FIC: ST RPS -- I Need You So Much Closer (1/4)
Please see the Master Post for info, warnings, and author's notes.
Part One
The Atlantic was born today, and I’ll tell you how
The call came as a complete surprise.
Zach knew Chris was getting back from Pittsburgh some time that week, but he didn’t know when. Regrettably, they’d grown further apart since the press tour. Not on purpose - but suddenly they were both A-list celebrities with wildly conflicting schedules, and the constant hanging out had turned into a weekly booze-and-classic-cinema night, which had turned into the occasional lunch, which had turned into sporadic texts and e-mails. Thus the unexpected nature of the call, compounded by the fact that Chris tended to prefer written communication.
“I’m back in L.A.” Chris had said. Then, without pausing for Zach’s response: “You free tonight?”
Zach felt his heart leap suddenly in his chest at the thought. “Um, yeah, I think so.”
“Good. Okay if I come over?”
“Yeah.” Something about the thought of Chris at his place again made Zach grin stupidly right where he was, at the sink rinsing out the recyclables. “Bring booze if you want it - I’m pretty much out.”
“’Kay, see ya.” Then nothing - Chris had hung up.
It wasn’t like Chris was the type to need documented plans or a formal invitation - in fact, he’d never been shy about inviting himself over once he found out Zach rarely minded, and would say so if he did - but this seemed a bit abrupt even for Chris. Zach hoped he was okay with pizza or Chinese, because Zach sure as hell wasn’t cooking after a long day on the Heroes set.
The wait for Chris to drive over seemed to take forever, and Zach found himself glancing repeatedly at the clock as he quickly shoved the clutter on various horizontal surfaces into drawers. Not that he needed to impress Chris with his tidiness or anything, but still… it had been how long since they’d seen each other? Zach tried not to analyze the giddiness that rose in his chest at the thought of hanging out with Chris again.
Thus Zach was a little taken aback by the strangely brittle smile on Chris’ face when he showed up at the door. He’d obviously forgotten the booze, but Zach wasn’t going to draw attention to it.
“Hi!” Chris said, a little too loudly. The ensuing one-armed hug was stiff and unusually brief - Chris was generally a full-body hugger and had even been known to nuzzle on occasion, a trait for which Simon never stopped teasing him. This kind of bro-hug just didn’t feel right coming from Chris.
“Hey,” replied Zach, a little taken aback as Chris breezed past him. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, which looked suspiciously pinched and hollow. But Chris seemed cheerful enough, already babbling away about Pittsburgh and New York and how weird everyone was on the east coast, so Zach didn’t ask him. Something about Chris’ behavior put Zach in the mind of a guitar with one of the strings off tune, but he couldn’t put his finger on the problem, and besides, Zach was just happy to see Chris again. God, he had the greatest smile, even when it wasn’t at full strength.
Chris went right for the drawer full of take out menus like he did this every day - not so long ago, he pretty much had. “I was thinking that Thai place would be good.” He was practically bouncing on his toes with nervous energy, which would have been adorable if it didn’t have a tinge of mania to it.
Zach took the menu from Chris’ outstretched hand and started to dial the number. “You alright, man?” he asked a fidgety Chris as the phone rang.
“Yeah!” Chris said with another phony-looking smile. “Just haven’t kicked your ass at Super Smash Brothers in, like, two months.”
Well, at least his ego didn’t seem to be suffering. “Please - you haven’t kicked my ass in, like, ever. You just wish you possessed my superior hand-eye coordination, you supercilious dipshit- Oh, no, not you, ma’am, I’m sorry,” he said hastily to the woman at the Thai restaurant who had of course picked that exact moment to answer the phone. He did his best to order the food as Chris made faces at him from across the kitchen.
&
They played for hours, eventually switching to Wii bowling and then Mario Kart. Chris didn’t talk much, mostly replying to Zach’s questions with one-word answers, yet he didn’t seem to be able to concentrate on the games, either. Zach actually managed beat Chris on that god-awful rainbow level - an unprecedented feat - but Chris barely seemed to notice. Zach started to ask at least half a dozen times, but then stopped himself because none of the questions sounded right. Both “Why did you call me?” and “Why did you want to come over?” sounded judgmental, and “Is there anything you want to talk about?” seemed ridiculously vague. But with each hour that Chris stayed, long past a reasonable time for a casual guest, Zach grew more and more convinced that he was there for a reason.
Eventually, Chris could no longer hide his yawns and Zach decided to shut off the game - it was now or never.
He tried to hide the nervousness in his voice, since he wasn’t used to asking this kind of thing. “Hey, Chris, do you want to talk?”
Chris’ eyes looked dazed, probably from staring at the screen for so long. “Yeah, we can talk. Any particular topic you had in mind?”
“Yeah,” Zach said, wanting to phrase it right. “You’ve seemed a little… off since you got here. What’s bothering you?”
“Off? What do you mean?”
