eager for torture.
The music started up again-reminiscent, like John said, of the Amazon-and Zach and Joey pretended to paddle their canoe to an inland beach. There they would walk out and see Anton on the wire-chased by the Sandman, of course.
“Oh!” Zach said as he pointed up in astonishment. Anton was doing some impressive running backwards-bare feet on a wire no thicker than a rope-as John stood on a wooden platform, looking menacing.
Well, as menacing as a Sandman could be.
Dramatic music played as Anton and the Sandman went back and forth. Zach heard laughter behind him as he and Joey tilted side-to-side with the action, like exuberant sports fans-leaning back with fear, leaning to the side in anxiousness, watching Anton’s every move.
But it was short, in that John finally cued Anton to the right point of the music. He fell with a backflip-right into Zach’s outstretched arms.
Anton had the naïve youth look down pat, for he looked frightened as he scrambled out of Zach’s grasp. He moved like a spider, using both hands and feet to get around and back away.
It was in these moments that Zach felt most sure about himself. Actually, most of the act went smoothly-Joey and Zach had been on point that entire day, as with most of the performers-and this time was no exception. Once Anton had fallen in league with the music, the voyagers were able to follow him slowly, cautiously, until they found Anton balancing on another piece of wire, where the character thought he was performing in privacy and solitude.
Voyeur voyagers, apparently. But at the end they would be caught, and Anton would scramble away for good-after giving a harrowing act of backflips, handstands, and near-impossible feats of balance with objects on his head.
There was polite applause-Louis had encouraged it to promote a “live atmosphere”-and then he called for a cut. Which was just as well, because the next scene was a ballroom of sirens, where Zoe and Eric danced together.
Not awkward whatsoever. Especially with that rumor of Eric moving in to vacated territory.
“Thank god Louis called a lunch break,” Chris muttered under his breath. He had somehow started guiding Zach by the elbow-probably because his nosy face had wanted to follow Zoe and Eric around the corner.
But Chris led Zach to a picnic table outside, where gorgeous weather awaited: Cloudy, about to rain, probably lightning imminent.
“Why did we come out here? They were just about to head to-“
“None of your business.”
Zach pouted. Chris showed up at the most un-fun of times.
“And anyway, nothing exciting would happen.” Chris pulled a water bottle out of his hoodie pocket and placed it on the table, not looking like he had said anything interesting.
Zach narrowed his eyes. “What, they’re not boinking?”
Chris gave an are you joking? look, but Zach shook his head.
“Is Zoe not in the mood for a rebound, or…?”
“More like you should ask Eric.”
“Ask Eric what?”
“If he wants to go to a gay bar.”
Zach perked up at the thought and looked back at the building-now that was an idea.
“Although if you did, I’d punch somebody.”
“You look like you’d have a mean right hook.” Not that Zach was looking at Chris, but he had held down those biceps before.
There was a sigh from across the table, and Zach eventually looked back at Chris-a partially agitated Chris. Which was becoming more and more familiar lately.
They had not had that talk, and that was entirely Zach’s fault. Then again, Chris had a habit of stroking Zach’s cock before he could open his mouth, so that was also an issue.
“What? What did I do?”
Chris looked down at the table with a thin smile. “What would you like for lunch?”
A Chris-Eric-Zach sandwich, but Zach didn’t think that would go over very well. “I don’t know.” Zach looked up at the darkening clouds and pointed at the sky. “Let’s grab something quick and then watch this.”
Obviously those were the right words, for Chris looked up then-blue eyes bright and breathtaking. Which was stupidly romantic, but then Chris was stupidly attractive. Even better from behind as Chris led the way to the cafeteria, grabbed their mac and cheese, and then headed to a quiet and dark conference room.
That was another strange thing at the Cirque-Zach felt he could pop in his head anywhere, take a gander, poke around. As much as Louis expected much of his charges, maybe it was because they had freedoms like this. Responsibilities meted with independence.
Chris pulled up a padded office chair to one of the windows and Zach followed suit. They were comfortable and leaned back too far, but Zach was able to put up his feet on a shelf above the A/C vents.
They said nothing as the storm rolled in. It was very dramatic for a time-too much wind that made the bushes scratch glass, the trees whip and bend, the electric poles look to blow over. And then, of course, came a gentle rain, soft and pattering and almost loud enough over the central air.
“Katie and I used to do this all the time.”
Zach gave Chris a sideways glance. “Doesn’t everyone do this?”
There was a shrug as Chris looked down at his empty bowl. “Maybe.”
Zach had finished his, so there was no offering of leftovers. “Joey and I used to sit under this bridge by our house for thunderstorms. There was this ledge that we’d crawl into, and we’d watch the rain pool and drip off the wooden planks and beams.”
That made Chris secretly smile, and Zach wondered what it was all about. It was a long, stretched moment where Chris was thinking, perhaps remembering a moment in particular. It only made Zach more curious.
“My mom’s house had something like that-she had an all-around porch with wooden eaves. Katie and I would sit in chairs and watch the rain drip into the garden.”
That made Zach narrow his eyes. “Did you parents live apart?” He had never really asked before-he had just assumed things. Which probably proved that old and known adage to be true.
Chris took a deep breath. “Yeah. Like, when I was 12, my parents divorced. My mom married a nice guy and got an awesome house, and my dad had a shitty apartment in the city.”
“Eww.”
“Yeah-bugs and things, unfortunately. Not that my dad wasn’t clean, but…” Chris made a sheepish face. “If the landlord doesn’t fix your A/C, or the screens on your windows, or kick out the hoarders living below you…”
Zach nodded along-been there, done that. “That sucks.”
“So we mostly had extended weekends with Dad, but had that-you know-wonderful and privileged upbringing with Mom.”
Now that was something. Chris could be caustic and sarcastic, but bitterness wasn’t really his thing.
“I should be grateful, honestly-and I am. Really.”
“Who did she marry?”
Chris waved the question off. “He wasn’t the problem. Actually, if it wasn’t for Richard, I probably wouldn’t have been able to stay in gymnastics, Katie wouldn’t have been an equestrian, and Mom would’ve had to work somewhere else.”
Zach turned in his chair, ignoring the storm. “What does she do?”
“Some home-based art therapy thing. It’s really cool, but it’s all based on acting and reaching your creative potential, or some shit.”
Zach smiled as he remembered something. “That’s why she wanted you to come here, probably.”
Chris raised his hands in imitation. “’Christopher, honey, art can heal everything.’”
Zach really couldn’t disagree-neither with him or Joey.
“But no, my mom is great.”
“And your dad?”
“I’m lucky. I know that-you taught me that.”
Zach kept close watch as Chris took their empty bowls and set them aside. He didn’t quite trust anything-Chris was an honest person, but it was an edited honesty. That was the danger of him, in that Zach always knew there’d be words and moments and feelings that Chris would never willingly say.
Maybe they were alike, in that way.
“Your sister was into horses?”
Chris leaned back with a huge sigh. “Oh yeah. She won medals and trophies and had her own massive room of awards. She got into Sweet Briar with an athletic scholarship.” Chris shook his head. “Like, really? She’s riding a horse and she gets an athletic scholarship?”
“Maybe she… clenches her thighs, or some shit?” Zach knew nothing about it, and frankly never intended to-horses were big and scary things.
“I’m just… yeah, it’s actually hard. Katie is really good at it, and good to the horses.” Chris wore a wan smile. “But she’s married now and owns a horse ranch. She doesn’t even do the equestrian jumping anymore.”
Zach felt a little light go off in his head-an engine light, a seatbelt light, his hazards.
