Fic: And in my heart... a desert
Title: And in my heart... a desert
Author: tikra
Beta: darkcuriosity Thanks a lot my dear!
Pairing: Pinto
Word Count: 7.569
Rating: PG
Warning: angst
Prompt: A kiss in the rain
A/N: Written for pintofest
A/N #2: Special thanks to melonbutterfly & rainbowstrlght for inspiring and pushing me when I got stuck
The room was full of noises; laughter emerging from different directions, clinking of glasses and boisterous conversations.
Chris was waiting at the bar to get served. His eyes were stinging a bit due to the sticky air and the dimmed lights, his vision slightly blurred.
Dammit, they shouldn’t have had so many White Russians before… but his dude Zachary had insisted on paying a tribute to their Coen Brothers movie marathon before.
At the beginning it was supposed to be a typical night out in Silver Lake for him and his friends. Everybody was enjoying having some time off of their busy schedules and therefore they had been more than eager to get together on this Saturday night.
Chris was crammed between a good dozen other people who, unfortunately, had been at the bar before him. He sighed audibly and turned around, leaning back on the dark wooden bar. Zoe and John currently occupied one of the green-leathered booths, spreading their limbs across the smooth fabric so that no one would even dare to claim the remaining seats while Chris was trying to get another drink and Zach had excused himself for a quick smoke on the patio upstairs.
Another sigh escaped his lips. That’s exactly what he needed right now, too. Yet smoking down here was prohibited in the Red Lion Tavern. Still, Zach had been right when he said that this bar sold the most amazing beers in Los Angeles.
Chris had enthusiastically agreed after he’d taken the first sip of his Pilsener. It was very different from the brands he usually liked to drink, but it was a more than welcomed change. In fact, he was so enraptured, that he had stopped counting after the fourth bottle.
“Hey, what can I get you to drink?”
Chris craned his neck back to the bar where a young woman, dressed in a traditional Bavarian gown, looked at him questioningly. He flashed her one of his most endearing smiles and leaned in a bit closer, making sure that this time his order would be proceeded immediately.
“Could I get a….” his eyes briefly scanned the list of beverages before he pointed with his index finger on a particular brand, “…a Bitburger please?”
The way the cute girl chuckled when he tried to pronounce the name of the beer perplexed him a bit. What was so funny about it? After all, it was not his fault that Germans apparently had a penchant for naming their beer after piece of meat that was crammed into a bun.
“Yeah, sure. Coming!” she replied hastily before she flipped to the man next to him, took his order and continued working her way down the row
Chris pouted hyperbolically at the still empty space in front of him.
Great. So this could mean he might have to wait another five, ten minutes. He waved back at their booth, indicating that it would take him another while here, but apparently, Zoe and John were having a blasting time without him anyway. Before Zoe could even wave back at him, a bottle on her lips, John must have cracked some kind of hilarious joke because the next thing Chris saw was a thin stream of golden yellow liquid being snorted out of Zoe’s nose.
Chris suppressed a laugh, but could not prevent that his lips formed a shit-eating grin when Zoe smacked John several times, playfully, on the back of his head for ruining her shirt.
He had missed it. These times where you could just let everything behind for a moment. Every exhausting hour he’d been spending on the set of Unstoppable in the past few months. The trouble with the paps once he got back to LA two weeks ago. The tabloids which kept digging way too deep into his private life.
All that seemed to be forgotten so easily once he spent some time with his closest friends.
Okay, maybe the alcohol did also contribute something to his momentarily light-headed feeling, the pleasant dizziness that occurred when he riveted his eyes on something for too long.
No, he wouldn’t consider himself drunk. He merely enjoyed the effect of having a lot of foreign beverages floating in his bloodstream. Chris contemplated absent-mindedly if he should invent a cocktail called White Lederhosen, since the effect of German Beer and Vodka together with cream was more than gratifying, when he felt a warm hand coming to rest on his shoulder.
“Hey, still waiting for your drink?”
Chris turned around to see Zach standing right behind him, a buoyant grin on his lips. Chris giggled lightly and nodded, eyes rolling.
“Yeah, for hours. I didn’t know that this place was so popular…?”
“Oh come on. I told you they have the best beer in the whole county here. It’s a commonly known open secret. I thought you might need a change after all those pinky cosmopolitans in New York lately.”
“Fuck you,” Chris said, sticking out his tongue in a more than childish manner.
“Awww…” Zach made a sound of feigned pity. “You know, real men drink pink cocktails. Just like they wear pink shirts. It enhances their virility. And besides, I was but trying to extend your cultural horizon by bringing you here.”
Chris swallowed the snappy comment that was lying on his tongue. He was sure Zach never wore something pink because of his modesty, not wanting to rub his self-proclaimed awesomeness into people’s faces.
He wondered if Zach secretly wore pink underwear.
They’ve exchanged a few more words, talking about nonsense or random stuff. Chris wasn’t really aware of its meaningful content since his head had already resigned control over his tongue. Unintelligible Blabber might have been the correct term for what was currently coming out of his mouth, but whatever he was ranting about, it made Zach laugh. And Chris loved making other people laugh.
He didn’t quite know if it was because they actually had not that much space to breathe here due to the boisterous crowd around them anyway, or Zach really kept coming closer on purpose, inch by inch.
Zach still wore that blissful smile and was already so close to Chris that he could discern the small dimples at the corner of his mouth. Their eyes were locked, each of them holding the gaze intently. Chris giggled again. And the noise around him became strangely dull, almost like his ears were blocked after he dived too long under water.
He could do it, couldn’t he? What would be wrong with it? It was Zach, just Zach. His friend. And he felt like doing it now. He had told himself not to care about what could happen tonight. After all, it had been ages since Chris had allowed himself to just let go and live.
Zach’s face was merely a few centimeters away. Chris could feel his warm exhalation ghosting over his skin. A pair of dark brown eyes met his blue again. They weren’t looking questioningly. Or approvingly. There was a blank determination in them, with a trace of curiosity, and something else Chris wasn’t quite able to pinpoint.
He didn’t care.
He didn’t even know who crossed the last remaining space between them in the end. He automatically closed his eyes once he sensed the warm touch of Zach’s lips on his own. A soft kiss, nothing more yet; lingering, waiting.
It felt okay.
But what was he striving for here?
Zach parted his lips slightly, and Chris reciprocated, tasting their first intimate encounter.
His mind wandered off a bit. Back to the choir of background noises that were humming around him, strangely, back to pink undies.
Yes, that was definitely his tongue slipping through his parted lips, seeking for its counterpart. They entwined gingerly, slowly.
It was a tender kiss, Chris concluded, when he tilted his head to change the angle, exploring more of Zach’s mouth out of sheer curiosity.
It was okay.
It was fun. And hey, didn’t he come here with the intention to have fun?
Someone tipped him on the shoulder. Chris broke the kiss abruptly and turned around again.
“There you go,” the blonde girl said and handed him his long awaited beer.
“Thanks!” Chris replied and took a big sip, enjoying the feeling of the cool, unique-tasting liquid running down his suddenly dry throat.
He glimpsed at Zach next to him, who was still all smiley beside his slightly disheveled look.
“Well then, see around!” Chris said, a thin smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he walked past him back to their booth. He nestled down next to John, twirling the Bitburger in both hands.
He was drunk, wasn’t he? But he clearly remembered everything that just happened. So he would probably also remember it tomorrow morning.
Would remember that it was nice kiss. But just a kiss.
But there was no spark. Not this incredible feeling in you usually get in your guts if someone kissed you.
There had been nothing.
And… why did he let it happen again? Why didn’t he just break away? Why did he do it?
He didn’t know. And he didn’t want to think about it for too long now. The night was young.
≈
Chris opened his eyes, inhaling sharply. He was panting, a thin film of sweat covered his forehead. He swallowed a couple of times and sat up in his bed, one hand running over his face and through his hair.
He clenched his eyes shut again, trying to forge back the images from his dream. Zach. The proximity. The faint taste of beer and vanilla cigarettes on his tongue and lips.
“Fuck…”
He wished it would have been a dream. One of those you could simply forget about. Dreams were often just a haphazard mishmash of things your subconscious tries to deal with while you were asleep.
Chris agreed in so far that his subconscious definitely had some issues here. Because this hadn’t been a dream. It was a memory that kept haunting him in his sleep for two weeks now.
He felt his eyes beginning to water when he thought about that night at the Red Lion Tavern again and hated himself for it. It made him vulnerable.
He didn’t even know why he felt this strange pain inside of him. Or was it pain at all? Wasn’t it more like anger?
Chris didn’t know what to think of it anyhow. Which disturbed him even more. So getting back to sleep and maybe drawn back to where his dream left him was not a considerable option now. Not after it evoked the incident of that night again. He got up from his bed, reaching for the small water bottle on his nightstand and walked over to the open window.