“You’ve hardly been able to sit still, and you haven’t once bothered to taunt me since we started playing. What’s going on?” Chris fidgeted, looking like he was fighting with himself, and the niggle of concern in the back of Zach’s mind started to grow. He could see Chris about to push the subject aside and attempted to stop him. “And don’t say ‘nothing.’ If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but please don’t say ‘nothing.’” God, Zach sounded like his own mom.
But Chris dropped his eyes and gnawed at his lower lip, suddenly looking like he was about twelve years old. “Something happened.”
Zach blinked, turning to face Chris on the couch and tucking one leg beneath him. “Okay.”
“In Pittsburgh. Something bad.”
Zach suddenly found it a little hard to breathe; he’d never seen Chris like this. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
Chris rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Fuck. Never mind, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Look, just spit it out,” Zach said, trying to sound more casual than he felt. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”
It was the wrong thing to say. Chris just glared at him. “Just… something really shitty happened to me, and I’m still not over it.”
Chris’ cheeks were turning red, and not just from rubbing his face. He wasn’t quite meeting Zach’s eyes, and something about the tinge of shame in Chris’ expression made Zach push where he might normally have let it go. “Hey, I know we’re supposed to be stoic dudes and all, but talking about it helps. One time I… well, I’ve had some shitty stuff happen to me, too, and it wasn’t until I started talking about it that I started feeling better.”
It sounded corny in Zach’s own ears, but for some reason, that seemed to get Chris’ attention. He looked Zach in the eye, and Zach’s throat went dry. He couldn’t put his finger on it yet, but he suddenly knew it was that bad.
Chris looked away again. “Just… you can’t tell anyone else, alright? And don’t interrupt me - I’ve got to get it out all in one go or not at all, y’know?”
Zach nodded and Chris stayed silent for a long time, staring off into space and seemingly gathering courage. It went on for such a painfully long time that Zach was about to speak, to tell him it was okay if he didn’t want to share, but then Chris started talking again.
“The night after shooting wrapped, a bunch of us went to a bar, the usual. I got really, really…” Chris paused to scrub at his eyes. “Zach, I got so wasted. I don’t even know why; I was just so wound up after everything, and the others left, but I stayed. I ended up talking with this guy. Yeah, I guess I was kind of flirting a little bit, but he was hot and I’d barely had any human interaction with anyone outside the cast and crew in weeks. Anyway, I started talking with him, and he seemed nice and everything, but then it was really late and no one else was around, everything got kind of fuzzy, and he was shoving me toward the bathroom.”
“Jesus,” Zach breathed, heart starting to race. He was terrified that he knew exactly where this was going.
Chris’ hands were clenched into fists. His whole body tensed and he rocked slightly as he spoke. “I said NO, I swear I did, but I guess I didn’t say it loud enough or often enough or something. My whole body felt like it was made of lead - I don’t know if he slipped me something, but he didn’t really have to, that’s how drunk I was. He got me in the stall and shoved me over the toilet. I remember everything, Zach. It’s hazy, but it’s all there. It hurt.”
With that, Chris turned his watery eyes up to look at Zach and Zach felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Zach tried to speak, but his mouth was so dry his tongue wouldn’t move.
Chris continued. “He left me there. I took a cab back to the hotel and passed out in my room. The next day I thought it was a nightmare, but it wasn’t. There was blood, and…” He trailed off, and Zach didn’t know whether to throw his arms around Chris or punch a hole right through the nearest wall.
“Did you call the police? See a doctor?”
“No, and no. I wasn’t hurt that badly, I don’t think, and what was I going to tell the cops? People saw me flirting with him, I was drunk, and I have no way to prove that I didn’t want it.”
Zach took a deep breath, his mind racing, trying to control his anger. He didn’t want Chris to interpret it as directed at him, or what he had or hadn’t done afterwards. “Chris,” Zach said slowly and calmly, “I can’t tell you what to do, and I’m not sure what the right thing is myself, but if you want to try and press charges-“
Chris’ eyes flashed with rage. “And how long after I file a police report will it end up on the internet? Days? Hours? I’m lucky no one wandered into the bathroom with a cell phone camera.”
The reality of it sunk in. Horrible as it was, Chris was probably right. The context wouldn’t matter - the movie-going public would hear about Chris with his pants down in a bathroom stall with another man, and he’d be damaged goods. “That motherfucking son of a bitch,” Zach growled, unable to keep from jumping up off the couch and pacing a few feet. He grabbed hold of the mantle over the fireplace, knowing anything else might find itself launched across the room. “Did you get his name? Because I swear to god, I know people back in Pittsburgh who could tear that little cocksucker to shreds if we found him.”
“Zach.”
“Do you think you could describe him? Would you recognize him if you saw him again? What was the name of the bar you were at?”
“Zach.”
When Zach turned back to Chris, it seemed his anger had partially quelled Chris’ own. “I can’t believe I’m having to say this to you, but calm the fuck down. I got a first name, but I only vaguely remember what he looked like, and if I saw him again…”
Chris trailed off, his hands shaking, and Zach’s gut immediately flooded with guilt. He’d let his own temper take over, just like he’d been determined not to. He couldn’t make this about him, no matter what. “Oh, fuck, Chris, I’m so sorry.”
