[FIC] Bruised (ChrisColfer) Part 2/2
Title: Bruised (Part 2/2)
Pairing: CrissColfer
Rating: PG-13? For language, angst.
Word length: 9,568 (both parts)
Warnings: Implied abuse. HOWEVER, there is a ton of fluff in here, too. This follows an ambiguous time-frame and does not reflect on real events.
Author's note: This is…my first crisscolfer fic. It's not my best work, nor my worst. But I took a long time off of writing fics, so this is me transitioning back into it again. ALSO NOTE: i purposefully do not describe the antagonist, because he is meant to be a kind of a dark shadow, so to speak. Be gentle, this is also my first time publicly posting a fic. Thanks to lotus for proof-reading this when I was too @_@ to function anymore.
Summary: "People don't cry because they are weak, they cry because they have been strong for too long."
Part One: here
"I am SO proud of you!" Darren smells wonderful. Like an earthy, woodsy kind of wonderful that Chris has never smelled on anyone else. And his hugs, they're the best out of anyone he's has ever met- he can practically feel the sincerity pouring out of him when he does it.
Chris is breathless when they pull back; he's not sure why he feels so light-headed. If it's the whole day, or Darren's smell that's now on his clothes, or how they're squeezing each other's hands and this is the happiest he's been in a long time that feels so exciting, "Thank you. I - I'm still-- I can't believe I pulled this off! I mean I know it wasn't just me, but, you know- holy shit!"
There are lights and cameras everywhere. The first showing of Struck by Lightning is done and God there are so many people who have turned up. Watching and listening to all the positive reactions has Chris' head spinning off like a top.
"You were the mastermind. The writing was fantastic; you were- are fantastic. You blew me away and I am so. happy. for. you!" Darren is grinning and his eyes are crinkled in the way that completely shows off his half-Asian heritage and Chris is all-smiles, again. "Enjoy it, you deserve this."
Chris hears him but he's still overwhelmed. His heart is beating fast and he's so happy to see his best friend is here and holy crap, his parents are, too. They're grinning- the same combination of amazing smiles that passed on to Darren who folds him up in another crushing hug, before motioning that he shouldn't keep them waiting.
"Of course- and thank you, thank you so much for being here for me." Chris finds he's holding on to Darren's hand, and he almost can't bring himself to let go. This is the first time they've seen each other in maybe a week, but it's more than Chris is used to and it's only dawning on him just now how much he misses the energizer hippie when he's not around. The thought kind of scares him, but not as much as the hand that clamps around his arm and he lets go of the thought and Darren's hand.
"Oh, hey. Is this your…"
"Max, yeah." Chris glances at the hand on his arm, but not the face, and then back to Darren with his biggest shit eating smile. The look he receives in return almost makes his heart grow limbs and crack a rib in hopes of escaping. It's only there for a second- and Darren is so good at this sort of thing - where their eyes meet; shining hazel and deep blue, and there are so many words exchanged in an instant.
Darren is looking for something. Are you okay? His eyes prod.
I'm fine! Chris wills his to shout back.
"I'm Darren. Nice to finally meet you, man." He holds out his hand, but Max doesn't take it and Darren doesn't miss a beat; instead, he takes his hand back like it was nothing and keeps rolling. "Cool, so…call me later, Chris, okay?" And in one last glance, his eyes promise, We're going to talk about this later.
Chris isn't sure what's more terrifying- the coming days ahead, anticipating the talk, or being dragged back into the crowd by bruising hard fingers.
--
By the next week, Chris thinks he's in the clear. He's seen Darren a few times since the SBL premiere, and he's hoping and assuming Darren has forgotten the awkward meeting between him and his boyfriend.
"CHRIS!" Chris finds it only mildly annoying that certain people don't feel like knocking before barging into his trailer. Lea has bounded in, followed by a more courteous Darren, who is nonetheless grinning at her display of privacy invasion. "Have you heard about this dream Darren had last night? It's hilarious! I'm assuming he hasn't told you yet, because you've been grumpy face-ing all day and I think this will totally cheer you up."
“This should be interesting,” Chris admits, setting down the hand mirror he was using to fix his make-up with for the next take, “Let’s hear it, then.”
“Well, it starts off with these gigantic bears, like Godzilla sized bears. And they’re tearing up the city looking for the best sushi joints, right? But they’re just not finding what they want. And for some reason, the clouds are cotton candy, and the Godzilla bears breathe chocolate instead of fire. So you have all this rampage and death…covered in chocolate,” Chris raises an eyebrow, and Darren’s putting his all into this story while Lea’s grinning like it’s the best thing she’s ever heard. “Then, in comes you, Chris, and you’re a super hero. You totally have the super hero abs, just like you’ve always wanted, and the whole outfit complete with the cape and all the works. And, you’re larger than life, right-so, you intimidate the bears long enough to stall their rampage, and then, using just the power of your voice to shrink them down to normal bear size. After that, you fend them off with authentic sushi you got from Japan on the way to come save all of us. When the threat is over, the skies crack open and rain twix and twizzlers, and flocks of unicorns grace the skies alongside the birds. You get your own holiday where they hand out trading cards with quotes by you on them, and your super hero symbol is a little lightning bolt. The end.”
The sheer absurdity of the story is nothing new to Chris, and he’s chewing his thumbnail in an attempt to not fuel the insanity by laughing, “You…are so messed up.” He gives in, only his chuckle is almost a half whine, because it hurts to smile and even more to laugh. His left cheekbone twitches with a slight burn through his choked laugh, and he’s just praying he doesn’t sound too strained.
“Lea, would you excuse us for a few minutes?” Darren asks in his perfectly light, polite tone.
With a not-so-subtle wink, Lea turns towards the door with flourish, purposefully making her dress spin in a perfect, white circle. “Of course, see you boys in a little bit!”
