Pinto: Tabula Rasa (1/?)
Title: Healing Process (1/?)
Rating: PG for this chapter
Pairing: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Word Count: 807
Disclaimer: Money can't buy me love people.
Summary: Post-breakup!fic. Chris and Zach haven't spoken to each other in eight months. (Sucky summary, sorry.)
Author's Note: Angst, but not as much as you probably think. And I'm pretty sure this will have a happy ending. Oh, also, this story takes place in 2012. Not for any end-of-the-world reasons.
Chris knew this door. He had walked through this door hundreds of times. One could say that he and this door had been friends; besides maybe bumping into the frame a couple of times, it had never hurt him. Yet, Chris couldn't bring himself to lift his hand and knock. The doorbell would've been an easy out, but he hated the obnoxious things and refused to use them. Chris rubbed his hands over his eyes, he was acting like such a wimp. With his eyes still closed he rapped his fist against the door. He really hoped that Zach had heard that, because he didn't think he could do it again.
The door opened and Chris's words died in his throat.
"Can I help you?"
Oh god, he hadn't been prepared for this. He had been prepared to be met with anger, with sadness, maybe even with a punch to the face, but not with a pretty young girl.
"Um," Chris felt like such an idiot, a pathetic idiot, "Is Zach, er, up?"
"No, he's still sleeping. You're Chris, right?" the girl took in his nod and opened the door wider, "Why don't you come on in?"
Chris scratched the back of his neck and followed her inside. He couldn't help but notice subtle changes in the decor; Zach had bought a new coffee table since the last time Chris had been inside, and the house was messier than he could ever remember it being. The girl led him to the couch where she hastily picked up a few empty beer bottles and put them into the recycling bin, which he could see contained little else, before offering him a seat. Chris sat, lightly tracing a short line of ink he had accidentally marked the sofa with. He remembered how angry Zach had been and how Chris had apologized profusely before resorting to kissing the other man just to shut him up.
The girl hovered awkwardly for a moment, "Can I get you anything? Something to drink?"
"No, I'm good," Chris replied.
"Are you sure? I was just gonna make myself some tea," she said, gesturing behind her at the tea kettle sitting on the stove.
"Well, then, I guess a cup would be nice."
The girl smiled and headed back into the kitchen and Chris took the opportunity to study this woman whom he had never seen before. Her short, spiky hair, obviously not naturally blond, stuck up every which way as if she was a messy sleeper or had taken part in crazy, hot, monkey-sex the night before. As much as he hated to admit it, the fact that she also seemed to be wearing one of Zach's shirts and a pair of his drawstring sweats pretty much confirmed the latter. She wasn't a one-night stand; a practical stranger wouldn't have been comfortable enough to answer his door, but they couldn't have been dating long if the way she was fumbling through his cabinets in search of the tea was any indication. Chris wanted to call out, Left, above the stove, but he kept his mouth shut and she eventually found the tea bags on her own. Their relationship probably wasn't very serious, either, if she didn't have any clothes at Zach's house. Hell, Chris was pretty sure he had never taken back the clothes he had left here. The thought made him wonder if Zach had throw them away or if they were still in the drawer that had once been Chris's.
"Is chai okay?" the girl called from the kitchen.
"Chai is fine," Chris recalled lazy mornings sipping chai tea on this very couch.
She soon brought over two steaming cups of the stuff, the little jar of sugar Zach kept by his stove and the whole carton of half-and-half and set everything down on the coffee table that brought no memories of his relationship with it's owner. Chris quickly placed his mug on a coaster, but noticed that the girl hadn't bothered to. They hadn't been dating for very long at all then, if she didn't know better not to put her mug directly on the table. The notion shouldn't have made him smile, but it did; Zach had ingrained it into his head that coasters were to be used on every flat surface except the kitchen counters and the dinning room table.
"Oh, sorry, I forgot that you probably have no idea who I am. My name's Emily."
Emily. Not the name he would've guessed, and it didn't really fit the short, dyed hair, but maybe it had fit her better before she had chopped it off and bleached it.
Emily ran a hand through said hair, "I guess my dad and I don't really look alike," she said.
Chris's brow furrowed, "Your dad?"
"Yeah," Emily said slowly, "I'm Zach's daughter."
Author's Note #2: CLIFFHANGER???!!! Why yes it it. Because I'm evil, or something. Do not fret, the next chapter will be up tomorrow.
Chapter 2