“S’alright,” Chris said, suddenly looking exhausted. “I’ve been through that phase myself.”
Zach rejoined him on the couch, sitting a careful distance from him as though to show he wasn’t a threat. “That phase… it might come back. It’s not like you go through one emotion and then you’re finished with it.”
That actually got a weak, thin chuckle out of Chris. “You’re not fucking kidding. Let’s see, I’ve been through… shame, rage, guilt, depression, fear, shame, denial, and a little more shame.”
Something suddenly occurred to Zach. He wasn’t sure it was the right time to ask, but he wanted to know, for Chris’ sake, to determine how lightly he had to tread. “Chris, please don’t hate me for asking, and it doesn’t really matter, but I’ve never even seen you flirt with a guy. Did you… Had you ever…?”
“No,” Chris muttered with a sniff and a swipe at his nose. “I’ve fooled around with guys before, handjobs and blowjobs and stuff, but never… that.”
So Chris was… At least he wasn’t completely… Zach forced the thought from his mind; it had nothing to do with this. All it meant was that Chris had no experience with that particular type of act.
Zach tilted Chris’ face up with a finger beneath his chin; he wanted to make sure that there would be no mistaking what he said next. “Chris, I don’t think I have to tell you this, but… it shouldn’t hurt. Not like that. I believe that you said no and meant it. What this asshole did to you was wrong and you did nothing to deserve it - do not doubt that.”
“I know,” Chris whispered brokenly, his eyes darting off to the side as the tears finally spilled over. And Zach couldn’t help himself - he gathered Chris in his arms and pulled him close just as he broke down.
“I’m - sorry,” Chris gasped between sobs, but Zach just held him tighter.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing.” Zach pressed his lips to Chris’ hairline and whispered, “You were so brave to tell me.” He knew exactly how difficult it was for Chris to say the words out loud - this was obviously the first time he’d done so - even with all of Zach’s perseverance.
He held Chris for a long time, helping him breathe through body-wracking sobs until weeping softened into crying, which gave way to small, shuddery gasps as the other man went limp in Zach’s arms. Zach rubbed Chris’ back, his neck, his arms, keeping up a soothing rhythm as he murmured nonsense words of comfort into Chris’ soft hair. Chris smelled just as Zach remembered him, and Zach told himself that he was just comforting himself that nothing about Chris had changed.
Zach waited until he was sure the wave had passed. “I’m the first one you’ve told.”
Chris nodded against his neck.
“Why me? Don’t get me wrong - I’m glad you trust me, and I’m going to help you however I can, but I know you’ve got better friends and a close family. Why did you come to me?”
Chris stiffened a little in his arms. “I’m sorry; I guess I’m probably not supposed to know.”
Zach bit his lip, his eyes slamming shut at the sudden wave of emotion. “How did you find out?”
“You never let anyone else mix your drinks,” Chris said quietly, his cheek still pressed against Zach’s shoulder. “I thought it was just one of your control freak things, but one time I asked Kristen about it. She must have been a little tipsy, because she told me… what happened to you in college. That some guy had slipped something into your drink, and then…”
“And then…” Zach repeated gravely, sighing and bringing a hand to rest against the back of Chris’ neck. Jesus, it wasn’t something Zach wanted all his friends knowing, but maybe it would make things easier for Chris. And anything that would make things easier for Chris… well, Zach knew how few of those things there were. “It’s okay; I’m not mad that you know. I suppose it’s a good thing Kristen blabbed. You know you’re not alone.”
“No,” said Chris, holding tighter to Zach. “Not alone.”
They sat in silence for a while, until Zach heard Chris’ breathing slow and even out, and he remembered the late hour. “You wanna stay here tonight? I just got a new comforter for the guest bed.”
He felt Chris chuckle weakly against his neck. “You know how I love your taste in duvets.”
“C’mon,” Zach said, slowly extricating himself from Chris’ hold and standing, tugging the other man to his feet. He felt as though he’d do anything to hear that chuckle again, though all he could think of was, “I’ll even unwrap a brand new toothbrush for you.”
“What luxury.”
“I can arrange a complimentary wake-up call if you like, but it involves the cat lying on your face.”
“I’ll set my alarm, thanks,” said Chris, a small, pained smile crossing his face.
&
Zach couldn’t sleep. He got up to check on his friend a few times, but thankfully Chris seemed to be having no problems in that department.
It tore at him so badly he could barely sit still. Chris - his Chris; sweet, brilliant, beautiful Chris who would drop everything if a friend needed him - being brutalized like that was too much for Zach to take. He felt by turns so furious that he nearly bought a plane ticket to Pittsburgh to try to hunt the asshole down, and so utterly weighed down with despair that he could barely move. Chris didn’t deserve this. Well, no one deserved it, of course, but especially not Chris.
Why had no one been with him? His cast mates must have seen how drunk he was getting. Why had everyone abandoned him at that bar?