It was quiet outside. Not really dark, because, well, there was no way of enjoying the tranquility of the darkness in a city like Los Angeles. The bright orange street lights were not capable of soothing his thoughts, of coating him in a safe cocoon where he wouldn’t need to think about this.
The blowing curtains of the open window were grazing over his bare skin, a touch soft, yet, at that time of the year, uncomfortably chilly. Chris shivered marginally and stepped back, away from LA’s cold nocturnal grip.
He felt like going for a walk, to clear his mind, but he was afraid he could bump into Zach. He knew it was a silly assumption, considering that it was in the middle of the night, but Zach once had told him before that Noah used to scratch on his bedroom door at night sometimes, indicating that he needed to go for a stroll.
So yeah, better not taking a risk.
Chris nipped on the bottle and sat down on the edge of his bed. His cell phone, resting on the small nightstand, seemed to whisper to him. Very low, but in his imagination, quite audible. He looked at it suspiciously, pondering whether he was dealing with a friend or enemy here.
It whispered again. Words. His words. Continually.
And, like every time, Chris couldn’t resist even though he knew that it was wrong and that he should better not do it. He retrieved it from its sock he usually put it in, staring at the tiny black screen for a while before he opened the message folder, browsing through the last couple of texts.
hey chris, are you alright? haven’t seen you for a while. wonder if the cosmos might have had a detrimental effect on your entity in the end. - z.
-
zoe and i are going for lunch at m café, wanna come? - z.
-
dude, you should have seen this. there was a pap following me while i was walking noah. he was so immersed in taking pics that he oversaw that huge puddle of mud he eventually fell in when he tripped over my neighbor’s garbage can that’s been lying on the ground for ages! - z.
-
chris, about last night… i was drunk, you were drunk. things like that tend to happen when people get drunk. no big deal, right? - z.
Chris briefly scanned that first message after their night out. Zach was right, to a certain extent. It actually was not a big deal. Wasn’t this the good thing about ingesting too much booze? That you didn’t have to excuse yourself for anything on the next day? All blame to the bad bad ethanol whose molecular formula is responsible for every sort of destructing a sober mind?
Then why hadn’t it worked this time?
Every time Chris thought about it, he felt guilty. He couldn’t even explain why, but there was just something wrong about all of it.
Because he liked Zach. A lot. Since 2007, he considered Zach as one of the closest friends he’d possibly ever had in his entire life. They knew each other from the inside out, had even seen each other naked (because Zach once had had the glorious idea to go to the sauna in summer, to get rid of all the pernicious substances that had been piling up in their bodies during the promo tour) and it hadn’t been a big deal at all.
So why would a simple kiss make such a big difference?
Chris put the phone aside and sighed heavily. Maybe he was just not good at this. At… dealing with this kind of situation because he had never found himself in something akin to this before. He had talked to Zoe about it a couple of days ago. She had tried to reassure him by saying that she’d often kissed her girlfriends when they had all been a bit tipsy on some night outs.
“For fun, you know? And it attracts a lot of guys. I guess they think it’s sexy or something…or fulfills their fantasy of a threesome,” she had told him with a genuine smile.
He was grateful for her effort to comfort him, but… guys were not girls. Guys did not make out with their male friends. Ever. They just didn’t. Universal rule.
On the other hand, since when had he ever been completely sure about his own feelings for a person he felt attracted to? Of course, he’d been dating a lot of girls, but he had never been in a relationship where he could have said with the ardency of his heart that he’d really loved this person.
The more time he spent dwelling on the situation, the more images were popping up behind his inner eye. Chris buried his face in his hands, not quite crying, but close to it. It was like all of it coming together, weighing heavily on his shoulders: the break-up with Olivia because he didn’t want to hurt her anymore because of his, apparently, incapability to feel more than great fondness for somebody; the paps who kept chasing him almost every day once he stepped out of his front door, the thing with Zach…
Especially the thing with Zach.
Chris suddenly felt constricted in his chest, like something was stealing the air to breath from him. He tried to catch his breath, but it only got worse. He closed his eyes, a feeble attempt to calm down. He’d been through this before, but it was as overwhelming and painful as every time when his body negatively reacted to his mind that was currently seething like a volcano, shortly before its devastating eruption.
He frantically pulled the drawer of his nightstand open and grabbed the pack of cigarettes and a lighter, threw the thin blanket over his shoulders and stepped out on his balcony.
A nasty wind was blowing, yanking on the soft fabric wrapped around him. A small curse escaped Chris lips when several attempts were necessary to finally lit the cigarette.
But once he inhaled the first bits of it, he calmed down a lot quicker. Somewhere in the distance, a dog was barking. Chris strained his ears, but he was sure that it wasn’t Noah. He was able to distinguish Noah’s bark from other dogs by now. He watched through the silvery blue haze coming out of his mouth and nose, watched how it was carried away by another sharp hiss of the wind.
The dog kept barking.
He felt the desperate urge to talk to someone. And as much as he loved Zoe, her advice had been futile so far.
No, he needs to talk to someone who would understand what Chris was actually going through at the moment. Someone who would always know what to do when he found himself in a catch-22 situation again. Someone who would simply be there for him, knowingly, without words.
Someone like Zach.
“I’m such an asshole…” he muttered to himself, stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette and went back inside. He crawled up in his bed and closed his eyes, hoping that he would drift into a dreamless sleep.
Somewhere, a faint whine was gliding through the oppressive quiescence of the night.
≈
When Chris woke up the next morning, it seemed like the weather perfectly expressed his mood. The sun was hiding behind thick, dark clouds, giving the world a dull, grayish tint. Winter in Los Angeles was by far not pleasant. Even though the thermometer barely dropped below forty degrees, the people here were just not used to such a sudden fall of temperature.
For a brief second, Chris considered to just stay in bed for the rest of the day, mimicking the sun’s reluctance to emerge from its stash.
Downstairs, the phone was ringing. Once. Twice. Three Times… Chris couldn’t be bothered to get up. And anyway, who on earth would call him that early in the morning? It was barely past seven o’clock. After a couple more rings, it stopped and probably switched right to the answering machine. Whoever it was, this somebody would either call again or Chris might actually check his voice mails for once.
He picked up the small planner from the floor and briefly looked over his schedule for today. Nothing too strenuous, just a lunch meeting with his agent and he needed to head to Firm Films for some post-production things.
Looking at the date, he noticed that it had exactly been three weeks since their night at Red Lion Tavern. Three weeks without exchanging a single word with his actual best friend. Chris was perfectly aware that he acted like a fucking retard and that it was more than unfair toward Zach, leaving him hanging without any further explanation for his behavior.
But did he actually have a proper explanation? Could he form the mess that was currently twisting inside of him into coherent words?
All this was really beginning to scrape on his already strained nerves.
Chris finally got up and walked to his closet. He grabbed the very first shirt that was in reach, not really caring what he was going to wear on his way to Lamill for his daily dose of caffeine.
And maybe a hoodie, he contemplated, considering the weather outside.
He slipped into a pair of grey sweatpants, grabbed his keys and wallet and pulled the hood over his head.
Once he stepped out of his house, he regretted it immediately and, for the first time, wished he had a proper coffee machine in his kitchen, because Goddammit it was fucking freezing outside. He shivered involuntarily and fastened his pace.
Maybe he should get a hot Café Latte this time… though he actually wouldn’t mind if his usual iced choice helped to freeze some particular brain cells in his hippocampus.
≈
The meeting with the people of Firm Films took longer than he’d initially expected. It was already dark when Chris got back to his house, but it had kept his mind busy for several hours. His cell phone remained mute. There hadn’t been any further messages from Zach since last Friday. Which was almost a week ago.
Though, Chris didn’t expect any more messages since he hadn’t responded to a single one yet.
In the darkness of the hallway, a tiny, red light was blinking consistently, like a single, impatient eye that foreboded some unfinished business.
Slowly, Chris approached the phone, staring down at the little red eye that seemed to gloat back impatiently. His index finger hovered over its head for a few more moments before he finally pushed it.
“You have one new message.”
((BEEP))
“… Hey Chris, Zach here. I-… I don’t mean to bother you, I just wanted to tell you that I’m gonna be out of town for the next two weeks from tomorrow on,… - Well, you know, in case you were up for something and-… I… I see you around then?"
((BEEP))
Chris leaned his head back on the wall, staring at the ceiling. He would have lied if he’d said that he wasn’t relieved to hear Zach’s dark, velvet voice again. And at the same time, he felt that strange ache in his heart and he realized how much he actually missed him.
Then why was it so hard to come to terms with himself? Chris knew he couldn’t keep up that façade up for any longer if he didn’t want to lose Zach as a friend.
Besides, leaving him groping in the dark about what the hell was going on in his mind for another couple of weeks suddenly felt unbearable.
No, he couldn’t let Zach leave like that. He deserved a fucking explanation. Or… at least something of the sort because Chris didn’t quite know how to formulate his current state of mind into a reasonable and understandable explanation.