“So she wasn’t really passionate about it.”
Chris looked at the ceiling and gave a humorless laugh. “I wonder if Mom ever kept count of all the thousands she spent, so Katie could run away to Colorado and never look back.”
Before Zach could open his mouth for another question, Chris sat up and forward, rubbing his hands.
“Sometimes, when I’m lying in bed at night, I think back on what could’ve happened if Mom had spent those thousands on me. You know? Selfishly. If I could’ve moved to another state and had the best trainers, the best facilities-the best chances with people who had actually been to the Olympics.” Chris looked at him darkly. “You know what kills me? Katie was offered the Olympics and she turned it down.”
Hairs rose on the back of Zach’s neck. He straightened up without thinking and spoke without thinking, “Man, what a cunt.”
There was a long and pregnant pause-Chris’ mouth forming an O in complete shock-and Zach almost thought he was going to punch him.
Chris needed a moment to speak. “You… just called my sister a cunt.”
Zach threw up his hands. “Well? She took your dreams and stomped them under her princess heel. Sounds cunt-y to me.”
Chris snorted in disbelief. “Wow. I just-I can’t believe you, sometimes. What if you meet her someday?”
“So? I’d ask her why your mom invested in the wrong child. Have you ever thought of getting a bit angry with that? Some art therapy thing, where you stomp around in your bare feet. Do a fucking-I don’t know-finger painting with your toes in rage?”
Chris shook his head with wonder. “I should probably hit you, or something.”
“Whatever, you threatened earlier.” Zach reached over and flicked his shoulder. “You’re a big ol’ softie underneath your derision.”
Chris continued to stare at him, growing more pissed by the second, but Zach mouthed marshmallow and Chris turned away.
It was strange, in the darkness, how Chris looked starkly beautiful. Zach was becoming a keen observer of these things. Men had angles and lines that nothing in nature could recreate, but Chris topped them all with his anger. It was electric and alive. It made Chris’ frame tense, put his muscles on edge, and gave the idea that he would be quicker than the lightning strikes outside if provoked.
Zach had yet to see Chris this angry. It was amazing. Granted, he had insulted Chris’ mother and sister in one breath, so it was warranted. But Zach had lost his shit before when someone insulted Joey-even mildly, or joking.
“I received a lot of support. I really did. Mom sent me here, after all.” Chris glanced at Zach, and suddenly the tenseness was gone, replaced with his trademarked calm and patience. “I love Katie. A lot. And I guess I wouldn’t be jealous if I had just received a tad bit of that faith that she did-if Mom and Dad thought I was the most amazing gymnast in the world, instead of just the brother of the most amazing high jumper.”
What semantics. Zach personally found it whiny and a bit petty. But then again, Zach had lived a life out of bounds and without the desire of approval-that had bit Joey in the ass. What sort of person did that make Chris, if Chris had never caved to the pressure? Or presumably never caved.
Chris slid down in his seat, turning to his side so he could smile at Zach. It was easy, but almost eerie compared to the conversation before, and Zach didn’t know what to make of it.
“You know, I’ve never had a bulldog before.”
Zach squinted in confusion. “What?”
“You know, someone who’s had my back completely.” Chris reached out, finding Zach’s leg in the darkness. “You’re the most loyal person I’ve ever met.”
It was such a quick motion-his fingertip skimming along Zach’s clothed thigh-and then it was gone. Like Chris just needed a moment of reassurance, a desire seized without thinking.
Zach found he couldn’t complain about it, perhaps even missed it.
“You’re just a badass gymnast, that’s all.” Zach swallowed and hid his hands in his lap. “You can do the trampoline.”
At that Chris laughed-loud and echoing-and Zach made a face at him.
“Whatever, that trampoline is hard.”
“God, you’re the most ridiculous, too.” It was a smile that showed Chris’ bright teeth, a grin that encompassed the universe-Zach never knew teeth could be so sexy, could make his stomach do an involuntary flip.
Zach looked away and rolled his eyes. “Mocked. Mocked and derided. I see how it is.”
Zach could feel the weight of Chris’ gaze on him in the darkness. The rain was too romantic, the feelings of adoration like sun on bare skin-it was all too warm, and Zach couldn’t look at him. The sky was too dramatic, anyway.
But there was a giddiness threatening to envelope his chest. Zach never liked that feeling-never liked that twitch of excitement, the loss of control over his head. He wanted to stuff it down and remain calm, become Zen with the bad weather outside. Keep on liking Chris without the messy attachments, or the heated opinions that could fuck it all up.
After a few moments there was a quiet sigh, and Chris said, “We should probably head back. Maybe Louis will forget where we are in the program, and we can forgo the whole dancing drama.”
Zach wanted to retort how unlikely that was, but Chris was already opening the door-already heading out into the fluorescent lights that made Zach blink back in pain, suddenly reminded of the real world.
)O(
The real world went by faster than any of them would’ve liked. It was horrifyingly Thursday night before Zach felt a moment of relief, a moment where he didn’t want to crash head-first into Chris’ bed-sans sex, sans consciousness, just lying comatose for a few desperate hours.
But now they were seeing the stage. Instead of a bland gymnasium where Zach had to imagine his own canoe, they now had a real theater-and a real fucking canoe, for that matter.
Joey ran over eagerly, climbing inside like they were about to sled down a hill. The canoe looked sturdy enough as Joey laid down on the floor of it, almost hidden. His fingers knocked the sides, allowing it to echo.
“Fucking cool, dude.”
Zach wanted to agree, except he was too busy staring at the lights. There was an overwhelming enormity to it, the room shaped like a globe and conforming to the corners of Zach’s vision. He wanted to keep turning his head, keep turning in a circle in the middle of the stage to take it all in-the multitude of seats, the plethora of lights, the scenery complicated and lush in detail. Zach’s eyes flicked to each little nuance and texture, wanting to soak it all in.
There was something breathing here. A new life was taking shape and Zach would be a part of it, the birth of this amazing story.
He could feel it in his bones-it would be amazing. He had no doubts. And he would stand in awe of it and be humble, if only for a moment.
“Come test this out.”
Zach reluctantly snapped attention to Joey, who was holding the sides and testing how they could move it back and forth; which seemed to come effortlessly to him. There were likely wheels on the bottom, for Joey glided until he met Zach in the middle of the stage.
There was a big grin on his face. “Easy as pie. We’ll have no problems with this.” Joey slapped the sides, then motioned for Zach to join him. “Come on, let’s sail around.”
Zach slipped behind Joey, going to his knees as he grabbed a long paddle. As he did so he saw the scenery fully in front of him-a pine tree forest of deep hues and copper piping, dark branches overhead. While the copper caught bits of light, the number of them led to an interesting depth, as if menacing creatures could linger within.
Zach knew they concealed the dressing room backstage, but it was impressive, visually. The scope of it was huge and larger than anything that Zach had ever experienced-hell, he’d been in a theater the exact size of this entire stage, once. Gobsmacking.
Once Joey and Zach paddled closer, they saw a few bodies start to appear within the copper forest. Naturally they were Karl and Bruce, and when Zach glanced up he saw John standing on a platform above them, looking down with a playful grin.
This was fun. Neverland for the adults who had unfortunately grown up.
“Can you believe this shit?” John walked the length of his platform, then moved quickly down a concealed ladder. “I feel like we’re in a stadium.”
“Not quite, but close.”
Zach turned to Bruce, who was hanging off the copper wiring. Despite being a veteran, he even seemed impressed.