Clapping his hands together, Darren lets out a long breath through his nose. His smile is still there, but Chris can see there’s nothing really behind it, and he’s suddenly nervous again. He pushes the mirror aside, realizing how cold, sweaty, and useless his shaking fingers are; putting on any more make-up would be useless, now. “So, uh, what’d you want to talk about?”
“I was actually going to ask you that,” Darren stops at the sink, washing his hands with his back to the pale, younger man. Chris swallows and stands, shrugging his shoulders in a slow, sore motion.
“I…don’t-“
The swiftness in which Darren moves is sometimes dizzying, and Chris doesn’t even know what’s happening until it’s too late. It stings, it burns, and it’s making his head throb with waves of pain-unintentionally, he knows, because Darren is barely pressing into his skin. Chris has no idea how he got a hold of the paper towel without him seeing it, but all he can see now is furrowed brows and a determined set to normally soft, hazel eyes.
“What the fuck, Chris?” The wet, now tanned paper towel slaps, loud and angry, into the sink behind Darren, who’s got his dry hand over his mouth.
And Chris is exposed, and embarrassed, and angry and every other shade of painful emotion that exists in human nature. He opens his mouth to maybe form words, he isn’t sure, but it feels like his heart is in his throat, trying to choke him out, and it’s making him even more dizzy.
“Where did that come from?” Darren tries again, and Jesus- it looks like he’s going to cry, making Chris wonder if it really does look that bad.
Trying to swallow again, Chris grabs the table, trying to grasp anything to keep him anchored, “I - I got drunk, you know? And I face-planted on my nightstand.”
Chris can act, but he can’t lie. And he’s not even sure why he tried to in the first place, because the story he’s trying to build makes absolutely no sense. Darren is straight chewing his nails off and shaking his head as Chris talks, and he notices that his free hand is flexing like he wants so desperately to just hit something, because he does. The action alone scares the shit out of Chris, because Darren is anything but violent, and never gets angry, yet he looks right about to blow his top right now.
“You know what, dude,” The silence finally breaks, along with Darren’s voice, “I don’t know what hurts most: seeing you like this, or the fact that you’re lying to me about it.”
Chris opens and shuts his mouth a few times, irritating the long bruise draped across his cheekbone. “Where are you going?” He asks, feeling as faint as he sounds.
“I don’t know, yet. Maybe to right the wrong done by you, for a start? That would make me feel a little fucking better.” Darren is still clenching and unclenching his fists, paused and rigid by the door.
“No, don’t- please, you’re not like that. Don’t be like that, please-“ Chris can’t even fathom why he hasn’t started crying, himself. The pain in his chest is overwhelming, and he can’t breathe, and he’s starting to think that he just doesn’t have a heart now if he’s not crying like he should be. “You should be angry with me, I mean-“
“I’m angry at myself.” Darren whips around and Chris shuts it and tries again, in vain, to swallow the hard, dry lump in his throat. “I knew, it - I fucking…I knew. Not for sure, but fuck. This is wrong, Chris, you know that, right?”
Chris thinks that maybe it’s a good sign that Darren isn’t clenching his fists anymore, but he’s still radiating with so much emotion that it’s palpable in all the air around them.
“You weren’t coming out to the cast dinners, you’ve been drinking and acting strange. And, you know, I thought maybe it couldn’t be that bad, because you were still spending time with me. You were still within…reach, for me, and I realize now how selfish I was. I should have pushed more, I should have done something.” He rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms so roughly that Chris can’t imagine it’s anything but painful, and continues his tirade, “Like at the SBL premiere? I knew he wasn’t just rude. I - I didn’t want you to go with him, but what could I do, right? I’m just the friend, right?”
Stopping in the middle of the room, Chris watches Darren swallow and nod to himself, as if he’s still talking and agreeing with his own words. “I need to go get some air.”
The sound of the door slamming may as well have been the sound of the dam breaking inside Chris’ chest, because it’s right then that the sobs start, even if they’re frustrating, painful dry ones.
--
Darren wakes suddenly to the shrill sound of his doorbell. Sitting up, heart pounding like a battle drum, he manages to turn on his bedside lamp and blink a few times. The angry red of his clock almost burns his retinas as he squints at them, reading 1:27AM. His glasses are on the floor, tangled in his phone cord and the doorbell rings once more as he’s trying to shove them onto his face.
When he opens the door, he’s blinded stupid by the hall light and blinks owlishly at the taller form in his doorway. “Chris?”
Chris looks sheepish and exhausted and wrecked. He’s in his pajamas, backpack on and hugging his cat to his chest like it’s a childhood stuffed animal and ultimate protector from the boogeyman. “I’m sorry I lied to you.” It isn’t what he’d planned to say first, but it’s all he can get out and he looks over his shoulder once, shifting from side to side nervously.
Finally snapping back into reality, Darren follows Chris’ anxious gaze and then pulls him inside. “It’s-fine-what’s wrong?” He locks all three locks, now. Most of the time he locks just the deadbolt, but his apartment also has a handle lock, and a chain.
Darren scrambles to the kitchen, pulling out one of his many miss-matched bowls to fill with water before coaxing the poor meowing ball from Chris’ grasp so it could have a drink and some well-deserved stretching. Without the cat in his arms, Chris resorts to hugging himself, and the wide-eyed, gaunt look on his face is starting to scare Darren.
“Come on, “ Leaving the kitchen light on, Darren leads them back to his room and lets the younger man set his things down. “Just- stay here, okay? I’m going to get you a drink and you can lay down if you want.”