He glanced at his cell phone. It was almost 10pm. Shouldn’t be too late to sort things out, right?
He grabbed his keys and left, deciding to walk the short distance to Zach’s house. Maybe the chilly night air would help to clear his head; or to put some meaningful words into it.
Chris eyes were focused on the pavement beneath him, dull and grey, just like the heavy clouds above him. He recalled the event from that night, giving it yet another try to figure out what the fuck his problem actually was.
It was just a kiss. Well, it was little bit more than a kiss. But it’s not like he’d never kissed a guy before. He wasn’t so sure if he’d ever mentioned to Zach that he’d had experiences with both sexes. Probably not. He couldn’t remember a point in their friendship when it had come up somehow since he’d been dating more women lately because there hadn’t been anyone who’d tickled his fancy.
More or less.
≈
He took some long, deep breaths before he finally rang the doorbell. Once, just once. He didn’t have to wait long, after a few seconds the front door was opened, revealing a more than surprised Zach.
“…Chris? I… what…”
Zach was cut off by Noah, who was threading his way through to Chris between his Daddy’s legs in order to greet his second best buddy eagerly. Chris’s lips curled up into a thin smile when he bent down to scrape Noah behind his fluffy ears.
“Hey Noah… I’ve missed you dude,” he whispered, patting him on the head one last time before he looked up to Zach who was still staring at him with this strange mix of bewilderment and concern. Chris opened his mouth, but didn’t quite know how to start. It seemed like the cold wind had blown every single reasonable word out of his mind instead of rendering assistance. Zach stared down on him for a moment that seemed to last eternally.
“…Wanna come in? I guess it’s a bit healthier to gape inside where it’s warm…” he said at last.
“You seriously didn’t have a better way to invite me in than gracefully pointing out my initial, flabbergasted moment? I thought you promised to not put me down again. Ever.”
Chris tried to sound playful, light. He even managed to flash a tiny half-crooked smile at Zach, but it didn’t quite match the anxious look in his eyes.
Zach bit his lips and just shrugged, moving aside to make space for Chris to come in.
“It was worth a try.”
Chris got up from his kneeling position next to Noah and followed Zach inside. The familiar smell of his house took him aback. There was so much of Zach not only in the air, but in everything around him. His eyes glided over the row of shoes next to the door, the coat-tree crowned with Zach’s favorite beige fedora, Harold’s cat tree in the corner…all of it made his skin buzz in strange amazement, yet he immediately felt comfortable.
After all, Zach’s place sort of became his second home.
“Want a beer?” Zach asked from the kitchen. Chris heard him moving around, then the familiar beeping sound of the fridge that automatically switched on when somebody left its door open for too long.
Chris walked into the living room and sat down on one of the couches, sinking back into the cushions. His fingers were trailing over the soft leather and he inhaled the mild smell deeply. He had missed it. All of it. Not only his place. He had missed all of it because all of it was inevitably imbued with Zach.
“…Chris?”
Zach peeked into the living room, raising one eyebrow questioningly and wiggled with two beer bottles in his hand.
“What? Oh Sorry…Yeah, beer would be great.”
Zach nodded, handed one of the bottles over to Chris, and sat down on the opposite couch, legs crossed. Chris swallowed half of his beer in an instant, trying to gather his thoughts. His heart was racing and he wasn’t really sure whether this reminded him of a court scenario or not, the small coffee table separating them like an insurmountable obstacle, where Chris was the one in the dock.
I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me god.
He was grateful that Zach didn’t push him in any way. Quite the contrary, his almost serene patience helped him to compose himself a bit. After all, it shouldn’t be that difficult to talk to your best friend. But on the other hand, when had he ever been able to talk about feelings…?
“Zach, I… I guess first of all, I’m sorry. Sorry for not returning your calls. Or messages. That was wrong. But… I needed that time off. I couldn’t… deal with all of that.”
Zach just looked at him, with, again, that strange unreadable expression. Chris licked his lips nervously and, for the first time, he really wished Zach could see behind his blue eyes, where everything lied, exposed, open, hoping to be understood without words. It would have made things so much easier…
“… You know, I’m not quite sure if it was actually me who took advantage of you. I mean, I know that you are strai-“
“… I didn’t have a big fucking gay freak out if it that’s what you’re trying to imply.”
This came out a bit harsher than Chris had initially intended to. But he was just sick of the common assumption that people considered him as being totally straight which commonly meant that every tiny sexual interaction with a man would evoke such a blatant reaction. Zach frowned marginally.
“Okay. Fine. No big gay freak out. Got it.”
He narrowed his eyes, his voice a bit more strained when he continued.
“Then what the fuck is going on with you? If this was not your problem, then please, enlighten me. Because to me, there is absolutely no problem if it was just a small, drunken kiss.”
“God Zach… Sometimes I really think you don’t know me at all.”
Chris ran a hand through his hair, scraping the back of his neck. He knew he sounded desperate. Well, he was desperate to some extent. Why was it so goddamn hard to talk about this crappy shit?
He met Zach’s gaze and felt and immediate pang in his heart. There was so much helplessness and a similar trace of despair in his eyes. There was nothing Chris wanted to do more than walk over and catch him in an embrace, squeezing this doleful look out of him, which he’d obviously caused.
But he just… couldn’t. Not now. Not yet.
“…Then please, help me. Help me understand.”
Chris opened and closed his mouth again. He wanted to. He had it all lying on the tip of his tongue. But some persistent inner blockade prevented him from spitting it out.
No, he really couldn’t.
Chris downed the rest of his beer and got up from the couch, smiling mildly at Zach.
“You know what? You’re right. It was just a little drunken kiss. I dunno why I made such a big deal out of it.”
He chuckled half-heartedly while he slipped into his cardigan. Zach didn’t laugh. He remained in his seated position, toying with the bottle in his hands. Even more confusion and disappointment were dancing clearly in Zach’s eyes when he chewed on his lower lip, and Chris could swear he heard the rattling sounds of his friend’s brain trying to process what just happened. Or… not happened.
“So we’re okay then…?” Zach merely asked, not quite meeting Chris’ eyes.
“Yeah… I think we are…”
“Good…” Zach forced his lips into a smile, a bitter one, somehow. And god, Chris couldn’t stand looking at this beautiful yet equally painful look on his friend’s face.
So help him god? Fuck, he was probably going to roast in hell once he stepped out of this door.
Chris felt sick. Out of nowhere, there was an awful knot building up in his stomach, twisting and curling around his guts. He hated himself for what he was doing right now. What he was doing to Zach.
“Good.”
Their eyes locked for a brief moment, before Chris turned around, heading for the door. Zach followed him shortly after, but kept his distance when Chris opened the door and looked back one more time.
“I guess I see you in two weeks then?”
“Sure…” Zach replied. Chris nodded, a barely noticeable smile on his face before Zach closed the door behind him.
The fine mist that was accompanying the chilly wind cooled his head a bit. Chris sighed, contemplating, digesting his epic failure in sorting things out properly.
Half way on his way back home, the initial soft drizzle had turned into a cold, hard winter rain like the clouds had decided to open up and drop buckets of water on him on purpose. Every raindrop was stinging painfully on his face like a sharp ice needle, as if heaven really wanted to punish him for being such a chicken.
It was then when Chris realized, as he shoved his hands in his pockets, that his keys were missing.
“Fuck this…” he muttered furiously, digging in each of his other pockets in vain.
He must have left them at Zach’s place.
Chris cursed the earth, the winter, and the motherfucking destiny (or rather… justice?) in general to mess with him on that kind of level.
He wiped the rain out of his eyes and started rushing back the way he came, hair, clothes, and shoes already soaked completely.
The streets were empty. There was not a single sign of life to see or hear, except for the steady rhythm of raindrops crashing down on the paving. To him, it sounded like a pernicious drumming in his ears that was haunting him with each and every step he took.
The heavy rain blurred his sight, leaving the vast streets of Silver Lake in a bleary tapestry of orange lights and grey darkness. He had to rub his eyes to finally be able to discern that someone was approaching him. Sometimes, wearing contacts was not convenient at all. A piercing wind was tearing on his clothes when Chris came to a halt once he recognized who was coming up the street.
Zach caught up with him, holding the umbrella he’d been carrying over both of them. He was panting marginally, small white puffs accompanying each exhalation. Chris glanced up to him, his own lips trembling from the biting temperatures.
“You walked all the way to…”
“…Yeah, I got your keys. Couldn’t bear the thought of you standing in that monsoon all night long.” Zach retrieved the bunch of keys from his back pocket and handed it to Chris. Their fingertips brushed ever so slightly, but it was enough to send a shiver down Chris spine that could strangely not be blamed on the current weather conditions.
And something hit him.
This exiguous touch roused something in him that he had almost forgotten or maybe just ignored for a long time.