Karl noticed his gawking. “All the sets are different. The Cirque doesn’t recycle much. When I was in Quidam we had a revolving, sparse set. Same for Corteo.” Karl looked up at the branches. “Varekai wasn’t as detailed as this.”
Eclipse was meant to be a return to their big top productions, and Zach felt like they were going to deliver. Not only with acts, but with an enveloping Cirque experience.
Zach leaned back in the canoe until he was lying flat, blinking against the lights overhead. He could see certain revolving set pieces above him-swings for the Chinese acrobats, wires and ropes for Chris and Anton. There was a peek of blue rope in a corner, and Zach wondered if that was for the end-blue of hope, trust, and optimism.
It was all so good. Zach wanted to close his eyes to capture the moment and not let it slip away.
But he felt a tap on his forehead. When he opened his eyes Chris’ gaze was in view, peering down at him.
“Don’t fall asleep in there,” Chris said softly, “unless I get to climb in there with you.”
Zach rolled his neck to crack it. “Ain’t got room in this two-man canoe.”
Chris raised his brows at the strange accent. “Well, your voyager brother left and got me, so there’s room now.”
Zach sat up and took a look around-empty. He shook his head, hoping Joey hadn’t poked him while he snored, or anything else embarrassing.
Chris offered him a hand and pulled Zach upward, the momentum almost making them collide. But Chris stepped back in time, his head tilted towards the lights.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Chris’ warm hand let go of him, and it took Zach a moment to realize he missed it. “This is as big as the arenas back home. You could fit five events in here and women’s gymnastics.”
It frightened Zach how much Chris shone in the spotlight. He was meant for this stage, like a creature borne of this new, breathing story. But most of all he captured all of Zach’s attention and made him nervous; narrow-visioned when the world was supposed to be a big place.
Chris gave him a questioning glance. “You ready to head back?” But it was not the question Chris had in mind, as Chris watched him warily.
Zach must have nodded, for Chris tugged him by the elbow to pull him forward. They walked through the copper forest until the magic broke, and Zach was glad the backroom was dull and empty, devoid of anything interesting.
He wanted to sleep alone tonight, but was happy to sleep with Chris, instead.
)O(
The preview for Guy Laliberté was in the afternoon, thankfully after a period of adjustment with the stage. They had run through the whole production once in the morning, with Louis silent as they worked out their kinks and improvised. It was an impressive act of restraint for him, and Zach hoped it was because they had finally passed his tests.
No matter, they would be on stage in less than an hour with or without Louis’ approval, and it would be too late to suddenly go back.
“Tilt your head, please.”
Zach did as the makeup artist told him, her fingertips gentle on his chin. A white sponge applied a thin layer of foundation, and Zach watched closely-on tour, he’d need to apply this pattern himself. Eyebrows were emphasized, a brown liner with coral lipstick around his mouth. Stippling with a darker foundation was used to bring out a five o’clock shadow, and a long, dark wig was hidden underneath a red hat to complete the voyager look.
After too much powder later, Zach looked oddly at himself in the mirror-then counted his blessings when John appeared, with red and white zig-zag patterns on his face and neck.
“Don’t laugh,” John said in a low warning, and Zach barely withheld a smirk.
“Actually… it all matches?” Which was the truth. The zig-zags on John’s face matched his red flowy garments and ceremonial rain stick-or whatever the fuck it was, with feathers and gemstones and things.
John looked sideways at himself in the mirror. “I guess they took the demon thing literally.”
“Yeah.
Zach looked at his plain chambray tunic, with tan pants tucked into brown boots, and counted himself lucky once again. When he caught up with Joey, his apparent doppelgänger, he had passed a lot of the other costumes-Zoe in her yellows and pinks, Natalia and Eric in greens. Chris was clad in purple and silver for his routine with Karl and Bruce, who were in the same colors. The Chinese streaked backstage in orange and blue, followed by Anton in glittery silver.
The sandman and the voyagers would be contrasting with the performers every second, with Zach’s plain costume meant to fade into the background. Since he was not clad in spandex and showing off his bulge, he suspected the costume designers would succeed in that regard.
“Live in five minutes-line up!”
Everyone was already there, the pronouncement unnecessary. They had all been peeking through the copper forest, trying to see whether Guy Laliberté had brought any friends.
But once the music started and John strode out on a top tier-complete with his opening lines of destiny-it no longer mattered. They were live.
Bodies rushed past Zach as the performers jumped out in a flash mob towards the audience. He raced with Joey to the canoe backstage as they heard the roaring ”Ah!” of the mob, then started to paddle out as all the sirens skittered away, becoming creatures of the night.
It was time. When they broke the edge of the copper forest, Zach barely noticed the three people at the back of the bleachers, instantly becoming absorbed by the faux night sky.
When Joey departed from their canoe to pull out a comical picture of his wife, pointing mournfully, Zach flew into his character without a hitch.
Which really should’ve said something. Every show needed a flaw, but Zach was fluid with the other performers, with Joey especially, and with the sandman trying to lure them to the dark side. It was better than music, better than honed choreography. The story was exciting and electric, and Zach found himself living and breathing every moment.
When their canoe sluiced through imaginary waters, the voyagers morose after the erotically charged dance between Zoe and Eric, it did momentarily surprise Zach to see a blue figure above them. But he caught up with himself, marveling as Chris soared through the air, limbs trapped in indigo silk, falling in aerial circles. Zach was once again struck by the precision and fearlessness as Chris was able to make sharp angles with his body, sometimes only supported by a wrist or a wrapped ankle.
Despite knowing it was coming, he still fell back when Chris dove towards them. It only took mere seconds, diving like a bullet, and Zach felt the gasp leave him as Joey yelled.
Still and silent, Chris hung like a teardrop, hands stretched towards the canoe. Zach knew he had to move, had to reach up-but Zach watched the stoic and angelic face, his eyes following the jaw line.
Zach felt paralyzed. What the fuck was happening? He could only stare at the taunt lines of Chris’ body, his chest booming with something powerful. Chris was everything frightening and beautiful, and Zach wanted to race out of the canoe, race away from the stage-run away from the reminder that real life was waiting after all of this, after this whole story unfolded.
Zach knew he had ruined it, had waited a beat too long, so he reached up hurriedly to compensate-fingers touching a strand of blond hair as Chris flipped up, climbing the indigo silk out of reach.
The magic of the performance broke for Zach, and he was angry at himself for that shattered moment. The drama was gone-Zach knew he had seemed afraid instead of enchanted-and thus killed the impetus for following the siren off-stage towards home. What was their motivation now? Zach willed himself to not look at their audience, not wanting to see a frown on Louis’ face.
But he and Joey paddled off-stage anyway, finishing in a grand finale where they finally reached their home, symbolic with tents in the distance. As he and Joey ran towards them, the sirens came out to cheer them on and wave goodbye. The sandman, watching from a perch overheard, looked smug as he sang the closing number above their heads.
Zach wished he felt as smug as before, in the beginning of their performance, but he was already mentally beating himself up. Everyone surely noticed, and surely Zach would hear about it, being one of the anchors of the entire show.
Louis, Guy Laliberté, and Kurt from orientation all stood up in eager applause, but Zach didn’t buy it. He feigned a smile as all of the performers took their final bow, then ran through the copper forest and off-stage to completely end the show.
Zach wanted to race back to the IKEA house, but knew that judgment would await him wherever he went.
“Hey, dude,” Joey said quietly as Zach angrily ripped off his cap. “We had a great show. What on Earth are you mad about?”
Zach could only glare. He couldn’t tell if Joey had genuinely not noticed or if he was being kind, but Zach couldn’t stand either right now.