In the few moments Darren is gone, Chris settles on the soft memory foam mattress, amidst the mass of recently disturbed blankets and everything is still warm. The room is very much how anyone who knows Darren would expect his room to be like: colorful, dorm-like, with an air of organized chaos. Everything smells like him and it’s scary to Chris how comfortable he feels, basking in it all.
Chris is staring at a Harry Potter poster on the wall when he feels the mattress shift, and accepts a cold can of diet coke, “I thought you didn’t really drink this stuff- at least not often enough to keep it in your fridge.”
Darren lifts a shoulder in a slow shrug and curls his legs under himself Indian-style, “You drink it, and while we rarely hang out here, I still kind of felt it’d be nice to keep it around, Just in case.”
“Ah…well, thank you.”
There are a few long moments of silence, only broken by the sound of the pop can opening. “So…do you want me to let you sleep, or…? I mean, I’m totally fine with letting you have my bed, and we can talk later, or-“
“No- no; stay. Just stay here.” Chris hates how broken he sounds. He’s accepted the fact that his voice is naturally high and girly sounding to begin with, but dammit, why does he have to sound just like a weepy teen character in a Lifetime movie when he’s upset?
Darren just nods and Chris knows how much sitting still, in silence, is against all forces of nature for him, so he tries. He tries to think of the words to say and to his utter anger and frustration he can’t do it. The build-up in painful, so fucking tight and swollen in his chest that it’s unbearable and he doesn’t even notice he’s digging his nails into his palms until Darren’s hands are around his, easing them loose. And that’s it. Chris doesn’t know if it’s the sudden warmth of his hands or the softness of his big, stupid, wonderful eyes-but there’s a break in his chest and in his head and the next thing he knows, he’s practically drowning himself in his own tears.
He doesn’t remember practically collapsing on top of the older man, or burying his face into his neck, and he’s too busy letting himself feel it all now to be embarrassed that he’s completely soaking Darren’s skin and shirt.
“It’s okay, it’s fine. You’re safe here, you know that,” Somehow, Chris can hear the softness of Darren’s voice between his soul-wrenching sobs and part of him is wondering if this what it feels bleeding out feels like. It takes a little while, but Darren is wildly patient and doesn’t loosen his hold for a moment. It’s only when Chris hears an almost inaudible gasp that he pulls his consciousness back to reality.
“Is it that bad?” Chris already knows why Darren had the reaction he did, and is compliant when Darren carefully pulls the hems of his shirt the rest of the way up and over his head.
Shame is worse than embarrassment. It’s hotter; it burns deeper, and hurts longer. Chris can’t bring himself to make eye contact, so he stares at anything else while Darren’s fingers brush over the patches along his back, his ribs, his shoulder blades. Out of his peripherals he can see the glisten of Darren’s tears in the lamplight and it almost makes him want to start crying again, but his heart has already had enough tonight. “Chris…you have to, please tell me-“
“I did. I broke it off.” His voice is surprisingly calm.
“At the risk of sounding like an asshole, why did you date that asshole, how could you-I wish I’d have known sooner, I wish I could have protected you.” Chris has never seen such a heartbroken, forlorn look on anyone’s face before.
In an effort to stall for some time to find a way to explain it, Chris takes Darren’s glasses and spends a few moments cleaning them of smudged saline. “I’ve…you know, I keep trying to think about how to say this in my head and it never comes out right, so please, just-I’m going to try my best, okay?” Darren nods, the slightest crack of a smile gracing his lips when Chris fumbles to stick his glasses back on his face. “I told myself, so many times, that I was never going to be that person. The victim. Growing up I saw movies about abuse and I never understood them - I always thought, ‘God, those people are so stupid! How do they not see they’re being abused? How did they not know to do this or that?’ and yet, I essentially became that, under my own nose.”
“I’m finally coming to understand the real concepts of hindsight, and habit-forming, and I just…had to learn the hard way. Shit, whether it’s good or bad, can just become normal to you, you know? You just get so used to some things, and it transforms who you are inside and how you think-“ Chris takes a deep breath and clasps Darren’s hands again, instead of clenching his fists, and dives on, “You start to be unable to imagine what your life was before or what it would be like without whatever it is that you’ve become used to. I guess I kind of fell into that trap. I made a small, stupid series of misjudgments and bad choices that have…clearly, almost ruined me. And I don’t want that.”
Darren nods, thumbs running circles across the milky white backs of Chris’ hands, “But that still doesn’t tell me why, Chris, why him? Why settle for that? You could have anyone in the world.”
“Max was the first person to show interest.” Chris surprises himself by blurting that out, and knows there’s no turning back, now. “I was being stupid. I was pining after someone I couldn’t have and I was pissed at myself and trying to get them out of my mind, so I went with the first person I could, thinking that it would help. And I know that was a mistake and completely moronic. Especially because it didn’t help, and it didn’t go away, and Max could completely see through me, even though--”
“Who?” Darren’s eyebrows furrow in thought, “Who did you like that you couldn’t have, I mean.”
Chris is back to looking at the walls. The pillowcase. The random Darth Vader bobble head on the floor.
“Oh, come on, Chris, now’s not the time for any more secrets. You know I’m not going to judge-“
“You, okay? You.”
“What?”
“I know- it’s fucking completely nuts, and-god, you were or are supposedly straight and I knew that and it’s like, you know, one of those things you come to accept: there’s no use falling in love with a straight guy because you’ll just get hurt,” Chris finds the fact that he can’t read the look on Darren’s face kind of frightening, and keeps babbling because there really is no stopping, now, ”but it was kind of a lost cause for me and happened anyway and I have no fucking idea why I am telling you all of this right now. And I’ve just ruined everything between us because now you’re going to feel really fucking awkward from now on.”
