Fic: Letters to You, Chapter 2
Title: Letters to You, Chapter 2 // Master Post
Word Count: 3586
Pairing: Pinto AU
Rating: R
Summary: Chris and Zach stay in touch through high school and college
Warnings: Teenage angst, late 90’s pop culture, mention of Chris/OC and Zach/OC
Disclaimer: All made up.
Chris’ feet pound up the stairs. He tosses his black Jansport on the floor, kicks off his running shoes, and flops backwards onto his bed with a bounce, his head almost knocking against the wall. His long skinny legs dangle off the edge, sock-clad feet brushing the floor, thanks to his recent growth spurt.
It’s his junior year of high school, and Chris is finally taller than most girls. The trade off is that his frame appears thinner, sprouting gangly and awkward limbs that aren’t quite filled in with muscle yet. Not that he isn’t trying. It’s only October and baseball season won’t start for another four months, but Chris is bulking up already, determined to put some strength behind his new height and use it to his advantage on the field.
Last week, his mom described him to his aunt as a puppy who hasn’t grown into his big paws and it made him groan with embarrassment. Puppies are cute. Puppies aren’t gawky high schoolers and don’t have acne or wear glasses or seem invisible to the cute girls in his class. It doesn’t matter how much his mom can cup his chin and tell him he’s handsome, it’s not what he sees.
Chris slides his finger under the flap of the envelope and two folded sheets of looseleaf paper tumble onto the Nirvana t-shirt he’s wearing. There’s this tremor of excited that runs through him whenever he gets a letter from his friend, but lately Zach’s sounded sad and angry, being down on himself and getting into yelling matches with his mom.
It only takes him a couple minutes to read the letter. Like last time, the main themes were insecurities, frustrations with classmates, and problems with his mom, even Joe now.
On some things, Chris can completely sympathize. They’re both slightly awkward and artsy, easy targets for the more popular kids. Zach is teased a lot for his interest in theater and his involvement with the Drama Club. Chris thinks it’s maybe the same as when he’s called a fag for being in the Poetry Club.
But Chris has been fortunate in that he’s never really gotten into a big argument with his parents. He’s certainly tried to pick fights, mostly over trivial things. It doesn’t seem to rattle his mom much and her therapist training, though, so he gave up after a while.
He knows things are different for Zach and that things changed drastically in their house once Zach’s brother moved out to L.A. At least when Joe was in college, he would stop by on weekends and buffer anything that brewed between Zach and their mom. It’s surprising to Chris that Zach’s having friction with his brother; if there’s anyone who’s always on Zach’s side, it’s Joe.
But even with all that, Chris can feel that there’s something Zach isn’t telling him. He can see it in how erratic his handwriting is and the way his thoughts scatter across the page.
He turns onto his side on the bed, and reads the letter again. Afterward, he stares at the last paragraph, the contrast of the black ink on white paper burning into his retinas.
I know it’s not polite to complain. It’s all I ever do in these letters to you and you must be getting sick of it. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t write back -- you probably have your own problems and issues in your life that you want to figure out...
His heart aches in a way that’s unfamiliar to him. Chris walks over to his desk and plops down in his chair. Rifling through his desk drawer, he finds a blue pen because black seems too dark and pessimistic.
Do you ever walk pass that guy in the hallway, you know, the guy who’s co-captain of the football team, ‘roided to the point where he can’t bend his arm behind him to scratch his back, but he’s popular and people think he’s funny and he’s always bragging about how much pussy he got over the weekend at his older brother’s fraternity, and wonder what it would be like to be him?
I totally don’t, Zach. And I don’t think you do either.
I don’t want to be him, now or ever. My mom keeps telling me about how I’m not the type to peak in high school. I think I know what she means. I think the same is true of you. There’s something better out there for both of us.
Chris scratches his head and thinks of something more lighthearted to tell Zach. By the time he’s done, he’s written four pages worth of his thoughts on the Great Gatsby, his hopes for the upcoming baseball season, and stupid things that have happened to him over the last few weeks. He hesitates before signing off and adds a quick thought.
I will always write back, Zach. I might not have the most brilliant things to say, or even say the right things to make you feel better, but I’d never leave you hanging.
The week before Thanksgiving, there’s another letter from Zach. It’s a single sheet of paper with four sentences.