Chris had distracted him. Zach’s inattention and apparent infatuation had ruined things, and now Zach was the dangling thread that could unhinge the show. How unprofessional could he get? He wanted to punch his fist through the wall.
“Back on stage, please! The director would like to speak to all of you.”
The mob of performers rushed behind Zach, but all Zach could do was put his head in his hands, trying to will his legs to move through the copper forest.
It was only with a consoling blue hand on his shoulder that Zach finally did, jerking his body out of reach to march towards judgment alone.
)O(
But there had been no harsh punishments. In fact, Guy Laliberté had grinned at them, saying it was moments such as their performance that made him glad to have formed the Cirque. Okay, he had even said in praise.
But Zach had skipped out on dinner, going straight to his suite after the whole ordeal was over. He needed to think-alone, possibly with the music blaring in his room, possibly while he paced back and forth and contemplated too many options.
He needed to not see Chris-not see him as often. Not see him at all. Break things off completely for the good of the show, or at least maybe not sleep together until it was all over.
Plan A, plan B, plan C-Zach slammed the glass door to his suite, cringing when it made a loud crack against the frame. One of these days he might break the thing, and perhaps it would be tonight if he got mad enough.
Zach heard stomping behind him, and of course Zach was going to get mad enough.
“What the fuck was that?” Chris said in his dangerous calm, the low voice where he over-enunciated. “We had a great show, and you’re tramping around like we’ve all been sent home.”
Why was everyone playing with him like this? Were they giving him a break? It was not in their best interests to lie. Frankly, Zach deserved to be smacked around.
“I fucked up our bit,” Zach spat out, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “I froze, I hesitated, I took too long.”
“I know.”
Zach looked directly at Chris, their gazes snapping together like magnets. Chris looked pissed himself, and Zach was glad of it.
“Then why the hell are you saying we did ‘great’? We were great in rehearsal this morning-not now.”
“Because the world doesn’t actually revolve around you, Zach. You had a moment of panic-so what? You won’t let it happen again. And frankly, it still came off as horrified fascination, so it wasn’t outside the scope of possibil-“
Zach threw up his hands and stomped dramatically into the living room. “Fuck!”
“Not now, we have things to discuss.”
Zach turned and gave his best glare, but Chris didn’t even flinch. He was in his serious business stance-hands on hips, with his face calmer than still waters in a Zen painting.
Zach hated it. “That’s precisely the problem.” Something squeezed his chest when he said it, but he kept barreling forward. “You’re too much of a distraction and it’s hurting the show.”
Chris crossed his arms. “Oh, is that what you’re going tell yourself?”
Lovely. More pseudo-analytical shit. “We need to break up.”
“’Breaking up’ implies that we were together as boyfriends at some point.”
Zach looked at him widely with a huff of disbelief. “So says the person who’s been-“ Zach flailed with his hands, trying to find the word, “couple-y with me these past two months.”
“Yeah, I tried. It doesn’t help when the other person has erected the Great Wall of China in defense.”
Zach narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“You know, that big mother-fucking object you can see from space?”
“Oh, I’m aware.” Zach didn’t know what the fuck that had to do with anything, but Chris was looking at him drolly, like he was the biggest pinhead in the room.
“Or perhaps you’re more like the Strait of Gibraltar.”
Zach paused at that one. “That’s…. not even a man-made structure. If you’re going to start making metaphors about objects-“
Chris looked at him squarely, unimpressed. “So you were distracted. Huh-imagine that! The Great Zachary Quinto sees my stupid face every day, and I’m supposed to believe you were just distracted by my-what, beauty? Incredible physique?” Chris pointed at his face. “Baby blues?”
Zach glared at him. “Get out.”
“You know, when I first met you, I thought you were just a stuck-up asshole. Flippant and avoidant because you were selfish, and inconsiderate, and conceited-“
“Have you met me? I am.”
“-When really it’s that you have the most amazing capacity to care too much.” Chris growled the last through clenched teeth. “You selfless, noble, and idiotic martyr.”
“Shut up.”
“You’ve isolated yourself way over here, trying to be the strong one-“
Chris’s fingers were starting to mime people at great distances, and Zach couldn’t take it. “Fuck you.”
“When on the other side of our metaphorical Gibraltar-“
Zach covered his ears, la la la la la.
“-are all these fucking people who love and care about you!”
Chris had actually shouted the last, his voice ringing throughout the apartment, and it punched the air out of all the spaces.
Zach was impressed. Scared, but also impressed. “What is it with you and Herculean metaphors, anyway?”
Chris took a deep, hissing breath, his hands unable to stop shaking. “I didn’t distract you. Don’t blame it on me.”
Zach rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Hmm, actually, I’m pretty sure it was you who distracted me. Considering I was the distracted party and all.”
Chris took a calming breath and closed his eyes. He had come a long way since Zach had met him-Zach had graduated him from Zen master, to pissed off dude, to screaming idiot in the span of six months.
Really, it probably did him some good. “I’m waiting. You know, for you to leave.”
Chris opened his eyes again, and this time the blue was stained glass. It wasn’t fair-Zach had seen those eyes in bed before, in hidden glimpses at the gym. They were entirely too kind.
“If you think things will get better if you don’t fuck me, then fine. Fine.” Chris gestured too casually, too flippantly. “But if you’re ever willing to grow up and acknowledge that you have feelings-“
“Get out.”
“-and you want to stop running away from them-“
“Out!”
“Know it’s not me fucking holding you up!” At that Chris stomped out, and Zach was incredibly glad to turn his back on that-that-fucking bullshit.
Things had become too complicated, too quickly. Zach rubbed his temples, begging the world to stop spinning for a moment and just stand still, completely silent. He had come here alone to think, after all. None of this had been conducive to-
Glass shattered, and Zach really didnt want to look at the door. But there was Chris, standing at the wooden frame, throwing a middle finger at the shattered glass on the ground.
“Fuck my life,” Zach muttered at the ceiling. Chris might have cursed as well, but it was beside the point.
How was it that being upset with his performance had led to this? How was he the only one upset, for that matter? Why wasn’t there a whole line of people stomping in right now, demanding to have words with him? Breaking his fucking door?
“Ahhhhhh- fuck!” Zach shouted at the ceiling, because he really did like yelling. Screaming, punching, cursing at the top of his lungs-that had been sorely missing the last few months. It was like a wind from his sails, a complete and utter relief.
He took a deep breath and walked gingerly over to the door, mindful of the shards of glass on the ground. It was embedded into the eco carpeting, glinting in prisms when he eyed their sharp edges.
It all served him right. “I should know by now to have fights in other people’s apartments.”
Zach hoped Joey wouldn’t get mad about the door.
Masterlist | Act IV (Part One)
Masterlist: I ( One, Two) | II ( One, Two) | III ( One, Two) | IV ( One, Two)
“I’m sorry, I thought I was dealing with a group of professionals, not fucking children!”
Zach turned and gave a raised eyebrow to Joey. Five months ago, when they had met Louis and he started yelling at them like this, Joey had been shaking in his boots. Now even Joey had learned to tune it out, giving a wink to Natalia next to him.
“Hey, Joe, I didn’t realize we were Match.com and not the fucking Cirque du Soleil!”
At that Joey snapped to attention, suddenly aware of the tiny bald man in his space. Muscular, but still a good foot shorter-probably had a good knee kick.
“In case the whole class was not aware, we give a preview to Guy Laliberté-you know, the man who’s responsible for your paychecks?-in less than seventy-two fucking hours..” Louis was more like a boiled lobster than a man. “Don’t let him think you’ve been screwing around this entire time, because he will scrap a production.”