Zach knew how irrational the questions were - Chris was an adult, more than capable of taking care of himself, and just because Zach always made sure Chris had a ride home didn’t mean all his friends were that protective. Jesus, just the thought of Chris in that bar, flirting more than he probably even realized. He could be an affectionate drunk at times, and those breathtakingly blue eyes, so open… There had been a time that Zach had watched that flirting and hoped, and then seen it come to nothing, so Zach had assumed he knew Chris’ preferences. Had he known that Chris was… but that had nothing to do with the matter at hand. Nothing at all.
It wasn’t fair. Zach had dealt with his own trauma, and he knew he hadn’t deserved it either, but wasn’t it bad enough that it had happened to him? Did it have to happen to his friend, too? Zach had his own kind of faith, believed that there was some kind of greater force watching over the universe, so how could this have happened? Among other things, it was cosmically pointless; what possible good could come from the suffering of a single kind, caring man? He had the momentary wish that he could erase that night in Pittsburgh from Chris’ memories like the Haitian from his own damn TV show, because it wasn’t the physical damage that would haunt Chris’ dreams. It was the degradation, the sense of utter worthlessness that came from being violated, and if Zach could spare Chris that shame, he would do anything, anything at all.
A shooting pain through his temple alerted Zach to the fact that he had been grinding his teeth with rage, but what surprised him even more were the hot tears spilling unnoticed down his cheeks. He took a few deep breaths and willed himself to calm down. Chris was going to need him in the days and weeks ahead, and he wouldn’t be of much use in his current state. He made himself a cup of tea, went back to bed, and was finally able to fall asleep for a few hours.
&
The next morning, Zach woke to Noah's usual morning whining and was only mildly startled to see Chris fully dressed and standing in the kitchen, downing a glass of orange juice. Zach had a slightly distressing thought. "You weren't planning on sneaking out on me, were you?"
"’Sneaking’ makes it sound so..." When Chris looked at Zach straight on, he could see the lingering redness around his friend’s eyes. Chris' smile faltered. "I didn't know what to say to you when you got up."
"You could start with 'good morning,'" Zach said, pouring himself a glass of juice and refilling Chris'. A man couldn’t leave a perfectly good glass full of orange juice, the extra pulp kind. "Seriously, man, this doesn't change anything. Between us, I mean." Chris sagged visibly against the counter in relief, as if those were the words he'd been waiting to hear. "What did you think I was going to say?"
"I dunno," said Chris, not meeting Zach's eyes. "I guess I was afraid the once you'd had time to think about it, you'd think I was... disgusting or something."
"Oh my god, no," Zach said, but he remembered that feeling, like he was irreversibly broken, the trauma visible on his skin. "I know you feel... damaged. And you think other people can see it, but they can't." He put a hand on Chris' shoulder, grateful for the contact between them. "You look exhausted, but other than that, still the same. You're still my Chris." As he heard the words leave his mouth, he realized how they might sound and immediately started to backpedal. "I mean, not 'my Chris' like you belong to me. Not trying to get all possessive on you..."
At least his babbling got Chris to crack a smile. "I know what you meant." They both went for their juice, and a more comfortable silence settled over the kitchen. Zach breathed easier - he didn’t want Chris to think… Well, he wasn’t quite sure what he didn’t want Chris to think, as long as he didn’t try to sneak guiltily away.
Finally Chris said, "So what now?"
"Well, that's probably up to you. If you want my advice... I tried to do it on my own at first - I bought books and stuff, and that helped a little, but what really helped was talking about it with a counselor and a few friends. Do you think you could do that?"
Chris appeared to think it over. "I guess so. But who?"
"Your sister's a psychologist, right? Could she recommend someone?"
Chris' eyes went wide. "I don't-" he sputtered. "I don't know if I want to tell my family yet. If I tell Katie, I have to tell my mom and dad, and I don't think I'm ready for that yet."
"Okay, let me ask around. I have a friend who might know." Chris still looked a little panicked. "I won't say who it's for. You asked me not to tell anyone and I won't."
"Thank you," Chris murmured, his eyes starting to tear up again. "God, I'm such a mess. What am I gonna do, Zach? I can't go out like this. A guy on the plane spilled his little bottle of rum and the smell was everywhere, and I lost it. Nearly hyperventilated in that tiny-ass excuse for a bathroom."
God, that must have been terrifying, Zach thought - Chris wasn’t crazy about flying anyway, and to have to go through that alone, yet with so many strangers around… "Do you have anything so important you can't reschedule?"
"I have to meet with my agent soon, that’s all. But if I'm not doing anything... I don't think I really want to be alone with my thoughts, either."
"Well, you've got my phone number. And I really think you should tell your family."
"What? Why?" Chris gasped, and Zach kicked himself for setting his friend off again.
“They care about you, Chris, and I know you’re close to them. They’re your built-in support system. Not to mention the fact that two out of three of them are psychologists.”
“What difference does that make?”
“Well… maybe none. But they’re your family. You see them all at least once a month. Are you really going to be able to sit there at the dinner table next to them and lie when they ask, ‘Chris, what’s wrong? You look tired.’”
Chris’ breath seemed to be coming in faster again. “I… can’t. Not now.”
