Fic: Letters to You, Chapter 3
Title: Letters to You, Chapter 3 // Master Post
Word Count: 4485
Pairing: Pinto AU
Rating: R
Summary: Chris spends the summer in New York with Zach
Warnings: Hipsters, romance, angst, abandonment issues
Disclaimer: All made up.
The second of his two duffel bags rounds the corner of the luggage carousel and Chris steps forward to grab the handle and pull it off the conveyor. He adjusts his backpack, slings the first bag over his shoulder and carries the other one in his hand, leaning its weight on his leg and kicking it with his knee as he walks.
Moving away from the other passengers trying to claim their baggage, Chris finds a bench and sets his stuff down by it. He glances around and sits, then stands back up, shifting from foot to foot with excitement and anticipation. After he calls his mom to let her know he’s arrived safely, he rummages through his bag for the cookie he brought with him on the plane.
Suddenly, there’s a small tap on his shoulder. Chris turns around and stares for a moment. They had e-mailed photos of themselves to one another, so Chris knows what Zach looks like, but seeing him in person now -- his warm eyes blinking, his bangs sweeping over his forehead, his animated features -- is breathtaking.
“Chris.”
Chris grins in response and nods. “Zach.”
They pull each other into a hug, arms wrapped tightly around the other.
“It’s so awesome to finally meet you,” Zach says into Chris’ shoulder.
“Oh my God, yeah. So awesome.”
Zach lets go of him and already Chris misses the contact, the feel of Zach, solid and real against him. There’s a bashful smile on Zach’s face as he reaches in the front pocket of his worn jeans and takes out a small rectangle. Hesitantly, he holds it up next to Chris’ face, his eyes darting between the two.
Chris tries to glance at it from the corner of his eye and laughs as he reaches up to grab Zach’s hand to see what he’s holding. It takes a second for it to register that it’s a photo of him, and another second for him to remember that it’s his third grade photo he’d sent Zach when they were kids.
A wave of emotion, overwhelming gratitude perhaps, washes over Chris. He fishes his wallet out of his cargo pants and slides Zach’s third grade photo out from behind one of the folds. Chris holds it up and shows Zach.
“At least you got rid of your bowl cut,” Chris says.
“At least your teeth aren’t as crunk,” Zach responds with a quirked eyebrow.
They both chuckle, put away the photos, and without asking, Zach takes one of Chris’ bags.
“You hungry?” Zach as they leave the terminal.
“Always.”
The subway ride back takes over an hour, but Chris doesn’t notice as the two chatter away, making plans for their summer and all the places they’ll go. Chris wonders if it’s strange to feel so comfortable around someone that he’s only just met. Even as they walk down the sidewalk in the East Village to the apartment they’ll be sharing, they fall in step next each other as if they’d been doing it all their lives.
“Okay, don’t freak out, but there really wasn’t any other sublets affordable on our budget that was still close enough for us walk to campus,” Zach tells him as he jiggles the key in the lock of the third floor walk-up. “There’s only one bedroom but there’s a futon in the main room and I figured we could take turns and swap every week.”
“Yeah, that’s cool,” Chris says.
Zach pushes the door open and gestures for Chris to walk in first. “Home sweet home.”
The place was tiny. And hot. The living room had only the futon Zach mentioned, a small side table, and a rolling away cart with a TV propped on top. Tucked away into the corner was a sink, stove, fridge, and about a foot of counterspace.
“Want a tour?” Zach asks brightly.
Chris nods and drops his bag.
“Well, living room,” says, waving his arms in front of him. He points to the corner. “Kitchen. Sort of.” Zach goes around the corner to a room that barely fits a full mattress on the floor, a small bookshelf, and a desk. “Bedroom. Oh, that’s my computer. Go ahead and use it whenever you need to,” he says, pointing to the desk, and then nods his head across the way. “Bathroom.”
“Wow,” Chris says under his breath.
“I know, it’s... it’s...” Zach winces, his shoulders slumping.
“It’s home, dude,” Chris finishes. He turns to Zach. “Honestly, I think we can make the best of it.”
Zach tilts his head and studies Chris for a few seconds. He grins and grabs Chris by the arms, shaking him. “I’m so excited you’re here!” he squeals and laughs, and Chris ends up hugging him again.
They’ve planned it so that they’re both taking Drama in Literature. It’s really an excuse for them to read and go see plays together. Chris can’t believe he’s actually going to earn credits to essentially enjoy New York and hang out with Zach.
In his off time, Chris works part-time at the Strand, stocking and taking inventory on their used books. It pays decently for a summer job and has the added perks of a discount on anything in the store, plus three freebies per week off their dollar shelves. Zach finds a work-study job as a barista closer to campus and sneaks Chris all the free coffees he wants. They get Chris a fake New Jersey ID just in time for Zach’s twenty-first birthday.
“Hey!” Zach winds his way through the crowded bar to where Chris is huddled with Neal and Matt. “I want to get my eyebrow pierced.”
“You’re also kind of drunk,” Matt yells over the noise.
“No no no. I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Zach says, his hand gesticulating wildly in front of him. It’s always more pronounced when he’s drinking. “But, like, you know my thing with needles.”
The three of them nod as Corey walks up to them.
“So I need to be drunk to do this. It needs to happen tonight.”
“You’ve really thought about this? Like, you didn’t just come up with this cause that dude over there,” Chris points with his hand around a bottle of Newcastle to a guy in the crowd with an eyebrow piercing, “has one and you think it looks badass?”