It was the simplicity of a mere touch. It happened dozens of times before. The casual neck-rubbings or shoulder-pattings during their interviews. The small amicable embraces they shared as a greeting. It had happened so often that it never occurred to him that these diminutive, pleasant buzzes could have meant something more than great affection. Because he had never really paid a lot attention to it.
So why on earth was a brief physical contact able to induce such an intense reaction in him here and now, and not a kiss…? Did he imagine things? Was he coming to the wrong conclusions?
Another strong blast of wind interrupted his flow of thoughts when it snatched the umbrella from Zach’s grip.
“OH MY G-… FUCK… SHIT!!” he pressed between clenched teeth when the first wave of cold rain was pouring down on him, watching his umbrella doing some elegant loops before it vanished up in the air.
Chris couldn’t help it but laugh shakily. The quaintness of the situation was too tangible to ignore: two men, standing in the rain, soaked through their bones, and suddenly, it appeared to him, every raindrop turned into tiny question marks that kept falling on both their heads, down to their feet were they continued dancing and floating around them, contributing picturesquely to the pool of questions he was trying not to drown in.
Chris dared to look at Zach. And maybe for the first time, he really saw him. That his eyes had this very dark brown corona, in contrast to the warm hazel around his iris. Could discern the small, barely visible mole right next to his nose. The tiny, round scarf beneath his right eyebrow on his otherwise impeccable skin. The distinct indent between his lips and the tip of his nose. The long, disarrayed black strands sticking to his forehead and, goddammit, there was something about the way the rain had drenched him that left him in a fluster.
What the fuck.
Chris clenched his eyes shut, then blinked a couple of times, the rain still running into his eyes and down his face. They were just few inches apart, almost as close as they had been in the tavern. At the bar.
“Zach, fuck…What are we doing here? What am I doing here?”
Chris could see in the way Zach shifted that he was about to say something, but eventually refrained from doing so. He just inclined his head lightly and answered with a half-shrug. It was Chris’ turn to put his cards on the table, and he knew it.
For a moment, Chris eyes flickered upwards, facing the sky. No, he wouldn’t go so far to audibly pull out the metaphor that heaven was crying, screaming out its anger, confusion, or displeasure that perfectly matched Chris’ temporary state of mind.
No, this was just rain. A cold, galling winter rain.
Damn. He should be so plain and direct with his own evaluations. Because he was sick of it. Sick of making up theories. Sick of questioning or forsaking his feelings.
This time, he wanted to know. He wanted to make sure. Needed to.
Slowly, he raised his right hand, reaching for Zach’s face, whose eyes widened imperceptibly before Chris placed his fingertips gently on one side of his face. Zach’s skin was cold, but from such a smooth texture that Chris just had to let them glide along his temple and cheekbone.
Zach lowered his eyes, stuck on something on the dark asphalt under their feet. He grabbed Chris’s wrist, stopping him in motion.
“Chris, please, don’t… It didn’t work the last time, remember? So why should it this time?” he said in a low, almost pleading voice.
There.
There it was. Chris could feel it again, in every cell of his body, the faint tingling buzzes that originated from the firm grip around his wrist. The tiniest hint of a smile appeared in one corner of his lips. This feeling was like meeting someone he’d assumed to be dead.
Thus, he had to make sure. Otherwise, this would go on and on, and he would be even more entangled in that horrific, vicious circle he’d been trying to break away for weeks.
“I don’t know… I… that’s why…” he realized that he was threading on thin ice here. His shaky voice and trembling fingers proved him more than right.
“Zach…I need to know…” Chris said as he was leaning forward to press their lips together.
Zach stiffened, his hand still wrapped around Chris’ wrist, clutching it tightly. It wasn’t quite a reluctant move since he didn’t back away from him, more a deliberate restraint, as if Zach was afraid that something bad might happen if he would relent.
It was different this time.
Chris lips were barely brushing against Zach’s, more caressing the soft, wet skin. He brought his other hand up to place it in Zach’s neck, pulling him closer. But there was no rush, no haste. Chris took his time to adjust to this unusual, strange sensation that was currently emanating from his guts. He opened his mouth slightly, craving for more of these elegant bow-curved lips and slowly, Zach’s grip began to loosen.
Chris suddenly felt like a teenager again, receiving his very first kiss.
It made him a little self-conscious, because this was not like the kiss in the tavern. This time, he couldn’t control that he poured parts of his heart and emotions in it. Everything he was not yet ready to talk about. Everything that remained unsaid.
An attempt to fill the gap between his mind and his heart.
He still didn’t know what he wanted or what he expected. But in this very moment, this sensational, unfamiliar feeling rumbling inside of him was everything he needed, everything he longed.
And then Zach let go. Let go of Chris’ wrist, of his initial restraint, maybe even of his own doubts when he cupped his face with both hands, closing the last gap between their bodies, bringing them together. The tiniest, relieved moan escaped Chris’s lips when his mind went blank though reality tried to get hold of him. Just as his rational brain was still hammering on the entrance of his heart, commanding it to be silent.
But all he could think of now were the pleasant jolts Zach’s fingers left on his skin, the slight tickle of his five o’clock shadow.
It was so hot and so cold at the same time. The rain was in no way eager to stop pouring down on them, crawling into every single pore.
Chris sucked gently at the corner of Zach’s lips, awaiting, and Zach complied. His tongue graced carefully over Chris lower lip, searching for the last bit of consent.
“Forgive me, Zach…” Chris managed to whisper, before he shut down the last bit of his rational brain and, maybe for the first time, listened to the soft, fragile voice of his heart.
It hurt, quite a lot, and maybe it would always hurt.
But maybe it was worth it.
The aching. The constant feeling of need and the fear of losing it again.
And the rain was not able to just wash away his pain.
It made all his senses madly aware of the person in front of him. And it was this kiss… this peculiar kiss… a kiss where you lost yourself in once you realize that you didn’t want to kiss anyone else anymore. The world could go down or just disappear around you, because nothing would matter but the present moment.
And it was true. He was completely oblivious to the world around him. Chris didn’t hear anything. The continuous reverberation of the rain falling down on them was limited to a barely audible humming. He didn’t feel the cold that much anymore, because Zach was here, shielding him, holding him tight.
The rain kept running into their mouths notwithstanding, mingling with their tongues and lips and it was soggy and freezing and he could barely breathe without filling his lungs with water; yet Chris was devouring the glacial liquid running between their mouths like he was wandering through an infinite desert, clinging onto the remains of his water supplies.
Because Zach tasted like that ice, like that cold winter rain. And it made his tongue and lips burn.
Eventually, they had to break away for a moment, catching their breaths. He stared at Zach’s slightly parted lips, at the small white clouds they were both breathing out unevenly.
Slowly but steady, Chris became aware of their surroundings again, of the dim street lights, of the rustling leaves in the trees nearby, and of the cold, piercing rain.
The rain. A kiss in the rain. Many people might associate kissing in the rain with something utterly romantic.
Well, in his opinion, it was not so romantic if you were soaked to an extent that your clothes were probably heavier than yourself while actually freezing your goddamn ass off.
Zach was still holding his face, his thumbs ghosting over the soft skin of his cheeks.
A little touch. Almost like the ones they’d shared before.
He placed another small kiss on Chris lips, followed by one on the tip of his nose, on his forehead, on his temple. It was so incredible gentle and tentative, he closed his eyes and let his mind trail away under the soft, feathery brush against his skin. He didn’t want to be drawn back to reality again. Back to where all his doubts and uncertainties were scattered on the ground, each one like a piece of a broken mirror, staring, and flashing his inner conflict back at him a million times.
“…Chris…?”
It was his voice. Zach’s husky voice that more or less catapulted him back into the present. Gone was the comforting silence that had surrounded them for a while. Gone was the momentary feeling of inner serenity. He could discern the distant noises of downtown LA again, the raucous drumming of the rain on his body.
His eyes were still closed. He didn’t want to wake up. This was not a nightmare. This would not haunt him. He would not allow it to haunt him.
Chris knew once he would open his eyes again he would have to recognize that a kiss couldn’t make previous things undone. Couldn’t make him forget in which utter confusion and distress the first one had left him.
It had always been impossible to him lose his grip on reality.
“Chris, look at me. Please. Or say something.”
He let Zach’s dark, mellow voice sank into him. And this… this new, alien feeling in his guts, this feeling that seemed to eagerly absorb every word Zach said and transformed it into something so comforting, so utterly familiar, it was intoxicating.
And Chris was aware, even though he still might not be able to talk about… any of it; he would be capable of at least scraping some holes into the wall he’d been building up around him for years.
For someone who might become more than a friend to him.
For someone like Zach.
So he opened his eyes and looked at him, ready to walk over the edge of a precipice. And Zach caught his gaze, held it, read in it like in an open book.
And Zach understood.
Maybe he had always understood.