I auditioned my heart out for the lead role in the play and didn’t get it. I was so upset that I wrecked my mom’s car. As if she wasn’t pissed enough at me, I then confessed something to her and she hasn’t stopped crying or spoken to me for days.
Chris, tell me I’m not some major disappointment?
Twenty minutes later, Chris is waiting in line at the post office, panting heavily after running the mile and a half to get there. At the counter, the clerk looks at him with concern.
“I’d like to overnight this, sir. To Pittsburgh,” Chris says, holding up a folded slip of paper in his hands with nothing written on it except for his name and phone number.
The clerk nods and gives Chris the proper envelope and mailing label. Chris scribbles down the address he’s had committed to memory for the last eight years. He drops the half sheet of college-ruled paper he had torn from his Calculus notebook, the jagged edges still attached, into the large envelope and hands over a twenty dollar bill.
Chris hardly sleeps that night and fidgets his way through the next day. At the dinner table, he catches his mom glancing at his plate, watching as he picks at his food with disinterest, a rare occurrence for Chris. She doesn’t say anything about his apparent lack of appetite, and he’s thankful for the reprieve. Eventually, he excuses himself and heads back up to his bedroom.
He’s managed to reign in enough concentration to begin writing an essay for his AP U.S. History class when he hears the phone ring. His hand freezes midword and he holds his breath. His entire body is thrumming with anticipation when he hears his mom’s footsteps coming up the stairs. He’s already at the door when she knocks on it.
“Is it for me?” he asks quickly.
She blinks and nods, handing over the cordless handset.
Chris takes it from her, gives her a little smile, and closes the door. Making his way over to his bed, he sits on the edge, bouncing his knee and feeling his heart pound in his throat. He holds the phone up to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Chris? It’s me. It’s Zach.”
His voice is deep but soft and warm, and more than a little hesitant. He sounds exactly like Chris had expected.
“Hi, Zach.”
Chris falls back onto his bed and grins.
“Hi,” Zach says again. It’s funny, but Chris thinks he can hear Zach’s smile. “It’s good to hear your voice,” Zach adds.
“Yeah, we should’ve thought of this sooner.”
They talk for hours, chuckling and joking about things, their conversation winding every which way, until Zach grows quiet.
“Chris... I need to tell you something.” Zach sounds worried, almost pained. “It’s... some of my friends here know, kind of. They figured it out, I guess. My mom, she freaked when I told her. That’s what the big fight was about. She’s better now. We had sort of had a talk this morning. But I... umm...”
Chris stares up at the ceiling and waits. “Just spit it out,” he says quietly.
There’s a long pause before he hears Zach take a deep breath.
“I’m gay,” Zach whispers.
“Okay,” Chris responds.
“Do you... Is it weird?”
Chris shakes his head and then rolls his eyes at himself for forgetting that Zach can’t see him.
“No, it’s not weird.”
“It feels weird. Saying it out loud, I mean. I think that’s only the third time I’ve said it to someone,” Zach confesses, his voice more relaxed now.
“Say it five times fast now,” Chris tells him.
“I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay.”
“See? That wasn’t so bad.” Chris grins. “You just need to practice it.” He hears Zach chuckle. “No, but for serious. Thanks for telling me. I know that probably wasn’t easy. It’s like, an honor, you know, or something like that, cause you’ve only told a few people and I’m one of them. But a lot of the things you mentioned in your letters make a lot more sense to me now.”
“It really doesn’t bother you?” Zach asks.
Chris shrugs. “You’re still the same Zach. That’s all that matters.”
They sit in silence for a few beats.
“So,” Chris begins. “If you need to, like... if it makes you feel better, you can talk about cute boys in your class. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t do that. You can tell me anything.”
The sound of Zach’s laugh is reassuring. “Chris, I wish you were here.”
Chris sighs. “I wish I was, too, Zach.”
***
He wakes up around two in the afternoon, cranky and hungover. His roommate’s already gone, probably off to the library or something. Chris forces himself to get up, shower, drink a gallon of water, and eat something that resembles the leftovers of a calzone.
He plops down at his desk and gives his mouse a shake. His computer screen comes to life. With a yawn, Chris checks his email and signs on to ICQ.
Immediately, a message appears from Zach. It was sent while Chris was offline.
Zach: are you serious? are you absolutely sure? message me when you get this. i want all the deets.
Chris has no idea what Zach talking about. He glances up at his contacts lists and sees the little flower next to Zach’s name is green. It’s almost four in the afternoon, which means it’s almost seven in New York. He clicks in the chat window below Zach’s message.