Darren is chewing his bottom lip and Chris’ heart is about to explode from his chest. It’s thumping loud enough in his ears to make his head hurt all over again. The only thing he can note, besides the fact that every second that passes feels like an hour, is that Darren doesn’t look angry, at least. Or surprised. But he isn’t jumping off the walls with joy, either.
“So, you’re in love with me? Was? Still are?”
“Is that all you got from this?” Chris practically screeches, exasperated. “Yes, still am. Probably will be forever, I don’t even know-“
Chris’ breath catches; Darren’s hand is cupped around his cheek and suddenly he’s close; so close. He can smell salt/tears and sandalwood and fresh linen-and when their eyes meet, they have another one of their silent conversations. Chris watches the dip of hazel glancing at his lips and back up through long lashes, tentatively asking for permission. And Chris understand- he gets it, and he feels bad that Darren has to feel like he has to hesitate.
So he just closes his eyes and does it.
It’s not like any of the other kisses they’ve shared - the rehearsed, polite ones. The held back ones. No, this is much different. It’s slow and admittedly a little clumsy and Chris can feel Darren trembling with nervousness beneath his skin because he’s feeling them same thing - it’s almost like a vibration but it smoothes out after a few moments. Chris’ breath catches when Darren’s teeth scrape across his bottom lip and he opens up willingly for the soothing lick that follows. Any concept of time or anything else ceases to exist and he finds his fingers slipping under the hem of the older man’s shirt, scraping his nails across a smooth hipbone he’s always wanted so badly to touch (among other things.) Darren groans against Chris’ mouth and he breathes it in; loves the way Darren’s fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck and knowing that he’s the one causing him to lose it
Finally, after what seems like forever, Darren pulls back and Chris opens his eyes, slightly dazed. Darren licks at his swollen lips and he’s pink and breathless and so hot. “Okay, I gotta - god, you’re driving me insane and I don’t wanna lose control. Not now, I mean-“
Chris raises his eyebrows, amused that for once, Darren Criss is at a loss for words, and yet still puzzled as to what he’s trying to say. Darren notices and laughs, himself, knowing how stupid he sounds.
“I am trying to say…I want to keep going, but it’s been a long night and you’re hurting…” He gestures, with a painful look, at Chris’ bruises. Grabbing Chris’ hand, he places it on his chest, over his frantic heartbeat. “And I think it’s safe to say that I think you know, now…that I want to be together-this, this is all you. You’re making me completely stupid. And before you make any wise remarks about that statement and ruin the moment, just remember I made you a precious jewel in my impromptu love story.”
“I love you, too, stupid.” The next few moments are spent laughing, Chris lets himself fall against Darren’s chest and just laughs until his chest hurts. His whole body radiates with a dull, hot ache from the full spectrum of events and emotions of the night.
Darren yawns, and soon helps settle him down on the mattress and instructs him to lie on his stomach. Chris hears him mumble something and leave the room, only to be gone for what seems like a split second, because the next thing he feels is warm breath by his ear. “I’m going to put some of this stuff on your bruises to help them heal, and then I’m going to give you a t-shirt to put over it so the stuff doesn’t get all over the place. Try not to fall asleep just yet, okay?”
--
It’s nearing 3am and Darren has finally shut off the light. The arnica gel on Chris’ back is cool and soothing; he settles in to one of Darren’s over-sized old tshirts, worn to perfect softness, and buries himself deep into the comforter. He can see why Darren spends a lot of his free time wrapped up in it, now.
“Are you okay?” Darren’s whispering, like the fact that the light is off means that he has to be quiet, now. Chris simply nods and edges close to him, the circling of Darren’s arm around his waist, even while lying in bed, makes Chris feel like the safest person in the entire world. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah,” Chris finds he’s whispering, now, too.
“You said earlier that…he saw right through you. What did you mean by that? “ Darren is drawing little circles along Chris’ spine and for a moment he can’t answer, because all the butterflies in his stomach are making it too hard to concentrate.
Chris also knows where this seemingly innocent question is going, especially since he can see the outline of Darren’s guilty frown, even in the dark. “Well, first of all, he is not Voldemort and thus it’s okay to say his name. Secondly…Max knew it was you, he knew it even before I fully understood it myself. He would bring you up in half of his rampages, even if you had nothing to do with whatever we were arguing about. I just…wasn’t catching on. Maybe that even made him madder.”
“Is this because of me?”
“No! God, no-please don’t think that.” Chris pleads his case; half though gentle kisses, which is…of course, distracting and thus a bit helpful in keeping Darren from arguing. “Sometimes we make shitty choices and things like this…unfortunately, happen. It would be all-too easy for me to keep hating myself and being angry…but I won’t. I’m alive, I got out, and…. now I have you. What can I do to make you feel better? Because I know you’re going to dwell on this.”
Their noses brush as Darren nods. “There is one thing.” And he closes in, kissing along the younger man’s jaw, nudging his way down his neck. Chris is not the only one learning and playing with the power of persuasion.
Chris’ eyes flutter shut and melts right into it. He has a feeling that these lips are going to be his undoing, and that Darren is going to be sure to use it to his advantage. “Okay.”
Darren moves back up to his lips and Chris’ stomach clenches as Darren’s tongue smoothes out over his own. He almost forgets about the whole conversation because Darren’s thigh is slotting between his and Chris has a fistful of really soft curls that are so, so silky between his fingers. “Tomorrow…when you’re feeling up to it…we’re going to press charges, okay?”
“What-“
“This is what will make me feel better. And listen- hey, look into my eyes when I saw this,” Darren pulls back and waits for Chris to open his eyes again. “ I know it’s scary, but I saw how scared you looked when you got here. You looked paranoid that he’d followed you. He deserves to be punished for what he did to you. I’m not going to let you live in fear and I promise you…the only bruises I will ever leave on your skin will be from kissing.”