Because this simple kiss in the rain had conveyed more than any word.
Author: tikra
Beta: darkcuriosity Thanks a lot my dear!
Pairing: Pinto
Word Count: 7.569
Rating: PG
Warning: angst
Prompt: A kiss in the rain
A/N: Written for pintofest
A/N #2: Special thanks to melonbutterfly & rainbowstrlght for inspiring and pushing me when I got stuck
The room was full of noises; laughter emerging from different directions, clinking of glasses and boisterous conversations.
Chris was waiting at the bar to get served. His eyes were stinging a bit due to the sticky air and the dimmed lights, his vision slightly blurred.
Dammit, they shouldn’t have had so many White Russians before… but his dude Zachary had insisted on paying a tribute to their Coen Brothers movie marathon before.
At the beginning it was supposed to be a typical night out in Silver Lake for him and his friends. Everybody was enjoying having some time off of their busy schedules and therefore they had been more than eager to get together on this Saturday night.
Chris was crammed between a good dozen other people who, unfortunately, had been at the bar before him. He sighed audibly and turned around, leaning back on the dark wooden bar. Zoe and John currently occupied one of the green-leathered booths, spreading their limbs across the smooth fabric so that no one would even dare to claim the remaining seats while Chris was trying to get another drink and Zach had excused himself for a quick smoke on the patio upstairs.
Another sigh escaped his lips. That’s exactly what he needed right now, too. Yet smoking down here was prohibited in the Red Lion Tavern. Still, Zach had been right when he said that this bar sold the most amazing beers in Los Angeles.
Chris had enthusiastically agreed after he’d taken the first sip of his Pilsener. It was very different from the brands he usually liked to drink, but it was a more than welcomed change. In fact, he was so enraptured, that he had stopped counting after the fourth bottle.
“Hey, what can I get you to drink?”
Chris craned his neck back to the bar where a young woman, dressed in a traditional Bavarian gown, looked at him questioningly. He flashed her one of his most endearing smiles and leaned in a bit closer, making sure that this time his order would be proceeded immediately.
“Could I get a….” his eyes briefly scanned the list of beverages before he pointed with his index finger on a particular brand, “…a Bitburger please?”
The way the cute girl chuckled when he tried to pronounce the name of the beer perplexed him a bit. What was so funny about it? After all, it was not his fault that Germans apparently had a penchant for naming their beer after piece of meat that was crammed into a bun.
“Yeah, sure. Coming!” she replied hastily before she flipped to the man next to him, took his order and continued working her way down the row
Chris pouted hyperbolically at the still empty space in front of him.
Great. So this could mean he might have to wait another five, ten minutes. He waved back at their booth, indicating that it would take him another while here, but apparently, Zoe and John were having a blasting time without him anyway. Before Zoe could even wave back at him, a bottle on her lips, John must have cracked some kind of hilarious joke because the next thing Chris saw was a thin stream of golden yellow liquid being snorted out of Zoe’s nose.
Chris suppressed a laugh, but could not prevent that his lips formed a shit-eating grin when Zoe smacked John several times, playfully, on the back of his head for ruining her shirt.
He had missed it. These times where you could just let everything behind for a moment. Every exhausting hour he’d been spending on the set of Unstoppable in the past few months. The trouble with the paps once he got back to LA two weeks ago. The tabloids which kept digging way too deep into his private life.
All that seemed to be forgotten so easily once he spent some time with his closest friends.
Okay, maybe the alcohol did also contribute something to his momentarily light-headed feeling, the pleasant dizziness that occurred when he riveted his eyes on something for too long.
No, he wouldn’t consider himself drunk. He merely enjoyed the effect of having a lot of foreign beverages floating in his bloodstream. Chris contemplated absent-mindedly if he should invent a cocktail called White Lederhosen, since the effect of German Beer and Vodka together with cream was more than gratifying, when he felt a warm hand coming to rest on his shoulder.
“Hey, still waiting for your drink?”
Chris turned around to see Zach standing right behind him, a buoyant grin on his lips. Chris giggled lightly and nodded, eyes rolling.
“Yeah, for hours. I didn’t know that this place was so popular…?”
“Oh come on. I told you they have the best beer in the whole county here. It’s a commonly known open secret. I thought you might need a change after all those pinky cosmopolitans in New York lately.”
“Fuck you,” Chris said, sticking out his tongue in a more than childish manner.
“Awww…” Zach made a sound of feigned pity. “You know, real men drink pink cocktails. Just like they wear pink shirts. It enhances their virility. And besides, I was but trying to extend your cultural horizon by bringing you here.”
Chris swallowed the snappy comment that was lying on his tongue. He was sure Zach never wore something pink because of his modesty, not wanting to rub his self-proclaimed awesomeness into people’s faces.
He wondered if Zach secretly wore pink underwear.
They’ve exchanged a few more words, talking about nonsense or random stuff. Chris wasn’t really aware of its meaningful content since his head had already resigned control over his tongue. Unintelligible Blabber might have been the correct term for what was currently coming out of his mouth, but whatever he was ranting about, it made Zach laugh. And Chris loved making other people laugh.
He didn’t quite know if it was because they actually had not that much space to breathe here due to the boisterous crowd around them anyway, or Zach really kept coming closer on purpose, inch by inch.
Zach still wore that blissful smile and was already so close to Chris that he could discern the small dimples at the corner of his mouth. Their eyes were locked, each of them holding the gaze intently. Chris giggled again. And the noise around him became strangely dull, almost like his ears were blocked after he dived too long under water.
He could do it, couldn’t he? What would be wrong with it? It was Zach, just Zach. His friend. And he felt like doing it now. He had told himself not to care about what could happen tonight. After all, it had been ages since Chris had allowed himself to just let go and live.
Zach’s face was merely a few centimeters away. Chris could feel his warm exhalation ghosting over his skin. A pair of dark brown eyes met his blue again. They weren’t looking questioningly. Or approvingly. There was a blank determination in them, with a trace of curiosity, and something else Chris wasn’t quite able to pinpoint.
He didn’t care.
He didn’t even know who crossed the last remaining space between them in the end. He automatically closed his eyes once he sensed the warm touch of Zach’s lips on his own. A soft kiss, nothing more yet; lingering, waiting.
It felt okay.
But what was he striving for here?
Zach parted his lips slightly, and Chris reciprocated, tasting their first intimate encounter.
His mind wandered off a bit. Back to the choir of background noises that were humming around him, strangely, back to pink undies.
Yes, that was definitely his tongue slipping through his parted lips, seeking for its counterpart. They entwined gingerly, slowly.
It was a tender kiss, Chris concluded, when he tilted his head to change the angle, exploring more of Zach’s mouth out of sheer curiosity.
It was okay.
It was fun. And hey, didn’t he come here with the intention to have fun?
Someone tipped him on the shoulder. Chris broke the kiss abruptly and turned around again.
“There you go,” the blonde girl said and handed him his long awaited beer.
“Thanks!” Chris replied and took a big sip, enjoying the feeling of the cool, unique-tasting liquid running down his suddenly dry throat.
He glimpsed at Zach next to him, who was still all smiley beside his slightly disheveled look.
“Well then, see around!” Chris said, a thin smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he walked past him back to their booth. He nestled down next to John, twirling the Bitburger in both hands.
He was drunk, wasn’t he? But he clearly remembered everything that just happened. So he would probably also remember it tomorrow morning.
Would remember that it was nice kiss. But just a kiss.
But there was no spark. Not this incredible feeling in you usually get in your guts if someone kissed you.
There had been nothing.
And… why did he let it happen again? Why didn’t he just break away? Why did he do it?
He didn’t know. And he didn’t want to think about it for too long now. The night was young.
≈
Chris opened his eyes, inhaling sharply. He was panting, a thin film of sweat covered his forehead. He swallowed a couple of times and sat up in his bed, one hand running over his face and through his hair.
He clenched his eyes shut again, trying to forge back the images from his dream. Zach. The proximity. The faint taste of beer and vanilla cigarettes on his tongue and lips.
“Fuck…”
He wished it would have been a dream. One of those you could simply forget about. Dreams were often just a haphazard mishmash of things your subconscious tries to deal with while you were asleep.
Chris agreed in so far that his subconscious definitely had some issues here. Because this hadn’t been a dream. It was a memory that kept haunting him in his sleep for two weeks now.
He felt his eyes beginning to water when he thought about that night at the Red Lion Tavern again and hated himself for it. It made him vulnerable.
He didn’t even know why he felt this strange pain inside of him. Or was it pain at all? Wasn’t it more like anger?
Chris didn’t know what to think of it anyhow. Which disturbed him even more. So getting back to sleep and maybe drawn back to where his dream left him was not a considerable option now. Not after it evoked the incident of that night again. He got up from his bed, reaching for the small water bottle on his nightstand and walked over to the open window.