Chris: what are you talking about?
Within seconds, he sees Zach typing in the window.
Zach: you sent me a message last night. you were druuunk off your ass. said you kissed a guy at some party. and that you kind of liked it. anything you want to share with the class, christopher?
Chris squeezes his eyes shut and tries to remember what happened. He was at the Cal game, they beat U of O, he went to some party with his roommate and some other friends... the rest is kind of hazy.
No, wait. He remembers running into Monica. She touched his hand, said she wanted to get back together. Okay, now he definitely remembers kissing her. Chris groans inwardly, knowing that she’s probably going to want to have a ‘talk’ about that. God, girls and their feelings.
He gets bits and pieces of a different party, tiki torches, some dude with a coconut bra, sitting on a dirty couch with Scott from his Contemporary American Poetry class...
And it hits him like a truck. He kissed Scott.
Chris: oh shit.
Chris: motherfucking shit fuckballs. I kissed some dude from my poetry class.
Zach: what else do you remember?
Chris: like, nothing
Zach: are you freaking out?
Chris: maybe?
He doesn’t really know what to think.
Scott had been in the same writing course as Chris last spring when they were sophomores, and it was apparent to Chris right away that Scott was smart, creative, and a gifted writer. They had been paired as peer feedback partners for a couple writing assignments and Chris wasn’t surprised that they ended up in another class together this semester, or that the two of them had the most to contribute to the discussions.
It was about a month ago that Chris became more and more intrigued by him. As soon as Chris arrived at class, he would glance around to see where Scott was sitting. He tried to pick a desk not too close, but close enough that Scott could see him or notice him. Then, Chris started making mental lists of friends they had in common, and thought about him at random times or thought about what Scott might say about something he read. He caught himself staring at Scott’s hands one day in class and it dawned on him: this what he does when he’s interested in a girl.
Chris never had problems admitting to thinking that certain guys were attractive, but this was the first time he was actually attracted to a guy. He did the obvious thing: freak out.
A few days passed and Chris did his best to not think about Scott, but then his classmate smiled at him after a spirited dissection during class and Chris blushed so hard his face hurt. He hurried back to his dorm room with his head ducked, as if someone who saw him might know the thoughts running through his mind, and jerked off to the mental image of Scott smiling down at him, kissing and touching his chest.
Zach: it doesn’t necessarily mean anything, you know
Zach: it doesn’t mean like, you’re GAY
Zach: like, i’m sure you’ve kissed totally platonic female friends at some point and it meant nothing
Zach: you were drunk and
Chris: actually
Chris: I think I have a crush on this guy
Chris watches as Zach types out a couple words, deletes them, starts over, and deletes them again.
Zach: is this real? are you really into guys? or this just some experimental thing you’re doing?
Chris: I think it’s real?
Chris: for sure I like this guy
Chris: I still like girls though
Zach: geez, greedy much?
Zach: jk
He keeps having these fantasies about Scott. Sometimes they’re in Chris’ dorm room, other times they’re in an empty classroom. But it never progresses beyond kissing and touching. The idea of touching someone else’s dick makes him freeze with fear, which he thinks is ridiculous because he has absolutely no problems when it comes to perky tits or a nice ass on a girl. It’s like being a virgin all over again.
Chris: can I tell you something weird?
Zach: sure
Chris: you can’t tell anyone
Chris: and you can’t judge me
Zach: chris, come on, it’s me
Chris takes a deep breath. He’s never told anyone about Scott, and he can’t think of any of his friends, even his gay friends at Berkeley, that he can have this conversation with besides Zach.
Chris: I get nervous thinking about what to do with someone else’s dick
Chris: like, I think I want to, you know, but I’m afraid of making a fool out of myself
Chris: it’s dumb cause I have one too, so you’d think it be way more intuitive than when I’m getting with a girl right?
Chris: I’m such a freak, I’m intimidated by penises
His cursor blinks at him. Zach doesn’t type anything for a while.
Chris: you’re laughing at me, aren’t you?
Zach: no, i’m just trying to think
Zach: i don’t think it’s dumb
Zach: we’re talking about blowjobs right?
Chris: yeah
Zach: i guess i was kind of the same in the beginning
Zach: it’s that way when you’re with anyone for the first time
Zach: but i think it’s different when you’re both vulnerable and exposed and caught up in the moment, like you won’t be so nervous?