Zach remembered how hard it had been to tell his brother, even though he knew he needed the support, and Joe had been there for him when he couldn’t bear to break down again in front of his friends. But neither of them had ever told their mom, so Zach figured he couldn’t really ask it of Chris. He let it go. "I'm sorry - right, no family yet."
"It's just that..." Chris swallowed painfully. "They think I'm straight."
"Doesn't matter what you are, Chris. It doesn't make what happened any less wrong. For what it's worth, I think you're underestimating them." He squeezed Chris' shoulder again. "But we do this your way. However you want."
"Thanks."
"And I mean it about my phone number. Anytime you don't want to be alone, or just want to talk, you call me. I don't have to be on set much for the next couple of episodes, and my Before the Door stuff is flexible, so any time of the night or day."
Chris shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't mean you had to be my babysitter."
"Not your babysitter, just... we haven't spent much time together in the past couple of months, right?"
"I'm sorry, I was so busy, and-"
"Hush,” Zach said, mind working it over. “Just think of it as if we're making up for lost time. In a really concentrated way. You get two, three months of phone calls and hanging out packed into the next few weeks, okay?"
"What if I need more than a few weeks?"
"Then we start borrowing off the future. A couple of years from now, we can completely ignore each other for a few months and call it even." Chris groaned and Zach was afraid the other man wasn't taking him seriously. He wanted to spend time with Chris, though he didn’t quite want to analyze all the reasons just yet. "Look, this takes however long it takes, and you know damn well you'd do the same for me."
"What if I get sick of you?"
"Then I'll start talking in an accent and let one of my 27 other distinct personalities take over for a while."
"You're an idiot."
"Yes, but I'm your idiot. For as long as you need me." Zach held his arms out and Chris rolled his eyes, but stepped into his embrace gratefully. "You’ll get through this," Zach whispered and the other man shivered a little against him.
"I'm scared, Zach," he said, sounding for all the world like a lost little boy.
"I know,” Zach said, resisting the urge to rub Chris’ back. “But you won't always be. I promise you that."
They stood in the middle of the kitchen, arms around each other, and Zach shut his eyes and wished that everything would vanish except for Chris, warm and real against his body. Soon enough, though, Chris' stomach growled. He chuckled weakly. "Can we go out for breakfast? I don't know if you've noticed, but you've got fuck-all in the fridge."
"Hey, I know I’ve got soy milk and that egg-white stuff in a carton."
"Bacon, Zach. Hash browns. Banana pancakes."
"Fair enough. But you're buying."
Chris moved back to lean against the counter, and while his eyes were still puffy, some of the hollowness had left them. "I think I can manage that."
Part Two
The clouds above opened up and let it out
“Don’t come in with me,” Chris said, staring out the car window at the small office. The sign read DR. CLAUDIA VALDEZ - COUNSELING SERVICES. Zach couldn’t see Chris’ face but from the set of his jaw, he knew Chris’ mouth was drawn in a hard line, the way he did when he was trying to push down his own emotions to get ready for a scene.
“You sure?” Zach asked. “I don’t mind.”
“Are you fucking crazy?” Chris snapped, turning his head and confirming Zach’s suspicions. “It was risky enough you driving me here. Someone could see.”
Zach barely kept from rolling his eyes. “You think I give a shit about that right now?”
“You should,” Chris said, and though his eyes were hard and bright, they didn’t quite meet Zach’s. “Look, I just… want to do this part by myself, okay? Just pick me up in an hour.”
“Yeah,” said Zach, torn between reaching out for Chris and letting him go, but the other man had already started to open the car door. “I’ll be right here when you get out.”
Chris hesitated, then turned around, his tone softened a little. “Alright, but promise me you won’t just sit in the parking lot playing with your phone.”
Zach made a face but conceded, “I won’t sit in the parking lot playing with my phone.”
And he didn’t. He went to a nearby coffee shop to play with his phone. He’d put down a good $2.99 for the Bookworm app and he intended to make good use of it. He even managed to go for a 13-minute stretch without checking the time. Brigid had highly recommended Dr. Valdez, though of course Zach hadn’t told her who it was for, or why the person needed a psychologist. Zach could only hope that this doctor was adept at dealing with (god, he could barely think it) rape victims. His own therapist had been helpful, but it had mostly been his friends and his brother that pulled him through, but he couldn’t help wonder if the process would have been a little easier - and a little faster - if he’d had better professional help.
Zach drummed his fingers on the table, the screen on his phone going dark as he lost himself in thought. He kept asking himself why it was so important to him that Chris heal from this, and as much as he tried to convince himself he’d do the same for any other friend, well… Corey and Neal and Brigid, of course, but he’d known them half his life. But he had to be there for Chris, had to make sure he did everything in his power to get Chris through this, and something in the very deepest part of his brain whispered you know why. It was difficult, but he managed to wait until ten minutes before the hour was up to get up and order another coffee to go.
Once back in the parking lot, Zach closed his eyes and focused on keeping his own anxiety tucked safely away. Chris had enough shit to deal with on his own without seeing Zach struggle and having to reassure him. He was so inwardly focused that the rapping on the window made him jump.