It was quiet outside. Not really dark, because, well, there was no way of enjoying the tranquility of the darkness in a city like Los Angeles. The bright orange street lights were not capable of soothing his thoughts, of coating him in a safe cocoon where he wouldn’t need to think about this.
The blowing curtains of the open window were grazing over his bare skin, a touch soft, yet, at that time of the year, uncomfortably chilly. Chris shivered marginally and stepped back, away from LA’s cold nocturnal grip.
He felt like going for a walk, to clear his mind, but he was afraid he could bump into Zach. He knew it was a silly assumption, considering that it was in the middle of the night, but Zach once had told him before that Noah used to scratch on his bedroom door at night sometimes, indicating that he needed to go for a stroll.
So yeah, better not taking a risk.
Chris nipped on the bottle and sat down on the edge of his bed. His cell phone, resting on the small nightstand, seemed to whisper to him. Very low, but in his imagination, quite audible. He looked at it suspiciously, pondering whether he was dealing with a friend or enemy here.
It whispered again. Words. His words. Continually.
And, like every time, Chris couldn’t resist even though he knew that it was wrong and that he should better not do it. He retrieved it from its sock he usually put it in, staring at the tiny black screen for a while before he opened the message folder, browsing through the last couple of texts.
hey chris, are you alright? haven’t seen you for a while. wonder if the cosmos might have had a detrimental effect on your entity in the end. - z.
-
zoe and i are going for lunch at m café, wanna come? - z.
-
dude, you should have seen this. there was a pap following me while i was walking noah. he was so immersed in taking pics that he oversaw that huge puddle of mud he eventually fell in when he tripped over my neighbor’s garbage can that’s been lying on the ground for ages! - z.
-
chris, about last night… i was drunk, you were drunk. things like that tend to happen when people get drunk. no big deal, right? - z.
Chris briefly scanned that first message after their night out. Zach was right, to a certain extent. It actually was not a big deal. Wasn’t this the good thing about ingesting too much booze? That you didn’t have to excuse yourself for anything on the next day? All blame to the bad bad ethanol whose molecular formula is responsible for every sort of destructing a sober mind?
Then why hadn’t it worked this time?
Every time Chris thought about it, he felt guilty. He couldn’t even explain why, but there was just something wrong about all of it.
Because he liked Zach. A lot. Since 2007, he considered Zach as one of the closest friends he’d possibly ever had in his entire life. They knew each other from the inside out, had even seen each other naked (because Zach once had had the glorious idea to go to the sauna in summer, to get rid of all the pernicious substances that had been piling up in their bodies during the promo tour) and it hadn’t been a big deal at all.
So why would a simple kiss make such a big difference?
Chris put the phone aside and sighed heavily. Maybe he was just not good at this. At… dealing with this kind of situation because he had never found himself in something akin to this before. He had talked to Zoe about it a couple of days ago. She had tried to reassure him by saying that she’d often kissed her girlfriends when they had all been a bit tipsy on some night outs.
“For fun, you know? And it attracts a lot of guys. I guess they think it’s sexy or something…or fulfills their fantasy of a threesome,” she had told him with a genuine smile.
He was grateful for her effort to comfort him, but… guys were not girls. Guys did not make out with their male friends. Ever. They just didn’t. Universal rule.
On the other hand, since when had he ever been completely sure about his own feelings for a person he felt attracted to? Of course, he’d been dating a lot of girls, but he had never been in a relationship where he could have said with the ardency of his heart that he’d really loved this person.
The more time he spent dwelling on the situation, the more images were popping up behind his inner eye. Chris buried his face in his hands, not quite crying, but close to it. It was like all of it coming together, weighing heavily on his shoulders: the break-up with Olivia because he didn’t want to hurt her anymore because of his, apparently, incapability to feel more than great fondness for somebody; the paps who kept chasing him almost every day once he stepped out of his front door, the thing with Zach…
Especially the thing with Zach.
Chris suddenly felt constricted in his chest, like something was stealing the air to breath from him. He tried to catch his breath, but it only got worse. He closed his eyes, a feeble attempt to calm down. He’d been through this before, but it was as overwhelming and painful as every time when his body negatively reacted to his mind that was currently seething like a volcano, shortly before its devastating eruption.
He frantically pulled the drawer of his nightstand open and grabbed the pack of cigarettes and a lighter, threw the thin blanket over his shoulders and stepped out on his balcony.
A nasty wind was blowing, yanking on the soft fabric wrapped around him. A small curse escaped Chris lips when several attempts were necessary to finally lit the cigarette.
But once he inhaled the first bits of it, he calmed down a lot quicker. Somewhere in the distance, a dog was barking. Chris strained his ears, but he was sure that it wasn’t Noah. He was able to distinguish Noah’s bark from other dogs by now. He watched through the silvery blue haze coming out of his mouth and nose, watched how it was carried away by another sharp hiss of the wind.
The dog kept barking.
He felt the desperate urge to talk to someone. And as much as he loved Zoe, her advice had been futile so far.
No, he needs to talk to someone who would understand what Chris was actually going through at the moment. Someone who would always know what to do when he found himself in a catch-22 situation again. Someone who would simply be there for him, knowingly, without words.
Someone like Zach.
“I’m such an asshole…” he muttered to himself, stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette and went back inside. He crawled up in his bed and closed his eyes, hoping that he would drift into a dreamless sleep.
Somewhere, a faint whine was gliding through the oppressive quiescence of the night.
≈
When Chris woke up the next morning, it seemed like the weather perfectly expressed his mood. The sun was hiding behind thick, dark clouds, giving the world a dull, grayish tint. Winter in Los Angeles was by far not pleasant. Even though the thermometer barely dropped below forty degrees, the people here were just not used to such a sudden fall of temperature.
For a brief second, Chris considered to just stay in bed for the rest of the day, mimicking the sun’s reluctance to emerge from its stash.
Downstairs, the phone was ringing. Once. Twice. Three Times… Chris couldn’t be bothered to get up. And anyway, who on earth would call him that early in the morning? It was barely past seven o’clock. After a couple more rings, it stopped and probably switched right to the answering machine. Whoever it was, this somebody would either call again or Chris might actually check his voice mails for once.
He picked up the small planner from the floor and briefly looked over his schedule for today. Nothing too strenuous, just a lunch meeting with his agent and he needed to head to Firm Films for some post-production things.
Looking at the date, he noticed that it had exactly been three weeks since their night at Red Lion Tavern. Three weeks without exchanging a single word with his actual best friend. Chris was perfectly aware that he acted like a fucking retard and that it was more than unfair toward Zach, leaving him hanging without any further explanation for his behavior.
But did he actually have a proper explanation? Could he form the mess that was currently twisting inside of him into coherent words?
All this was really beginning to scrape on his already strained nerves.
Chris finally got up and walked to his closet. He grabbed the very first shirt that was in reach, not really caring what he was going to wear on his way to Lamill for his daily dose of caffeine.
And maybe a hoodie, he contemplated, considering the weather outside.
He slipped into a pair of grey sweatpants, grabbed his keys and wallet and pulled the hood over his head.
Once he stepped out of his house, he regretted it immediately and, for the first time, wished he had a proper coffee machine in his kitchen, because Goddammit it was fucking freezing outside. He shivered involuntarily and fastened his pace.
Maybe he should get a hot Café Latte this time… though he actually wouldn’t mind if his usual iced choice helped to freeze some particular brain cells in his hippocampus.
≈
The meeting with the people of Firm Films took longer than he’d initially expected. It was already dark when Chris got back to his house, but it had kept his mind busy for several hours. His cell phone remained mute. There hadn’t been any further messages from Zach since last Friday. Which was almost a week ago.
Though, Chris didn’t expect any more messages since he hadn’t responded to a single one yet.
In the darkness of the hallway, a tiny, red light was blinking consistently, like a single, impatient eye that foreboded some unfinished business.
Slowly, Chris approached the phone, staring down at the little red eye that seemed to gloat back impatiently. His index finger hovered over its head for a few more moments before he finally pushed it.
“You have one new message.”
((BEEP))
“… Hey Chris, Zach here. I-… I don’t mean to bother you, I just wanted to tell you that I’m gonna be out of town for the next two weeks from tomorrow on,… - Well, you know, in case you were up for something and-… I… I see you around then?"
((BEEP))
Chris leaned his head back on the wall, staring at the ceiling. He would have lied if he’d said that he wasn’t relieved to hear Zach’s dark, velvet voice again. And at the same time, he felt that strange ache in his heart and he realized how much he actually missed him.
Then why was it so hard to come to terms with himself? Chris knew he couldn’t keep up that façade up for any longer if he didn’t want to lose Zach as a friend.
Besides, leaving him groping in the dark about what the hell was going on in his mind for another couple of weeks suddenly felt unbearable.
No, he couldn’t let Zach leave like that. He deserved a fucking explanation. Or… at least something of the sort because Chris didn’t quite know how to formulate his current state of mind into a reasonable and understandable explanation.