End.
-------
Sorry, I suck at endings D:
Pairing: CrissColfer
Rating: PG-13? For language, angst.
Word length: 9,568 (both parts)
Warnings: Implied abuse. HOWEVER, there is a ton of fluff in here, too. This follows an ambiguous time-frame and does not reflect on real events.
Author's note: This is…my first crisscolfer fic. It's not my best work, nor my worst. But I took a long time off of writing fics, so this is me transitioning back into it again. ALSO NOTE: i purposefully do not describe the antagonist, because he is meant to be a kind of a dark shadow, so to speak. Be gentle, this is also my first time publicly posting a fic. Thanks to lotus for proof-reading this when I was too @_@ to function anymore.
Summary: "People don't cry because they are weak, they cry because they have been strong for too long."
Part One: here
"I am SO proud of you!" Darren smells wonderful. Like an earthy, woodsy kind of wonderful that Chris has never smelled on anyone else. And his hugs, they're the best out of anyone he's has ever met- he can practically feel the sincerity pouring out of him when he does it.
Chris is breathless when they pull back; he's not sure why he feels so light-headed. If it's the whole day, or Darren's smell that's now on his clothes, or how they're squeezing each other's hands and this is the happiest he's been in a long time that feels so exciting, "Thank you. I - I'm still-- I can't believe I pulled this off! I mean I know it wasn't just me, but, you know- holy shit!"
There are lights and cameras everywhere. The first showing of Struck by Lightning is done and God there are so many people who have turned up. Watching and listening to all the positive reactions has Chris' head spinning off like a top.
"You were the mastermind. The writing was fantastic; you were- are fantastic. You blew me away and I am so. happy. for. you!" Darren is grinning and his eyes are crinkled in the way that completely shows off his half-Asian heritage and Chris is all-smiles, again. "Enjoy it, you deserve this."
Chris hears him but he's still overwhelmed. His heart is beating fast and he's so happy to see his best friend is here and holy crap, his parents are, too. They're grinning- the same combination of amazing smiles that passed on to Darren who folds him up in another crushing hug, before motioning that he shouldn't keep them waiting.
"Of course- and thank you, thank you so much for being here for me." Chris finds he's holding on to Darren's hand, and he almost can't bring himself to let go. This is the first time they've seen each other in maybe a week, but it's more than Chris is used to and it's only dawning on him just now how much he misses the energizer hippie when he's not around. The thought kind of scares him, but not as much as the hand that clamps around his arm and he lets go of the thought and Darren's hand.
"Oh, hey. Is this your…"
"Max, yeah." Chris glances at the hand on his arm, but not the face, and then back to Darren with his biggest shit eating smile. The look he receives in return almost makes his heart grow limbs and crack a rib in hopes of escaping. It's only there for a second- and Darren is so good at this sort of thing - where their eyes meet; shining hazel and deep blue, and there are so many words exchanged in an instant.
Darren is looking for something. Are you okay? His eyes prod.
I'm fine! Chris wills his to shout back.
"I'm Darren. Nice to finally meet you, man." He holds out his hand, but Max doesn't take it and Darren doesn't miss a beat; instead, he takes his hand back like it was nothing and keeps rolling. "Cool, so…call me later, Chris, okay?" And in one last glance, his eyes promise, We're going to talk about this later.
Chris isn't sure what's more terrifying- the coming days ahead, anticipating the talk, or being dragged back into the crowd by bruising hard fingers.
--
By the next week, Chris thinks he's in the clear. He's seen Darren a few times since the SBL premiere, and he's hoping and assuming Darren has forgotten the awkward meeting between him and his boyfriend.
"CHRIS!" Chris finds it only mildly annoying that certain people don't feel like knocking before barging into his trailer. Lea has bounded in, followed by a more courteous Darren, who is nonetheless grinning at her display of privacy invasion. "Have you heard about this dream Darren had last night? It's hilarious! I'm assuming he hasn't told you yet, because you've been grumpy face-ing all day and I think this will totally cheer you up."
“This should be interesting,” Chris admits, setting down the hand mirror he was using to fix his make-up with for the next take, “Let’s hear it, then.”
“Well, it starts off with these gigantic bears, like Godzilla sized bears. And they’re tearing up the city looking for the best sushi joints, right? But they’re just not finding what they want. And for some reason, the clouds are cotton candy, and the Godzilla bears breathe chocolate instead of fire. So you have all this rampage and death…covered in chocolate,” Chris raises an eyebrow, and Darren’s putting his all into this story while Lea’s grinning like it’s the best thing she’s ever heard. “Then, in comes you, Chris, and you’re a super hero. You totally have the super hero abs, just like you’ve always wanted, and the whole outfit complete with the cape and all the works. And, you’re larger than life, right-so, you intimidate the bears long enough to stall their rampage, and then, using just the power of your voice to shrink them down to normal bear size. After that, you fend them off with authentic sushi you got from Japan on the way to come save all of us. When the threat is over, the skies crack open and rain twix and twizzlers, and flocks of unicorns grace the skies alongside the birds. You get your own holiday where they hand out trading cards with quotes by you on them, and your super hero symbol is a little lightning bolt. The end.”
The sheer absurdity of the story is nothing new to Chris, and he’s chewing his thumbnail in an attempt to not fuel the insanity by laughing, “You…are so messed up.” He gives in, only his chuckle is almost a half whine, because it hurts to smile and even more to laugh. His left cheekbone twitches with a slight burn through his choked laugh, and he’s just praying he doesn’t sound too strained.
“Lea, would you excuse us for a few minutes?” Darren asks in his perfectly light, polite tone.
With a not-so-subtle wink, Lea turns towards the door with flourish, purposefully making her dress spin in a perfect, white circle. “Of course, see you boys in a little bit!”
