FIC: Behold! Us Wayward Monsters - Act IV (Part Two)
Title: Behold! Us Wayward Monsters - Act IV (Part Two)
Masterlist: I ( One, Two) | II ( One, Two) | III ( One, Two) | IV ( One, Two)
After an angry shower and grabbing food from the cafeteria on the go, Zach wasn’t exactly in the slashing mood. But he still headed towards the trampoline room, with an apple in hand for the leisurely walk. Rehearsals wouldn’t start for another few hours, and it was likely that most of the athletes were sweating it out in the weight room. He had time to kill-it was a dangerous thing.
You can do it! Zach thought sarcastically, especially since he was expecting to break his head open. Why he still wanted to get on a trampoline-two days before the show, to boot-he didn’t exactly know. Kurt would probably want to wring his neck for jeopardizing his position, Louis would get in line, and Joey would want to smack him for being stupid. But-whatever. If Zach broke his face and ruined the show, Zach broke his face and got to leave the Cirque. Clowns were a dime a dozen.
But maybe being alone would improve his odds of staying upright on a trampoline. Zach couldn’t believe it was really that difficult, despite crawling to the ground last time.
Then again, Chris had been a mocking distraction. That had probably been it. If Zach could crawl to the center of the trampoline and stand on all fours-
“Whoa!”
Zach jerked back after the impact, cursing himself for walking at full-speed. It had been like playing Fatboy Slim while driving on the freeway; his legs had simply taken over, not caring that he could collide into someone else.
It took a moment of recognition, as Zach was holding his nose, but Chris was looking up at him while retrieving his juggling gear and towels from the floor. He looked frozen for a moment, as if unsure of what he was seeing, then quickly grabbed his items.
Zach suddenly felt the urge to throw up. He could only stare as Chris righted himself, coming to full height before Zach, mere inches from each other.
It was excruciating. This was first time Zach had seen Chris without spandex and blue makeup, and he looked pale and in desperate need of a good night’s sleep-but that was everyone in the troupe, really. Surely he didn’t deserve this overwhelming urge from Zach to grab him by the neck and kiss him-fucking tongue and all-then pound his stupid head into the eco-brick wall.
Maybe that was the full definition of a love-hate relationship.
“Hi, um,” Chris fumbled with the items in his arms, especially with the juggling pins trying to slip out, but his blue eyes couldn’t leave Zach’s face. His gaze was pinned to Zach’s mouth as he licked his own lips, and Zach could feel the rage starting to build within. “Are you-“
“No, no-don’t fucking ask.” Zach didn’t want this chit-chat of how are you, how are you doing, what’s new, tra la la. Zach was just likely to say something mean, and then he’d have to feel guilty. “Just take your face somewhere else.”
Zach hissed in a breath-too late. Chris’ eyes, which moments ago had seemed concerned and maybe hopeful, now narrowed with disbelief.
“Actually,” Chris said with a bit more force than necessary, “I was going to ask if you were heading into room 214, because that trampoline is fucking broken.”
Zach looked down just as Chris threw the towel and pins at him, watching as the white and wet towel blanketed his feet.
“Why don’t you take your face somewhere else.” Chris’ eyes were gray as steel. “Room 216 is open. I hope you fall on your fucking ass.”
Zach wanted to spit out his own retort, but only gaped as Chris marched away-he did a lot of that lately, with Zach usually responsible.
“Moron,” he muttered to himself. What was that about surviving the year? Maybe he’d just drive away all the performers, instead.
Zach bursted into room 216, throwing the towel and pins off to the side. He had no idea where they went, and he didn’t have an inkling of care to see whether they got there. Zach was going to make this trampoline his bitch, and if that didn’t work, he was going to destroy all the trampolines. Maybe carve Chris’ name into them, Zach didn’t know-creative urges and all that.
He stomped up the steps, not thinking as he ran onto the tenuous surface. He was sick of this bullshit. The trampoline was just a stretch of fabric pulled taut, and Chris was just an asshole as repressed as he was. What a fantastic couple they made-prom king and queen of the year!
Zach legs went wobbly as he neared the middle, his feet trying to put on the brakes as he realized where he was. It only succeeded in tripping him up, his arms out and stopping nothing at all. He fell onto his chest, crumpled awkwardly as he tried to regain equilibrium.
Life was pretty fucked right now. Zach had no idea how to get out of this position, and he wasn’t even sure he could. Was this what he deserved? Karmic retribution, or some shit. Except karma should take into account that he had tried, as best as he could, to be good-he had been good to Joey, at least. Hadn’t he been good to Joey? He told Joey he could go fuck Natalia’s brains out and live happily ever after, and he had told Chris that he couldn’t handle the serious stuff.
As far as Zach could tell, being crunched into a raisin was not what he deserved.
Zach rolled onto his back, anticipating the waviness, but going spread eagle with his legs and arms. On the massive surface, feeling the dip beneath him, it was not unlike an ocean-North Carolina, 2001, when him and Joey had snuck onto a beach at midnight. The tide had crashed into both of them, stars bright overhead, but Zach had stood completely still and not lost his balance. His arms out, legs spread, and Joey had clung onto him as they both laughed and barked at the full moon.
Zach loved Joey so much. That was why it hurt. Joey wasn’t holding onto him, anymore.
Zach rolled over again, face down, and the surface didn’t even shift. He concentrated on sliding his elbows down and pulling up his knees, until finally he was crouching on the trampoline with all fours, arms locked and still as Zach stared at the dark gray fabric.
He liked Chris. A lot. Maybe someday Zach could tell him that, if he didn’t fuck up and get spat in the face, first.
Zach rocked back onto his ankles. The process was like moving a monolith, very slow and laborious. Zach thought of the Druids and Stonehenge and all those Discovery Channel specials on Egypt.
Zach tightened his abs as he pressed his feet to the trampoline, channeling all his strength to his legs. He probably should’ve removed his shoes, but of course he had not thought of that. That, too, was a trend.
He inched up very slowly-motherfucking Zachary Quinto was going to stand on a trampoline. Did that make him an official Cirque athlete, now? He was sucking in so much breath, arms out to the side, feeling like the Karate Kid. The world was still and silent, and Zach felt hollow and blank in the moment.
He was capable of so many things. Joey, without a doubt, would be fine without him, but Zach was finally sure that he’d be okay, too.
“Mind if I join you?”
Zach fell on his ass at the chopped accent-fuck, a guy deserved a warning before the French Bitch was thrust on him. Especially since she was dressed in spandex, and Zach hadn’t really wanted to see her nipples.
“I was just leav-“
Natalia walked onto the trampoline like it was solid ground, and Zach gritted his teeth as his balance wobbled.
She crouched onto hands and knees before him, obviously in a mocking stance, and Zach couldn’t fathom why she was even here. To stare into his pretty brown eyes? Who the fuck knew.
“Why are you so mean?”
It was so childish, and Zach shook his head in confusion. “Why are you here?”
“Christopher told me.”
Oh, great-a coup! Asshole.
“Your turn to answer-why are you so mean?”
“Why are you a bitch?” Zach felt like a cat kneading a blanket, his arms moving up and down, but Natalia was cool as a cucumber.
At that she only shrugged, and it threatened to topple Zach over. “Because I get what I want? Live my life? Does that make me a bitch, or because Joe wants to stay with me?”
Zach glared at her. The last person he wanted to talk about Joey with was the French Bitch of Sassville. “Does it matter?”
“Well, I would like to be with Joe for a long time. It means I need to be nice to the people he loves most.”
Zach gave her a winning and acrimonious smile. “This? Not nice. Not nice at all.”
“It is nice for me.”
“Oh, so you do drown kittens just for fun?”
She nodded. “Not today, though. I am talking to you instead.”
Zach could only shake his head-although minutely, as his balance was precarious and temporary, at best.