They all turn to look.
Zach grabs Chris’ shoulder. “I’ll be so badass with an eyebrow ring.”
A half hour later, Zach is lying in something that looks like a dentist’s chair in the backroom of a tattoo and piercing parlor on St. Marks. Neal and Chris are each holding one of his hands while Matt and Corey interrogate one of the employees on their licenses and sterile techniques.
“Oh my God, I’m really doing this, aren’t I?” Zach whispers.
“You don’t have to. We can leave,” Neal says, his worried eyes catching Chris’ for a brief moment.
“No, I want to. I really do,” Zach says to himself, closing his eyes and pulling his knees together as if he has to pee.
“Just for the record, Zach, you don’t need to do this to be badass. I already think you are,” Chris tells him and brushes a few strands of hair off his forehead.
Zach opens his eyes and smiles up at Chris. Then squeezes his eyes shut until it’s completely over.
When they get home, Zach is already regretting his decision, moaning on his back and cursing his decision to get the piercing.
“But was the needle like, really scary? Or just kind of scary?” Zach asks.
“It was super scary. Like the ones they give pregnant women in labor,” Chris says.
“Really?”
“No.”
Chris presses a bag of frozen peas to Zach’s brow and stretches out next to him on the futon. The room is stifling hot, even with the beat-up window A/C unit they bought off Craigslist running on full blast. Chris is drawn to the coolness of the frozen peas and they crunch as he leans his forehead against them.
“Happy birthday, Zach,” he says quietly and they fall asleep together with a bag of thawing vegetables between their heads.
The next few weeks fly by in a blissful whirlwind. During the day, Chris and Zach go to lectures or off-Broadway plays and work at their jobs in between. At night, Zach takes Chris all over the city. They end up at hole-in-the-wall eateries, moody jazz clubs, secret bars in the backs of restaurants where patrons have to knock on a door behind a curtain and give them a password.
On the weekends, Zach makes sure to drag him to the Empire State Building, Ellis Island, the Twin Towers and all usual touristy places, just so Chris can say he’s done it. They venture into Brooklyn and Queens, eating their way from one neighborhood to the next.
They run out of money the third week of June and both call home, desperately begging their moms for help.
Scaling back on their bar-hopping means that they find cheaper ways to entertain themselves. Zach finds free concerts and plays in Central Park, and they head off after work with a ratty blanket, their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and mosquito repellant. Sometimes they just walk and wander around the humid city, stopping periodically to watch skateboarders and performers in parks as Chris reads Allen Ginsberg poems out loud to Zach.
Everything he sees and everywhere he goes feels like its steeped in history, art, culture, and inspiration. It’s the free-spirited, fake bohemian, urbanized idyllic life that Chris never thought he’d ever want. The romance of it all is intoxicating and Chris is helpless to not fall in love with it. And at every step, Zach is by his side.
They watch Fourth of July fireworks on the rooftop of an apartment of some friends. It’s the early am by the time they leave and they’re too tired to walk across the island so they jump on the subway. Even at this hour, the trains are packed because of the holiday and they’re forced to lean against each other to keep from toppling into other riders. Chris holds Zach’s elbow and they giggle as the train jerks suddenly, metal breaks screeching, and they knock into a tall drag queen.
Chris has been thinking about it all night. If he’s completely honest, he’s been thinking about it for weeks. It’s no secret that Zach gets hit on constantly by guys. Cute ones, too, but not once has Zach ever flirted back seriously, or approached someone at a bar since Chris has been in town. Chris had told him at one point that he wouldn’t mind crashing with Neal or one of the other guys if Zach wanted the apartment for the night. Zach just laughed and elbowed him, handing him the other half his warm pretzel.
Sometimes, he catches Zach staring at him, and they both quickly turn away, neither of them saying a word. He doesn’t want to read into what those looks might mean, but he wants so badly for it to confirm that that he hasn’t been imagining this thing that’s been building between them. For whatever reason, though, he’s feeling bold and brave tonight.
The train jumps again, pushing their chests together and leaving their faces just two inches apart. Zach’s heart is hammering right up next to his and he makes no move to lean away, so Chris tips his head forward, presses his lips to Zach’s, and feels his heart leap when Zach kisses him back. They cling to each other, kissing sweetly before blue eyes lock on brown as if they’re the only two people that exist on the crowded and hot train.
He doesn’t remember how they got home. All he can focus on now is the way Zach’s eyes are on him as they stand on opposite sides of the futon. The room is dark, but Chris can see that he’s blushing, and suddenly he feels shy, too. He pulls off his t-shirt and holds it in his hands for a second before dropping it to the floor. Zach does the same and then ducks his head.
Chris stares at Zach, taking in the sight of his broad shoulders, toned arms, and fuzzed chest. His gaze wanders lower, to the trail of dark hair that disappears under his shorts. It’s not like he’s never seen Zach shirtless, but it’s the first time he’s been allowed to actually look. It makes him blush. Chris glances up to see that Zach’s similarly studying him with shy curiosity and desire. They both smile coyly and avert their eyes to finish undressing themselves.
Moving slowly to the middle of the futon, Zach sits and reaches out for him. His eyes roam over Zach and he thinks he’s never seen anything so exquisite. Zach’s simply beautiful and perfect. That stuff Zach once said to him about forgetting his apprehensions because the person in front him is all that occupies his senses and thoughts is completely true. Chris had fallen in love with more than just the city. His heart is racing, about to pound right out of his chest. He slides his hand into Zach’s and crawls to him. Zach kisses him tenderly and runs his fingers through his hair as he pulls back.