Zach: i think when the time’s right, you’ll figure it out
Zach: you know what I mean?
Chris: yeah
Chris: yeah, I get what you mean
They’re both silent for a while as Chris thinks things over.
Zach: are you ok?
Chris: I think so
Zach: do you want like, pointers?
Chris: no
Zach: do you want to keep talking about this or change the topic?
Chris: yes please change the topic
Zach: you want to know what’s going on with me?
Chris: yeah
Zach: chuck broke up with me
Chris: I’m sorry, Zach
Zach: yeah, i mean, i’m not surprised
Zach: four weeks, though
Zach: that’s a new record for me
Zach: it’s ok, cause there’s this guy in one of my classes that keeps flirting with me
Chris chuckles as Zach tells him about his latest escapades. It’s a lot easier for Zach to meet and date other guys now that he’s left his small town to study theater at NYU. And he certainly takes advantage of it. Zach’s confidence grew quickly once he arrived at college, and soon Chris couldn’t keep track of the guys he was seeing.
Even though Zach seems much happier in some respects, Chris knows that casual dating and one night stands got old for Zach after his first year of college. He’s joked more than once about how he thinks he’s got a two-week expiration date etched into his forehead, but Chris senses the hurt and disappointment behind it.
Zach: so, this might sound weird because i know you’re kind of confused about things
Zach: but i’m happy for you
Chris: happy cause dicks terrify me?
Zach: shut up
Zach: happy cause it’s exciting
Chris: yeah
Chris: yeah, you’re right
Zach: good luck and be safe, you know, condoms and all
Chris: omg please don’t
Zach: ok, now I’m laughing at you
Chris: HA fucking HA
Zach: all joking aside
Zach: this is one of those times when i wish with all my might that i could be there with you
Chris: yeah, me too
Chris: I wish you were here
Days pass and nothing has happened with Scott. Neither of them mention that night, and Chris figures it’s just as well when he’s at a party the following weekend and he sees his classmate with his hands down the pants of their TA.
Napster’s being a total bitch. Chris groans when three of his eight downloads fail. His flight to San Francisco for winter break leaves tomorrow and he absolutely needs to burn these songs for his discman. He’s watching the remaining three like a hawk when he gets an ICQ message from Zach.
Zach: are you busy?
Chris: just dl’ing music
Zach: anything good?
Chris: no
Zach: more britney? i swear you’re getting gayer everytime talk to you
Chris: shut up or I won’t burn it for you
Zach: as if
Zach: bought that cd the day it came out
Zach: ok, back to the really important thing I wanted to talk to you about
Chris: ok
Zach: i think we should nix the plans for you to come visit ny for spring break
Zach: i have a better idea
Chris: umm ok
Zach: come to ny for the summer
Zach: i’m thinking of staying here to take classes and you can totally do the same
Zach: and i’m positive the credits will transfer to Berkeley
Chris stares at his screen. Zach is a fucking genius.
Chris: you’re a fucking genius
Zach: i know
Chris: wait, how much is this going to cost
Zach: a lot
Zach: but if we both work all of spring break, we could save up extra cash
Chris: there’s no way we’ll save up a summer’s worth of money in one week
Zach: no, you’re right
Zach: we can whore ourselves for cash
Chris: no
Zach: ok
Zach: what if we get jobs over the summer too?
Zach: and pick up more hours for work-study in the spring?
Chris: that might work
Chris: I’ll have to think about it
Chris: I don’t know if my parents would be on board with it
Zach: yeah, i understand
Zach: but think about it? pleeeease?
Chris: yeah, I swear I will
Chris: it would be so much fun
Chris is about to go to bed when Zach e-mails him and gives him the link for NYU’s Summer Session schedule and courses.
c,
i know it’s a huge huge IF and you’re not sure if you can afford it. BUT. just think about how much fun we’d have together in nyc for the summer! IT’LL BE SO FUCKING DIESEL! we can be roommates! we’ll go to classes and work part-time during the day and I’ll show you around the city at night! i’m going to start looking into off-campus housing for the summer once I get back from winter break. talk it over with your parents and let me know.
e-mail me when you get in. i’ll be bored out of my mind at home.
travel safe,
z
Chris clicks on the link and before he’s even done scrolling through the list of classes offered, his mind’s already made up. He doesn’t care how much he’ll have to work next semester to save up for it. He’s going to New York for the summer.