Chris climbed into the car silently, a stack of folded papers in his hand. He looked exhausted, the earlier anger drained out of him. Zach handed him the coffee, but Chris didn’t say a word as they pulled out of the parking lot. Zach’s first instinct was to pepper him with questions - how Chris had liked Dr. Valdez, what they had talked about, what she had recommended for him. It was hard to keep quiet, but Zach managed it.
He made it another two minutes before Chris looked at him and laughed humorlessly. “You’re dying to know how it went, aren’t you?”
“You don’t have to tell me what you talked about but…” Zach stared intently ahead at the road. “If you didn’t like her, if it felt too uncomfortable, there are other doctors, other psychologists. This one was just-”
“I know.”
They lapsed into silence again. After the emotional tumult of that first night and the next morning, Chris had seemed strangely detached. If anything, his temper was shortened. Zach figured it had to be a coping mechanism as Chris readjusted to his normal life, but it still hurt to see his normally vibrant friend so apathetic and testy. Zach tried to remember how he had been after his assault, but it was all a blur. There were definitely ups and downs, but trying to zero in on a specific one was like trying to unknot fishing line with numb fingers.
“This tastes like shit,” Chris said softly.
It startled Zach enough that he pressed down a little too hard on the accelerator and they were both jerked back into their seats - if there had been another car in front of them, there would have been problems. “Excuse me?”
“I said this coffee tastes like shit.”
Zach looked over to see Chris smiling at him. It was a weak smile, barely more than a quirk of the lips, but it was there. “So sorry I didn’t have time to drive Colombia and grind the beans,” Zach retorted, his gentle tone at odds with his sarcastic words, “but you’d be bitching about the terrible chauffeur service if I hadn’t been waiting right at the door for you, engines running.”
“Priorities, man,” Chris said, taking another sip of the coffee.
“If you hate it so much, why are you still drinking it?”
“I’d throw it out the window, but that might be construed as an act of bioterrorism.”
Zach groaned loudly, but he relaxed back into his seat for the first time since picking Chris up that morning.
&&&
The phone blared “I’m Too Sexy” into the 3 a.m. stillness - Chris’ ringtone. Zach answered it and grunted the most coherent “hello” he could manage.
“Zach?” said the voice on the other end, sounding strangely alert, considering the time. “Can you use bleach right after you’ve used Drano in the sink? Or is that one of those things like ammonia where if you mix them in a closed environment your lungs collapse, or whatever?”
Zach scrubbed a hand over his eyes, sure he’d misheard. “Can you… what?”
“Drano and bleach,” Chris repeated, sounding exasperated. “I mean, not the undiluted stuff, but the Clorox powder is basically bleach, right? I Googled it first, but I either got terrifyingly misspelled Yahoo Answers or recipes for homemade meth.”
Zach took three deep breaths, trying to piece it together. The individual words made sense, but not the whole. “Is there a reason this can’t wait until morning?”
“I… I guess not,” Chris said, as though the thought had honestly not occurred to him. “But I wanted to finish with my sink before I started on the tub, because I have to switch sponges and gloves, since the tub is a mess and I don’t want, like, feet germs where I brush my teeth, you know?”
Ah, a cleaning binge. Zach wouldn’t have necessarily expected it of Chris, but people processed trauma in strange ways. He suddenly remembered in the days after his attack spending three days recopying and color-coding his history notes. It was small in the grand scheme of things, but it was something you had the power to control. Zach sat up in bed, blinking himself the rest of the way to wakefulness and trying to come up with the right thing to say. In the end, there was only one thing: “Do you need some help?”
Chris laughed, a high-pitched, slightly hysterical sound that made Zach’s stomach clench with dread. “C’mon, man, it’s like three in the morning. You don’t have to come over here. I just needed to ask a question. Which you still haven’t answered, by the way.”
“It… sounds like you could use some help,” Zach said carefully.
There was a pause, and Zach was worried Chris had taken it the wrong way, or just wanted to be left alone. But then he said, “Well, if you don’t have an early call tomorrow. But I’m not asking you to.”
“No, no it’s cool,” Zach said as calmly as he could, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”
&
When Zach pulled up to the driveway, every light in the house was blazing. He knocked lightly on the front door, wondering if he should just use the spare key under the mat. But Chris probably didn’t need anyone coming into his house unannounced just now.
Chris answered the door in a pair of boxers and a bleach-stained T-shirt, sweat dripping down his temples and a slightly manic look in his eyes. Zach had half-expected it, but it was still a jarring sight. The man in front of him was obviously Chris, but it looked like someone else staring out from behind those blue eyes.
“Hey, c’mon in,” he said, beckoning Zach in with a bare hand. The other was encased in a wet yellow glove. Chris saw Zach noticing and said, “I thought ‘to hell with it’ and just started in on the tub. But then I didn’t want to get tub germs on the front door, so I took off the other one…” He trailed off and walked down the hallway, obviously expecting Zach to follow.