He glanced at his cell phone. It was almost 10pm. Shouldn’t be too late to sort things out, right?
He grabbed his keys and left, deciding to walk the short distance to Zach’s house. Maybe the chilly night air would help to clear his head; or to put some meaningful words into it.
Chris eyes were focused on the pavement beneath him, dull and grey, just like the heavy clouds above him. He recalled the event from that night, giving it yet another try to figure out what the fuck his problem actually was.
It was just a kiss. Well, it was little bit more than a kiss. But it’s not like he’d never kissed a guy before. He wasn’t so sure if he’d ever mentioned to Zach that he’d had experiences with both sexes. Probably not. He couldn’t remember a point in their friendship when it had come up somehow since he’d been dating more women lately because there hadn’t been anyone who’d tickled his fancy.
More or less.
≈
He took some long, deep breaths before he finally rang the doorbell. Once, just once. He didn’t have to wait long, after a few seconds the front door was opened, revealing a more than surprised Zach.
“…Chris? I… what…”
Zach was cut off by Noah, who was threading his way through to Chris between his Daddy’s legs in order to greet his second best buddy eagerly. Chris’s lips curled up into a thin smile when he bent down to scrape Noah behind his fluffy ears.
“Hey Noah… I’ve missed you dude,” he whispered, patting him on the head one last time before he looked up to Zach who was still staring at him with this strange mix of bewilderment and concern. Chris opened his mouth, but didn’t quite know how to start. It seemed like the cold wind had blown every single reasonable word out of his mind instead of rendering assistance. Zach stared down on him for a moment that seemed to last eternally.
“…Wanna come in? I guess it’s a bit healthier to gape inside where it’s warm…” he said at last.
“You seriously didn’t have a better way to invite me in than gracefully pointing out my initial, flabbergasted moment? I thought you promised to not put me down again. Ever.”
Chris tried to sound playful, light. He even managed to flash a tiny half-crooked smile at Zach, but it didn’t quite match the anxious look in his eyes.
Zach bit his lips and just shrugged, moving aside to make space for Chris to come in.
“It was worth a try.”
Chris got up from his kneeling position next to Noah and followed Zach inside. The familiar smell of his house took him aback. There was so much of Zach not only in the air, but in everything around him. His eyes glided over the row of shoes next to the door, the coat-tree crowned with Zach’s favorite beige fedora, Harold’s cat tree in the corner…all of it made his skin buzz in strange amazement, yet he immediately felt comfortable.
After all, Zach’s place sort of became his second home.
“Want a beer?” Zach asked from the kitchen. Chris heard him moving around, then the familiar beeping sound of the fridge that automatically switched on when somebody left its door open for too long.
Chris walked into the living room and sat down on one of the couches, sinking back into the cushions. His fingers were trailing over the soft leather and he inhaled the mild smell deeply. He had missed it. All of it. Not only his place. He had missed all of it because all of it was inevitably imbued with Zach.
“…Chris?”
Zach peeked into the living room, raising one eyebrow questioningly and wiggled with two beer bottles in his hand.
“What? Oh Sorry…Yeah, beer would be great.”
Zach nodded, handed one of the bottles over to Chris, and sat down on the opposite couch, legs crossed. Chris swallowed half of his beer in an instant, trying to gather his thoughts. His heart was racing and he wasn’t really sure whether this reminded him of a court scenario or not, the small coffee table separating them like an insurmountable obstacle, where Chris was the one in the dock.
I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me god.
He was grateful that Zach didn’t push him in any way. Quite the contrary, his almost serene patience helped him to compose himself a bit. After all, it shouldn’t be that difficult to talk to your best friend. But on the other hand, when had he ever been able to talk about feelings…?
“Zach, I… I guess first of all, I’m sorry. Sorry for not returning your calls. Or messages. That was wrong. But… I needed that time off. I couldn’t… deal with all of that.”
Zach just looked at him, with, again, that strange unreadable expression. Chris licked his lips nervously and, for the first time, he really wished Zach could see behind his blue eyes, where everything lied, exposed, open, hoping to be understood without words. It would have made things so much easier…
“… You know, I’m not quite sure if it was actually me who took advantage of you. I mean, I know that you are strai-“
“… I didn’t have a big fucking gay freak out if it that’s what you’re trying to imply.”
This came out a bit harsher than Chris had initially intended to. But he was just sick of the common assumption that people considered him as being totally straight which commonly meant that every tiny sexual interaction with a man would evoke such a blatant reaction. Zach frowned marginally.
“Okay. Fine. No big gay freak out. Got it.”
He narrowed his eyes, his voice a bit more strained when he continued.
“Then what the fuck is going on with you? If this was not your problem, then please, enlighten me. Because to me, there is absolutely no problem if it was just a small, drunken kiss.”
“God Zach… Sometimes I really think you don’t know me at all.”
Chris ran a hand through his hair, scraping the back of his neck. He knew he sounded desperate. Well, he was desperate to some extent. Why was it so goddamn hard to talk about this crappy shit?
He met Zach’s gaze and felt and immediate pang in his heart. There was so much helplessness and a similar trace of despair in his eyes. There was nothing Chris wanted to do more than walk over and catch him in an embrace, squeezing this doleful look out of him, which he’d obviously caused.
But he just… couldn’t. Not now. Not yet.
“…Then please, help me. Help me understand.”
Chris opened and closed his mouth again. He wanted to. He had it all lying on the tip of his tongue. But some persistent inner blockade prevented him from spitting it out.
No, he really couldn’t.
Chris downed the rest of his beer and got up from the couch, smiling mildly at Zach.
“You know what? You’re right. It was just a little drunken kiss. I dunno why I made such a big deal out of it.”
He chuckled half-heartedly while he slipped into his cardigan. Zach didn’t laugh. He remained in his seated position, toying with the bottle in his hands. Even more confusion and disappointment were dancing clearly in Zach’s eyes when he chewed on his lower lip, and Chris could swear he heard the rattling sounds of his friend’s brain trying to process what just happened. Or… not happened.
“So we’re okay then…?” Zach merely asked, not quite meeting Chris’ eyes.
“Yeah… I think we are…”
“Good…” Zach forced his lips into a smile, a bitter one, somehow. And god, Chris couldn’t stand looking at this beautiful yet equally painful look on his friend’s face.
So help him god? Fuck, he was probably going to roast in hell once he stepped out of this door.
Chris felt sick. Out of nowhere, there was an awful knot building up in his stomach, twisting and curling around his guts. He hated himself for what he was doing right now. What he was doing to Zach.
“Good.”
Their eyes locked for a brief moment, before Chris turned around, heading for the door. Zach followed him shortly after, but kept his distance when Chris opened the door and looked back one more time.
“I guess I see you in two weeks then?”
“Sure…” Zach replied. Chris nodded, a barely noticeable smile on his face before Zach closed the door behind him.
The fine mist that was accompanying the chilly wind cooled his head a bit. Chris sighed, contemplating, digesting his epic failure in sorting things out properly.
Half way on his way back home, the initial soft drizzle had turned into a cold, hard winter rain like the clouds had decided to open up and drop buckets of water on him on purpose. Every raindrop was stinging painfully on his face like a sharp ice needle, as if heaven really wanted to punish him for being such a chicken.
It was then when Chris realized, as he shoved his hands in his pockets, that his keys were missing.
“Fuck this…” he muttered furiously, digging in each of his other pockets in vain.
He must have left them at Zach’s place.
Chris cursed the earth, the winter, and the motherfucking destiny (or rather… justice?) in general to mess with him on that kind of level.
He wiped the rain out of his eyes and started rushing back the way he came, hair, clothes, and shoes already soaked completely.
The streets were empty. There was not a single sign of life to see or hear, except for the steady rhythm of raindrops crashing down on the paving. To him, it sounded like a pernicious drumming in his ears that was haunting him with each and every step he took.
The heavy rain blurred his sight, leaving the vast streets of Silver Lake in a bleary tapestry of orange lights and grey darkness. He had to rub his eyes to finally be able to discern that someone was approaching him. Sometimes, wearing contacts was not convenient at all. A piercing wind was tearing on his clothes when Chris came to a halt once he recognized who was coming up the street.
Zach caught up with him, holding the umbrella he’d been carrying over both of them. He was panting marginally, small white puffs accompanying each exhalation. Chris glanced up to him, his own lips trembling from the biting temperatures.
“You walked all the way to…”
“…Yeah, I got your keys. Couldn’t bear the thought of you standing in that monsoon all night long.” Zach retrieved the bunch of keys from his back pocket and handed it to Chris. Their fingertips brushed ever so slightly, but it was enough to send a shiver down Chris spine that could strangely not be blamed on the current weather conditions.
And something hit him.
This exiguous touch roused something in him that he had almost forgotten or maybe just ignored for a long time.