“You know, Zachary, I thought at first you were a conceited asshole-“
“Yeah, no, I’ve heard this speech before.”
“But for some reason Joe loves you, so this must prove you are not.”
Zach chuckled at that. “Or I’m his brother. I think there’s a law about loving each other.”
“Illegal in most countries, but yes.”
Zach choked on air and had a hard time recovering. “What?”
“But I realized, at some point, that I owed you a great debt of gratitude.” Her green eyes pierced his. “I have proof you are not an asshole.”
Zach felt a chill crawl up his spine, with all the hairs on his arms hyper-aware. He had a feeling he didn’t want to hear this.
“Well, thanks, but I need to get going-“
Her hand touched his shoulder, and with the simple action he fell back on his ass, awkwardly sitting on his heels.
“You can pretend all you want. Be macho. Mean and uncaring-but I am onto you.”
Zach looked at the trampoline, pondering what had made him so fucking fascinating that everyone was playing psychologist.
But Natalia inched forward until their eyes met, undeniable, so he could see her face.
“Thank you for saving his life.” She swallowed, the most human of actions, and Zach was afraid she would start to cry.
He couldn’t bear it-what was there to cry about? He was the one who couldn’t breathe right now, the world’s most dangerous secret hinted out in the open. Joey had done the unthinkable and told her things. It felt like a plot that had unraveled, like the creator had pulled the plug on a master plan of silence without warning.
Zach could only stare at her, then huffed out, “Fuck you.”
And for some reason, Natalia shook her head in disbelief. What did it matter to her? She actually didn’t have to be friends with him-he could fuck off while Natalia and Joey lived a happily ever after. She never had to see his ass again. If Joey wanted to entrust all his secrets to her, that was fine by Zach.
It was a patronizing sigh as she tilted her head. “I wonder what that day will be like, when you realize the world does not revolve around you.”
Zach pointed to the trampoline, almost falling flat on his face. “This shit would throw you off if it did, for starters.”
Natalia stood up easily, and Zach was prepared to see her walk off with a haughty smirk. But instead she only looked haughty while extending a hand, as if expecting Zach to eventually see reason and want to grasp it.
Fat chance. “No thanks.”
She turned sharply, and the movement caused Zach to finally fall flat on his face. “I will tell Christopher you are crawling around like a newborn calf.”
Zach rolled his eyes, despite staring at the fabric of the trampoline, and waited until she had ceased moving the fucking ground beneath his knees.
“Bitch,” he muttered.
“Thank you!” she sang cheerfully as she slammed the gym door behind her, and Zach could only groan.
Life - 1. Zach - 0.
)O(
The truth about rehearsals was that it was the most pleasant part of Zach’s day. Contrary to previous evidence, Zach had finally been able to become one of the voyagers, barely registering the outside world and the actors that existed beyond their characters.
He could look at Chris at awe, but not see Chris. A relief in many shades.
“Look at all of you!” Louis beamed a huge smile as they all gathered on stage, and it was mildly disconcerting. “We’re finally here, and I couldn’t be more proud of all the work you’ve achieved.”
Zach let his gaze wander, looking up at the bleachers-he didn’t need a pep talk. He needed a valium and a decent night’s sleep, neither of which he’d get.
“Tomorrow, you’ll realize that all this hard work will have paid off. The fun begins tomorrow-I promise.” Louis grinned now, showing all his teeth, and Zach wondered if gates would be lowered for a bloody gladiatorial combat, or if Louis was genuinely high.
Joey moved to stand next to Zach, and his wry and knowing smirk said it all.
“You’ll realize that all the sweat, tears, aching muscles and sleepless nights will have paid off when that audience-who has no idea what they are in store for-leaves with a smile on their face, transformed by one single evening, all thanks to you.”
Well, wasn’t that hyperbole. Zach looked up at the lights that were imaginary stars, knowing that Louis was doing a little finger-point at all of them. Oh, me? Zach wanted to exaggeratedly gesture, but he knew it was not the time or place.
“Just know that if this experience has transformed your lives-your risks, your doubts, your moments of intense worry-know it’s because you have placed your heart in their hands, and when you do that, I promise you will forever be rewarded.”
Zach’s eyes trailed the stars to land back at the other performers, all of whom were in rapt attention-minus the one gaze that was watching Zach, openly staring as Zach took a moment to stare back.
Chris did not look angry. Well, it was hard to tell with all the blue makeup that zig-zagged on his face-but his posture said it all. His head tilted back, his mouth in a soft and pensive line, his shoulders relaxed. It was if he wanted the troupe to disappear, for the distance between them to be nothing at all.
Or maybe that was just Zach, for Chris tore his gaze away to look at the stars, his eyes bright. Like Zach had just done in boredom, but with Chris it looked with complete earnestness.
What was he wishing for?
“Give yourselves a round of applause-you deserve it!” Louis clapped eagerly, and the troupe responded with whoops and whistles and applause of their own.
Zach clapped slowly, not paying attention, as Chris had turned his back and started to walk towards the copper forest. There was a part of him unable to resist the opening, and yet the whole troupe had started to turn away, moving towards the forest in a sea of murmurs.
Chris was lost, and when the stage was empty he was completely gone. Zach touched his chest with his palm, then immediately felt melodramatic for it.
“Come on, you,” Joey said as he put an arm around Zach’s shoulders. “Bedtime. I heard you were up early.”
Zach watched Joey’s face carefully, as if the scene had suddenly gone slow-motion. Zach had no privacy anymore, and this would be the way of things forever and forever, with Joey leaking and sharing pieces of himself between two different people.
He couldn’t shrug off the arm. He was too tired to try, anyhow. “Yeah.”
“Oh Zach, what am I going to do with you?” They had moved backstage, where a dozen bodies hogged space for mirror-time and jars of cold cream, and Joey was still heard with his whispering. “You’re the most precious thing I’ve got, and yet you don’t break so obviously.”
Zach was shoved into the next empty space, staring dumbly at himself in the mirror. It was a coup, goddammit, except Joey was using a baby wipe to pat at Zach’s cheek instead of torches and pitchforks.
It was a stupidly soothing action. Joey turned Zach’s chin to look the other way, not saying a word, except for Zach to close his eyes for the cold cream. Zach felt it dabbed on with a round piece of cotton, in soft and gentle circles, and then swiped to the side to wipe it away. Familiar actions from a stage veteran, and Zach didn’t know why he wasn’t allowed to do it himself.
“There,” Joey murmured, and Zach opened his eyes to see him stepping back. “Now go wash your face.”
Zach really didn’t want to. He watched as Joey looked into the mirror and wiped down his own cheeks and chin and forehead and nose, and it was incredibly solemn. He felt dismissed, and Zach didn’t quite know how to take it. But it was all just about makeup, after all.
Zach trudged back to the IKEA house, showed his badge to security without looking at anyone, and then stepped into the too-bright atrium. He had rarely wandered into it, but now he did, looking for something in particular.
Of course Chris was sitting in his chair, writing in his notebook, looking perfectly mussed and tired and all things comfortable. His hand looked like a buzz of a tornado, as if he had a thousand things to say and not enough lines for all of them. Maybe the words had no idea there would always be unlimited pages, especially for someone like Chris Pine.
Zach walked to his apartment slowly, instantly knowing which door was his since it was still boarded with plywood. Zach figured they likely wouldn’t replace the door until he left, and that was probably smart.
)O(
Zach barely ate the next day. Which was normal for him, actually, since he knew his stomach would be jittery and full of metaphorical butterflies and just nerves, nerves, nerves. Instead he hid out at the playground down the street, ditching lunch to sit on the swing set and stare at the ground.
Nerves were a funny thing. He had never feared screwing up on stage-things either happened or they didn’t, and the fall-out would inevitably come later if they did. But with the rehearsals and their grueling schedule, Zach didn’t even consider a screw-up to be on the horizon. They were robots at this point-just robots with a bit of soul.