Chapter 3
Word Count: 3586
Pairing: Pinto AU
Rating: R
Summary: Chris and Zach stay in touch through high school and college
Warnings: Teenage angst, late 90’s pop culture, mention of Chris/OC and Zach/OC
Disclaimer: All made up.
Chris’ feet pound up the stairs. He tosses his black Jansport on the floor, kicks off his running shoes, and flops backwards onto his bed with a bounce, his head almost knocking against the wall. His long skinny legs dangle off the edge, sock-clad feet brushing the floor, thanks to his recent growth spurt.
It’s his junior year of high school, and Chris is finally taller than most girls. The trade off is that his frame appears thinner, sprouting gangly and awkward limbs that aren’t quite filled in with muscle yet. Not that he isn’t trying. It’s only October and baseball season won’t start for another four months, but Chris is bulking up already, determined to put some strength behind his new height and use it to his advantage on the field.
Last week, his mom described him to his aunt as a puppy who hasn’t grown into his big paws and it made him groan with embarrassment. Puppies are cute. Puppies aren’t gawky high schoolers and don’t have acne or wear glasses or seem invisible to the cute girls in his class. It doesn’t matter how much his mom can cup his chin and tell him he’s handsome, it’s not what he sees.
Chris slides his finger under the flap of the envelope and two folded sheets of looseleaf paper tumble onto the Nirvana t-shirt he’s wearing. There’s this tremor of excited that runs through him whenever he gets a letter from his friend, but lately Zach’s sounded sad and angry, being down on himself and getting into yelling matches with his mom.
It only takes him a couple minutes to read the letter. Like last time, the main themes were insecurities, frustrations with classmates, and problems with his mom, even Joe now.
On some things, Chris can completely sympathize. They’re both slightly awkward and artsy, easy targets for the more popular kids. Zach is teased a lot for his interest in theater and his involvement with the Drama Club. Chris thinks it’s maybe the same as when he’s called a fag for being in the Poetry Club.
But Chris has been fortunate in that he’s never really gotten into a big argument with his parents. He’s certainly tried to pick fights, mostly over trivial things. It doesn’t seem to rattle his mom much and her therapist training, though, so he gave up after a while.
He knows things are different for Zach and that things changed drastically in their house once Zach’s brother moved out to L.A. At least when Joe was in college, he would stop by on weekends and buffer anything that brewed between Zach and their mom. It’s surprising to Chris that Zach’s having friction with his brother; if there’s anyone who’s always on Zach’s side, it’s Joe.
But even with all that, Chris can feel that there’s something Zach isn’t telling him. He can see it in how erratic his handwriting is and the way his thoughts scatter across the page.
He turns onto his side on the bed, and reads the letter again. Afterward, he stares at the last paragraph, the contrast of the black ink on white paper burning into his retinas.
I know it’s not polite to complain. It’s all I ever do in these letters to you and you must be getting sick of it. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t write back -- you probably have your own problems and issues in your life that you want to figure out...
His heart aches in a way that’s unfamiliar to him. Chris walks over to his desk and plops down in his chair. Rifling through his desk drawer, he finds a blue pen because black seems too dark and pessimistic.
Do you ever walk pass that guy in the hallway, you know, the guy who’s co-captain of the football team, ‘roided to the point where he can’t bend his arm behind him to scratch his back, but he’s popular and people think he’s funny and he’s always bragging about how much pussy he got over the weekend at his older brother’s fraternity, and wonder what it would be like to be him?
I totally don’t, Zach. And I don’t think you do either.
I don’t want to be him, now or ever. My mom keeps telling me about how I’m not the type to peak in high school. I think I know what she means. I think the same is true of you. There’s something better out there for both of us.
Chris scratches his head and thinks of something more lighthearted to tell Zach. By the time he’s done, he’s written four pages worth of his thoughts on the Great Gatsby, his hopes for the upcoming baseball season, and stupid things that have happened to him over the last few weeks. He hesitates before signing off and adds a quick thought.
I will always write back, Zach. I might not have the most brilliant things to say, or even say the right things to make you feel better, but I’d never leave you hanging.
The week before Thanksgiving, there’s another letter from Zach. It’s a single sheet of paper with four sentences.
I auditioned my heart out for the lead role in the play and didn’t get it. I was so upset that I wrecked my mom’s car. As if she wasn’t pissed enough at me, I then confessed something to her and she hasn’t stopped crying or spoken to me for days.