It was the simplicity of a mere touch. It happened dozens of times before. The casual neck-rubbings or shoulder-pattings during their interviews. The small amicable embraces they shared as a greeting. It had happened so often that it never occurred to him that these diminutive, pleasant buzzes could have meant something more than great affection. Because he had never really paid a lot attention to it.
So why on earth was a brief physical contact able to induce such an intense reaction in him here and now, and not a kiss…? Did he imagine things? Was he coming to the wrong conclusions?
Another strong blast of wind interrupted his flow of thoughts when it snatched the umbrella from Zach’s grip.
“OH MY G-… FUCK… SHIT!!” he pressed between clenched teeth when the first wave of cold rain was pouring down on him, watching his umbrella doing some elegant loops before it vanished up in the air.
Chris couldn’t help it but laugh shakily. The quaintness of the situation was too tangible to ignore: two men, standing in the rain, soaked through their bones, and suddenly, it appeared to him, every raindrop turned into tiny question marks that kept falling on both their heads, down to their feet were they continued dancing and floating around them, contributing picturesquely to the pool of questions he was trying not to drown in.
Chris dared to look at Zach. And maybe for the first time, he really saw him. That his eyes had this very dark brown corona, in contrast to the warm hazel around his iris. Could discern the small, barely visible mole right next to his nose. The tiny, round scarf beneath his right eyebrow on his otherwise impeccable skin. The distinct indent between his lips and the tip of his nose. The long, disarrayed black strands sticking to his forehead and, goddammit, there was something about the way the rain had drenched him that left him in a fluster.
What the fuck.
Chris clenched his eyes shut, then blinked a couple of times, the rain still running into his eyes and down his face. They were just few inches apart, almost as close as they had been in the tavern. At the bar.
“Zach, fuck…What are we doing here? What am I doing here?”
Chris could see in the way Zach shifted that he was about to say something, but eventually refrained from doing so. He just inclined his head lightly and answered with a half-shrug. It was Chris’ turn to put his cards on the table, and he knew it.
For a moment, Chris eyes flickered upwards, facing the sky. No, he wouldn’t go so far to audibly pull out the metaphor that heaven was crying, screaming out its anger, confusion, or displeasure that perfectly matched Chris’ temporary state of mind.
No, this was just rain. A cold, galling winter rain.
Damn. He should be so plain and direct with his own evaluations. Because he was sick of it. Sick of making up theories. Sick of questioning or forsaking his feelings.
This time, he wanted to know. He wanted to make sure. Needed to.
Slowly, he raised his right hand, reaching for Zach’s face, whose eyes widened imperceptibly before Chris placed his fingertips gently on one side of his face. Zach’s skin was cold, but from such a smooth texture that Chris just had to let them glide along his temple and cheekbone.
Zach lowered his eyes, stuck on something on the dark asphalt under their feet. He grabbed Chris’s wrist, stopping him in motion.
“Chris, please, don’t… It didn’t work the last time, remember? So why should it this time?” he said in a low, almost pleading voice.
There.
There it was. Chris could feel it again, in every cell of his body, the faint tingling buzzes that originated from the firm grip around his wrist. The tiniest hint of a smile appeared in one corner of his lips. This feeling was like meeting someone he’d assumed to be dead.
Thus, he had to make sure. Otherwise, this would go on and on, and he would be even more entangled in that horrific, vicious circle he’d been trying to break away for weeks.
“I don’t know… I… that’s why…” he realized that he was threading on thin ice here. His shaky voice and trembling fingers proved him more than right.
“Zach…I need to know…” Chris said as he was leaning forward to press their lips together.
Zach stiffened, his hand still wrapped around Chris’ wrist, clutching it tightly. It wasn’t quite a reluctant move since he didn’t back away from him, more a deliberate restraint, as if Zach was afraid that something bad might happen if he would relent.
It was different this time.
Chris lips were barely brushing against Zach’s, more caressing the soft, wet skin. He brought his other hand up to place it in Zach’s neck, pulling him closer. But there was no rush, no haste. Chris took his time to adjust to this unusual, strange sensation that was currently emanating from his guts. He opened his mouth slightly, craving for more of these elegant bow-curved lips and slowly, Zach’s grip began to loosen.
Chris suddenly felt like a teenager again, receiving his very first kiss.
It made him a little self-conscious, because this was not like the kiss in the tavern. This time, he couldn’t control that he poured parts of his heart and emotions in it. Everything he was not yet ready to talk about. Everything that remained unsaid.
An attempt to fill the gap between his mind and his heart.
He still didn’t know what he wanted or what he expected. But in this very moment, this sensational, unfamiliar feeling rumbling inside of him was everything he needed, everything he longed.
And then Zach let go. Let go of Chris’ wrist, of his initial restraint, maybe even of his own doubts when he cupped his face with both hands, closing the last gap between their bodies, bringing them together. The tiniest, relieved moan escaped Chris’s lips when his mind went blank though reality tried to get hold of him. Just as his rational brain was still hammering on the entrance of his heart, commanding it to be silent.
But all he could think of now were the pleasant jolts Zach’s fingers left on his skin, the slight tickle of his five o’clock shadow.
It was so hot and so cold at the same time. The rain was in no way eager to stop pouring down on them, crawling into every single pore.
Chris sucked gently at the corner of Zach’s lips, awaiting, and Zach complied. His tongue graced carefully over Chris lower lip, searching for the last bit of consent.
“Forgive me, Zach…” Chris managed to whisper, before he shut down the last bit of his rational brain and, maybe for the first time, listened to the soft, fragile voice of his heart.
It hurt, quite a lot, and maybe it would always hurt.
But maybe it was worth it.
The aching. The constant feeling of need and the fear of losing it again.
And the rain was not able to just wash away his pain.
It made all his senses madly aware of the person in front of him. And it was this kiss… this peculiar kiss… a kiss where you lost yourself in once you realize that you didn’t want to kiss anyone else anymore. The world could go down or just disappear around you, because nothing would matter but the present moment.
And it was true. He was completely oblivious to the world around him. Chris didn’t hear anything. The continuous reverberation of the rain falling down on them was limited to a barely audible humming. He didn’t feel the cold that much anymore, because Zach was here, shielding him, holding him tight.
The rain kept running into their mouths notwithstanding, mingling with their tongues and lips and it was soggy and freezing and he could barely breathe without filling his lungs with water; yet Chris was devouring the glacial liquid running between their mouths like he was wandering through an infinite desert, clinging onto the remains of his water supplies.
Because Zach tasted like that ice, like that cold winter rain. And it made his tongue and lips burn.
Eventually, they had to break away for a moment, catching their breaths. He stared at Zach’s slightly parted lips, at the small white clouds they were both breathing out unevenly.
Slowly but steady, Chris became aware of their surroundings again, of the dim street lights, of the rustling leaves in the trees nearby, and of the cold, piercing rain.
The rain. A kiss in the rain. Many people might associate kissing in the rain with something utterly romantic.
Well, in his opinion, it was not so romantic if you were soaked to an extent that your clothes were probably heavier than yourself while actually freezing your goddamn ass off.
Zach was still holding his face, his thumbs ghosting over the soft skin of his cheeks.
A little touch. Almost like the ones they’d shared before.
He placed another small kiss on Chris lips, followed by one on the tip of his nose, on his forehead, on his temple. It was so incredible gentle and tentative, he closed his eyes and let his mind trail away under the soft, feathery brush against his skin. He didn’t want to be drawn back to reality again. Back to where all his doubts and uncertainties were scattered on the ground, each one like a piece of a broken mirror, staring, and flashing his inner conflict back at him a million times.
“…Chris…?”
It was his voice. Zach’s husky voice that more or less catapulted him back into the present. Gone was the comforting silence that had surrounded them for a while. Gone was the momentary feeling of inner serenity. He could discern the distant noises of downtown LA again, the raucous drumming of the rain on his body.
His eyes were still closed. He didn’t want to wake up. This was not a nightmare. This would not haunt him. He would not allow it to haunt him.
Chris knew once he would open his eyes again he would have to recognize that a kiss couldn’t make previous things undone. Couldn’t make him forget in which utter confusion and distress the first one had left him.
It had always been impossible to him lose his grip on reality.
“Chris, look at me. Please. Or say something.”
He let Zach’s dark, mellow voice sank into him. And this… this new, alien feeling in his guts, this feeling that seemed to eagerly absorb every word Zach said and transformed it into something so comforting, so utterly familiar, it was intoxicating.
And Chris was aware, even though he still might not be able to talk about… any of it; he would be capable of at least scraping some holes into the wall he’d been building up around him for years.
For someone who might become more than a friend to him.
For someone like Zach.
So he opened his eyes and looked at him, ready to walk over the edge of a precipice. And Zach caught his gaze, held it, read in it like in an open book.
And Zach understood.
Maybe he had always understood.
Because this simple kiss in the rain had conveyed more than any word.