What a threat. Zach tilted his head-he was quite aware of the stakes, but it was the first time that he had realized that maybe Louis had something at stake. Like, a future, and not just as a salaried choreographer.
“Come on, then!” Louis flapped his arms in exasperation, then went into the back of bleachers to shout at them from afar. “Start at the top of Act III!”
Joey gave Zach a wary look, which Zach definitely shared. The whole shouting match had started because of Act III-because Anton, who was on a tightrope, had not fallen in tune to the music. Nevermind that they had just started practicing with the newly-recorded music two days ago.
On the other hand, Zach found out he liked Anton more than expected. When Anton had not fallen on time, he had only glared at Louis with a visual I am nota fucking child.
Zach had wanted to be bro-like and fist bump, but Anton was back on the high wire already, apparently eager for torture.
The music started up again-reminiscent, like John said, of the Amazon-and Zach and Joey pretended to paddle their canoe to an inland beach. There they would walk out and see Anton on the wire-chased by the Sandman, of course.
“Oh!” Zach said as he pointed up in astonishment. Anton was doing some impressive running backwards-bare feet on a wire no thicker than a rope-as John stood on a wooden platform, looking menacing.
Well, as menacing as a Sandman could be.
Dramatic music played as Anton and the Sandman went back and forth. Zach heard laughter behind him as he and Joey tilted side-to-side with the action, like exuberant sports fans-leaning back with fear, leaning to the side in anxiousness, watching Anton’s every move.
But it was short, in that John finally cued Anton to the right point of the music. He fell with a backflip-right into Zach’s outstretched arms.
Anton had the naïve youth look down pat, for he looked frightened as he scrambled out of Zach’s grasp. He moved like a spider, using both hands and feet to get around and back away.
It was in these moments that Zach felt most sure about himself. Actually, most of the act went smoothly-Joey and Zach had been on point that entire day, as with most of the performers-and this time was no exception. Once Anton had fallen in league with the music, the voyagers were able to follow him slowly, cautiously, until they found Anton balancing on another piece of wire, where the character thought he was performing in privacy and solitude.
Voyeur voyagers, apparently. But at the end they would be caught, and Anton would scramble away for good-after giving a harrowing act of backflips, handstands, and near-impossible feats of balance with objects on his head.
There was polite applause-Louis had encouraged it to promote a “live atmosphere”-and then he called for a cut. Which was just as well, because the next scene was a ballroom of sirens, where Zoe and Eric danced together.
Not awkward whatsoever. Especially with that rumor of Eric moving in to vacated territory.
“Thank god Louis called a lunch break,” Chris muttered under his breath. He had somehow started guiding Zach by the elbow-probably because his nosy face had wanted to follow Zoe and Eric around the corner.
But Chris led Zach to a picnic table outside, where gorgeous weather awaited: Cloudy, about to rain, probably lightning imminent.
“Why did we come out here? They were just about to head to-“
“None of your business.”
Zach pouted. Chris showed up at the most un-fun of times.
“And anyway, nothing exciting would happen.” Chris pulled a water bottle out of his hoodie pocket and placed it on the table, not looking like he had said anything interesting.
Zach narrowed his eyes. “What, they’re not boinking?”
Chris gave an are you joking? look, but Zach shook his head.
“Is Zoe not in the mood for a rebound, or…?”
“More like you should ask Eric.”
“Ask Eric what?”
“If he wants to go to a gay bar.”
Zach perked up at the thought and looked back at the building-now that was an idea.
“Although if you did, I’d punch somebody.”
“You look like you’d have a mean right hook.” Not that Zach was looking at Chris, but he had held down those biceps before.
There was a sigh from across the table, and Zach eventually looked back at Chris-a partially agitated Chris. Which was becoming more and more familiar lately.
They had not had that talk, and that was entirely Zach’s fault. Then again, Chris had a habit of stroking Zach’s cock before he could open his mouth, so that was also an issue.
“What? What did I do?”
Chris looked down at the table with a thin smile. “What would you like for lunch?”
A Chris-Eric-Zach sandwich, but Zach didn’t think that would go over very well. “I don’t know.” Zach looked up at the darkening clouds and pointed at the sky. “Let’s grab something quick and then watch this.”
Obviously those were the right words, for Chris looked up then-blue eyes bright and breathtaking. Which was stupidly romantic, but then Chris was stupidly attractive. Even better from behind as Chris led the way to the cafeteria, grabbed their mac and cheese, and then headed to a quiet and dark conference room.
That was another strange thing at the Cirque-Zach felt he could pop in his head anywhere, take a gander, poke around. As much as Louis expected much of his charges, maybe it was because they had freedoms like this. Responsibilities meted with independence.
Chris pulled up a padded office chair to one of the windows and Zach followed suit. They were comfortable and leaned back too far, but Zach was able to put up his feet on a shelf above the A/C vents.
They said nothing as the storm rolled in. It was very dramatic for a time-too much wind that made the bushes scratch glass, the trees whip and bend, the electric poles look to blow over. And then, of course, came a gentle rain, soft and pattering and almost loud enough over the central air.
“Katie and I used to do this all the time.”
Zach gave Chris a sideways glance. “Doesn’t everyone do this?”
There was a shrug as Chris looked down at his empty bowl. “Maybe.”
Zach had finished his, so there was no offering of leftovers. “Joey and I used to sit under this bridge by our house for thunderstorms. There was this ledge that we’d crawl into, and we’d watch the rain pool and drip off the wooden planks and beams.”
That made Chris secretly smile, and Zach wondered what it was all about. It was a long, stretched moment where Chris was thinking, perhaps remembering a moment in particular. It only made Zach more curious.
“My mom’s house had something like that-she had an all-around porch with wooden eaves. Katie and I would sit in chairs and watch the rain drip into the garden.”
That made Zach narrow his eyes. “Did you parents live apart?” He had never really asked before-he had just assumed things. Which probably proved that old and known adage to be true.
Chris took a deep breath. “Yeah. Like, when I was 12, my parents divorced. My mom married a nice guy and got an awesome house, and my dad had a shitty apartment in the city.”
“Eww.”
“Yeah-bugs and things, unfortunately. Not that my dad wasn’t clean, but…” Chris made a sheepish face. “If the landlord doesn’t fix your A/C, or the screens on your windows, or kick out the hoarders living below you…”
Zach nodded along-been there, done that. “That sucks.”
“So we mostly had extended weekends with Dad, but had that-you know-wonderful and privileged upbringing with Mom.”
Now that was something. Chris could be caustic and sarcastic, but bitterness wasn’t really his thing.
“I should be grateful, honestly-and I am. Really.”
“Who did she marry?”
Chris waved the question off. “He wasn’t the problem. Actually, if it wasn’t for Richard, I probably wouldn’t have been able to stay in gymnastics, Katie wouldn’t have been an equestrian, and Mom would’ve had to work somewhere else.”
Zach turned in his chair, ignoring the storm. “What does she do?”
“Some home-based art therapy thing. It’s really cool, but it’s all based on acting and reaching your creative potential, or some shit.”
Zach smiled as he remembered something. “That’s why she wanted you to come here, probably.”
Chris raised his hands in imitation. “’Christopher, honey, art can heal everything.’”
Zach really couldn’t disagree-neither with him or Joey.
“But no, my mom is great.”
“And your dad?”
“I’m lucky. I know that-you taught me that.”