No, the nerves were the buzzing points in his fingertips, the electricity racing down his arms. He legs bounced with a tick, unable to keep still. Sometimes Zach would snap his fingers for no real reason, except that all the electricity needed a moment to crack.
Zach was excited. Things were going to be real in less than a few hours, when the press and a lucky preview audience were going to judge the show. He’d either make them laugh or hear the crickets, and it would be the ultimate test of his skills if he needed a spontaneous moment.
Zach was generally good with spontaneous moments-just not lately.
“My, my, I spy a lone clown on a swing set.”
“Tragic, isn’t it? So sad and old and discarded-Ooh, but it’s a wild one, it knows sign language!”
Zach was giving Karl the middle finger as he stage-whispered to Zoe, “Sorry, your boyfriend is pissing me off.”
“Join the club,” she loudly-whispered back, then pushed Karl’s shoulder in jest. “I have to live with the guy.”
‘I am pleasant company. You can ask anyone, current critics excluded.”
They sat on opposite sides of Zach, with Karl starting to swing as Zoe twisted her chains.
“Nervous?” she asked Zach. When he simply nodded-because it was too hard to explain otherwise-she gave him a sympathetic smile. “I always try to meditate. You know, flowery fields or snow-capped mountains, perhaps with a lake with ducks wading.”
Karl leaned in his swing, making his trajectory wonky. “I think I saw a commercial like that, once.”
“It works, though! That and backrubs.” She twisted her swing to face Zach. “Would you like one?”
Zoe’s neck massages had become infamous. Zach had always meant to try one, but then he had alternate therapy of someone sucking his dick.
Zach leaned forward in acquiescence, and it was in no time at all that he felt her delicate fingers on his neck. Little circles, gentle circles-he had kind of wanted a robot repair, in which she randomly poked hard at his back.
“Ow,” Zach squeaked out, her fingers finally digging into tired muscle. “Do that again.”
“I think I went into the wrong profession,” Zoe mused with a slight hum to her voice. “I might like torturing people more than fire-breathing.”
“You’re a goddess,” Zach groaned into his hands. “Don’t stop-never stop.”
“But seriously, why are you nervous?” Karl had stopped swinging, his legs angled with the ground. “You and Joe are brilliant.”
“I don’t know,” Zach murmured. “It’s more like… anticipation, I guess.”
“Antici-paaaaaation,” Zoe echoed with a sway to her hips and hands, and seriously, if she continued that voodoo, Zach might cross sleep with a woman off his bucket list.
“This is your moment, seriously-try to enjoy it. Opening night only happens so many times.” Karl leaned back in his swing. “This is my fifth and final one, but it feels just as exciting as the first.”
That got Zach’s attention, and he turned his head to squint an eye. “What? Are you leaving the Cirque?”
Karl gave a quick glance to Zoe. “I hear New York is wonderful this time of year.”
“I got a job at the Met!” She wriggled again, but it was in excitement. “It’ll be nice to be near my mom and sisters, for a change.”
“Home cooking, for a change.” Karl was actually grinning, and Zach couldn’t believe it.
“You’re giving up the Cirque for New York?” Zach had been there, done that, seen it all. It had eventually grown old like everything else; a layer of dust he had washed off his skin.
Karl shrugged. “Never lived there. Besides, I’m always up for trying something new.”
Zach felt his brows crease, a deep frown as he thought about the career that Karl was giving up. The Cirque was security topped by a creative environment-travel and a big stage to die for-and people just gave that up?
“Darlin’, you’re speaking to Zach, here. He won’t even share a juice box with Chris.”
“Not true,” Zach muttered. “Those little cartons are like one sip and you’re done.”
“Zach,” Karl said with a patient little sigh, except with a Kiwi accent it sounded less patronizing. “Sometimes you have to just give up your juice box.” And before Zach could retort, he put up a finger. “Even the one-sip kind.”
Zach made a face. “What? That’s it? I just give up my juice box?” That sounded like communism, or socialism, or some sort of -ism that Zach would just not be happy with.
Zoe squeezed his shoulders. “You’re not really giving up anything-you making someone else happy. That’s a reward.”
Zach knew all about sacrifices, but that still sounded like bullshit. “Why can’t Chris get his own juice box? Hell, why won’t he give me his juice box?” The cafeteria actually wasn’t in short supply-why was there sharing going on, to begin with?
Karl looked amused. “Have you asked him? I’m pretty sure he would.”
Zach heard some smirking behind him, and he pressed his lips into a tight line. “This really isn’t about juice boxes.”
“Oh, how cute! He’s learning,” Zoe said affectionately, punctuated with a thumb in his shoulder blades. “I told you, Karl.”
Zach grumbled, “Coup” under his breath, half-expecting Ma to be the final guest to pop out from the trees, asking him why he wasn’t playing nice with the other boys.
Karl stood up from his swing, kicking sand with his sneakers. “You’re good, Zach. I like you guys a lot. Just figure your shit out sooner rather than later, okay?”
Zach would’ve glared at Karl, but he had enjoyed the accent way too much.
Zoe patted his shoulders in parting. “Trust me, sooner is way better than later.”
It was all very annoying. For all Zoe and Karl knew, Chris had been a one-night stand and they had amicably separated. That would make them look fucking stupid, wouldn’t it?
Except… everyone had probably heard them screaming. New York had probably heard their screaming.
Zoe gave a little wave as Karl led her back to the sidewalk, both of them heading in the opposite direction of headquarters. Probably a coffee date, or a free date, or a date where they discussed dead presidents and Hercules and suicidal brothers.
Zach felt a deep ache. He would probably try to pass it off as heartburn, except he had been starving himself all afternoon.
Would the whole year be like this? Every new city with its own memories to make, except Zach would still be stuck in Montréal? He’d see the Eiffel Tower and think of Chris, and see the Golden Gate Bridge and think of Chris, and see the Thames with its famous ferris wheel and still think of fucking Chris.
Or even worse, Zach would have to deal with a ferry boat on Lake Michigan and see Joey canoodling with Natalia as he thought of Chris-God. Stab him in the eye with a fork and be done with it.
Or… he could apparently share his juice box. Hopefully not the blue juice box, since that was Zach’s favorite kind-what did that even taste like? Besides Heaven and Christmas, if they had a baby.
It gave him a fierce craving, and Zach stood up to head to the cafeteria. Apparently he should grab a few while he was there-he could maybe double the price after the government takeover.
)O(
But before Zach knew it, only 30 minutes separated him between backstage and John’s opening lines. They had all gathered back there, taking turns to peek surreptitiously between the copper pipes for glimpses of the audience, and the place looked packed. Zach didn’t want to know how packed, but was glad it wouldn’t just be someone’s grandma and the press junket.
Zach looked over at the chair next to him, where Joey was perfecting the angle of his dark, long wig. He had passed on the red hat for today, going for a bandana-Louis had agreed they looked too similar, and Zach’s head looked better with the red cap. Plus Zach was usually the impetus for whatever action took place on stage, so people needed to easily identify him.
Joey glanced at Zach as he tightened the knot for his bandana, his fingers fidgeting and slipping a few times. Joey usually was scared or anxious enough to throw up, so nervous fingers were a sign of improvement.
Zach patted his knee. “Hey, rock star.”
Joey didn’t answer, as Zach expected. Partially because if he opened his mouth it increased his vomiting chances. Also because he was staring into the mirror, still fiddling with his wig over a flattened mohawk.
“We’re going to be awesome.”
There was something familiar about all of it-a different wig, a different time, and maybe different lighting, but the words of encouragement would always be the same. Joey would always be a timid little kitten before they went on stage, and then fifteen minutes into the show, Joey wouldn’t even be himself anymore.
Joey swallowed. “I told Nat I get nervous like this before a show, and she didn’t believe me.”
“Maybe she should be responsible for the barf bags, then.”