Chris, tell me I’m not some major disappointment?
Twenty minutes later, Chris is waiting in line at the post office, panting heavily after running the mile and a half to get there. At the counter, the clerk looks at him with concern.
“I’d like to overnight this, sir. To Pittsburgh,” Chris says, holding up a folded slip of paper in his hands with nothing written on it except for his name and phone number.
The clerk nods and gives Chris the proper envelope and mailing label. Chris scribbles down the address he’s had committed to memory for the last eight years. He drops the half sheet of college-ruled paper he had torn from his Calculus notebook, the jagged edges still attached, into the large envelope and hands over a twenty dollar bill.
Chris hardly sleeps that night and fidgets his way through the next day. At the dinner table, he catches his mom glancing at his plate, watching as he picks at his food with disinterest, a rare occurrence for Chris. She doesn’t say anything about his apparent lack of appetite, and he’s thankful for the reprieve. Eventually, he excuses himself and heads back up to his bedroom.
He’s managed to reign in enough concentration to begin writing an essay for his AP U.S. History class when he hears the phone ring. His hand freezes midword and he holds his breath. His entire body is thrumming with anticipation when he hears his mom’s footsteps coming up the stairs. He’s already at the door when she knocks on it.
“Is it for me?” he asks quickly.
She blinks and nods, handing over the cordless handset.
Chris takes it from her, gives her a little smile, and closes the door. Making his way over to his bed, he sits on the edge, bouncing his knee and feeling his heart pound in his throat. He holds the phone up to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Chris? It’s me. It’s Zach.”
His voice is deep but soft and warm, and more than a little hesitant. He sounds exactly like Chris had expected.
“Hi, Zach.”
Chris falls back onto his bed and grins.
“Hi,” Zach says again. It’s funny, but Chris thinks he can hear Zach’s smile. “It’s good to hear your voice,” Zach adds.
“Yeah, we should’ve thought of this sooner.”
They talk for hours, chuckling and joking about things, their conversation winding every which way, until Zach grows quiet.
“Chris... I need to tell you something.” Zach sounds worried, almost pained. “It’s... some of my friends here know, kind of. They figured it out, I guess. My mom, she freaked when I told her. That’s what the big fight was about. She’s better now. We had sort of had a talk this morning. But I... umm...”
Chris stares up at the ceiling and waits. “Just spit it out,” he says quietly.
There’s a long pause before he hears Zach take a deep breath.
“I’m gay,” Zach whispers.
“Okay,” Chris responds.
“Do you... Is it weird?”
Chris shakes his head and then rolls his eyes at himself for forgetting that Zach can’t see him.
“No, it’s not weird.”
“It feels weird. Saying it out loud, I mean. I think that’s only the third time I’ve said it to someone,” Zach confesses, his voice more relaxed now.
“Say it five times fast now,” Chris tells him.
“I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay.”
“See? That wasn’t so bad.” Chris grins. “You just need to practice it.” He hears Zach chuckle. “No, but for serious. Thanks for telling me. I know that probably wasn’t easy. It’s like, an honor, you know, or something like that, cause you’ve only told a few people and I’m one of them. But a lot of the things you mentioned in your letters make a lot more sense to me now.”
“It really doesn’t bother you?” Zach asks.
Chris shrugs. “You’re still the same Zach. That’s all that matters.”
They sit in silence for a few beats.
“So,” Chris begins. “If you need to, like... if it makes you feel better, you can talk about cute boys in your class. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t do that. You can tell me anything.”
The sound of Zach’s laugh is reassuring. “Chris, I wish you were here.”
Chris sighs. “I wish I was, too, Zach.”
***
He wakes up around two in the afternoon, cranky and hungover. His roommate’s already gone, probably off to the library or something. Chris forces himself to get up, shower, drink a gallon of water, and eat something that resembles the leftovers of a calzone.
He plops down at his desk and gives his mouse a shake. His computer screen comes to life. With a yawn, Chris checks his email and signs on to ICQ.
Immediately, a message appears from Zach. It was sent while Chris was offline.
Zach: are you serious? are you absolutely sure? message me when you get this. i want all the deets.
Chris has no idea what Zach talking about. He glances up at his contacts lists and sees the little flower next to Zach’s name is green. It’s almost four in the afternoon, which means it’s almost seven in New York. He clicks in the chat window below Zach’s message.