Zach kept close watch as Chris took their empty bowls and set them aside. He didn’t quite trust anything-Chris was an honest person, but it was an edited honesty. That was the danger of him, in that Zach always knew there’d be words and moments and feelings that Chris would never willingly say.
Maybe they were alike, in that way.
“Your sister was into horses?”
Chris leaned back with a huge sigh. “Oh yeah. She won medals and trophies and had her own massive room of awards. She got into Sweet Briar with an athletic scholarship.” Chris shook his head. “Like, really? She’s riding a horse and she gets an athletic scholarship?”
“Maybe she… clenches her thighs, or some shit?” Zach knew nothing about it, and frankly never intended to-horses were big and scary things.
“I’m just… yeah, it’s actually hard. Katie is really good at it, and good to the horses.” Chris wore a wan smile. “But she’s married now and owns a horse ranch. She doesn’t even do the equestrian jumping anymore.”
Zach felt a little light go off in his head-an engine light, a seatbelt light, his hazards.
“So she wasn’t really passionate about it.”
Chris looked at the ceiling and gave a humorless laugh. “I wonder if Mom ever kept count of all the thousands she spent, so Katie could run away to Colorado and never look back.”
Before Zach could open his mouth for another question, Chris sat up and forward, rubbing his hands.
“Sometimes, when I’m lying in bed at night, I think back on what could’ve happened if Mom had spent those thousands on me. You know? Selfishly. If I could’ve moved to another state and had the best trainers, the best facilities-the best chances with people who had actually been to the Olympics.” Chris looked at him darkly. “You know what kills me? Katie was offered the Olympics and she turned it down.”
Hairs rose on the back of Zach’s neck. He straightened up without thinking and spoke without thinking, “Man, what a cunt.”
There was a long and pregnant pause-Chris’ mouth forming an O in complete shock-and Zach almost thought he was going to punch him.
Chris needed a moment to speak. “You… just called my sister a cunt.”
Zach threw up his hands. “Well? She took your dreams and stomped them under her princess heel. Sounds cunt-y to me.”
Chris snorted in disbelief. “Wow. I just-I can’t believe you, sometimes. What if you meet her someday?”
“So? I’d ask her why your mom invested in the wrong child. Have you ever thought of getting a bit angry with that? Some art therapy thing, where you stomp around in your bare feet. Do a fucking-I don’t know-finger painting with your toes in rage?”
Chris shook his head with wonder. “I should probably hit you, or something.”
“Whatever, you threatened earlier.” Zach reached over and flicked his shoulder. “You’re a big ol’ softie underneath your derision.”
Chris continued to stare at him, growing more pissed by the second, but Zach mouthed marshmallow and Chris turned away.
It was strange, in the darkness, how Chris looked starkly beautiful. Zach was becoming a keen observer of these things. Men had angles and lines that nothing in nature could recreate, but Chris topped them all with his anger. It was electric and alive. It made Chris’ frame tense, put his muscles on edge, and gave the idea that he would be quicker than the lightning strikes outside if provoked.
Zach had yet to see Chris this angry. It was amazing. Granted, he had insulted Chris’ mother and sister in one breath, so it was warranted. But Zach had lost his shit before when someone insulted Joey-even mildly, or joking.
“I received a lot of support. I really did. Mom sent me here, after all.” Chris glanced at Zach, and suddenly the tenseness was gone, replaced with his trademarked calm and patience. “I love Katie. A lot. And I guess I wouldn’t be jealous if I had just received a tad bit of that faith that she did-if Mom and Dad thought I was the most amazing gymnast in the world, instead of just the brother of the most amazing high jumper.”
What semantics. Zach personally found it whiny and a bit petty. But then again, Zach had lived a life out of bounds and without the desire of approval-that had bit Joey in the ass. What sort of person did that make Chris, if Chris had never caved to the pressure? Or presumably never caved.
Chris slid down in his seat, turning to his side so he could smile at Zach. It was easy, but almost eerie compared to the conversation before, and Zach didn’t know what to make of it.
“You know, I’ve never had a bulldog before.”
Zach squinted in confusion. “What?”
“You know, someone who’s had my back completely.” Chris reached out, finding Zach’s leg in the darkness. “You’re the most loyal person I’ve ever met.”
It was such a quick motion-his fingertip skimming along Zach’s clothed thigh-and then it was gone. Like Chris just needed a moment of reassurance, a desire seized without thinking.
Zach found he couldn’t complain about it, perhaps even missed it.
“You’re just a badass gymnast, that’s all.” Zach swallowed and hid his hands in his lap. “You can do the trampoline.”
At that Chris laughed-loud and echoing-and Zach made a face at him.
“Whatever, that trampoline is hard.”
“God, you’re the most ridiculous, too.” It was a smile that showed Chris’ bright teeth, a grin that encompassed the universe-Zach never knew teeth could be so sexy, could make his stomach do an involuntary flip.
Zach looked away and rolled his eyes. “Mocked. Mocked and derided. I see how it is.”
Zach could feel the weight of Chris’ gaze on him in the darkness. The rain was too romantic, the feelings of adoration like sun on bare skin-it was all too warm, and Zach couldn’t look at him. The sky was too dramatic, anyway.
But there was a giddiness threatening to envelope his chest. Zach never liked that feeling-never liked that twitch of excitement, the loss of control over his head. He wanted to stuff it down and remain calm, become Zen with the bad weather outside. Keep on liking Chris without the messy attachments, or the heated opinions that could fuck it all up.
After a few moments there was a quiet sigh, and Chris said, “We should probably head back. Maybe Louis will forget where we are in the program, and we can forgo the whole dancing drama.”
Zach wanted to retort how unlikely that was, but Chris was already opening the door-already heading out into the fluorescent lights that made Zach blink back in pain, suddenly reminded of the real world.
)O(
The real world went by faster than any of them would’ve liked. It was horrifyingly Thursday night before Zach felt a moment of relief, a moment where he didn’t want to crash head-first into Chris’ bed-sans sex, sans consciousness, just lying comatose for a few desperate hours.
But now they were seeing the stage. Instead of a bland gymnasium where Zach had to imagine his own canoe, they now had a real theater-and a real fucking canoe, for that matter.
Joey ran over eagerly, climbing inside like they were about to sled down a hill. The canoe looked sturdy enough as Joey laid down on the floor of it, almost hidden. His fingers knocked the sides, allowing it to echo.
“Fucking cool, dude.”
Zach wanted to agree, except he was too busy staring at the lights. There was an overwhelming enormity to it, the room shaped like a globe and conforming to the corners of Zach’s vision. He wanted to keep turning his head, keep turning in a circle in the middle of the stage to take it all in-the multitude of seats, the plethora of lights, the scenery complicated and lush in detail. Zach’s eyes flicked to each little nuance and texture, wanting to soak it all in.
There was something breathing here. A new life was taking shape and Zach would be a part of it, the birth of this amazing story.
He could feel it in his bones-it would be amazing. He had no doubts. And he would stand in awe of it and be humble, if only for a moment.
“Come test this out.”
Zach reluctantly snapped attention to Joey, who was holding the sides and testing how they could move it back and forth; which seemed to come effortlessly to him. There were likely wheels on the bottom, for Joey glided until he met Zach in the middle of the stage.
There was a big grin on his face. “Easy as pie. We’ll have no problems with this.” Joey slapped the sides, then motioned for Zach to join him. “Come on, let’s sail around.”
Zach slipped behind Joey, going to his knees as he grabbed a long paddle. As he did so he saw the scenery fully in front of him-a pine tree forest of deep hues and copper piping, dark branches overhead. While the copper caught bits of light, the number of them led to an interesting depth, as if menacing creatures could linger within.