“What do you want?” Zach whispers.
“You. All of you, any of you.”
Zach smiles and cups his face. “You sure? Because it’s not the same as with girls.”
With a nod, Chris smiles back. “I hope not.”
He tries to be gentle with Zach, carefully following his instructions, up to a point, and then instinct kicks in and they move together as though they were trying to devour each other. It doesn’t last long, and Chris comes first, his mouth pressed to Zach’s, whimpering and sobbing. A few seconds later, Zach spills between their sweaty bodies and Chris’ heart clenches when he hears his name on Zach’s lips.
They skip class and spend the next day on the futon. Chris is intent on learning all of Zach, knowing every moan and every shiver that he’s able to coax out of him with this mouth and hands. When Zach tells him it’s easier if he’s on his hands and knees, Chris grins and refuses.
“I want to see your face,” he whispers, and Zach relents. Chris pulls him closer, feels Zach push deeper within him, and thinks the fire in his belly could consume the both of them.
Before they know it, July becomes August and their classes end. Chris wakes up tangled in Zach’s limbs every morning, the cool with artificial air from the A/C billowing over them, and he’s content in a way he’s never been before.
Sometimes Zach gets a look of uncertainty and doubt, and Chris has to smooth his fingers and lips over Zach’s worry lines.
“Do I make you happy?” Chris asks.
“Unbelievably so,” Zach replies.
As their days wind down, they hold each other’s hands a bit tighter and spend a little more time each morning tracing fingertips over heated and freckled skin.
They’re walking home the night before Chris leaves, after having dinner and drinks with the rest of the guys. Zach’s been quiet and distant all day. Chris reaches for Zach’s hand and startles when Zach pulls away.
“Zach?”
His expression is anguished when he turns to Chris. They stop and Zach’s mouth fumbles for words, his hand brushing over his face.
“What are you doing?” Chris asks, unable to keep the worry out of his voice. “Zach, come on.” He reaches for Zach again, but Zach shakes his head.
“You’re leaving me tomorrow, Chris.”
“I know, Zach. I know.” Chris covers his face briefly. “I don’t want to go either. But I’ll come back next summer after we graduate, just like we planned.”
“And what do we do in between?”
“We’ve talked about this,” Chris says. “We’ll write. Call. Visit during breaks.”
Zach is silent for a long while and Chris places a hand on his arm, hoping that the touch is enough to dissolve the doubt in Zach’s mind.
“What happened? What are you thinking, Zach? Tell me. You can tell me anything,” Chris says softly.
He takes a few steps away from Chris, kicks at the sidewalk with his head down. When he looks up at Chris, tears have filled his eyes.
“I can’t do this. I’m so frightened. I terrified you’re going to go back to your wonderful California life and forget about me and meet someone else.”
Chris steps closer. “Is that what this is about? You think I’ll leave you for someone else?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Zach --”
“I know you say you want to be with me now, but eventually you’ll get sick of this -- me --,” he emphasizes and points to his chest, “and you’ll want a perfect, normal life, like, the wife and kids things. I can’t give that to you.” The tears spill down Zach’s cheeks.
“Are you serious?” he asks as panic, anger, and frustration mix in his chest. “Fucking... I can’t even think right now, Zach. What will it take for you to believe me? Up until five minutes ago my perfect, normal life was here with you!” His yells echo down the street and his vision blurs with angry tears. “I would have moved here to be with you for as long as you’d have me. This isn’t some summer fling for me. Or some gay experiment. This is real! This is real and honest and pure!”
“I know it is!” Zach throws his arms out to the side. “And that’s exactly why I don’t want to be devastated three months from now when you call me in the middle of the night to say that you’re done with me!” Zach wipes at his face.
“So your unfounded fear about me possibly breaking up with you sometime in the next year gives you the right to just go ahead and break up with me now? God, you fucking drama student, you’re dreaming about how we’ll break up when I’m dreaming about how we’ll have a future together! This is not some Shakespearean tragedy!” Chris spits.
“I’m just trying to spare myself the inevitable!”
“The inevitable!” Chris laughs bitterly. “Wow, okay, that doesn’t hurt or anything.”
A woman walking her dog crosses to the opposite side of the street, giving them some semblance of privacy to their public argument.
Zach takes a shuddering breath. “Whatever this is,” he gestures between them, “it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m so terrified of you deciding one day to take it away. So yes. Yes, it makes me selfish. Yes, I’d rather push you away than be left because I’ve been left too many times by too many people who I thought would stick around. My dad, my brother, my friends from high school, every guy I’ve ever slept with... none of them stayed. And I can’t... if you left me, too... If you choose to not be with me.”
Zach’s face crumbles and he turns to walk away, but Chris catches his wrist and tugs on it until he stops.
“I’d never leave you, Zach. I never have. Deep down, you know that.” He takes Zach’s hand in his. “I’m sorry I can’t erase how you’ve been hurt in the past, but none of that was because of you. None of it was personal. Your dad passed away. Your brother moved for his career. Your friends grew apart. And those other guys, they weren’t in it for you, they were in it for casual sex.” He sighs and squeezes Zach’s hand. “Zach, you’re not someone that’s easy to walk away from. You need to believe that.”