Joey swallowed again, looking wide-eyed and very silent. Zach had once offered him a glass of water when he was like this, thinking his throat was dry, but had wound up with the glass of water thrown up his lap.
Zach smiled to himself-he had a ton of gross stories like that. Some of them even featured Zach, which he only told if people got him drunk enough-after the show. Lesson #67848.
“Five minutes! Line up!”
Joey looked like he wanted to hide under his makeup chair, and Zach had never felt more like hugging Joey in his entire life.
John rushed past them in his red robes, climbing a set of stairs to a balcony entrance in the forest. Zach wondered if it would look badass, or mysterious, or hopefully both when John made his opening declaration. Would it surprise the audience to see the sirens rushing out? Would they be wondering what the fuck? at two bumbling French voyagers?
They would soon find out.
“Behold us wayward monsters! We know not what becomes of us, only what begins.”
The swoosh of performers rushing out was a visual thrill in itself, until Zach snapped out of it and dragged Joey to their canoe.
The forest was dark and welcoming, hiding them perfectly as they heard the ”Yah!” of the sirens. Except this time there was an answering trill, and Zach felt his heart race at knowing the audience was out there, alive and waiting for them, anticipating what came next.
Zach dipped his paddle into the imaginary Canadian waters. When he finally saw the stars, he was lost-heart and soul-to a new world.
)O(
It was magic. Zach had never had an opening night go this well, prompting a voice at the back of his mind to please, for the love of God, not jinx it.
Everyone was made new in the spotlight. Each act wove the magic tighter and tighter, a new spell for each dancer, gymnast, and acrobat. The costumes were suddenly made of gold and diamonds, some unearthly material that drew Zach’s gaze and held it, enthralled.
He loved this fucking show. Even with John’s Amazonian soundtrack and Natalia’s weird contortions-his arms burning from the effort of paddling and pushing himself around-Zach wanted to stay in this world all night, perhaps forever.
When Zoe blew fire into the audience he heard his first gasps, and Zach was immensely proud of her. He would hear them again when Karl threw a knife at his head, followed by giggling as Joey handed over items for them to juggle.
The audience was perfect. Zach felt he had everyone in the palm of his hand, hanging on to his every action and word, outrageous or not. When he was curious about Anton’s high-wire, hiding with Joey behind a bush, he felt the audience lean closer in their seats, curious too. When Zoe and Eric danced and made the voyagers miss their wives, there was a great need that pulsed from the audience, making Zach keenly aware of every breathing thing.
They paddled their canoe to the center of the stage, and Zach knew what to expect. But when Joey gasped and pointed at the siren flying above them, Zach felt his mouth open, unbidden.
If everyone else left Zach enthralled, he could only describe watching Chris as enchanted. A word that didn’t make sense out of context, outside of Cirque, outside of this moment. But the stars caught Chris perfectly, his actions fluid and strong and leaving no doubt that maybe, just maybe, he could actually fly.
Zach’s heart was pounding, knowing that Chris was getting into position to dive. He had told himself beforehand not to look at the audience, not to be tempted-but there was no need for warnings. A rush of blood went to his head as Chris collided with his vision, scaring Zach so badly that he had to blink through the cries of the audience, readjust his sight to see that Chris was only still, so still, and hanging towards him in the familiar teardrop.
Zach took a deep breath-he had never been this scared shitless. Why was it so different now? It was all an illusion, it was all just an act. And yet Zach felt the itch in his palm, a genuine desire to touch the hand above him, to finally feel his warmth.
He stretched upwards, the moment pulled taut as Zach desperately wanted to see Chris’ face. Hadn’t that been his days, all along? His reality blurred as he wished for Chris to look at him, just this once, although his actions were timed to the music.
Blue eyes lazily opened, finding Zach’s in the spotlight. His tinted lips parted, and Zach suddenly wondered if they were taking too long, acting too obvious-what would life be like if it always matched this moment, with Chris always climbing and darting out of reach?
Zach fell back and watched as Chris soared upward, followed by massive applause and delight of the audience. Zach tried to catch his breath as his eyes followed the aerial circles, finally leading them offstage and towards home.
Zach picked up his paddle and barely minded Joey’s stride as, yes, he definitely wanted to go home, and most of all, definitely wanted to see Chris again. There was joy bursting in his chest, and Zach couldn’t tell whether it was the music, or the sirens, or his character waving at his little tent in the distance, eager to finally see his loved ones.
The applause was deafening as John sang his closing number, which was the cue for the sirens and voyagers to rush through the copper forest to wait for their encore. Zach couldn’t stand to leave the stage-he didn’t want to see the white dressing room, his actual reality, and all the dingy and cold colors outside of the Cirque.
He hid in the shadows where his canoe had been, his hands braced against the copper trees, and it was less painful. Light beams flickered in and out from the stage, and from them Zach could see another body approaching his space.
In a perfect world, Chris would already know all that he had to say. The words wouldn’t stutter and stop the flow from his lips, they’d only pour out and say, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I fucked up, I was mean. They’d make sense and bring Chris closer, so Zach could feel the breath on his cheek, see his individual eyelashes, feel the heat from his skin.
Chris was a tree away and John’s song was fading, and Zach couldn’t let it end like this. Zach just wanted to grab him and tell him and make everything okay again.
Instead he lurched forward, his lips babbling wordlessly until they spilled out, “I need you” in a harsh whisper. And he hoped to God that Chris had heard him, because now he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t see and it was the most terrifying secret that Zach had never told anyone, ever, and he had nothing left.
Applause rang out again, flooding all sound, and Zach felt himself sink into a body beneath him. Hands smoothed over his shoulders, his arms, and finally tightened across his back as they held him close, pulling his head down to the crook of neck and shoulder. Zach breathed deep, and there was finally a sigh of relief as Zach felt Chris’ fingers at the back of his head, tangled beneath his costume to touch real skin, to touch his real self.
Zach closed his eyes, feeling the forest floor shake as the sirens rushed out again, ran past and almost collided with the two of them. Zach clutched at Chris’ waist, as if there was a current that threatened to break them apart. Moments ago Zach wanted to remain on the stage, but now he never wanted to leave this moment, never leave Chris, wondering if he’d ever feel this welcomed by another body again.
But it was their cue and Chris pulled away reluctantly, leaving Zach empty. Hands trailed down to Zach’s wrist, not letting go, and he felt it was almost too much to hope for.
Chris led him through the copper forest, and when Chris tightened his fingers they picked up their speed, finally bursting onto a stage of stars and cameras and a roaring crowd. There was a space near the front for the both of them, and Chris pulled them there, where the audience stole all of Zach’s attentions.
He was dying, he was sure of it. There were bright lights and deafening sounds and an overwhelming world of people. Joey was there, and Chris was there, and love was there-an immense love that Zach was told never existed on Earth, would never feel this encompassing. But the crowd stood up for them, cheered for them, and Zach was sure he would never feel this level of adoration again. It was addicting and heart-breaking and he soaked it in, trying to memorize what it felt like to stand on this stage, under these stars, and catch Chris smiling at him from the corner of his eye.
They had all lied-the world did revolve around Zach, at least in this moment. He didn’t know how long it would last, and Zach tried hard not to leave it-but when Joey’s fingers clenched with his, he knew it was time to go. This world and character would die for a night, and Zach was the cue for the death knell.
He raised Chris and Joey’s hands above his head, and the whole troupe followed in a wave until they were all bowing, all giving their respects to the audience. There was more applause and whistling, and everyone looked so fucking happy. But Zach knew that once he broke hands and turned around the whole troupe would leave, and the magic would wear off and fade as they ran backstage, back to their dressing room.
Zach swallowed courage and turned around, prepared for the worst-but when he did so Chris was still smiling at him, waiting for him to go first. When they ran back through the copper forest and into the real world, it was the one thing that Zach didn’t have to leave behind.