Clapping his hands together, Darren lets out a long breath through his nose. His smile is still there, but Chris can see there’s nothing really behind it, and he’s suddenly nervous again. He pushes the mirror aside, realizing how cold, sweaty, and useless his shaking fingers are; putting on any more make-up would be useless, now. “So, uh, what’d you want to talk about?”
“I was actually going to ask you that,” Darren stops at the sink, washing his hands with his back to the pale, younger man. Chris swallows and stands, shrugging his shoulders in a slow, sore motion.
“I…don’t-“
The swiftness in which Darren moves is sometimes dizzying, and Chris doesn’t even know what’s happening until it’s too late. It stings, it burns, and it’s making his head throb with waves of pain-unintentionally, he knows, because Darren is barely pressing into his skin. Chris has no idea how he got a hold of the paper towel without him seeing it, but all he can see now is furrowed brows and a determined set to normally soft, hazel eyes.
“What the fuck, Chris?” The wet, now tanned paper towel slaps, loud and angry, into the sink behind Darren, who’s got his dry hand over his mouth.
And Chris is exposed, and embarrassed, and angry and every other shade of painful emotion that exists in human nature. He opens his mouth to maybe form words, he isn’t sure, but it feels like his heart is in his throat, trying to choke him out, and it’s making him even more dizzy.
“Where did that come from?” Darren tries again, and Jesus- it looks like he’s going to cry, making Chris wonder if it really does look that bad.
Trying to swallow again, Chris grabs the table, trying to grasp anything to keep him anchored, “I - I got drunk, you know? And I face-planted on my nightstand.”
Chris can act, but he can’t lie. And he’s not even sure why he tried to in the first place, because the story he’s trying to build makes absolutely no sense. Darren is straight chewing his nails off and shaking his head as Chris talks, and he notices that his free hand is flexing like he wants so desperately to just hit something, because he does. The action alone scares the shit out of Chris, because Darren is anything but violent, and never gets angry, yet he looks right about to blow his top right now.
“You know what, dude,” The silence finally breaks, along with Darren’s voice, “I don’t know what hurts most: seeing you like this, or the fact that you’re lying to me about it.”
Chris opens and shuts his mouth a few times, irritating the long bruise draped across his cheekbone. “Where are you going?” He asks, feeling as faint as he sounds.
“I don’t know, yet. Maybe to right the wrong done by you, for a start? That would make me feel a little fucking better.” Darren is still clenching and unclenching his fists, paused and rigid by the door.
“No, don’t- please, you’re not like that. Don’t be like that, please-“ Chris can’t even fathom why he hasn’t started crying, himself. The pain in his chest is overwhelming, and he can’t breathe, and he’s starting to think that he just doesn’t have a heart now if he’s not crying like he should be. “You should be angry with me, I mean-“
“I’m angry at myself.” Darren whips around and Chris shuts it and tries again, in vain, to swallow the hard, dry lump in his throat. “I knew, it - I fucking…I knew. Not for sure, but fuck. This is wrong, Chris, you know that, right?”
Chris thinks that maybe it’s a good sign that Darren isn’t clenching his fists anymore, but he’s still radiating with so much emotion that it’s palpable in all the air around them.
“You weren’t coming out to the cast dinners, you’ve been drinking and acting strange. And, you know, I thought maybe it couldn’t be that bad, because you were still spending time with me. You were still within…reach, for me, and I realize now how selfish I was. I should have pushed more, I should have done something.” He rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms so roughly that Chris can’t imagine it’s anything but painful, and continues his tirade, “Like at the SBL premiere? I knew he wasn’t just rude. I - I didn’t want you to go with him, but what could I do, right? I’m just the friend, right?”
Stopping in the middle of the room, Chris watches Darren swallow and nod to himself, as if he’s still talking and agreeing with his own words. “I need to go get some air.”
The sound of the door slamming may as well have been the sound of the dam breaking inside Chris’ chest, because it’s right then that the sobs start, even if they’re frustrating, painful dry ones.
--
Darren wakes suddenly to the shrill sound of his doorbell. Sitting up, heart pounding like a battle drum, he manages to turn on his bedside lamp and blink a few times. The angry red of his clock almost burns his retinas as he squints at them, reading 1:27AM. His glasses are on the floor, tangled in his phone cord and the doorbell rings once more as he’s trying to shove them onto his face.
When he opens the door, he’s blinded stupid by the hall light and blinks owlishly at the taller form in his doorway. “Chris?”
Chris looks sheepish and exhausted and wrecked. He’s in his pajamas, backpack on and hugging his cat to his chest like it’s a childhood stuffed animal and ultimate protector from the boogeyman. “I’m sorry I lied to you.” It isn’t what he’d planned to say first, but it’s all he can get out and he looks over his shoulder once, shifting from side to side nervously.
Finally snapping back into reality, Darren follows Chris’ anxious gaze and then pulls him inside. “It’s-fine-what’s wrong?” He locks all three locks, now. Most of the time he locks just the deadbolt, but his apartment also has a handle lock, and a chain.
Darren scrambles to the kitchen, pulling out one of his many miss-matched bowls to fill with water before coaxing the poor meowing ball from Chris’ grasp so it could have a drink and some well-deserved stretching. Without the cat in his arms, Chris resorts to hugging himself, and the wide-eyed, gaunt look on his face is starting to scare Darren.
“Come on, “ Leaving the kitchen light on, Darren leads them back to his room and lets the younger man set his things down. “Just- stay here, okay? I’m going to get you a drink and you can lay down if you want.”
In the few moments Darren is gone, Chris settles on the soft memory foam mattress, amidst the mass of recently disturbed blankets and everything is still warm. The room is very much how anyone who knows Darren would expect his room to be like: colorful, dorm-like, with an air of organized chaos. Everything smells like him and it’s scary to Chris how comfortable he feels, basking in it all.