Zach knew they concealed the dressing room backstage, but it was impressive, visually. The scope of it was huge and larger than anything that Zach had ever experienced-hell, he’d been in a theater the exact size of this entire stage, once. Gobsmacking.
Once Joey and Zach paddled closer, they saw a few bodies start to appear within the copper forest. Naturally they were Karl and Bruce, and when Zach glanced up he saw John standing on a platform above them, looking down with a playful grin.
This was fun. Neverland for the adults who had unfortunately grown up.
“Can you believe this shit?” John walked the length of his platform, then moved quickly down a concealed ladder. “I feel like we’re in a stadium.”
“Not quite, but close.”
Zach turned to Bruce, who was hanging off the copper wiring. Despite being a veteran, he even seemed impressed.
Karl noticed his gawking. “All the sets are different. The Cirque doesn’t recycle much. When I was in Quidam we had a revolving, sparse set. Same for Corteo.” Karl looked up at the branches. “Varekai wasn’t as detailed as this.”
Eclipse was meant to be a return to their big top productions, and Zach felt like they were going to deliver. Not only with acts, but with an enveloping Cirque experience.
Zach leaned back in the canoe until he was lying flat, blinking against the lights overhead. He could see certain revolving set pieces above him-swings for the Chinese acrobats, wires and ropes for Chris and Anton. There was a peek of blue rope in a corner, and Zach wondered if that was for the end-blue of hope, trust, and optimism.
It was all so good. Zach wanted to close his eyes to capture the moment and not let it slip away.
But he felt a tap on his forehead. When he opened his eyes Chris’ gaze was in view, peering down at him.
“Don’t fall asleep in there,” Chris said softly, “unless I get to climb in there with you.”
Zach rolled his neck to crack it. “Ain’t got room in this two-man canoe.”
Chris raised his brows at the strange accent. “Well, your voyager brother left and got me, so there’s room now.”
Zach sat up and took a look around-empty. He shook his head, hoping Joey hadn’t poked him while he snored, or anything else embarrassing.
Chris offered him a hand and pulled Zach upward, the momentum almost making them collide. But Chris stepped back in time, his head tilted towards the lights.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Chris’ warm hand let go of him, and it took Zach a moment to realize he missed it. “This is as big as the arenas back home. You could fit five events in here and women’s gymnastics.”
It frightened Zach how much Chris shone in the spotlight. He was meant for this stage, like a creature borne of this new, breathing story. But most of all he captured all of Zach’s attention and made him nervous; narrow-visioned when the world was supposed to be a big place.
Chris gave him a questioning glance. “You ready to head back?” But it was not the question Chris had in mind, as Chris watched him warily.
Zach must have nodded, for Chris tugged him by the elbow to pull him forward. They walked through the copper forest until the magic broke, and Zach was glad the backroom was dull and empty, devoid of anything interesting.
He wanted to sleep alone tonight, but was happy to sleep with Chris, instead.
)O(
The preview for Guy Laliberté was in the afternoon, thankfully after a period of adjustment with the stage. They had run through the whole production once in the morning, with Louis silent as they worked out their kinks and improvised. It was an impressive act of restraint for him, and Zach hoped it was because they had finally passed his tests.
No matter, they would be on stage in less than an hour with or without Louis’ approval, and it would be too late to suddenly go back.
“Tilt your head, please.”
Zach did as the makeup artist told him, her fingertips gentle on his chin. A white sponge applied a thin layer of foundation, and Zach watched closely-on tour, he’d need to apply this pattern himself. Eyebrows were emphasized, a brown liner with coral lipstick around his mouth. Stippling with a darker foundation was used to bring out a five o’clock shadow, and a long, dark wig was hidden underneath a red hat to complete the voyager look.
After too much powder later, Zach looked oddly at himself in the mirror-then counted his blessings when John appeared, with red and white zig-zag patterns on his face and neck.
“Don’t laugh,” John said in a low warning, and Zach barely withheld a smirk.
“Actually… it all matches?” Which was the truth. The zig-zags on John’s face matched his red flowy garments and ceremonial rain stick-or whatever the fuck it was, with feathers and gemstones and things.
John looked sideways at himself in the mirror. “I guess they took the demon thing literally.”
“Yeah.
Zach looked at his plain chambray tunic, with tan pants tucked into brown boots, and counted himself lucky once again. When he caught up with Joey, his apparent doppelgänger, he had passed a lot of the other costumes-Zoe in her yellows and pinks, Natalia and Eric in greens. Chris was clad in purple and silver for his routine with Karl and Bruce, who were in the same colors. The Chinese streaked backstage in orange and blue, followed by Anton in glittery silver.
The sandman and the voyagers would be contrasting with the performers every second, with Zach’s plain costume meant to fade into the background. Since he was not clad in spandex and showing off his bulge, he suspected the costume designers would succeed in that regard.
“Live in five minutes-line up!”
Everyone was already there, the pronouncement unnecessary. They had all been peeking through the copper forest, trying to see whether Guy Laliberté had brought any friends.
But once the music started and John strode out on a top tier-complete with his opening lines of destiny-it no longer mattered. They were live.
Bodies rushed past Zach as the performers jumped out in a flash mob towards the audience. He raced with Joey to the canoe backstage as they heard the roaring ”Ah!” of the mob, then started to paddle out as all the sirens skittered away, becoming creatures of the night.
It was time. When they broke the edge of the copper forest, Zach barely noticed the three people at the back of the bleachers, instantly becoming absorbed by the faux night sky.
When Joey departed from their canoe to pull out a comical picture of his wife, pointing mournfully, Zach flew into his character without a hitch.
Which really should’ve said something. Every show needed a flaw, but Zach was fluid with the other performers, with Joey especially, and with the sandman trying to lure them to the dark side. It was better than music, better than honed choreography. The story was exciting and electric, and Zach found himself living and breathing every moment.
When their canoe sluiced through imaginary waters, the voyagers morose after the erotically charged dance between Zoe and Eric, it did momentarily surprise Zach to see a blue figure above them. But he caught up with himself, marveling as Chris soared through the air, limbs trapped in indigo silk, falling in aerial circles. Zach was once again struck by the precision and fearlessness as Chris was able to make sharp angles with his body, sometimes only supported by a wrist or a wrapped ankle.
Despite knowing it was coming, he still fell back when Chris dove towards them. It only took mere seconds, diving like a bullet, and Zach felt the gasp leave him as Joey yelled.
Still and silent, Chris hung like a teardrop, hands stretched towards the canoe. Zach knew he had to move, had to reach up-but Zach watched the stoic and angelic face, his eyes following the jaw line.
Zach felt paralyzed. What the fuck was happening? He could only stare at the taunt lines of Chris’ body, his chest booming with something powerful. Chris was everything frightening and beautiful, and Zach wanted to race out of the canoe, race away from the stage-run away from the reminder that real life was waiting after all of this, after this whole story unfolded.
Zach knew he had ruined it, had waited a beat too long, so he reached up hurriedly to compensate-fingers touching a strand of blond hair as Chris flipped up, climbing the indigo silk out of reach.
The magic of the performance broke for Zach, and he was angry at himself for that shattered moment. The drama was gone-Zach knew he had seemed afraid instead of enchanted-and thus killed the impetus for following the siren off-stage towards home. What was their motivation now? Zach willed himself to not look at their audience, not wanting to see a frown on Louis’ face.
But he and Joey paddled off-stage anyway, finishing in a grand finale where they finally reached their home, symbolic with tents in the distance. As he and Joey ran towards them, the sirens came out to cheer them on and wave goodbye. The sandman, watching from a perch overheard, looked smug as he sang the closing number above their heads.