Encore! Encore!
Masterlist | Encore! Encore!
Masterlist: I ( One, Two) | II ( One, Two) | III ( One, Two) | IV ( One, Two)
After an angry shower and grabbing food from the cafeteria on the go, Zach wasn’t exactly in the slashing mood. But he still headed towards the trampoline room, with an apple in hand for the leisurely walk. Rehearsals wouldn’t start for another few hours, and it was likely that most of the athletes were sweating it out in the weight room. He had time to kill-it was a dangerous thing.
You can do it! Zach thought sarcastically, especially since he was expecting to break his head open. Why he still wanted to get on a trampoline-two days before the show, to boot-he didn’t exactly know. Kurt would probably want to wring his neck for jeopardizing his position, Louis would get in line, and Joey would want to smack him for being stupid. But-whatever. If Zach broke his face and ruined the show, Zach broke his face and got to leave the Cirque. Clowns were a dime a dozen.
But maybe being alone would improve his odds of staying upright on a trampoline. Zach couldn’t believe it was really that difficult, despite crawling to the ground last time.
Then again, Chris had been a mocking distraction. That had probably been it. If Zach could crawl to the center of the trampoline and stand on all fours-
“Whoa!”
Zach jerked back after the impact, cursing himself for walking at full-speed. It had been like playing Fatboy Slim while driving on the freeway; his legs had simply taken over, not caring that he could collide into someone else.
It took a moment of recognition, as Zach was holding his nose, but Chris was looking up at him while retrieving his juggling gear and towels from the floor. He looked frozen for a moment, as if unsure of what he was seeing, then quickly grabbed his items.
Zach suddenly felt the urge to throw up. He could only stare as Chris righted himself, coming to full height before Zach, mere inches from each other.
It was excruciating. This was first time Zach had seen Chris without spandex and blue makeup, and he looked pale and in desperate need of a good night’s sleep-but that was everyone in the troupe, really. Surely he didn’t deserve this overwhelming urge from Zach to grab him by the neck and kiss him-fucking tongue and all-then pound his stupid head into the eco-brick wall.
Maybe that was the full definition of a love-hate relationship.
“Hi, um,” Chris fumbled with the items in his arms, especially with the juggling pins trying to slip out, but his blue eyes couldn’t leave Zach’s face. His gaze was pinned to Zach’s mouth as he licked his own lips, and Zach could feel the rage starting to build within. “Are you-“
“No, no-don’t fucking ask.” Zach didn’t want this chit-chat of how are you, how are you doing, what’s new, tra la la. Zach was just likely to say something mean, and then he’d have to feel guilty. “Just take your face somewhere else.”
Zach hissed in a breath-too late. Chris’ eyes, which moments ago had seemed concerned and maybe hopeful, now narrowed with disbelief.
“Actually,” Chris said with a bit more force than necessary, “I was going to ask if you were heading into room 214, because that trampoline is fucking broken.”
Zach looked down just as Chris threw the towel and pins at him, watching as the white and wet towel blanketed his feet.
“Why don’t you take your face somewhere else.” Chris’ eyes were gray as steel. “Room 216 is open. I hope you fall on your fucking ass.”
Zach wanted to spit out his own retort, but only gaped as Chris marched away-he did a lot of that lately, with Zach usually responsible.
“Moron,” he muttered to himself. What was that about surviving the year? Maybe he’d just drive away all the performers, instead.
Zach bursted into room 216, throwing the towel and pins off to the side. He had no idea where they went, and he didn’t have an inkling of care to see whether they got there. Zach was going to make this trampoline his bitch, and if that didn’t work, he was going to destroy all the trampolines. Maybe carve Chris’ name into them, Zach didn’t know-creative urges and all that.
He stomped up the steps, not thinking as he ran onto the tenuous surface. He was sick of this bullshit. The trampoline was just a stretch of fabric pulled taut, and Chris was just an asshole as repressed as he was. What a fantastic couple they made-prom king and queen of the year!
Zach legs went wobbly as he neared the middle, his feet trying to put on the brakes as he realized where he was. It only succeeded in tripping him up, his arms out and stopping nothing at all. He fell onto his chest, crumpled awkwardly as he tried to regain equilibrium.
Life was pretty fucked right now. Zach had no idea how to get out of this position, and he wasn’t even sure he could. Was this what he deserved? Karmic retribution, or some shit. Except karma should take into account that he had tried, as best as he could, to be good-he had been good to Joey, at least. Hadn’t he been good to Joey? He told Joey he could go fuck Natalia’s brains out and live happily ever after, and he had told Chris that he couldn’t handle the serious stuff.
As far as Zach could tell, being crunched into a raisin was not what he deserved.
Zach rolled onto his back, anticipating the waviness, but going spread eagle with his legs and arms. On the massive surface, feeling the dip beneath him, it was not unlike an ocean-North Carolina, 2001, when him and Joey had snuck onto a beach at midnight. The tide had crashed into both of them, stars bright overhead, but Zach had stood completely still and not lost his balance. His arms out, legs spread, and Joey had clung onto him as they both laughed and barked at the full moon.
Zach loved Joey so much. That was why it hurt. Joey wasn’t holding onto him, anymore.
Zach rolled over again, face down, and the surface didn’t even shift. He concentrated on sliding his elbows down and pulling up his knees, until finally he was crouching on the trampoline with all fours, arms locked and still as Zach stared at the dark gray fabric.
He liked Chris. A lot. Maybe someday Zach could tell him that, if he didn’t fuck up and get spat in the face, first.
Zach rocked back onto his ankles. The process was like moving a monolith, very slow and laborious. Zach thought of the Druids and Stonehenge and all those Discovery Channel specials on Egypt.
Zach tightened his abs as he pressed his feet to the trampoline, channeling all his strength to his legs. He probably should’ve removed his shoes, but of course he had not thought of that. That, too, was a trend.
He inched up very slowly-motherfucking Zachary Quinto was going to stand on a trampoline. Did that make him an official Cirque athlete, now? He was sucking in so much breath, arms out to the side, feeling like the Karate Kid. The world was still and silent, and Zach felt hollow and blank in the moment.
He was capable of so many things. Joey, without a doubt, would be fine without him, but Zach was finally sure that he’d be okay, too.
“Mind if I join you?”
Zach fell on his ass at the chopped accent-fuck, a guy deserved a warning before the French Bitch was thrust on him. Especially since she was dressed in spandex, and Zach hadn’t really wanted to see her nipples.
“I was just leav-“
Natalia walked onto the trampoline like it was solid ground, and Zach gritted his teeth as his balance wobbled.
She crouched onto hands and knees before him, obviously in a mocking stance, and Zach couldn’t fathom why she was even here. To stare into his pretty brown eyes? Who the fuck knew.
“Why are you so mean?”
It was so childish, and Zach shook his head in confusion. “Why are you here?”
“Christopher told me.”
Oh, great-a coup! Asshole.
“Your turn to answer-why are you so mean?”
“Why are you a bitch?” Zach felt like a cat kneading a blanket, his arms moving up and down, but Natalia was cool as a cucumber.
At that she only shrugged, and it threatened to topple Zach over. “Because I get what I want? Live my life? Does that make me a bitch, or because Joe wants to stay with me?”
Zach glared at her. The last person he wanted to talk about Joey with was the French Bitch of Sassville. “Does it matter?”
“Well, I would like to be with Joe for a long time. It means I need to be nice to the people he loves most.”
Zach gave her a winning and acrimonious smile. “This? Not nice. Not nice at all.”
“It is nice for me.”
“Oh, so you do drown kittens just for fun?”
She nodded. “Not today, though. I am talking to you instead.”
Zach could only shake his head-although minutely, as his balance was precarious and temporary, at best.
“You know, Zachary, I thought at first you were a conceited asshole-“
“Yeah, no, I’ve heard this speech before.”