Chris: what are you talking about?
Within seconds, he sees Zach typing in the window.
Zach: you sent me a message last night. you were druuunk off your ass. said you kissed a guy at some party. and that you kind of liked it. anything you want to share with the class, christopher?
Chris squeezes his eyes shut and tries to remember what happened. He was at the Cal game, they beat U of O, he went to some party with his roommate and some other friends... the rest is kind of hazy.
No, wait. He remembers running into Monica. She touched his hand, said she wanted to get back together. Okay, now he definitely remembers kissing her. Chris groans inwardly, knowing that she’s probably going to want to have a ‘talk’ about that. God, girls and their feelings.
He gets bits and pieces of a different party, tiki torches, some dude with a coconut bra, sitting on a dirty couch with Scott from his Contemporary American Poetry class...
And it hits him like a truck. He kissed Scott.
Chris: oh shit.
Chris: motherfucking shit fuckballs. I kissed some dude from my poetry class.
Zach: what else do you remember?
Chris: like, nothing
Zach: are you freaking out?
Chris: maybe?
He doesn’t really know what to think.
Scott had been in the same writing course as Chris last spring when they were sophomores, and it was apparent to Chris right away that Scott was smart, creative, and a gifted writer. They had been paired as peer feedback partners for a couple writing assignments and Chris wasn’t surprised that they ended up in another class together this semester, or that the two of them had the most to contribute to the discussions.
It was about a month ago that Chris became more and more intrigued by him. As soon as Chris arrived at class, he would glance around to see where Scott was sitting. He tried to pick a desk not too close, but close enough that Scott could see him or notice him. Then, Chris started making mental lists of friends they had in common, and thought about him at random times or thought about what Scott might say about something he read. He caught himself staring at Scott’s hands one day in class and it dawned on him: this what he does when he’s interested in a girl.
Chris never had problems admitting to thinking that certain guys were attractive, but this was the first time he was actually attracted to a guy. He did the obvious thing: freak out.
A few days passed and Chris did his best to not think about Scott, but then his classmate smiled at him after a spirited dissection during class and Chris blushed so hard his face hurt. He hurried back to his dorm room with his head ducked, as if someone who saw him might know the thoughts running through his mind, and jerked off to the mental image of Scott smiling down at him, kissing and touching his chest.
Zach: it doesn’t necessarily mean anything, you know
Zach: it doesn’t mean like, you’re GAY
Zach: like, i’m sure you’ve kissed totally platonic female friends at some point and it meant nothing
Zach: you were drunk and
Chris: actually
Chris: I think I have a crush on this guy
Chris watches as Zach types out a couple words, deletes them, starts over, and deletes them again.
Zach: is this real? are you really into guys? or this just some experimental thing you’re doing?
Chris: I think it’s real?
Chris: for sure I like this guy
Chris: I still like girls though
Zach: geez, greedy much?
Zach: jk
He keeps having these fantasies about Scott. Sometimes they’re in Chris’ dorm room, other times they’re in an empty classroom. But it never progresses beyond kissing and touching. The idea of touching someone else’s dick makes him freeze with fear, which he thinks is ridiculous because he has absolutely no problems when it comes to perky tits or a nice ass on a girl. It’s like being a virgin all over again.
Chris: can I tell you something weird?
Zach: sure
Chris: you can’t tell anyone
Chris: and you can’t judge me
Zach: chris, come on, it’s me
Chris takes a deep breath. He’s never told anyone about Scott, and he can’t think of any of his friends, even his gay friends at Berkeley, that he can have this conversation with besides Zach.
Chris: I get nervous thinking about what to do with someone else’s dick
Chris: like, I think I want to, you know, but I’m afraid of making a fool out of myself
Chris: it’s dumb cause I have one too, so you’d think it be way more intuitive than when I’m getting with a girl right?
Chris: I’m such a freak, I’m intimidated by penises
His cursor blinks at him. Zach doesn’t type anything for a while.
Chris: you’re laughing at me, aren’t you?
Zach: no, i’m just trying to think
Zach: i don’t think it’s dumb
Zach: we’re talking about blowjobs right?
Chris: yeah
Zach: i guess i was kind of the same in the beginning
Zach: it’s that way when you’re with anyone for the first time
Zach: but i think it’s different when you’re both vulnerable and exposed and caught up in the moment, like you won’t be so nervous?