The fight bleeds out of Zach and he lets Chris pull him into his arms. He shifts and squeezes Chris, holding him so tightly that it’s hard for Chris to breathe. The apologies he’s sobbing into Chris’ shoulder seep through his damp shirt and into his skin. Chris closes his eyes, trying to memorize the way Zach feels pressed against him, and feels tears burning their way down his cheeks.
It doesn’t matter how hard he tries to cling on, he knows from the way Zach won’t look him in the eye that he’s already made up his mind, and the sparkle of their summer fairytale crashes and scatters along the cracked sidewalk.
It takes several minutes, but eventually Zach’s breathing steadies and he lets go. Chris wipes his fingers over the tearstains on Zach’s face.
“I’m just not ready for this, Chris,” he says, his voice soft. “It’s not fair of me drag you down with my juvenile problems. You deserve better.”
Chris shakes his head and kisses Zach. “They’re not juvenile. They are what they are. And I’ve tried, but if I can’t convince you that you’re worth fighting to stay with, then you need to figure out a way to convince yourself.” He places a kiss on Zach’s nose. “I’m willing to see you through it. I think we belong together,” he whispers, cradling Zach’s head. “I think we can get through this together.” He rubs his thumb over Zach’s cheek. “Do I make you happy?”
Zach hesitates, and nods.
“But it’s not enough, is it?” Chris asks.
“No.”
Chris blinks and feels his eyes refilling with tears. “I don’t want to, but if this is what you truly, honestly think is what you need right now, then I won’t force you to stay with me. Not if it’ll just make you unhappy in the process.”
They go back to the apartment and stay in separate rooms that night, but neither of them sleep. In the morning, Chris sorts through their pile of dirty laundry to finds his clothes to pack up. He takes one of Zach’s shirts and hopes that he’ll understand when he realizes it’s missing.
At the door of their sublet, Chris hugs Zach and presses a kiss to his temple.
“Please?” he whispers, as he pulls away.
Zach shakes his head, eyes trained on the floor, and Chris nods sadly.
“I’ll call you when I get in?” Chris offers.
“Okay.”
He gives Zach’s hand one last squeeze before turning and leaving.
Chris returns to his parents’ house in L.A. and stays in bed for a week. His one phone conversation with Zach was short and awkward in way that they’ve never been. Zach hasn’t called him since the day he arrived back in California.
His mother knows something happened, but is kind enough to not press. On his birthday, she smiles hopefully and hands him an envelope. He sits up so quickly that he falls out of his bed.
Dear Chris,
I wanted to wish you the happiest of birthdays, but every part of me is wracked with guilt thinking that what I’ve done might be causing you even a fraction of the misery that I’m feeling right now.
It’s hard, Chris, to see your ghost everywhere in this city, your smile whenever I close my eyes. I miss you so much that it physically hurts. Like something’s been cut out of my chest. And I know it’s all my fault.
In case it wasn’t clear, Chris, in case there was any doubt in your mind: I’m in love with you. I have been for years, long before we met. It used to be that my greatest wish was to meet you, the constant friend when so many things in my life felt uncertain. Now, I only wish that I could’ve gotten rid of all those things that kept me from being the best version of myself before I met you, because I didn’t ever want to disappoint you and give you a reason to leave.
I know I have no right to, but I’m going to ask one more thing of you: please don’t write back. Not yet, anyway. I know it’s always about me, and what I need, but you’ve always been the stronger of the two of us, pulling me up to my feet when I was down -- I just need to do this on my own, Chris.
Have a wonderful birthday and know that from many, many miles away, I’m thinking of you. Always.
Love,
Zach
Chris feels his blood run cold. This isn’t just a break up. This is Zach removing all of himself from Chris’ life. No more e-mails, online chat, phone calls, letters...
He ignores Zach and begins writing him immediately.
But a week later, his letter is returned to him. On the back of the unopened envelope, he sees Zach’s handwriting:
I knew you’d ignore me. Maybe. Someday.
His mother finds him sobbing in his childhood room, surrounded by all of the letters Zach’s ever sent over the last thirteen years. The knuckles of his hands are white as he clutches Zach’s shirt. He feels foolish, crying like a baby, but falls in her lap and tells her everything. She offers a smile, says she’s suspected as much, and assures him that he’ll survive and move on, even though he feels like his world has ended.
Eventually, month and months later, Chris thinks he’s found some form of happiness, but doesn’t think he’ll ever feel that the same brightness and sunny hope that he had that summer. Maybe it was just the magic of New York. Maybe some things are meant to be ephemeral.
He thinks about how there are people who come into your life and change it irreversibly, and then drift away. Sometimes they come back, sometimes they don’t. Chris doesn’t like to think that he and Zach won’t ever drift back together at some point, even though years have passed and they’ve lost touch completely. Judging by Zach’s last message, he doesn’t think so either. Ever the romantic, Chris hopes that one day, after he’s worked up the courage to go back and visit New York, he’ll run into Zach in a used bookstore with a copy of Howl in his hands. The details that have been rubbed away and faded with time, much like the photograph that he still keeps in his wallet, will get filled in again.
But if not, then that’s okay, too. The important things he wants to remember about Zach aren’t in the details in what he can see when he closes his eyes. They’re in the way Chris grins when he hears a song by Guster or Neutral Milk Hotel, and in the rush of adrenaline he gets when he sees an amazing play. And in the feeling he gets, deep in his bones, when he’s gazing up into the sky at bursting fireworks, because he knows that he’s changed Zach for the better, too.