“But for some reason Joe loves you, so this must prove you are not.”
Zach chuckled at that. “Or I’m his brother. I think there’s a law about loving each other.”
“Illegal in most countries, but yes.”
Zach choked on air and had a hard time recovering. “What?”
“But I realized, at some point, that I owed you a great debt of gratitude.” Her green eyes pierced his. “I have proof you are not an asshole.”
Zach felt a chill crawl up his spine, with all the hairs on his arms hyper-aware. He had a feeling he didn’t want to hear this.
“Well, thanks, but I need to get going-“
Her hand touched his shoulder, and with the simple action he fell back on his ass, awkwardly sitting on his heels.
“You can pretend all you want. Be macho. Mean and uncaring-but I am onto you.”
Zach looked at the trampoline, pondering what had made him so fucking fascinating that everyone was playing psychologist.
But Natalia inched forward until their eyes met, undeniable, so he could see her face.
“Thank you for saving his life.” She swallowed, the most human of actions, and Zach was afraid she would start to cry.
He couldn’t bear it-what was there to cry about? He was the one who couldn’t breathe right now, the world’s most dangerous secret hinted out in the open. Joey had done the unthinkable and told her things. It felt like a plot that had unraveled, like the creator had pulled the plug on a master plan of silence without warning.
Zach could only stare at her, then huffed out, “Fuck you.”
And for some reason, Natalia shook her head in disbelief. What did it matter to her? She actually didn’t have to be friends with him-he could fuck off while Natalia and Joey lived a happily ever after. She never had to see his ass again. If Joey wanted to entrust all his secrets to her, that was fine by Zach.
It was a patronizing sigh as she tilted her head. “I wonder what that day will be like, when you realize the world does not revolve around you.”
Zach pointed to the trampoline, almost falling flat on his face. “This shit would throw you off if it did, for starters.”
Natalia stood up easily, and Zach was prepared to see her walk off with a haughty smirk. But instead she only looked haughty while extending a hand, as if expecting Zach to eventually see reason and want to grasp it.
Fat chance. “No thanks.”
She turned sharply, and the movement caused Zach to finally fall flat on his face. “I will tell Christopher you are crawling around like a newborn calf.”
Zach rolled his eyes, despite staring at the fabric of the trampoline, and waited until she had ceased moving the fucking ground beneath his knees.
“Bitch,” he muttered.
“Thank you!” she sang cheerfully as she slammed the gym door behind her, and Zach could only groan.
Life - 1. Zach - 0.
)O(
The truth about rehearsals was that it was the most pleasant part of Zach’s day. Contrary to previous evidence, Zach had finally been able to become one of the voyagers, barely registering the outside world and the actors that existed beyond their characters.
He could look at Chris at awe, but not see Chris. A relief in many shades.
“Look at all of you!” Louis beamed a huge smile as they all gathered on stage, and it was mildly disconcerting. “We’re finally here, and I couldn’t be more proud of all the work you’ve achieved.”
Zach let his gaze wander, looking up at the bleachers-he didn’t need a pep talk. He needed a valium and a decent night’s sleep, neither of which he’d get.
“Tomorrow, you’ll realize that all this hard work will have paid off. The fun begins tomorrow-I promise.” Louis grinned now, showing all his teeth, and Zach wondered if gates would be lowered for a bloody gladiatorial combat, or if Louis was genuinely high.
Joey moved to stand next to Zach, and his wry and knowing smirk said it all.
“You’ll realize that all the sweat, tears, aching muscles and sleepless nights will have paid off when that audience-who has no idea what they are in store for-leaves with a smile on their face, transformed by one single evening, all thanks to you.”
Well, wasn’t that hyperbole. Zach looked up at the lights that were imaginary stars, knowing that Louis was doing a little finger-point at all of them. Oh, me? Zach wanted to exaggeratedly gesture, but he knew it was not the time or place.
“Just know that if this experience has transformed your lives-your risks, your doubts, your moments of intense worry-know it’s because you have placed your heart in their hands, and when you do that, I promise you will forever be rewarded.”
Zach’s eyes trailed the stars to land back at the other performers, all of whom were in rapt attention-minus the one gaze that was watching Zach, openly staring as Zach took a moment to stare back.
Chris did not look angry. Well, it was hard to tell with all the blue makeup that zig-zagged on his face-but his posture said it all. His head tilted back, his mouth in a soft and pensive line, his shoulders relaxed. It was if he wanted the troupe to disappear, for the distance between them to be nothing at all.
Or maybe that was just Zach, for Chris tore his gaze away to look at the stars, his eyes bright. Like Zach had just done in boredom, but with Chris it looked with complete earnestness.
What was he wishing for?
“Give yourselves a round of applause-you deserve it!” Louis clapped eagerly, and the troupe responded with whoops and whistles and applause of their own.
Zach clapped slowly, not paying attention, as Chris had turned his back and started to walk towards the copper forest. There was a part of him unable to resist the opening, and yet the whole troupe had started to turn away, moving towards the forest in a sea of murmurs.
Chris was lost, and when the stage was empty he was completely gone. Zach touched his chest with his palm, then immediately felt melodramatic for it.
“Come on, you,” Joey said as he put an arm around Zach’s shoulders. “Bedtime. I heard you were up early.”
Zach watched Joey’s face carefully, as if the scene had suddenly gone slow-motion. Zach had no privacy anymore, and this would be the way of things forever and forever, with Joey leaking and sharing pieces of himself between two different people.
He couldn’t shrug off the arm. He was too tired to try, anyhow. “Yeah.”
“Oh Zach, what am I going to do with you?” They had moved backstage, where a dozen bodies hogged space for mirror-time and jars of cold cream, and Joey was still heard with his whispering. “You’re the most precious thing I’ve got, and yet you don’t break so obviously.”
Zach was shoved into the next empty space, staring dumbly at himself in the mirror. It was a coup, goddammit, except Joey was using a baby wipe to pat at Zach’s cheek instead of torches and pitchforks.
It was a stupidly soothing action. Joey turned Zach’s chin to look the other way, not saying a word, except for Zach to close his eyes for the cold cream. Zach felt it dabbed on with a round piece of cotton, in soft and gentle circles, and then swiped to the side to wipe it away. Familiar actions from a stage veteran, and Zach didn’t know why he wasn’t allowed to do it himself.
“There,” Joey murmured, and Zach opened his eyes to see him stepping back. “Now go wash your face.”
Zach really didn’t want to. He watched as Joey looked into the mirror and wiped down his own cheeks and chin and forehead and nose, and it was incredibly solemn. He felt dismissed, and Zach didn’t quite know how to take it. But it was all just about makeup, after all.
Zach trudged back to the IKEA house, showed his badge to security without looking at anyone, and then stepped into the too-bright atrium. He had rarely wandered into it, but now he did, looking for something in particular.
Of course Chris was sitting in his chair, writing in his notebook, looking perfectly mussed and tired and all things comfortable. His hand looked like a buzz of a tornado, as if he had a thousand things to say and not enough lines for all of them. Maybe the words had no idea there would always be unlimited pages, especially for someone like Chris Pine.
Zach walked to his apartment slowly, instantly knowing which door was his since it was still boarded with plywood. Zach figured they likely wouldn’t replace the door until he left, and that was probably smart.
)O(
Zach barely ate the next day. Which was normal for him, actually, since he knew his stomach would be jittery and full of metaphorical butterflies and just nerves, nerves, nerves. Instead he hid out at the playground down the street, ditching lunch to sit on the swing set and stare at the ground.
Nerves were a funny thing. He had never feared screwing up on stage-things either happened or they didn’t, and the fall-out would inevitably come later if they did. But with the rehearsals and their grueling schedule, Zach didn’t even consider a screw-up to be on the horizon. They were robots at this point-just robots with a bit of soul.