In the bathroom, the sink and countertop had already been scoured with something, whether Chris had used the Clorox or not. The floors were shining and the water in the toilet was blue with cleanser. A sponge and the other yellow glove lay on the rim of the tub, which was half-covered in suds. “It, uh…” Zach stammered, somewhere between disturbed and impressed at the compulsive thoroughness on display. “It looks good.”
“Thanks,” Chris said, beaming wildly. “I did the kitchen first. I know the kitchen is supposed to be, like the filthiest room in the house, but I read once that the bacteria in the bathroom are more dangerous. Besides, better to have kitchen germs in the bathroom than vice versa, right? Not that it should matter, since I used enough antibacterial shit to kill any unicellular organism within a five-mile radius.”
“Uh-huh,” Zach said slowly, not wanting to bring Chris down too hard, too fast. “How long have you been at this?”
Chris wiped some of the sweat off his forehead with the back of his bare hand. “Just the bathroom, or the kitchen, too? I did a little vacuuming before that.”
“The vacuuming. When was that?”
“About… midnight? A little bit after? I don’t know.”
Oh shit, this wasn’t good. “Have you slept at all?”
That was it - Chris’ manic smile suddenly faltered. “I-Yeah, a little. But then I… I woke up and I kind of didn’t want to go back to sleep for a while. And the house absolutely went to shit while I was in Pittsburgh, so I figured now’s as good a time as any to get started.”
Zach’s heart broke at that faltering smile, pretty sure he knew why the other man didn’t want to go back to sleep, and he knew what he had to do. “Chris, can you do something for me?” he asked calmly. “Can you… Well, definitely not in here, let’s step out into the hallway. There we go. Can you take a deep breath for me?”
“Why? The chemicals? I tried to be safe - I mean, I didn’t end up mixing the Drano and I’ve had the vent turned on the whole time and-”
“Just… a big deep breath. I’m going to count to four while you breathe in, then hold it until I get to four again, then release it over a count of four.” It had worked for Zach. It still did, when he needed it.
Chris looked at Zach with suspicion, but when Zach started counting, Chris did it. “Perfect,” Zach said. “One more time.”
Zach led him through it four more times, and Chris didn’t fight him on a single one. “Chris, can you be still for just a minute?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“You couldn’t get back to sleep? That’s what started this?”
Chris was staring at the floor now, but he shook his head. “Nightmare,” he said, his voice cracking.
Zach had figured that, but still, shit. “They happen. Do you want to talk about it?”
“I can’t-” Zach could barely even hear Chris’ voice, it was so quiet. “I don’t think it was a flashback thing. I don’t even really remember specifics. I just… I remember the panic. And I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. When I woke up, it probably took me five minutes just to remember where I was again.”
Slowly, Zach reached up and put a hand on the other man’s arm, hoping the touch wouldn’t be too much for him right now. “I’m sorry, Chris. I’m so sorry. Those suck, and they feel so real. Your mind just… overpowers your body, and you do whatever you can to switch that back. Even if it means starting the house cleaning at an ungodly hour.”
When Chris finally looked up again, his eyes were red and swollen, but the tears had yet to fall. “When does it get better?”
If he’d tried to rip Zach’s heart out of his chest, he couldn’t have done a better job.“Chris…”
“When does it stop being the first thing you think of in the morning? The thing that creeps into your head whenever you stop talking? When do you stop feeling like you’re a pathetic waste of good carbon molecules? When did you stop having the nightmares?”
Zach moved to lean back against the wall next to Chris; he wasn’t sure he could have this conversation while looking straight into those eyes. “I can’t give you a time in weeks or months. All I know is that it felt longer than it probably was. And it won’t happen all at once. You’ll go a few hours without thinking about it, then a few more, and then eventually you’ll realize you’ve gone a whole day without thinking about it.”
“A whole day?” Chris repeated miserably. “I don’t think I’ve made it a whole hour.”
Zach struggled to come up with the right metaphor, something to help Chris understand what it had felt like for him. “Just think of it like… like a piece of jagged glass at the bottom of a river. If you try to grab it once, and then again 24 hours later, you’ll probably cut yourself both times. But in time, the silt and the flowing water will make the edges smoother and duller until you can barely feel them at all.”
Chris was quiet for a while. “Was that supposed to make me feel better?”he asked without spite, or much emotion at all.
“I don’t know. Maybe. As far as I know, there aren’t a whole lot of ‘supposed to’s where this is concerned.”
“Fucking excellent,” Chris said, such dejection in his voice that it almost physically pained Zach. “So what do I do?”
“Well,” Zach said, taking a deep breath and pushing his own hurt aside. Chris needed short-term goals right now, things he could easily accomplish. “Right now, here’s what I think we should do: we should finish cleaning the tub. It looks like you’re almost done anyway. Then you make use of your freshly-cleaned shower while I find some sheets and a pillow for the couch. Then we both say a hearty ‘fuck it’ to whatever we have planned in the morning and sleep in.”
“You’re staying?”
“Can I?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Chris said, but his tone was more encouraging than his words.
Chris finished scrubbing the tub quickly and rinsed it out while Zach gave the countertops a final wipe-down that they really didn’t need and flushed the blue water from the toilet. When Chris began stripping off the rubber gloves, Zach gave him a nod and vacated the bathroom, though he didn’t leave the hallway until he heard the shower running.