Zach: i think when the time’s right, you’ll figure it out
Zach: you know what I mean?
Chris: yeah
Chris: yeah, I get what you mean
They’re both silent for a while as Chris thinks things over.
Zach: are you ok?
Chris: I think so
Zach: do you want like, pointers?
Chris: no
Zach: do you want to keep talking about this or change the topic?
Chris: yes please change the topic
Zach: you want to know what’s going on with me?
Chris: yeah
Zach: chuck broke up with me
Chris: I’m sorry, Zach
Zach: yeah, i mean, i’m not surprised
Zach: four weeks, though
Zach: that’s a new record for me
Zach: it’s ok, cause there’s this guy in one of my classes that keeps flirting with me
Chris chuckles as Zach tells him about his latest escapades. It’s a lot easier for Zach to meet and date other guys now that he’s left his small town to study theater at NYU. And he certainly takes advantage of it. Zach’s confidence grew quickly once he arrived at college, and soon Chris couldn’t keep track of the guys he was seeing.
Even though Zach seems much happier in some respects, Chris knows that casual dating and one night stands got old for Zach after his first year of college. He’s joked more than once about how he thinks he’s got a two-week expiration date etched into his forehead, but Chris senses the hurt and disappointment behind it.
Zach: so, this might sound weird because i know you’re kind of confused about things
Zach: but i’m happy for you
Chris: happy cause dicks terrify me?
Zach: shut up
Zach: happy cause it’s exciting
Chris: yeah
Chris: yeah, you’re right
Zach: good luck and be safe, you know, condoms and all
Chris: omg please don’t
Zach: ok, now I’m laughing at you
Chris: HA fucking HA
Zach: all joking aside
Zach: this is one of those times when i wish with all my might that i could be there with you
Chris: yeah, me too
Chris: I wish you were here
Days pass and nothing has happened with Scott. Neither of them mention that night, and Chris figures it’s just as well when he’s at a party the following weekend and he sees his classmate with his hands down the pants of their TA.
Napster’s being a total bitch. Chris groans when three of his eight downloads fail. His flight to San Francisco for winter break leaves tomorrow and he absolutely needs to burn these songs for his discman. He’s watching the remaining three like a hawk when he gets an ICQ message from Zach.
Zach: are you busy?
Chris: just dl’ing music
Zach: anything good?
Chris: no
Zach: more britney? i swear you’re getting gayer everytime talk to you
Chris: shut up or I won’t burn it for you
Zach: as if
Zach: bought that cd the day it came out
Zach: ok, back to the really important thing I wanted to talk to you about
Chris: ok
Zach: i think we should nix the plans for you to come visit ny for spring break
Zach: i have a better idea
Chris: umm ok
Zach: come to ny for the summer
Zach: i’m thinking of staying here to take classes and you can totally do the same
Zach: and i’m positive the credits will transfer to Berkeley
Chris stares at his screen. Zach is a fucking genius.
Chris: you’re a fucking genius
Zach: i know
Chris: wait, how much is this going to cost
Zach: a lot
Zach: but if we both work all of spring break, we could save up extra cash
Chris: there’s no way we’ll save up a summer’s worth of money in one week
Zach: no, you’re right
Zach: we can whore ourselves for cash
Chris: no
Zach: ok
Zach: what if we get jobs over the summer too?
Zach: and pick up more hours for work-study in the spring?
Chris: that might work
Chris: I’ll have to think about it
Chris: I don’t know if my parents would be on board with it
Zach: yeah, i understand
Zach: but think about it? pleeeease?
Chris: yeah, I swear I will
Chris: it would be so much fun
Chris is about to go to bed when Zach e-mails him and gives him the link for NYU’s Summer Session schedule and courses.
c,
i know it’s a huge huge IF and you’re not sure if you can afford it. BUT. just think about how much fun we’d have together in nyc for the summer! IT’LL BE SO FUCKING DIESEL! we can be roommates! we’ll go to classes and work part-time during the day and I’ll show you around the city at night! i’m going to start looking into off-campus housing for the summer once I get back from winter break. talk it over with your parents and let me know.
e-mail me when you get in. i’ll be bored out of my mind at home.
travel safe,
z
Chris clicks on the link and before he’s even done scrolling through the list of classes offered, his mind’s already made up. He doesn’t care how much he’ll have to work next semester to save up for it. He’s going to New York for the summer.
Chapter 3