No, the nerves were the buzzing points in his fingertips, the electricity racing down his arms. He legs bounced with a tick, unable to keep still. Sometimes Zach would snap his fingers for no real reason, except that all the electricity needed a moment to crack.
Zach was excited. Things were going to be real in less than a few hours, when the press and a lucky preview audience were going to judge the show. He’d either make them laugh or hear the crickets, and it would be the ultimate test of his skills if he needed a spontaneous moment.
Zach was generally good with spontaneous moments-just not lately.
“My, my, I spy a lone clown on a swing set.”
“Tragic, isn’t it? So sad and old and discarded-Ooh, but it’s a wild one, it knows sign language!”
Zach was giving Karl the middle finger as he stage-whispered to Zoe, “Sorry, your boyfriend is pissing me off.”
“Join the club,” she loudly-whispered back, then pushed Karl’s shoulder in jest. “I have to live with the guy.”
‘I am pleasant company. You can ask anyone, current critics excluded.”
They sat on opposite sides of Zach, with Karl starting to swing as Zoe twisted her chains.
“Nervous?” she asked Zach. When he simply nodded-because it was too hard to explain otherwise-she gave him a sympathetic smile. “I always try to meditate. You know, flowery fields or snow-capped mountains, perhaps with a lake with ducks wading.”
Karl leaned in his swing, making his trajectory wonky. “I think I saw a commercial like that, once.”
“It works, though! That and backrubs.” She twisted her swing to face Zach. “Would you like one?”
Zoe’s neck massages had become infamous. Zach had always meant to try one, but then he had alternate therapy of someone sucking his dick.
Zach leaned forward in acquiescence, and it was in no time at all that he felt her delicate fingers on his neck. Little circles, gentle circles-he had kind of wanted a robot repair, in which she randomly poked hard at his back.
“Ow,” Zach squeaked out, her fingers finally digging into tired muscle. “Do that again.”
“I think I went into the wrong profession,” Zoe mused with a slight hum to her voice. “I might like torturing people more than fire-breathing.”
“You’re a goddess,” Zach groaned into his hands. “Don’t stop-never stop.”
“But seriously, why are you nervous?” Karl had stopped swinging, his legs angled with the ground. “You and Joe are brilliant.”
“I don’t know,” Zach murmured. “It’s more like… anticipation, I guess.”
“Antici-paaaaaation,” Zoe echoed with a sway to her hips and hands, and seriously, if she continued that voodoo, Zach might cross sleep with a woman off his bucket list.
“This is your moment, seriously-try to enjoy it. Opening night only happens so many times.” Karl leaned back in his swing. “This is my fifth and final one, but it feels just as exciting as the first.”
That got Zach’s attention, and he turned his head to squint an eye. “What? Are you leaving the Cirque?”
Karl gave a quick glance to Zoe. “I hear New York is wonderful this time of year.”
“I got a job at the Met!” She wriggled again, but it was in excitement. “It’ll be nice to be near my mom and sisters, for a change.”
“Home cooking, for a change.” Karl was actually grinning, and Zach couldn’t believe it.
“You’re giving up the Cirque for New York?” Zach had been there, done that, seen it all. It had eventually grown old like everything else; a layer of dust he had washed off his skin.
Karl shrugged. “Never lived there. Besides, I’m always up for trying something new.”
Zach felt his brows crease, a deep frown as he thought about the career that Karl was giving up. The Cirque was security topped by a creative environment-travel and a big stage to die for-and people just gave that up?
“Darlin’, you’re speaking to Zach, here. He won’t even share a juice box with Chris.”
“Not true,” Zach muttered. “Those little cartons are like one sip and you’re done.”
“Zach,” Karl said with a patient little sigh, except with a Kiwi accent it sounded less patronizing. “Sometimes you have to just give up your juice box.” And before Zach could retort, he put up a finger. “Even the one-sip kind.”
Zach made a face. “What? That’s it? I just give up my juice box?” That sounded like communism, or socialism, or some sort of -ism that Zach would just not be happy with.
Zoe squeezed his shoulders. “You’re not really giving up anything-you making someone else happy. That’s a reward.”
Zach knew all about sacrifices, but that still sounded like bullshit. “Why can’t Chris get his own juice box? Hell, why won’t he give me his juice box?” The cafeteria actually wasn’t in short supply-why was there sharing going on, to begin with?
Karl looked amused. “Have you asked him? I’m pretty sure he would.”
Zach heard some smirking behind him, and he pressed his lips into a tight line. “This really isn’t about juice boxes.”
“Oh, how cute! He’s learning,” Zoe said affectionately, punctuated with a thumb in his shoulder blades. “I told you, Karl.”
Zach grumbled, “Coup” under his breath, half-expecting Ma to be the final guest to pop out from the trees, asking him why he wasn’t playing nice with the other boys.
Karl stood up from his swing, kicking sand with his sneakers. “You’re good, Zach. I like you guys a lot. Just figure your shit out sooner rather than later, okay?”
Zach would’ve glared at Karl, but he had enjoyed the accent way too much.
Zoe patted his shoulders in parting. “Trust me, sooner is way better than later.”
It was all very annoying. For all Zoe and Karl knew, Chris had been a one-night stand and they had amicably separated. That would make them look fucking stupid, wouldn’t it?
Except… everyone had probably heard them screaming. New York had probably heard their screaming.
Zoe gave a little wave as Karl led her back to the sidewalk, both of them heading in the opposite direction of headquarters. Probably a coffee date, or a free date, or a date where they discussed dead presidents and Hercules and suicidal brothers.
Zach felt a deep ache. He would probably try to pass it off as heartburn, except he had been starving himself all afternoon.
Would the whole year be like this? Every new city with its own memories to make, except Zach would still be stuck in Montréal? He’d see the Eiffel Tower and think of Chris, and see the Golden Gate Bridge and think of Chris, and see the Thames with its famous ferris wheel and still think of fucking Chris.
Or even worse, Zach would have to deal with a ferry boat on Lake Michigan and see Joey canoodling with Natalia as he thought of Chris-God. Stab him in the eye with a fork and be done with it.
Or… he could apparently share his juice box. Hopefully not the blue juice box, since that was Zach’s favorite kind-what did that even taste like? Besides Heaven and Christmas, if they had a baby.
It gave him a fierce craving, and Zach stood up to head to the cafeteria. Apparently he should grab a few while he was there-he could maybe double the price after the government takeover.
)O(
But before Zach knew it, only 30 minutes separated him between backstage and John’s opening lines. They had all gathered back there, taking turns to peek surreptitiously between the copper pipes for glimpses of the audience, and the place looked packed. Zach didn’t want to know how packed, but was glad it wouldn’t just be someone’s grandma and the press junket.
Zach looked over at the chair next to him, where Joey was perfecting the angle of his dark, long wig. He had passed on the red hat for today, going for a bandana-Louis had agreed they looked too similar, and Zach’s head looked better with the red cap. Plus Zach was usually the impetus for whatever action took place on stage, so people needed to easily identify him.
Joey glanced at Zach as he tightened the knot for his bandana, his fingers fidgeting and slipping a few times. Joey usually was scared or anxious enough to throw up, so nervous fingers were a sign of improvement.
Zach patted his knee. “Hey, rock star.”
Joey didn’t answer, as Zach expected. Partially because if he opened his mouth it increased his vomiting chances. Also because he was staring into the mirror, still fiddling with his wig over a flattened mohawk.
“We’re going to be awesome.”
There was something familiar about all of it-a different wig, a different time, and maybe different lighting, but the words of encouragement would always be the same. Joey would always be a timid little kitten before they went on stage, and then fifteen minutes into the show, Joey wouldn’t even be himself anymore.
Joey swallowed. “I told Nat I get nervous like this before a show, and she didn’t believe me.”
“Maybe she should be responsible for the barf bags, then.”