Epilogue
Word Count: 4485
Pairing: Pinto AU
Rating: R
Summary: Chris spends the summer in New York with Zach
Warnings: Hipsters, romance, angst, abandonment issues
Disclaimer: All made up.
The second of his two duffel bags rounds the corner of the luggage carousel and Chris steps forward to grab the handle and pull it off the conveyor. He adjusts his backpack, slings the first bag over his shoulder and carries the other one in his hand, leaning its weight on his leg and kicking it with his knee as he walks.
Moving away from the other passengers trying to claim their baggage, Chris finds a bench and sets his stuff down by it. He glances around and sits, then stands back up, shifting from foot to foot with excitement and anticipation. After he calls his mom to let her know he’s arrived safely, he rummages through his bag for the cookie he brought with him on the plane.
Suddenly, there’s a small tap on his shoulder. Chris turns around and stares for a moment. They had e-mailed photos of themselves to one another, so Chris knows what Zach looks like, but seeing him in person now -- his warm eyes blinking, his bangs sweeping over his forehead, his animated features -- is breathtaking.
“Chris.”
Chris grins in response and nods. “Zach.”
They pull each other into a hug, arms wrapped tightly around the other.
“It’s so awesome to finally meet you,” Zach says into Chris’ shoulder.
“Oh my God, yeah. So awesome.”
Zach lets go of him and already Chris misses the contact, the feel of Zach, solid and real against him. There’s a bashful smile on Zach’s face as he reaches in the front pocket of his worn jeans and takes out a small rectangle. Hesitantly, he holds it up next to Chris’ face, his eyes darting between the two.
Chris tries to glance at it from the corner of his eye and laughs as he reaches up to grab Zach’s hand to see what he’s holding. It takes a second for it to register that it’s a photo of him, and another second for him to remember that it’s his third grade photo he’d sent Zach when they were kids.
A wave of emotion, overwhelming gratitude perhaps, washes over Chris. He fishes his wallet out of his cargo pants and slides Zach’s third grade photo out from behind one of the folds. Chris holds it up and shows Zach.
“At least you got rid of your bowl cut,” Chris says.
“At least your teeth aren’t as crunk,” Zach responds with a quirked eyebrow.
They both chuckle, put away the photos, and without asking, Zach takes one of Chris’ bags.
“You hungry?” Zach as they leave the terminal.
“Always.”
The subway ride back takes over an hour, but Chris doesn’t notice as the two chatter away, making plans for their summer and all the places they’ll go. Chris wonders if it’s strange to feel so comfortable around someone that he’s only just met. Even as they walk down the sidewalk in the East Village to the apartment they’ll be sharing, they fall in step next each other as if they’d been doing it all their lives.
“Okay, don’t freak out, but there really wasn’t any other sublets affordable on our budget that was still close enough for us walk to campus,” Zach tells him as he jiggles the key in the lock of the third floor walk-up. “There’s only one bedroom but there’s a futon in the main room and I figured we could take turns and swap every week.”
“Yeah, that’s cool,” Chris says.
Zach pushes the door open and gestures for Chris to walk in first. “Home sweet home.”
The place was tiny. And hot. The living room had only the futon Zach mentioned, a small side table, and a rolling away cart with a TV propped on top. Tucked away into the corner was a sink, stove, fridge, and about a foot of counterspace.
“Want a tour?” Zach asks brightly.
Chris nods and drops his bag.
“Well, living room,” says, waving his arms in front of him. He points to the corner. “Kitchen. Sort of.” Zach goes around the corner to a room that barely fits a full mattress on the floor, a small bookshelf, and a desk. “Bedroom. Oh, that’s my computer. Go ahead and use it whenever you need to,” he says, pointing to the desk, and then nods his head across the way. “Bathroom.”
“Wow,” Chris says under his breath.
“I know, it’s... it’s...” Zach winces, his shoulders slumping.
“It’s home, dude,” Chris finishes. He turns to Zach. “Honestly, I think we can make the best of it.”
Zach tilts his head and studies Chris for a few seconds. He grins and grabs Chris by the arms, shaking him. “I’m so excited you’re here!” he squeals and laughs, and Chris ends up hugging him again.
They’ve planned it so that they’re both taking Drama in Literature. It’s really an excuse for them to read and go see plays together. Chris can’t believe he’s actually going to earn credits to essentially enjoy New York and hang out with Zach.
In his off time, Chris works part-time at the Strand, stocking and taking inventory on their used books. It pays decently for a summer job and has the added perks of a discount on anything in the store, plus three freebies per week off their dollar shelves. Zach finds a work-study job as a barista closer to campus and sneaks Chris all the free coffees he wants. They get Chris a fake New Jersey ID just in time for Zach’s twenty-first birthday.
“Hey!” Zach winds his way through the crowded bar to where Chris is huddled with Neal and Matt. “I want to get my eyebrow pierced.”
“You’re also kind of drunk,” Matt yells over the noise.
“No no no. I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Zach says, his hand gesticulating wildly in front of him. It’s always more pronounced when he’s drinking. “But, like, you know my thing with needles.”
The three of them nod as Corey walks up to them.
“So I need to be drunk to do this. It needs to happen tonight.”
“You’ve really thought about this? Like, you didn’t just come up with this cause that dude over there,” Chris points with his hand around a bottle of Newcastle to a guy in the crowd with an eyebrow piercing, “has one and you think it looks badass?”