With slightly shaking hands, Zach went through the house, gathering together the vacuum and the cleaning supplies he found and switching off the unnecessary lights - which included most of them. He closed the door to the spare bedroom, which Chris had turned into an office. When he finished, he went to the linen closet looking for bedding, only to find it crammed with file boxes and books and, if Zach wasn’t mistaken, a few Star Wars figurines mint in their original packaging. Finally something that made him laugh - only Chris.
He was just shutting the door when Chris came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but his boxers, rubbing his head with the towel. “Uh, s-sorry,” Zach stuttered, completely unprepared for the sight. He’d seen Chris in various states of undress before - hazards of your face and body being a marketable commodity - but he’d always been prepared before. “I couldn’t find any blankets or anything.”
“Oh, yeah, they’re on the top shelf of my closet.” He headed for his room, and Zach followed, willing his blood to cool by purposefully not looking at Chris’ bare, toned back.
Chris got as far as the closet door, then turned. “Y’know what? That couch fucking sucks. Just stay in here.”
“Um, sure.” He could deal with sleeping on the floor for just one night if it meant Chris would feel safer.
Zach was just about to ask again about the blankets - hopefully thick ones that would make the floor less uncomfortable - when Chris just padded over to the bed and said, “I usually sleep on the right side, if that’s cool. I changed the sheets earlier tonight, so they’re not funky or anything.”
Zach remained frozen for a moment, unsure what to do. Chris seemed so casual about it, yet there was hesitancy there, too, as though the wrong word from Zach would push them farther away from each other. So Zach went with his gut - still wearing the t-shirt and pajama pants he’d arrived in, he circled around to the left side of the bed as Chris slid under the covers and clicked off the light.
Zach laid quietly in the dark for a few moments, listening to Chris breathe. At first, he’d worried that laying in bed with a half-naked Chris would be too much - Chris was an attractive guy, after all, as Zach had already seen tonight. But something about Chris’ breathing… Zach suddenly realized Chris was doing what Zach had told him earlier: breathe in for a four count, hold for four, breathe out four, and hold four. All it aroused in Zach was sympathy.
“No more nightmares,” Zach said softly, daring to touch Chris again on the arm. “Not now. You’re done with that for tonight.” Then, on impulse, he scooted forward to press against Chris’ back, and felt all the stiffness drain out of his friend’s body. Emboldened, Zach wrapped his arm lightly around Chris, listening to every breath until they began to slow and deepen and Zach knew Chris had fallen asleep.
&
What woke Zach up was, oddly enough, what he didn’t hear - the dog whining to go out, the cat scratching at the bed post. It took him a good few seconds to reorient himself, as he had, in fact, been asleep in his own bed before coming over to Chris’ place. Chris was turned away from him but still sleeping peacefully, and Zach got up as carefully as possible to avoid waking him.
Chris’ coffee selection was, as usual, bizarre in its scope, but Zach made do with some kind of hazelnut-mocha nonsense that didn’t smell too offensive. As it brewed, he thought back over the events of the early morning. He could be here for Chris now, but he wouldn’t always be able to drive over in the middle of the night. More than that, he was sure Chris would be embarrassed to ask him. Zach wanted to give him some kind of reminder, a mental shortcut to feeling loved and included even when Chris was alone. Inspiration struck, and Zach took his cup of coffee with him into Chris’ home office.
About two hours later, Zach was watching TV with the volume on low when Chris finally emerged from the bedroom waving a sheet of paper. “What is this?” he asked. “I mean, I know what it is, but what is it doing taped to my lamp and my bathroom mirror?”
“And the wall of your closet and your fridge,” said Zach, flipping off the TV and turning to face him.
Chris was holding one of several printouts of a digital photo. It had been taken inside a karaoke booth - one with garishly pink walls - in Tokyo. Chris was in the picture, surrounded by most of the main cast, plus JJ and the writers. It was supposed to have been a serious group picture, but Anton had, as usual, ruined the effect by licking John’s face at the moment the flash went off. Karl was staring the pair of them with poorly disguised horror, Simon was still singing into his mike, and Zoe, who had been three sheets to the wind at the time, was practically wrapped around Eric, who was making the sort of face a married man makes when he realizes there is no way his wife is going to believe that none of this was my idea, swear to god, baby.
It was a terrible photo of all of them - Zach and Chris weren’t even sitting together - but it never failed to make Zach smile, and it seemed to be having a similar effect on Chris. “Is this supposed to be a reminder of happier times?” Chris asked.
“Well, yeah, but more than that,” Zach replied, walking over to Chris. “Whenever you’re feeling like you were last night, I want you to look at it. Every single person in that picture loves the hell out of you, Chris. All of us, everyone in here, our lives are better because we know you.”
“That’s- You can’t-” Chris began weakly, his eyes darting sharply off to the side. “You don’t know that.”
“Don’t fight me on this one, Chris,” Zach murmured, drawing him into a light embrace. “You’re gonna lose.”
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