Joey swallowed again, looking wide-eyed and very silent. Zach had once offered him a glass of water when he was like this, thinking his throat was dry, but had wound up with the glass of water thrown up his lap.
Zach smiled to himself-he had a ton of gross stories like that. Some of them even featured Zach, which he only told if people got him drunk enough-after the show. Lesson #67848.
“Five minutes! Line up!”
Joey looked like he wanted to hide under his makeup chair, and Zach had never felt more like hugging Joey in his entire life.
John rushed past them in his red robes, climbing a set of stairs to a balcony entrance in the forest. Zach wondered if it would look badass, or mysterious, or hopefully both when John made his opening declaration. Would it surprise the audience to see the sirens rushing out? Would they be wondering what the fuck? at two bumbling French voyagers?
They would soon find out.
“Behold us wayward monsters! We know not what becomes of us, only what begins.”
The swoosh of performers rushing out was a visual thrill in itself, until Zach snapped out of it and dragged Joey to their canoe.
The forest was dark and welcoming, hiding them perfectly as they heard the ”Yah!” of the sirens. Except this time there was an answering trill, and Zach felt his heart race at knowing the audience was out there, alive and waiting for them, anticipating what came next.
Zach dipped his paddle into the imaginary Canadian waters. When he finally saw the stars, he was lost-heart and soul-to a new world.
)O(
It was magic. Zach had never had an opening night go this well, prompting a voice at the back of his mind to please, for the love of God, not jinx it.
Everyone was made new in the spotlight. Each act wove the magic tighter and tighter, a new spell for each dancer, gymnast, and acrobat. The costumes were suddenly made of gold and diamonds, some unearthly material that drew Zach’s gaze and held it, enthralled.
He loved this fucking show. Even with John’s Amazonian soundtrack and Natalia’s weird contortions-his arms burning from the effort of paddling and pushing himself around-Zach wanted to stay in this world all night, perhaps forever.
When Zoe blew fire into the audience he heard his first gasps, and Zach was immensely proud of her. He would hear them again when Karl threw a knife at his head, followed by giggling as Joey handed over items for them to juggle.
The audience was perfect. Zach felt he had everyone in the palm of his hand, hanging on to his every action and word, outrageous or not. When he was curious about Anton’s high-wire, hiding with Joey behind a bush, he felt the audience lean closer in their seats, curious too. When Zoe and Eric danced and made the voyagers miss their wives, there was a great need that pulsed from the audience, making Zach keenly aware of every breathing thing.
They paddled their canoe to the center of the stage, and Zach knew what to expect. But when Joey gasped and pointed at the siren flying above them, Zach felt his mouth open, unbidden.
If everyone else left Zach enthralled, he could only describe watching Chris as enchanted. A word that didn’t make sense out of context, outside of Cirque, outside of this moment. But the stars caught Chris perfectly, his actions fluid and strong and leaving no doubt that maybe, just maybe, he could actually fly.
Zach’s heart was pounding, knowing that Chris was getting into position to dive. He had told himself beforehand not to look at the audience, not to be tempted-but there was no need for warnings. A rush of blood went to his head as Chris collided with his vision, scaring Zach so badly that he had to blink through the cries of the audience, readjust his sight to see that Chris was only still, so still, and hanging towards him in the familiar teardrop.
Zach took a deep breath-he had never been this scared shitless. Why was it so different now? It was all an illusion, it was all just an act. And yet Zach felt the itch in his palm, a genuine desire to touch the hand above him, to finally feel his warmth.
He stretched upwards, the moment pulled taut as Zach desperately wanted to see Chris’ face. Hadn’t that been his days, all along? His reality blurred as he wished for Chris to look at him, just this once, although his actions were timed to the music.
Blue eyes lazily opened, finding Zach’s in the spotlight. His tinted lips parted, and Zach suddenly wondered if they were taking too long, acting too obvious-what would life be like if it always matched this moment, with Chris always climbing and darting out of reach?
Zach fell back and watched as Chris soared upward, followed by massive applause and delight of the audience. Zach tried to catch his breath as his eyes followed the aerial circles, finally leading them offstage and towards home.
Zach picked up his paddle and barely minded Joey’s stride as, yes, he definitely wanted to go home, and most of all, definitely wanted to see Chris again. There was joy bursting in his chest, and Zach couldn’t tell whether it was the music, or the sirens, or his character waving at his little tent in the distance, eager to finally see his loved ones.
The applause was deafening as John sang his closing number, which was the cue for the sirens and voyagers to rush through the copper forest to wait for their encore. Zach couldn’t stand to leave the stage-he didn’t want to see the white dressing room, his actual reality, and all the dingy and cold colors outside of the Cirque.
He hid in the shadows where his canoe had been, his hands braced against the copper trees, and it was less painful. Light beams flickered in and out from the stage, and from them Zach could see another body approaching his space.
In a perfect world, Chris would already know all that he had to say. The words wouldn’t stutter and stop the flow from his lips, they’d only pour out and say, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I fucked up, I was mean. They’d make sense and bring Chris closer, so Zach could feel the breath on his cheek, see his individual eyelashes, feel the heat from his skin.
Chris was a tree away and John’s song was fading, and Zach couldn’t let it end like this. Zach just wanted to grab him and tell him and make everything okay again.
Instead he lurched forward, his lips babbling wordlessly until they spilled out, “I need you” in a harsh whisper. And he hoped to God that Chris had heard him, because now he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t see and it was the most terrifying secret that Zach had never told anyone, ever, and he had nothing left.
Applause rang out again, flooding all sound, and Zach felt himself sink into a body beneath him. Hands smoothed over his shoulders, his arms, and finally tightened across his back as they held him close, pulling his head down to the crook of neck and shoulder. Zach breathed deep, and there was finally a sigh of relief as Zach felt Chris’ fingers at the back of his head, tangled beneath his costume to touch real skin, to touch his real self.
Zach closed his eyes, feeling the forest floor shake as the sirens rushed out again, ran past and almost collided with the two of them. Zach clutched at Chris’ waist, as if there was a current that threatened to break them apart. Moments ago Zach wanted to remain on the stage, but now he never wanted to leave this moment, never leave Chris, wondering if he’d ever feel this welcomed by another body again.
But it was their cue and Chris pulled away reluctantly, leaving Zach empty. Hands trailed down to Zach’s wrist, not letting go, and he felt it was almost too much to hope for.
Chris led him through the copper forest, and when Chris tightened his fingers they picked up their speed, finally bursting onto a stage of stars and cameras and a roaring crowd. There was a space near the front for the both of them, and Chris pulled them there, where the audience stole all of Zach’s attentions.
He was dying, he was sure of it. There were bright lights and deafening sounds and an overwhelming world of people. Joey was there, and Chris was there, and love was there-an immense love that Zach was told never existed on Earth, would never feel this encompassing. But the crowd stood up for them, cheered for them, and Zach was sure he would never feel this level of adoration again. It was addicting and heart-breaking and he soaked it in, trying to memorize what it felt like to stand on this stage, under these stars, and catch Chris smiling at him from the corner of his eye.
They had all lied-the world did revolve around Zach, at least in this moment. He didn’t know how long it would last, and Zach tried hard not to leave it-but when Joey’s fingers clenched with his, he knew it was time to go. This world and character would die for a night, and Zach was the cue for the death knell.
He raised Chris and Joey’s hands above his head, and the whole troupe followed in a wave until they were all bowing, all giving their respects to the audience. There was more applause and whistling, and everyone looked so fucking happy. But Zach knew that once he broke hands and turned around the whole troupe would leave, and the magic would wear off and fade as they ran backstage, back to their dressing room.
Zach swallowed courage and turned around, prepared for the worst-but when he did so Chris was still smiling at him, waiting for him to go first. When they ran back through the copper forest and into the real world, it was the one thing that Zach didn’t have to leave behind.
Encore! Encore!
Masterlist | Encore! Encore!