They all turn to look.
Zach grabs Chris’ shoulder. “I’ll be so badass with an eyebrow ring.”
A half hour later, Zach is lying in something that looks like a dentist’s chair in the backroom of a tattoo and piercing parlor on St. Marks. Neal and Chris are each holding one of his hands while Matt and Corey interrogate one of the employees on their licenses and sterile techniques.
“Oh my God, I’m really doing this, aren’t I?” Zach whispers.
“You don’t have to. We can leave,” Neal says, his worried eyes catching Chris’ for a brief moment.
“No, I want to. I really do,” Zach says to himself, closing his eyes and pulling his knees together as if he has to pee.
“Just for the record, Zach, you don’t need to do this to be badass. I already think you are,” Chris tells him and brushes a few strands of hair off his forehead.
Zach opens his eyes and smiles up at Chris. Then squeezes his eyes shut until it’s completely over.
When they get home, Zach is already regretting his decision, moaning on his back and cursing his decision to get the piercing.
“But was the needle like, really scary? Or just kind of scary?” Zach asks.
“It was super scary. Like the ones they give pregnant women in labor,” Chris says.
“Really?”
“No.”
Chris presses a bag of frozen peas to Zach’s brow and stretches out next to him on the futon. The room is stifling hot, even with the beat-up window A/C unit they bought off Craigslist running on full blast. Chris is drawn to the coolness of the frozen peas and they crunch as he leans his forehead against them.
“Happy birthday, Zach,” he says quietly and they fall asleep together with a bag of thawing vegetables between their heads.
The next few weeks fly by in a blissful whirlwind. During the day, Chris and Zach go to lectures or off-Broadway plays and work at their jobs in between. At night, Zach takes Chris all over the city. They end up at hole-in-the-wall eateries, moody jazz clubs, secret bars in the backs of restaurants where patrons have to knock on a door behind a curtain and give them a password.
On the weekends, Zach makes sure to drag him to the Empire State Building, Ellis Island, the Twin Towers and all usual touristy places, just so Chris can say he’s done it. They venture into Brooklyn and Queens, eating their way from one neighborhood to the next.
They run out of money the third week of June and both call home, desperately begging their moms for help.
Scaling back on their bar-hopping means that they find cheaper ways to entertain themselves. Zach finds free concerts and plays in Central Park, and they head off after work with a ratty blanket, their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and mosquito repellant. Sometimes they just walk and wander around the humid city, stopping periodically to watch skateboarders and performers in parks as Chris reads Allen Ginsberg poems out loud to Zach.
Everything he sees and everywhere he goes feels like its steeped in history, art, culture, and inspiration. It’s the free-spirited, fake bohemian, urbanized idyllic life that Chris never thought he’d ever want. The romance of it all is intoxicating and Chris is helpless to not fall in love with it. And at every step, Zach is by his side.
They watch Fourth of July fireworks on the rooftop of an apartment of some friends. It’s the early am by the time they leave and they’re too tired to walk across the island so they jump on the subway. Even at this hour, the trains are packed because of the holiday and they’re forced to lean against each other to keep from toppling into other riders. Chris holds Zach’s elbow and they giggle as the train jerks suddenly, metal breaks screeching, and they knock into a tall drag queen.
Chris has been thinking about it all night. If he’s completely honest, he’s been thinking about it for weeks. It’s no secret that Zach gets hit on constantly by guys. Cute ones, too, but not once has Zach ever flirted back seriously, or approached someone at a bar since Chris has been in town. Chris had told him at one point that he wouldn’t mind crashing with Neal or one of the other guys if Zach wanted the apartment for the night. Zach just laughed and elbowed him, handing him the other half his warm pretzel.
Sometimes, he catches Zach staring at him, and they both quickly turn away, neither of them saying a word. He doesn’t want to read into what those looks might mean, but he wants so badly for it to confirm that that he hasn’t been imagining this thing that’s been building between them. For whatever reason, though, he’s feeling bold and brave tonight.
The train jumps again, pushing their chests together and leaving their faces just two inches apart. Zach’s heart is hammering right up next to his and he makes no move to lean away, so Chris tips his head forward, presses his lips to Zach’s, and feels his heart leap when Zach kisses him back. They cling to each other, kissing sweetly before blue eyes lock on brown as if they’re the only two people that exist on the crowded and hot train.
He doesn’t remember how they got home. All he can focus on now is the way Zach’s eyes are on him as they stand on opposite sides of the futon. The room is dark, but Chris can see that he’s blushing, and suddenly he feels shy, too. He pulls off his t-shirt and holds it in his hands for a second before dropping it to the floor. Zach does the same and then ducks his head.
Chris stares at Zach, taking in the sight of his broad shoulders, toned arms, and fuzzed chest. His gaze wanders lower, to the trail of dark hair that disappears under his shorts. It’s not like he’s never seen Zach shirtless, but it’s the first time he’s been allowed to actually look. It makes him blush. Chris glances up to see that Zach’s similarly studying him with shy curiosity and desire. They both smile coyly and avert their eyes to finish undressing themselves.
Moving slowly to the middle of the futon, Zach sits and reaches out for him. His eyes roam over Zach and he thinks he’s never seen anything so exquisite. Zach’s simply beautiful and perfect. That stuff Zach once said to him about forgetting his apprehensions because the person in front him is all that occupies his senses and thoughts is completely true. Chris had fallen in love with more than just the city. His heart is racing, about to pound right out of his chest. He slides his hand into Zach’s and crawls to him. Zach kisses him tenderly and runs his fingers through his hair as he pulls back.
“What do you want?” Zach whispers.
“You. All of you, any of you.”
Zach smiles and cups his face. “You sure? Because it’s not the same as with girls.”
With a nod, Chris smiles back. “I hope not.”
He tries to be gentle with Zach, carefully following his instructions, up to a point, and then instinct kicks in and they move together as though they were trying to devour each other. It doesn’t last long, and Chris comes first, his mouth pressed to Zach’s, whimpering and sobbing. A few seconds later, Zach spills between their sweaty bodies and Chris’ heart clenches when he hears his name on Zach’s lips.
They skip class and spend the next day on the futon. Chris is intent on learning all of Zach, knowing every moan and every shiver that he’s able to coax out of him with this mouth and hands. When Zach tells him it’s easier if he’s on his hands and knees, Chris grins and refuses.
“I want to see your face,” he whispers, and Zach relents. Chris pulls him closer, feels Zach push deeper within him, and thinks the fire in his belly could consume the both of them.
Before they know it, July becomes August and their classes end. Chris wakes up tangled in Zach’s limbs every morning, the cool with artificial air from the A/C billowing over them, and he’s content in a way he’s never been before.
Sometimes Zach gets a look of uncertainty and doubt, and Chris has to smooth his fingers and lips over Zach’s worry lines.
“Do I make you happy?” Chris asks.
“Unbelievably so,” Zach replies.
As their days wind down, they hold each other’s hands a bit tighter and spend a little more time each morning tracing fingertips over heated and freckled skin.
They’re walking home the night before Chris leaves, after having dinner and drinks with the rest of the guys. Zach’s been quiet and distant all day. Chris reaches for Zach’s hand and startles when Zach pulls away.
“Zach?”
His expression is anguished when he turns to Chris. They stop and Zach’s mouth fumbles for words, his hand brushing over his face.
“What are you doing?” Chris asks, unable to keep the worry out of his voice. “Zach, come on.” He reaches for Zach again, but Zach shakes his head.
“You’re leaving me tomorrow, Chris.”
“I know, Zach. I know.” Chris covers his face briefly. “I don’t want to go either. But I’ll come back next summer after we graduate, just like we planned.”
“And what do we do in between?”
“We’ve talked about this,” Chris says. “We’ll write. Call. Visit during breaks.”
Zach is silent for a long while and Chris places a hand on his arm, hoping that the touch is enough to dissolve the doubt in Zach’s mind.
“What happened? What are you thinking, Zach? Tell me. You can tell me anything,” Chris says softly.
He takes a few steps away from Chris, kicks at the sidewalk with his head down. When he looks up at Chris, tears have filled his eyes.
“I can’t do this. I’m so frightened. I terrified you’re going to go back to your wonderful California life and forget about me and meet someone else.”
Chris steps closer. “Is that what this is about? You think I’ll leave you for someone else?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Zach --”
“I know you say you want to be with me now, but eventually you’ll get sick of this -- me --,” he emphasizes and points to his chest, “and you’ll want a perfect, normal life, like, the wife and kids things. I can’t give that to you.” The tears spill down Zach’s cheeks.
“Are you serious?” he asks as panic, anger, and frustration mix in his chest. “Fucking... I can’t even think right now, Zach. What will it take for you to believe me? Up until five minutes ago my perfect, normal life was here with you!” His yells echo down the street and his vision blurs with angry tears. “I would have moved here to be with you for as long as you’d have me. This isn’t some summer fling for me. Or some gay experiment. This is real! This is real and honest and pure!”
“I know it is!” Zach throws his arms out to the side. “And that’s exactly why I don’t want to be devastated three months from now when you call me in the middle of the night to say that you’re done with me!” Zach wipes at his face.
“So your unfounded fear about me possibly breaking up with you sometime in the next year gives you the right to just go ahead and break up with me now? God, you fucking drama student, you’re dreaming about how we’ll break up when I’m dreaming about how we’ll have a future together! This is not some Shakespearean tragedy!” Chris spits.
“I’m just trying to spare myself the inevitable!”
“The inevitable!” Chris laughs bitterly. “Wow, okay, that doesn’t hurt or anything.”
A woman walking her dog crosses to the opposite side of the street, giving them some semblance of privacy to their public argument.
Zach takes a shuddering breath. “Whatever this is,” he gestures between them, “it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m so terrified of you deciding one day to take it away. So yes. Yes, it makes me selfish. Yes, I’d rather push you away than be left because I’ve been left too many times by too many people who I thought would stick around. My dad, my brother, my friends from high school, every guy I’ve ever slept with... none of them stayed. And I can’t... if you left me, too... If you choose to not be with me.”
Zach’s face crumbles and he turns to walk away, but Chris catches his wrist and tugs on it until he stops.
“I’d never leave you, Zach. I never have. Deep down, you know that.” He takes Zach’s hand in his. “I’m sorry I can’t erase how you’ve been hurt in the past, but none of that was because of you. None of it was personal. Your dad passed away. Your brother moved for his career. Your friends grew apart. And those other guys, they weren’t in it for you, they were in it for casual sex.” He sighs and squeezes Zach’s hand. “Zach, you’re not someone that’s easy to walk away from. You need to believe that.”
The fight bleeds out of Zach and he lets Chris pull him into his arms. He shifts and squeezes Chris, holding him so tightly that it’s hard for Chris to breathe. The apologies he’s sobbing into Chris’ shoulder seep through his damp shirt and into his skin. Chris closes his eyes, trying to memorize the way Zach feels pressed against him, and feels tears burning their way down his cheeks.
It doesn’t matter how hard he tries to cling on, he knows from the way Zach won’t look him in the eye that he’s already made up his mind, and the sparkle of their summer fairytale crashes and scatters along the cracked sidewalk.
It takes several minutes, but eventually Zach’s breathing steadies and he lets go. Chris wipes his fingers over the tearstains on Zach’s face.
“I’m just not ready for this, Chris,” he says, his voice soft. “It’s not fair of me drag you down with my juvenile problems. You deserve better.”
Chris shakes his head and kisses Zach. “They’re not juvenile. They are what they are. And I’ve tried, but if I can’t convince you that you’re worth fighting to stay with, then you need to figure out a way to convince yourself.” He places a kiss on Zach’s nose. “I’m willing to see you through it. I think we belong together,” he whispers, cradling Zach’s head. “I think we can get through this together.” He rubs his thumb over Zach’s cheek. “Do I make you happy?”
Zach hesitates, and nods.
“But it’s not enough, is it?” Chris asks.
“No.”
Chris blinks and feels his eyes refilling with tears. “I don’t want to, but if this is what you truly, honestly think is what you need right now, then I won’t force you to stay with me. Not if it’ll just make you unhappy in the process.”
They go back to the apartment and stay in separate rooms that night, but neither of them sleep. In the morning, Chris sorts through their pile of dirty laundry to finds his clothes to pack up. He takes one of Zach’s shirts and hopes that he’ll understand when he realizes it’s missing.
At the door of their sublet, Chris hugs Zach and presses a kiss to his temple.
“Please?” he whispers, as he pulls away.
Zach shakes his head, eyes trained on the floor, and Chris nods sadly.
“I’ll call you when I get in?” Chris offers.
“Okay.”
He gives Zach’s hand one last squeeze before turning and leaving.
Chris returns to his parents’ house in L.A. and stays in bed for a week. His one phone conversation with Zach was short and awkward in way that they’ve never been. Zach hasn’t called him since the day he arrived back in California.
His mother knows something happened, but is kind enough to not press. On his birthday, she smiles hopefully and hands him an envelope. He sits up so quickly that he falls out of his bed.
Dear Chris,
I wanted to wish you the happiest of birthdays, but every part of me is wracked with guilt thinking that what I’ve done might be causing you even a fraction of the misery that I’m feeling right now.
It’s hard, Chris, to see your ghost everywhere in this city, your smile whenever I close my eyes. I miss you so much that it physically hurts. Like something’s been cut out of my chest. And I know it’s all my fault.
In case it wasn’t clear, Chris, in case there was any doubt in your mind: I’m in love with you. I have been for years, long before we met. It used to be that my greatest wish was to meet you, the constant friend when so many things in my life felt uncertain. Now, I only wish that I could’ve gotten rid of all those things that kept me from being the best version of myself before I met you, because I didn’t ever want to disappoint you and give you a reason to leave.
I know I have no right to, but I’m going to ask one more thing of you: please don’t write back. Not yet, anyway. I know it’s always about me, and what I need, but you’ve always been the stronger of the two of us, pulling me up to my feet when I was down -- I just need to do this on my own, Chris.
Have a wonderful birthday and know that from many, many miles away, I’m thinking of you. Always.
Love,
Zach
Chris feels his blood run cold. This isn’t just a break up. This is Zach removing all of himself from Chris’ life. No more e-mails, online chat, phone calls, letters...
He ignores Zach and begins writing him immediately.
But a week later, his letter is returned to him. On the back of the unopened envelope, he sees Zach’s handwriting:
I knew you’d ignore me. Maybe. Someday.
His mother finds him sobbing in his childhood room, surrounded by all of the letters Zach’s ever sent over the last thirteen years. The knuckles of his hands are white as he clutches Zach’s shirt. He feels foolish, crying like a baby, but falls in her lap and tells her everything. She offers a smile, says she’s suspected as much, and assures him that he’ll survive and move on, even though he feels like his world has ended.
Eventually, month and months later, Chris thinks he’s found some form of happiness, but doesn’t think he’ll ever feel that the same brightness and sunny hope that he had that summer. Maybe it was just the magic of New York. Maybe some things are meant to be ephemeral.
He thinks about how there are people who come into your life and change it irreversibly, and then drift away. Sometimes they come back, sometimes they don’t. Chris doesn’t like to think that he and Zach won’t ever drift back together at some point, even though years have passed and they’ve lost touch completely. Judging by Zach’s last message, he doesn’t think so either. Ever the romantic, Chris hopes that one day, after he’s worked up the courage to go back and visit New York, he’ll run into Zach in a used bookstore with a copy of Howl in his hands. The details that have been rubbed away and faded with time, much like the photograph that he still keeps in his wallet, will get filled in again.
But if not, then that’s okay, too. The important things he wants to remember about Zach aren’t in the details in what he can see when he closes his eyes. They’re in the way Chris grins when he hears a song by Guster or Neutral Milk Hotel, and in the rush of adrenaline he gets when he sees an amazing play. And in the feeling he gets, deep in his bones, when he’s gazing up into the sky at bursting fireworks, because he knows that he’s changed Zach for the better, too.
Epilogue