Chris is staring at a Harry Potter poster on the wall when he feels the mattress shift, and accepts a cold can of diet coke, “I thought you didn’t really drink this stuff- at least not often enough to keep it in your fridge.”
Darren lifts a shoulder in a slow shrug and curls his legs under himself Indian-style, “You drink it, and while we rarely hang out here, I still kind of felt it’d be nice to keep it around, Just in case.”
“Ah…well, thank you.”
There are a few long moments of silence, only broken by the sound of the pop can opening. “So…do you want me to let you sleep, or…? I mean, I’m totally fine with letting you have my bed, and we can talk later, or-“
“No- no; stay. Just stay here.” Chris hates how broken he sounds. He’s accepted the fact that his voice is naturally high and girly sounding to begin with, but dammit, why does he have to sound just like a weepy teen character in a Lifetime movie when he’s upset?
Darren just nods and Chris knows how much sitting still, in silence, is against all forces of nature for him, so he tries. He tries to think of the words to say and to his utter anger and frustration he can’t do it. The build-up in painful, so fucking tight and swollen in his chest that it’s unbearable and he doesn’t even notice he’s digging his nails into his palms until Darren’s hands are around his, easing them loose. And that’s it. Chris doesn’t know if it’s the sudden warmth of his hands or the softness of his big, stupid, wonderful eyes-but there’s a break in his chest and in his head and the next thing he knows, he’s practically drowning himself in his own tears.
He doesn’t remember practically collapsing on top of the older man, or burying his face into his neck, and he’s too busy letting himself feel it all now to be embarrassed that he’s completely soaking Darren’s skin and shirt.
“It’s okay, it’s fine. You’re safe here, you know that,” Somehow, Chris can hear the softness of Darren’s voice between his soul-wrenching sobs and part of him is wondering if this what it feels bleeding out feels like. It takes a little while, but Darren is wildly patient and doesn’t loosen his hold for a moment. It’s only when Chris hears an almost inaudible gasp that he pulls his consciousness back to reality.
“Is it that bad?” Chris already knows why Darren had the reaction he did, and is compliant when Darren carefully pulls the hems of his shirt the rest of the way up and over his head.
Shame is worse than embarrassment. It’s hotter; it burns deeper, and hurts longer. Chris can’t bring himself to make eye contact, so he stares at anything else while Darren’s fingers brush over the patches along his back, his ribs, his shoulder blades. Out of his peripherals he can see the glisten of Darren’s tears in the lamplight and it almost makes him want to start crying again, but his heart has already had enough tonight. “Chris…you have to, please tell me-“
“I did. I broke it off.” His voice is surprisingly calm.
“At the risk of sounding like an asshole, why did you date that asshole, how could you-I wish I’d have known sooner, I wish I could have protected you.” Chris has never seen such a heartbroken, forlorn look on anyone’s face before.
In an effort to stall for some time to find a way to explain it, Chris takes Darren’s glasses and spends a few moments cleaning them of smudged saline. “I’ve…you know, I keep trying to think about how to say this in my head and it never comes out right, so please, just-I’m going to try my best, okay?” Darren nods, the slightest crack of a smile gracing his lips when Chris fumbles to stick his glasses back on his face. “I told myself, so many times, that I was never going to be that person. The victim. Growing up I saw movies about abuse and I never understood them - I always thought, ‘God, those people are so stupid! How do they not see they’re being abused? How did they not know to do this or that?’ and yet, I essentially became that, under my own nose.”
“I’m finally coming to understand the real concepts of hindsight, and habit-forming, and I just…had to learn the hard way. Shit, whether it’s good or bad, can just become normal to you, you know? You just get so used to some things, and it transforms who you are inside and how you think-“ Chris takes a deep breath and clasps Darren’s hands again, instead of clenching his fists, and dives on, “You start to be unable to imagine what your life was before or what it would be like without whatever it is that you’ve become used to. I guess I kind of fell into that trap. I made a small, stupid series of misjudgments and bad choices that have…clearly, almost ruined me. And I don’t want that.”
Darren nods, thumbs running circles across the milky white backs of Chris’ hands, “But that still doesn’t tell me why, Chris, why him? Why settle for that? You could have anyone in the world.”
“Max was the first person to show interest.” Chris surprises himself by blurting that out, and knows there’s no turning back, now. “I was being stupid. I was pining after someone I couldn’t have and I was pissed at myself and trying to get them out of my mind, so I went with the first person I could, thinking that it would help. And I know that was a mistake and completely moronic. Especially because it didn’t help, and it didn’t go away, and Max could completely see through me, even though--”
“Who?” Darren’s eyebrows furrow in thought, “Who did you like that you couldn’t have, I mean.”
Chris is back to looking at the walls. The pillowcase. The random Darth Vader bobble head on the floor.
“Oh, come on, Chris, now’s not the time for any more secrets. You know I’m not going to judge-“
“You, okay? You.”
“What?”
“I know- it’s fucking completely nuts, and-god, you were or are supposedly straight and I knew that and it’s like, you know, one of those things you come to accept: there’s no use falling in love with a straight guy because you’ll just get hurt,” Chris finds the fact that he can’t read the look on Darren’s face kind of frightening, and keeps babbling because there really is no stopping, now, ”but it was kind of a lost cause for me and happened anyway and I have no fucking idea why I am telling you all of this right now. And I’ve just ruined everything between us because now you’re going to feel really fucking awkward from now on.”
Darren is chewing his bottom lip and Chris’ heart is about to explode from his chest. It’s thumping loud enough in his ears to make his head hurt all over again. The only thing he can note, besides the fact that every second that passes feels like an hour, is that Darren doesn’t look angry, at least. Or surprised. But he isn’t jumping off the walls with joy, either.