Zach wished he felt as smug as before, in the beginning of their performance, but he was already mentally beating himself up. Everyone surely noticed, and surely Zach would hear about it, being one of the anchors of the entire show.
Louis, Guy Laliberté, and Kurt from orientation all stood up in eager applause, but Zach didn’t buy it. He feigned a smile as all of the performers took their final bow, then ran through the copper forest and off-stage to completely end the show.
Zach wanted to race back to the IKEA house, but knew that judgment would await him wherever he went.
“Hey, dude,” Joey said quietly as Zach angrily ripped off his cap. “We had a great show. What on Earth are you mad about?”
Zach could only glare. He couldn’t tell if Joey had genuinely not noticed or if he was being kind, but Zach couldn’t stand either right now.
Chris had distracted him. Zach’s inattention and apparent infatuation had ruined things, and now Zach was the dangling thread that could unhinge the show. How unprofessional could he get? He wanted to punch his fist through the wall.
“Back on stage, please! The director would like to speak to all of you.”
The mob of performers rushed behind Zach, but all Zach could do was put his head in his hands, trying to will his legs to move through the copper forest.
It was only with a consoling blue hand on his shoulder that Zach finally did, jerking his body out of reach to march towards judgment alone.
)O(
But there had been no harsh punishments. In fact, Guy Laliberté had grinned at them, saying it was moments such as their performance that made him glad to have formed the Cirque. Okay, he had even said in praise.
But Zach had skipped out on dinner, going straight to his suite after the whole ordeal was over. He needed to think-alone, possibly with the music blaring in his room, possibly while he paced back and forth and contemplated too many options.
He needed to not see Chris-not see him as often. Not see him at all. Break things off completely for the good of the show, or at least maybe not sleep together until it was all over.
Plan A, plan B, plan C-Zach slammed the glass door to his suite, cringing when it made a loud crack against the frame. One of these days he might break the thing, and perhaps it would be tonight if he got mad enough.
Zach heard stomping behind him, and of course Zach was going to get mad enough.
“What the fuck was that?” Chris said in his dangerous calm, the low voice where he over-enunciated. “We had a great show, and you’re tramping around like we’ve all been sent home.”
Why was everyone playing with him like this? Were they giving him a break? It was not in their best interests to lie. Frankly, Zach deserved to be smacked around.
“I fucked up our bit,” Zach spat out, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “I froze, I hesitated, I took too long.”
“I know.”
Zach looked directly at Chris, their gazes snapping together like magnets. Chris looked pissed himself, and Zach was glad of it.
“Then why the hell are you saying we did ‘great’? We were great in rehearsal this morning-not now.”
“Because the world doesn’t actually revolve around you, Zach. You had a moment of panic-so what? You won’t let it happen again. And frankly, it still came off as horrified fascination, so it wasn’t outside the scope of possibil-“
Zach threw up his hands and stomped dramatically into the living room. “Fuck!”
“Not now, we have things to discuss.”
Zach turned and gave his best glare, but Chris didn’t even flinch. He was in his serious business stance-hands on hips, with his face calmer than still waters in a Zen painting.
Zach hated it. “That’s precisely the problem.” Something squeezed his chest when he said it, but he kept barreling forward. “You’re too much of a distraction and it’s hurting the show.”
Chris crossed his arms. “Oh, is that what you’re going tell yourself?”
Lovely. More pseudo-analytical shit. “We need to break up.”
“’Breaking up’ implies that we were together as boyfriends at some point.”
Zach looked at him widely with a huff of disbelief. “So says the person who’s been-“ Zach flailed with his hands, trying to find the word, “couple-y with me these past two months.”
“Yeah, I tried. It doesn’t help when the other person has erected the Great Wall of China in defense.”
Zach narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“You know, that big mother-fucking object you can see from space?”
“Oh, I’m aware.” Zach didn’t know what the fuck that had to do with anything, but Chris was looking at him drolly, like he was the biggest pinhead in the room.
“Or perhaps you’re more like the Strait of Gibraltar.”
Zach paused at that one. “That’s…. not even a man-made structure. If you’re going to start making metaphors about objects-“
Chris looked at him squarely, unimpressed. “So you were distracted. Huh-imagine that! The Great Zachary Quinto sees my stupid face every day, and I’m supposed to believe you were just distracted by my-what, beauty? Incredible physique?” Chris pointed at his face. “Baby blues?”
Zach glared at him. “Get out.”
“You know, when I first met you, I thought you were just a stuck-up asshole. Flippant and avoidant because you were selfish, and inconsiderate, and conceited-“
“Have you met me? I am.”
“-When really it’s that you have the most amazing capacity to care too much.” Chris growled the last through clenched teeth. “You selfless, noble, and idiotic martyr.”
“Shut up.”
“You’ve isolated yourself way over here, trying to be the strong one-“
Chris’s fingers were starting to mime people at great distances, and Zach couldn’t take it. “Fuck you.”
“When on the other side of our metaphorical Gibraltar-“
Zach covered his ears, la la la la la.
“-are all these fucking people who love and care about you!”
Chris had actually shouted the last, his voice ringing throughout the apartment, and it punched the air out of all the spaces.
Zach was impressed. Scared, but also impressed. “What is it with you and Herculean metaphors, anyway?”
Chris took a deep, hissing breath, his hands unable to stop shaking. “I didn’t distract you. Don’t blame it on me.”
Zach rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Hmm, actually, I’m pretty sure it was you who distracted me. Considering I was the distracted party and all.”
Chris took a calming breath and closed his eyes. He had come a long way since Zach had met him-Zach had graduated him from Zen master, to pissed off dude, to screaming idiot in the span of six months.
Really, it probably did him some good. “I’m waiting. You know, for you to leave.”
Chris opened his eyes again, and this time the blue was stained glass. It wasn’t fair-Zach had seen those eyes in bed before, in hidden glimpses at the gym. They were entirely too kind.
“If you think things will get better if you don’t fuck me, then fine. Fine.” Chris gestured too casually, too flippantly. “But if you’re ever willing to grow up and acknowledge that you have feelings-“
“Get out.”
“-and you want to stop running away from them-“
“Out!”
“Know it’s not me fucking holding you up!” At that Chris stomped out, and Zach was incredibly glad to turn his back on that-that-fucking bullshit.
Things had become too complicated, too quickly. Zach rubbed his temples, begging the world to stop spinning for a moment and just stand still, completely silent. He had come here alone to think, after all. None of this had been conducive to-
Glass shattered, and Zach really didnt want to look at the door. But there was Chris, standing at the wooden frame, throwing a middle finger at the shattered glass on the ground.
“Fuck my life,” Zach muttered at the ceiling. Chris might have cursed as well, but it was beside the point.
How was it that being upset with his performance had led to this? How was he the only one upset, for that matter? Why wasn’t there a whole line of people stomping in right now, demanding to have words with him? Breaking his fucking door?
“Ahhhhhh- fuck!” Zach shouted at the ceiling, because he really did like yelling. Screaming, punching, cursing at the top of his lungs-that had been sorely missing the last few months. It was like a wind from his sails, a complete and utter relief.
He took a deep breath and walked gingerly over to the door, mindful of the shards of glass on the ground. It was embedded into the eco carpeting, glinting in prisms when he eyed their sharp edges.
It all served him right. “I should know by now to have fights in other people’s apartments.”
Zach hoped Joey wouldn’t get mad about the door.
Masterlist | Act IV (Part One)