“So, you’re in love with me? Was? Still are?”
“Is that all you got from this?” Chris practically screeches, exasperated. “Yes, still am. Probably will be forever, I don’t even know-“
Chris’ breath catches; Darren’s hand is cupped around his cheek and suddenly he’s close; so close. He can smell salt/tears and sandalwood and fresh linen-and when their eyes meet, they have another one of their silent conversations. Chris watches the dip of hazel glancing at his lips and back up through long lashes, tentatively asking for permission. And Chris understand- he gets it, and he feels bad that Darren has to feel like he has to hesitate.
So he just closes his eyes and does it.
It’s not like any of the other kisses they’ve shared - the rehearsed, polite ones. The held back ones. No, this is much different. It’s slow and admittedly a little clumsy and Chris can feel Darren trembling with nervousness beneath his skin because he’s feeling them same thing - it’s almost like a vibration but it smoothes out after a few moments. Chris’ breath catches when Darren’s teeth scrape across his bottom lip and he opens up willingly for the soothing lick that follows. Any concept of time or anything else ceases to exist and he finds his fingers slipping under the hem of the older man’s shirt, scraping his nails across a smooth hipbone he’s always wanted so badly to touch (among other things.) Darren groans against Chris’ mouth and he breathes it in; loves the way Darren’s fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck and knowing that he’s the one causing him to lose it
Finally, after what seems like forever, Darren pulls back and Chris opens his eyes, slightly dazed. Darren licks at his swollen lips and he’s pink and breathless and so hot. “Okay, I gotta - god, you’re driving me insane and I don’t wanna lose control. Not now, I mean-“
Chris raises his eyebrows, amused that for once, Darren Criss is at a loss for words, and yet still puzzled as to what he’s trying to say. Darren notices and laughs, himself, knowing how stupid he sounds.
“I am trying to say…I want to keep going, but it’s been a long night and you’re hurting…” He gestures, with a painful look, at Chris’ bruises. Grabbing Chris’ hand, he places it on his chest, over his frantic heartbeat. “And I think it’s safe to say that I think you know, now…that I want to be together-this, this is all you. You’re making me completely stupid. And before you make any wise remarks about that statement and ruin the moment, just remember I made you a precious jewel in my impromptu love story.”
“I love you, too, stupid.” The next few moments are spent laughing, Chris lets himself fall against Darren’s chest and just laughs until his chest hurts. His whole body radiates with a dull, hot ache from the full spectrum of events and emotions of the night.
Darren yawns, and soon helps settle him down on the mattress and instructs him to lie on his stomach. Chris hears him mumble something and leave the room, only to be gone for what seems like a split second, because the next thing he feels is warm breath by his ear. “I’m going to put some of this stuff on your bruises to help them heal, and then I’m going to give you a t-shirt to put over it so the stuff doesn’t get all over the place. Try not to fall asleep just yet, okay?”
--
It’s nearing 3am and Darren has finally shut off the light. The arnica gel on Chris’ back is cool and soothing; he settles in to one of Darren’s over-sized old tshirts, worn to perfect softness, and buries himself deep into the comforter. He can see why Darren spends a lot of his free time wrapped up in it, now.
“Are you okay?” Darren’s whispering, like the fact that the light is off means that he has to be quiet, now. Chris simply nods and edges close to him, the circling of Darren’s arm around his waist, even while lying in bed, makes Chris feel like the safest person in the entire world. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah,” Chris finds he’s whispering, now, too.
“You said earlier that…he saw right through you. What did you mean by that? “ Darren is drawing little circles along Chris’ spine and for a moment he can’t answer, because all the butterflies in his stomach are making it too hard to concentrate.
Chris also knows where this seemingly innocent question is going, especially since he can see the outline of Darren’s guilty frown, even in the dark. “Well, first of all, he is not Voldemort and thus it’s okay to say his name. Secondly…Max knew it was you, he knew it even before I fully understood it myself. He would bring you up in half of his rampages, even if you had nothing to do with whatever we were arguing about. I just…wasn’t catching on. Maybe that even made him madder.”
“Is this because of me?”
“No! God, no-please don’t think that.” Chris pleads his case; half though gentle kisses, which is…of course, distracting and thus a bit helpful in keeping Darren from arguing. “Sometimes we make shitty choices and things like this…unfortunately, happen. It would be all-too easy for me to keep hating myself and being angry…but I won’t. I’m alive, I got out, and…. now I have you. What can I do to make you feel better? Because I know you’re going to dwell on this.”
Their noses brush as Darren nods. “There is one thing.” And he closes in, kissing along the younger man’s jaw, nudging his way down his neck. Chris is not the only one learning and playing with the power of persuasion.
Chris’ eyes flutter shut and melts right into it. He has a feeling that these lips are going to be his undoing, and that Darren is going to be sure to use it to his advantage. “Okay.”
Darren moves back up to his lips and Chris’ stomach clenches as Darren’s tongue smoothes out over his own. He almost forgets about the whole conversation because Darren’s thigh is slotting between his and Chris has a fistful of really soft curls that are so, so silky between his fingers. “Tomorrow…when you’re feeling up to it…we’re going to press charges, okay?”
“What-“
“This is what will make me feel better. And listen- hey, look into my eyes when I saw this,” Darren pulls back and waits for Chris to open his eyes again. “ I know it’s scary, but I saw how scared you looked when you got here. You looked paranoid that he’d followed you. He deserves to be punished for what he did to you. I’m not going to let you live in fear and I promise you…the only bruises I will ever leave on your skin will be from kissing.”
End.
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Sorry, I suck at endings D: