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therumjournalsTitle: 46th and Pine: A West Philadelphia Love Story
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
therumjournals
Word Count: This chapter - 9,080 (Total - 35,500)
Previous: Chapter 1, Chapter 2
(Header details at the Master Post)
“You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind if you think I’m getting on that thing.”
“Oh come on, Chris, a little trust here.”
“Z, it doesn’t even have brakes.”
“So? I’ve got skills. Now come on, hop on, we’re going on an adventure.”
“Adventure, my ass,” Chris grumbled, but he took a deep breath and hopped up onto Zach’s handlebars, clinging to them so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
“Chris?”
“Uh huh,” he answered, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Relax.” Zach pushed off from the curb, biking easily down the street.
“Ow!” Chris yelped as Zach hit a pothole. “Fucker, a little respect for my nuts, please?”
“Sorry. I think the last time they repaved these streets was like 1992.”
“Seriously,” Chris muttered, but he let himself relax a little more as Zach picked up speed. He actually started enjoying himself at one point, with only momentary bouts of panic whenever Zach swerved to avoid a passing SUV, usually taking a hand off the handlebars to flip the driver off as he did so.
“Is that really necessary?” Chris asked, when Zach actually knocked on the window of a Hummer to make sure the driver would notice the middle finger aimed in his direction.
“Is it really necessary to drive a fucking Hummer into the city?” Zach asked, turning into an alley and glancing back to make sure the driver wasn’t about to mow them down. “Fucking gas-guzzling, ignorant suburban douchebags,” he said under his breath.
Chris laughed. “Tell me how you really feel, Z,” he said, tipping his head back and letting the wind rush through his hair.
Zach watched Chris’s face, his eyes squinted against the sun and the wind, laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “I feel amazing.”
*
Zach locked his bike up outside the National Constitution Center and grabbed Chris by the hand.
“You’re taking me to learn about our nation’s history?” Chris asked, confused.
“No. Better,” said Zach, as he led Chris across a wide intersection toward the massive blue towers of the Ben Franklin Bridge. Chris’s mouth fell open a little as he saw that they were heading for a pedestrian walkway that ran along the side of the bridge.
“Zach...this is awesome!”
“I know. Come on, let’s go across!”
They looked down at the water as they walked, and Chris grabbed Zach’s hand as he felt the rumble of a train crossing the bridge beneath them. Zach laughed, and they paused at the railing to look back over the city skyline.
“I love it up here, it’s so beautiful,” Zach said. “I love looking out at the city. You’ve never been up here?” he asked.
“No, and I’m glad.”
“Why?”
“Because that way you could take me here and show me something new. I’m glad you’re the first person I came here with, Zach.”
Zach pulled Chris into his arms and kissed him, pulling back to look into his bright blue eyes and say, “Fuck the city. I’ve got the best view right here.”
Chris blushed and turned back to the rail and Zach wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. A chilly breeze blew up from the river and they shivered a little.
“Wish it was summer,” Zach said into Chris’s hair. “You like camping?”
“Hell yeah.”
“I’ll take you camping in the Pine Barrens this summer. And we’ll go down the shore, of course.”
“Of course. And you’ll take me to your hippie drum circles…”
Zach was quiet, but Chris could feel him smiling.
“I guessed right, didn’t I? You do have hippie drum circles.”
“Well, we couldn’t really call ourselves hippies if we didn’t, now could we?”
“S’pose not.”
“But we’ll only go to the drum circle for a little while. Then we’ll sneak off into the woods and make sweet, sweet love in the moonlight.”
“God, Zach,” Chris moaned softly.
“I know.”
Chris felt a flood of warmth through his body as they talked about the summer, Zach’s sun-drenched certainty that they’d be together then, that they weren’t going anywhere. He ignored the nagging feeling in his gut that made an appearance whenever he thought about his own future, the idea of leaving school, finding a job, finding his place in life, and wondering whether Zach would factor into those decisions. But that was all too far away to even think about, he decided, shaking himself out of his head. He’d get to it when he needed to, he’d go see the career counselor, and do what everyone was supposed to do. He would do that, he thought, leaning back into Zach’s embrace. Just…not yet.
*
“I’m starving!” Chris announced, after they’d made their way off the bridge and back to Zach’s bike. “Let’s go grab some food.”
“Okay. Want to head over to South Street?”
Chris wrinkled his nose. South Street brought back memories of gaggles of Penn freshmen giggling in sex shops and trying to get into margarita bars with laughable fake IDs. “Not really.”
“Come on, there’s a great falafel place over there. And a used bookstore. And I think the farmer’s market might still be open and I promised Summer I’d pick up some okra-“
“Jesus, when you put it that way it sounds like your idea of heaven,” Chris said, laughing as he gave in. “Alright, let’s go.”
*
Chris hopped off the handlebars outside the falafel place, but he was immediately distracted by the delicious scent of meat and onions coming from across the street. He gripped Zach by the sleeve, tugging it like a giddy child. “Oooh, look! Cheesesteaks!”
“Ew, Chris, please tell me you don’t eat that shit.”
“What?! Of course I eat cheesesteaks, and they are not shit! How can you even live in Philadelphia and not like cheesesteaks?”
“Easily,” Zach scoffed.
“How long have you been a vegetarian?” Chris asked him.
“Mmm, about six years?” Zach guessed.
“Right!” Chris pointed a finger at him. “So you remember what meat tastes like, right? Don’t you remember how delicious it is? All juicy and meaty and oh god I’m going over there right now, you enjoy your falafel,” he said, letting go of Zach’s arm and heading for Jim’s.
He heard Zach’s footsteps behind him.
“What? You’re coming with?”
“Well, you sounded like you were about to have an orgasm just thinking about a cheesesteak, so I feel like I have to see what happens when you actually eat one.”
The line was relatively short and Chris’s order was simple. “Whiz wit’,” he told the cook, who was slopping a massive pile of fried onions to the side.
Chris laughed at the look of utter revulsion on Zach’s face. “What is it now?”
“Cheeze whiz? Ew, Chris, that shit is so processed you might as well be eating a melted action figure or something.”
“If a melted action figure tasted like this, I would,” Chris joked back, as he got his cheesesteak and covered it with a generous squirt of ketchup. They sat down at a small table and Chris slid half the cheesesteak to the side of the plate and looked at Zach expectantly.
“What?”
“Eat it.”
“What?! Hell no.”
“Come on, share with me. Expand your boundaries. Live a little.”
“Die a little, more like,” Zach grumbled.
“I ate fucking quinoa for you, the least you can do is consume some processed cheese and greasy meat for me.”
Zach stared at the half of the cheesesteak for a moment longer before heaving a sigh and picking it up, his lip still curled in disgust. He held it gingerly and took a tiny bite off the end, as Chris watched intently, making sure that he’d gotten a good combination of meat, cheese, and onion. Zach chewed, swallowed, gave the sandwich another suspicious look, and took a bigger bite.
Chris’s face broke into a grin. “You like it!”
Zach grinned back at him as a drop of grease dripped down his chin. It wasn’t the greatest thing he’d ever tasted, but it did have something on quinoa, and it made Chris so fucking happy every time he took a bite that he was surprised to find himself holding the last nub of bun before he realized it.
“Oh my god,” he groaned, after he’d finished the final bite. “Please don’t tell anyone I ate that. Fuck, please don’t remind me that I ate that.”
“It was delicious, right?”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Fine, don’t admit it. I know the truth. Next stop – corndogs.”
“Ugh. Let’s get out of here. I need some farmers’ market therapy.”
*
Zach did his best to combat his cheesesteak guilt by investing heavily in fresh apples, okra, and zucchini at the farmers’ market, before Chris hopped back onto the handlebars for the trek back to West Philly. When they got back to 4609, darkness had fallen and Zach had effectively shut down all of the reasons Chris gave for needing to return to campus. Summer and Harvest were setting up the projector in the living room, and they flopped onto the couch, ready for a lazy evening.
“What do you guys want to watch,” Harvest asked, looking over their motley collection of DVDs. “The Sex Life of Belgians? Transiberian?”
“Foreign erotic art-house cinema or indie movies,” Zach whispered to Chris. “Those are about the only choices in this house.”
Chris breathed a sigh of relief when they agreed on an indie movie for the evening, and snuggled in next to Zach as the movie began.
They’d only been watching for about fifteen minutes when he noticed Zach squirming next to him and wiping his forehead on his sleeve. “You okay, Z?” Chris whispered in the darkness.
“Yeah, just…my stomach hurts a little. Ugh.”
“You want some Tums or something?” Chris asked.
“I don’t know, I want…ugh, fuck,” Zach said, and he jumped off the couch and pounded up the stairs. They heard the bathroom door open, followed by the unmistakable sound of retching.
“Oh shit,” said Chris. He looked at Summer guiltily. “Um, he may have eaten half a cheesesteak today.”
“Chris! That is disgusting! How could you do that to him?!”
“I didn’t force it down his throat!” Chris said defensively. “I should probably go check on him,” he added, pulling himself off the couch. He found Zach hunched over the toilet, breathing hard with the exertion of his body’s attempt to expel every greasy molecule of meat and fake cheese from his body.
“Zach?” Chris said softly.
“Chris, get out of here, I really don’t want you to see this.”
“I’m sorry,” Chris said, stepping closer and rubbing a hand soothingly over his back. “I feel really bad, let me take care of you.”
Zach squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Oh god, I feel like shit.”
“You gonna throw up again?”
“I don’t think there’s anything left to throw up.”
“Come on, let’s get you into bed, okay?”
He helped Zach up and they made their way to his bedroom. Chris made sure there was a trashcan next to the futon and tucked the blankets up to his chin, before bringing him a glass of water and climbing in beside him.
“You don’t have to stay, Chris. I feel really disgusting right now.”
“I don’t care,” Chris said. “C’mere.” He pulled Zach into his arms, kissed his clammy forehead, and muttered another apology into his hair before they drifted off to sleep.
***
Chris opened the door without knocking and stepped inside, followed by Karl and Zoe. “Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!” Chris called happily, and a few voices called back to them as they made their way to the kitchen. They found Zach, Rachel, and Summer deep in the midst of food prep, or at least, deep in the midst of a heated conversation about the consistency of the macaroni and cheese.
“I fucking told you soy cheese wouldn’t melt right,” Zach was saying, when he looked up and caught Chris’s eye. “Hey, baby!” he exclaimed, holding his wooden spoon up out of the way to give Chris a hug and a peck on the lips. “Will you please tell these hippies that the idea of vegan macaroni and cheese is an abomination?”
Chris curled his lip. “He’s right. Gotta go with Cheese Whiz, all the way.”
“Ugh,” said Zach, “no. You know what, it doesn’t matter, because I just remembered that I’m never eating cheese ever, ever again.” He looked back at Chris. “What’d you bring?”
Chris pulled some items out of a paper shopping bag. “I brought organic, fair-trade, shade-grown coffee, which I promptly intend to ruin with this nasty processed pumpkin spice creamer,” he said cheerfully. “Look at this thing,” he said, holding up the creamer. “It’s white and liquid and says ‘no dairy’ – what the fuck is it then?”
Zach was giving him a look. “If you really have to ask, Christopher,” he murmured, waggling his eyebrows.
“Ew, Zach, you’re disgusting.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying! With this processed shit, you never know. Anything could be in it!”
“Great. New topic. Where’s the tofurkey, speaking of abominations?”
They heard a commotion at the front door. “Speaking of abominations, Cho’s here!” Zach exclaimed, as Harvest, Cho, and a few other stragglers made their way inside, their arms loaded with paper bags full of wine and liquor.
“The party has ARRIVED!” yelled Cho,
He stopped when he saw Chris, and broke into a grin, then to Chris’s surprise wrapped him in a tight, somewhat stinky hug. “Chris, man, how’ve you been? I hear you’ve been taking care of my boy Zach, here,” he said with a wink, prompting both Zach and Chris to blush deeply.
“Cho, can I talk to you for a sec,” Chris asked, pulling him lightly by the arm into the laundry room. Cho followed him, confused and a little concerned.
“What’s up?”
“I just, I wanted to say thank you. Zach told me you’re kinda the reason we…got together, and, yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his neck, not exactly sure what else to say. “Just, thanks. I think I’m happier than I’ve, like, ever been.”
Cho beamed at him and slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re welcome, man.” He turned to walk away but stopped and stepped back. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to tell you not to break my friend’s heart or I’ll kick your ass or something?”
“I don’t really think that’s necessary,” Chris said, somewhat nervously. All Asian stereotypes aside, he was pretty sure Cho actually did know kung fu.
“K, well, it better not be. Seriously though, I’m so happy for you guys. Cherish each other,” he added, putting his hands together and giving a small bow and a wink.
“Dork,” Chris muttered playfully at him as they made their way back out to the kitchen.
Thanksgiving at 4609 proved to be a resounding success. Chris had previously warned Karl about the lack of meat, so he’d brought his own turkey hoagie from Wawa and happily munched away. Chris, meanwhile, tried valiantly to enjoy the tofurkey, failed, and successfully ate half the bowl of mashed potatoes instead. Conversation flowed easily, as did the drinks, and Zach was halfway through his second personal bottle of red wine when he leaned close to Chris during dessert and whispered, “Fuck me tonight?” Chris choked on his bite of unprocessed pumpkin pie and looked at him in surprise as Zach squeezed his thigh. Chris’s eyes darted toward the stairs, as if to ask “now?” but Zach shook his head slightly and whispered, “Later.” Chris was already hard under the table, and throughout the rest of dessert he tried to remember to be thankful for friends and laughter and pleasant conversation, but really he just wanted everyone to get the fuck out so he could go upstairs and thank Zach so hard that neither of them could get out of bed for a week.
Finally, people started moving, clearing plates from the table and rubbing their bellies contentedly. To Chris’s dismay, Karl headed into the kitchen for another cup of coffee, but Chris headed him off. “Guess you guys are gonna head back to campus now, huh?”
“Oh, well, I was thinking of having some of that fair-grown coffee you were talking about…”
“Heh, well, how about I just bring some of that back to the apartment later, and we can have it then! How about that?”
Karl scowled. “You trying to get rid of me, Pine?”
“Um, no, it’s just that-“ he glanced desperately over to where Zach was leaning over to dump his leftovers into the compost bin and let his eyes linger on Zach’s ass.
Karl followed his gaze and rolled his eyes. “Oh Christ. I should have known.”
“Oh whatever, like you’re not about to go home and give thanks for some fine ass, too.”
Karl stared at him. “That’s a very disrespectful way to talk about my girlfriend.”
Chris snorted. “Give me a break. It’s Zoe.”
Zoe wandered up to them. “What’s me? Hey Karl, let’s get out of here. Are you gonna take me home and give thanks for this fine ass, or what?” she said, smacking her butt with a wink. Chris didn’t even try to stifle his laughter as Karl turned on his heel to follow Zoe out of the house. As soon as they were gone, Chris grabbed Zach by his belt loops and started dragging him out of the kitchen.
“Hey!” Zach said, laughing. “Just let me finish cleaning a few things first, okay?” Chris wrapped his arms around Zach’s shoulders and pulled him close, sliding a hand down to cup his ass and biting at his earlobe.
“Ew, get a fucking room,” Harvest said from the doorway. “I’ll finish the dishes if you promise to take…this…away from any food preparation areas.”
Chris smirked a little and Zach shook his head but he was grinning and then he was the one pulling Chris out of the kitchen and toward the stairs. Behind them they heard Summer bitching at Harvest for “ruining the show”, and then they were running up the stairs and Zach was pulling Chris into his room and slamming the door on a very disgruntled Noah.
They fell onto the futon in a tangle of limbs, desperate. Zach laughed as Chris tried to take off all of his clothes at the same time, but then he was shoving the half-empty tube of lube into Chris’s hand and tearing frantically into the box of condoms that he’d purchased for the occasion. He was on his knees with his pants halfway down when Chris slipped the first finger in and Zach gave up and collapsed onto all fours, his mouth open with the shocking pleasure of it. Chris pushed Zach’s t-shirt up, scraping teeth across his lower back as he added a second finger, twisting and thrusting, biting his lip as a drop of pre-come slid down his aching dick.
They’d gotten this far before, they’d had their fingers in each other, one, two, once Chris had even slipped a third in before Zach had come with a cry that had him blushing in front of his roommates for a week. But they were always too eager and had never tried to hold off long enough to go all the way. Zach bucked back on him, a shudder running through his body, and the way he groaned Chris’s name told him he’d better hurry if this time was going to be any different. Chris tore the condom wrapper open with his teeth and slid it on, still working his fingers in Zach, sliding them against his sensitive entrance, grinning at the high pitched whimpers that Zach would never admit to later. Finally, he pulled his fingers out, only to replace them with his cock, fuck waiting, fuck delayed gratification, he pushed in quickly and stopped breathing as the sensation hit him, hot and tight.
Chris was shaking with the intensity, so hard Zach could feel it through his body, and he thought then that this was one of those moments, one of those things that he would never forget and could never relive. Chris thrusting into him, Chris’s hands sweaty on his hips and across his chest and this would be over too soon, now Chris was the one whimpering and gasping. Chris’s nails scraped across his chest and teeth clamped down on his shoulder blade as he felt Chris tense behind him, thrust once more, and Zach was coming, spurting across the bed without his dick ever being touched and he was pretty sure the whole thing had lasted about five minutes and oh god, this was the best fucking Thanksgiving of his life.
**
Chris opened his eyes, yawned, and stretched across the cool sheets of the futon. He glanced over toward Zach and grinned. Zach was curled on his side, facing away from Chris, and in the weak early morning light Chris could see the vivid outline of the bite mark he’d left on Zach’s shoulder the night before. He scooted over and propped himself on an elbow, slinging his arm around Zach’s chest. Zach woke up to the swipe of Chris’s tongue across his shoulder blade.
“Morning,” Chris whispered.
“Mmmm.” Zach smiled, keeping his eyes closed, as he pressed back against Chris.
“How ‘bout last night?” Chris asked. He couldn’t keep the giddy grin off his face, so he buried it in Zach’s hair.
“Mmm-hmm.”
Chris bit his lip, hesitated, then leaned in to kiss Zach wetly on the neck, sliding a hand down over his hip, brushing fingers lightly across his ass. “How do you feel?” he asked softly, sliding the tip of a finger down the cleft of Zach’s ass, rubbing across his hole, just a little, just to see. Zach gasped and turned to capture Chris’s mouth in a sloppy kiss, stilling his hips so Chris knew to keep touching him, that tantalizing finger, and Chris wiggled it a little and slid the tip in and Zach moaned into his mouth.
“Fuck, fuck,” Zach said, dropping his head onto the pillow, his eyes rolling back in his head a little as Chris pressed all the way in. Chris was already reaching under the pillow for another condom, Zach’s encouragement sending the blood rushing through him, heated and urgent again.
“Want you, Zach,” he whispered. “Can’t keep my hands off of you,” he said, sliding the condom on, and then “want to be inside you again, so fucking bad,” and he slid in as Zach threaded their fingers together, tight against his chest as Chris fucked into him. They were lying on their sides and it was only a little awkward but it was lazy and slick and Chris got a rhythm going, and Zach gripped himself loosely because he didn’t want it to end.
Chris let it build this time, slow and steady, as long as he could until he felt himself tipping over the edge, then he whispered Zach’s name and wrapped a leg over his waist and thrust in hard and came, his cock pulsing forever as he pressed his damp forehead against Zach’s neck. Zach was coming too, quietly this time and Chris kept his arm clasped tightly across Zach’s chest until they could breathe again.
“Hey, where are you going?” Zach mumbled fifteen minutes later, as Chris finally detached himself and slid toward the edge of the futon.
“Bathroom. Hopefully I’ll be able to scandalize at least one of your roommates on the way,” Chris said with a grin as he headed into the hall in nothing but his black boxer-briefs.
“Hurry back,” Zach called after him. “I want to cuddle!”
“So, what are we doing today?” Zach asked a little while later, mid-cuddle.
“Is it too soon to-“
“Yes, Chris. You’re insatiable,” he said, laughing. “I do need some recovery time, here.”
“Okaaay,” Chris said. “We can do it again later, though, right?”
“We’d better,” Zach said, growling seductively and lunging for a kiss.
Chris kissed back, then pulled away to stretch and run a hand over his face. “I actually do have to get some work done today, Zach.”
“No.” Zach pouted.
“Yes, I do. I have to write a paper on Keats.” Chris ran his thumb along Zach’s poochy lower lip. “Don’t you have something to paint?”
“I need a nude model.”
“Zach, you do abstracts.”
“I need variety.”
“I’m sure Summer’s available.” Zach made a face and Chris laughed. “I won’t stay away long, Z, I promise.”
Zach touched their foreheads together. “Soup kitchen tomorrow, right?”
“Right.”
“K. I suppose I can live without you for one day.”
“Yeah? Well, I can’t. I’ll be gone six hours, max.” Chris grinned and winked, and let Zach roll him over and kiss him for a good long while before he remembered about Keats.
***
When Chris turned his phone on after class, he had four missed calls from Zach. He hit 1 on the speed dial as his feet turned automatically toward 46th Street.
“Everything okay?” he asked when Zach picked up.
“Everything is fucking amazing, Chris.”
“Tell me!”
“You coming over?”
“Of course I’m coming over, you’re using your ‘I’m dying to give Chris a blowjob’ voice.” He could practically hear Zach jumping up and down with excitement about something, and he couldn’t help but grin into the phone.
“How close are you?”
“I’m still five blocks away, Zach, just tell me already!”
“Okay, okay.” He heard Zach take a breath. “Two of my paintings were accepted into a gallery show at F.U.E.L. House!”
“Holy shit, Zach!!” Chris did a little jump of excitement in the middle of the sidewalk, then glanced around quickly to make sure no one had seen that. “That’s awesome! Congratulations!”
“Oh my god, I’m totally freaking out. What am I going to wear?”
Chris smiled and walked as he let Zach babble in his ear about the gallery space and the opening event and newspaper reviews, and he could see Zach on the porch, still talking excitedly into the phone when he arrived. “Zach. Zach!” Chris laughed as he tried to get a word in edgewise. “Um, you can hang up now. Hi,” he said as Zach spotted him from the porch, bounded down the steps and enveloped Chris in a massive hug.
“Hey, famous artist,” he said, ruffling Zach’s hair.
“Hey, famous artist’s boyfriend,” Zach said back, smiling. “Now, what were you saying about my blowjob voice?”
“Fuck that,” Chris said. “You’re the one that deserves a blowjob. Or wait, did you already spontaneously orgasm when you got the call?”
Zach blushed and punched him in the arm. “Come upstairs.”
Chris followed Zach upstairs and collapsed on his futon as Zach opened up his laptop. “So, will you come to the opening with me?”
“Of course!”
“Good, ‘cause you don’t have a choice.”
“Yeah,” Chris drawled, “Art’s great and all but you’re really just in this for the chance to show off your hot boyfriend.”
“You think you’re kidding,” Zach said, dropping onto the futon next to Chris to show him the email.
“Zachary Quinto, up-and-coming local artist,” Chris read out loud. “Ooooh, that sounds so professional!”
“I know, right! Here, you have to help me write my bio.”
“Okay. How about, ‘When he’s not busy personifying the hipster stereotype, Mr. Quinto enjoys walks in the park with his dog Noah…”
Zach kicked him absently as he started typing. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘Quinto describes his work as a collaboration between the natural and the cultural, framing uncertainty and unpredictability attempting to break free from societally established boundaries’.”
Chris raised an eyebrow at him. “I have no idea what you just said, but if I’d known you could come up with shit like that, I’d have had you writing my papers all semester. Maybe you could get a job writing pretentious artist statements!”
“Shut up,” Zach said, typing frantically.
“I’m serious!” He propped himself up on his elbows to watch Zach type, biting his lip in concentration. “When’s the opening thingy?”
“Um…it’s next Thursday. December 16, I think.”
“Okay.” Chris rolled over and pulled his day-planner out of his bag. He was writing ZACH’S SHOW!!!!! in block letters when he glanced at the following day’s entry.
“Fuck, Zach, I’ve got my Russian final Friday morning.”
“So?”
“So, I can’t go out the night before a final! And I’m really far behind in that class.”
Zach stopped typing to stare at him. “You can’t be serious, Chris. You know how much this means to me.”
“I know, Zach, I know, shit. Maybe I can stop by for a little while or something…”
“Since when do you need to study, anyway? I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
“Zach, I really need to do well on that final to bring my grade up. You’re the reason I’m doing so terribly in that class, by the way.”
“Oh, right. Friday morning class.” Zach remembered how many times he’d convinced Chris to stay curled in his arms after a late night at Fuego instead of leaving for class.
“Yeah.”
“Anyway, so what?” Zach pressed. “It’s just one class, if you get a C or something is that really going to kill you?”
Chris looked at him in disbelief. “A C?! Yes! Yes, Zach, that would kill me! I haven’t been working my fucking ass off for four years to get a fucking C!”
“Whoa, calm down. You need to lighten up a little, seriously. Look at the big picture. What’s more important, one class, or your boyfriend getting two paintings in a fucking gallery show?!”
“That’s not fair, Zach. Don’t act like I don’t care when you know I do. You know how amazing I think you are, and how happy I am that your dream is coming true. That doesn’t mean I can just ignore all of my other priorities.”
“Yeah, well, it seems to me that you’ve got your priorities a little mixed up,” Zach said, turning away from him.
“I can go with you another night, Zach! And I know you’ll have other openings to go to! I can’t help that the timing sucks.”
“So you’re choosing schoolwork over me.”
“Don’t say it like that! This is something I’ve put four years of effort into. I’ve known you for what, three months?”
Zach raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “So you’d rather put your efforts into grades and academic approval instead of the passion and people in your life?”
“Argh!” Chris ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Zach, I’m sorry, but some of us want to be successful and get jobs and go to grad school and fucking make something of ourselves.”
Zach stopped moving and looked at him, completely still. “The fuck does that mean, Chris?”
“Nothing, I’m sorry, forget it.”
“Right.” Zach slammed his laptop shut and got up to leave the room.
“Zach, don’t. I’m sorry okay?”
“Whatever. Go study and make something of yourself. I have to go dick around now and waste my life away.”
“That is not what I meant!” Chris said angrily, but he was talking to the door that Zach had slammed shut. Chris held his head in his hands, mildly impressed that Zach had managed to walk out on him while he was sitting in Zach’s room. After a long moment, he got up and grabbed his bag and made his way out of the house without seeing another soul.
**
“Karl, do you have a black shirt?” Chris called from his bedroom.
“Just a sec,” he heard Karl call back, and a minute later Karl stepped in holding three black button-down shirts. “Here. Where are you going, I thought you had a final tomorrow.”
“I’m going to Zach’s gallery show.”
“Did you study already?”
“No. Yes. I tried to study. I haven’t been able to concentrate since Zach and I had that fight. If I tried to study right now, I’d just be staring at the textbook thinking about what an asshole I am, so I might as well just go.”
“Alright,” Karl said with a shrug. “But, you’re not an asshole, Chris.”
“Whatever.”
“You know Zach lives on an alternate plane of existence, where grades and resumes and parental approval don’t matter.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So you just have to wait for him to understand that those things are important to you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t fucking feel like waiting that long. It doesn’t matter, I’m going, and everything will be fine. I’m sure I’ll do fine on the test, I’ll recite Russian poetry to myself on the way there.”
“Okay, well, do what you need to do. And tell Zach I said congrats.”
Chris studied his notes in the cab on the way to Old City, tucking the notebook into his back pocket when he arrived at F.U.E.L. House. He stepped inside, feeling exposed and vulnerable in the brightly lit space, and made his way to the bar, keeping his eyes open for Zach. Of course, he hadn’t actually told Zach he was coming, which meant he might not even be here yet. Chris found himself wondering guiltily if he’d had trouble deciding what to wear. People slowly trickled in as Chris made his way through the gallery, sipping his beer and taking the time to actually look at each painting, both of which helped calm his pounding heart. He caught a glimpse of Rachel and Summer as they came in, but didn’t go over to say hi, and his eyes kept returning to the door as he waited for Zach to arrive.
He was in the far corner of the space when he finally saw Zach walk in. He stood still, watching as Zach made his way into the gallery, greeting people with hugs, and beaming when the owner shook his hand and began introducing him to some of the other artists. Someone handed him a glass of white wine, and as he took a sip, his eyes traveled across the room until he caught Chris’s gaze. Chris saw him stop mid-sip, stare as if he couldn’t quite be sure what he was seeing, and then he was shrugging off the gallery owner’s attempt at conversation and moving deliberately across the room. He didn’t stop until he was close enough to throw his arms around Chris and pull him close, threading a hand into the back of his hair as Chris pressed his chin into Zach’s shoulder and hugged him back.
“You’re here,” Zach said, amazement and gratitude in his voice.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Chris said, squeezing him tighter.
“Missed you,” Zach whispered against his temple.
“Missed you, too.”
“I wanted to call you and ask you what I should wear.”
Chris smiled. “You look great.”
Zach slid a hand down Chris’s back, chuckling when his fingers touched the notebook sticking out of his pocket. “Russian?”
“Da.”
Zach pulled back to kiss him softly, his tongue slipping between Chris’s lips. Chris melted into him, thinking that he’d be perfectly content to stand there kissing Zach all night, until Summer’s voice pulled them out of their little world.
“Yo, Quinto,” she said loudly, slapping him on the shoulder. “As much as I love performance art, aren’t you supposed to be showing us some paintings?”
“Fuck you, Summer,” Zach murmured against Chris’s jaw. Chris pushed him gently away.
“Go ahead, Z. Do your thing. Work the room.”
Zach looked at him desperately, as though he were afraid to leave Chris’s side, so Chris pulled him close one more time and pressed his lips to Zach’s ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”
**
Chris spent the last days of the semester lounging on Zach’s futon, library books spread around him as he wrote his last two papers, while Zach painted frantically, inspired by his recent success. They’d established a comfortable routine – Chris would write a few sentences, watch Zach paint, check out his ass, and wriggle around on the mattress until Zach noticed. Zach would turn away from his canvas, falling to all fours over Chris, peppering him with kisses and paint splatters until Chris squeaked at him to watch out for the laptop, and they would start all over again.
**
On December 21st, Chris turned in his last paper, and they celebrated with takeout, eating on Zach’s futon and trying not to think about the fact that Chris would be gone for three weeks over break.
“So, I got something for you,” Chris said when they were finished eating. He pulled something out of his bag, wrapped in tissue paper. “I, uh, didn’t have time to wrap it.” He handed it to Zach and watched eagerly as he tore into the paper. Chris had spent an hour in J. Crew looking for the perfect shirt for Zach, and he’d settled on a black button-down with dark blue and white stripes – vertical stripes, which he knew would be a change for Zach. He just knew that Zach would look amazing in it and couldn’t wait for him to try it on. Instead, Zach sat looking at the shirt for a long moment, flashed him a weak smile and a muttered thanks, and set the shirt to the side.
“Try it on!”
“Oh. Um. Maybe later.”
“Come on, Zach, I want to see you in it!” Zach fidgeted uncomfortably and refused to meet Chris’s eyes. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it? It’s the vertical stripes, isn’t it?”
“It’s fine.”
“But…?”
“But…Chris, you know I’m not really into…consumerism.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Oh Jesus, Zach, heaven forbid you own a piece of clothing that hasn’t been worn by someone else.”
“Do you have a problem with the way I dress?”
“What? No, of course not!”
“I just…I mean, look at this, Chris, this isn’t me. What made you think I would like this?”
“Well, I got it for you, for one thing,” Chris said, hurt that that didn’t seem to be enough. “And you’d look damn good in it too, if you would deign to try it on.” He didn’t care that he was letting his frustration show through in his tone.
“Well, I’m sorry if I don’t feel like dressing up like a Penn frat boy just because it makes you feel more comfortable.”
“Zach, are you kidding me? I have no desire whatsoever to date a Penn frat boy. I just thought you might like a new shirt, I didn’t know you were going to go applying social theory to my choice of gifts.”
“I know my lifestyle is different than yours,” Zach said, his tone calm and patronizing and absolutely infuriating.
“Oh, Jesus, Zach, I have no issue with your lifestyle, I just wanted to get you a fucking shirt, excuse me for living!” Chris was raising his voice and he felt his face flush hot with anger that he didn’t feel like holding back.
Zach ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Chris, I just…sometimes I feel like you’re asking me to change who I am.
“What are you talking about? When have I ever done that?”
“Well, like with the cheesesteak…”
“Are you fucking serious? Zach, you ate that cheesesteak all by yourself, I didn’t point a gun at your head.”
“I know, but I did that because I like you, Chris, and I can see what’s happening.” Zach looked away, his words sounding like something he’d been practicing in his head, that he’d been repeating to himself. “I like you so much that I’m going to end up compromising my values for you, and I just – I can’t let myself do that.”
Now it was Chris’s turn to drop his voice to a cold, icy tone. “What the fuck are you saying, Zach?”
“I’m saying…maybe you should go.”
“Are you serious? I’m leaving for California tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Chris ran his hands through his hair, so upset he felt like he was going to be sick. He grabbed his bag and turned toward the door, then turned back, giving in to his anger. “You think I’m asking you to change, Zach? Well, guess what, I got a B minus in Russian. And I know that means jack-shit to you, but I had a fucking four-oh before this, before….you. And here’s the thing, I wasn’t even going to say anything about it, even though it made me feel like I’d failed myself. But whatever, it didn’t matter, because I made you happy and it was worth it. And now you’re going to do this over a shirt, a fucking shirt, Zach?”
Zach had his arms crossed and was half turned away from Chris. Chris could see the line of his jaw, clenched tight as he stared out the window.
“Right. Okay, I’m leaving. Have fun with your fucking principles, Zach.”
Chris made it half way up the block before he leaned over to dry heave into the gutter. Tears were springing up in his eyes, but he held them back, letting the anger wash over him. He let himself think about how hypocritical Zach was being, about how unexpected and unfair it was of Zach to throw this on him now, right now, when he was leaving and they couldn’t even talk about it face to face for three whole weeks. He couldn’t help but wonder how long Zach had been thinking these thoughts in the back of his mind, thinking that Chris wanted him to be someone else, falling prey to the misguided and stupid belief that their two worlds couldn’t mix.
He spent the evening throwing things violently into his suitcase, until Karl peeked in his door to ask if he was alright. He could tell right away from Chris’s face that he wasn’t.
“What happened?”
“Fuck if I know. I think Zach and I just…fucking…broke up or something,” he said, his voice cracking.
“Oh Chris.”
“Sorry, Karl, can you just…get out of here, I’m sorry, I can’t deal with this right now.” And he remembered why Karl was his friend when he closed the door without another word and left Chris alone with his tears.
**
Chris pushed Zach as far from his mind as he could during the three weeks of break, which, to be honest, wasn’t very far. Every time he wondered if he should call, his stomach clenched in dread. Finally, he told himself that if Zach wanted to think he was an asshole who was incompatible with his life, he’d be just that, and he didn’t think about calling again. On New Year’s Eve, he drank himself into a stupor and passed out before midnight, as planned. He woke up feeling disgusting, but it wasn’t until he checked his phone to see that there were no voicemails or texts from Zach that he threw up over the balcony of his cousin’s beach house.
**
Chris stared out the window of the plane as it descended into Philadelphia, hating the skyline and the stupid river and everything about the stupid city. He took a few deep breaths and shook himself out of it and wondered what was going to happen next. A cab ride, the familiar sight of his apartment building, and he was trying desperately not to think about anything beyond a cold beer and a long nap.
“Hey Karl,” he said, after he’d dragged his suitcase in through the apartment door.
“Oh, hey Chris. How was your break?”
Chris was quiet for a moment. “Fucking sucked. Yours?”
“Alright.” Karl paused. “You, uh, seen Zach yet?”
“How could I have seen Zach yet, I just got off the fucking plane.” Chris snapped. Karl winced a little. “Sorry man,” he added, rubbing both hands over his face. “I haven’t talked to him all break. I don’t even know if I want to see him. Everything’s so fucked up.” He knew he sounded wrecked, but didn’t even try to hide it. “Want to grab a drink in a bit?” he asked. Karl nodded, and Chris grabbed his bag and headed for his bedroom.
When he opened the door to his room, his heart nearly seized in shock at the sight of Zach sitting across his bed. He was wearing the J. Crew button-down, and his endless legs were stretched out in front of him across the blanket, clad in a pair of dark jeans that he didn’t recognize.
“Hey,” Zach said softly.
“Oh fuck,” Chris said helplessly, dropping his bag on the floor and throwing himself onto the bed, into Zach’s arms, kissing him frantically on his lips and cheeks and anywhere he could reach. He felt Zach’s strong arms wrap around him, could sense Zach’s smile though he was too close to see it, and he buried his face in Zach’s neck and squeezed back tears.
He wasn’t sure whether to apologize or beg so he did both, murmuring “Zach, I’m so sorry, please, please give me another chance.”
Zach cut him off with a long kiss, then pulled away, panting, his hands threaded through Chris’s hair, making their eyes meet. “I’m the one who needs to apologize, Chris. I…fuck, I’m an idiot and an asshole and I don’t deserve your fucking beautiful eyes to be looking at me like that, and I am so, so sorry.” Chris pushed forward to kiss him again, then they wrapped their arms around each other, shaking.
“I don’t want you to compromise your principles for me, Zach,” Chris said softly. “I fucking love your principles.”
“I love you,” Zach whispered back, tensing around Chris as if waiting for his reaction.
“Fuck, I love you, too,” Chris choked out.
“I’m sorry I made you get a B,” Zach said, and Chris couldn’t help but laugh a little and hug him even tighter.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Chris said, pulling a back a little, plucking at the top button of Zach’s shirt. His eyes were damp and he couldn’t quite bring himself to look up at Zach’s face yet, so he pressed his palm against his chest and felt Zach’s heart beating hard and fast.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be happy to see me,” Zach said softly, and Chris brought his eyes up to meet Zach’s, glistening with unshed tears.
“I wasn’t either,” Chris said, then he shook his head and said “What the fuck am I saying, of course I knew. I knew, all I wanted was to see you and …” his voice trailed off and he smiled. “This shirt isn’t hurting things either. You look fucking amazing, Zach.”
“I know,” Zach said, and they leaned in to kiss, lips soft and then tongues hard against each other, sucking and tangling together possessively, desperate for reassurance. Chris had Zach’s shirt unbuttoned and he was sliding his hands up over his chest when they heard a knock on the door.
“Everything all right in there?” Karl asked.
Chris leaned back on the bed with a grin. “Thank you, Karl!” he yelled at the door. “I owe you a drink, mate!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Karl grumbled, but they could hear him smiling. Karl was a sucker for happy endings.
“Hey, Karl,” Chris called.
“What?”
“You, uh, might want to put on your headphones for a while,” he said, laughing as Zach rolled his eyes.
“Oh, ew,” they heard Karl mutter before his footsteps retreated down the hall.
“Now, where were we?” Chris said, looking back at Zach. He ran a hand down his chest and leaned in to suck at Zach’s neck. He slid down further, sprawling across the bed to rub his face into Zach’s taut stomach as Zach threaded a hand in his hair.
“Nice jeans,” Chris mumbled, mouthing at Zach’s crotch. “Where’d you get ‘em.”
“I, uh…I went to the Gap,” Zach said, sheepishly.
Chris looked up at him in surprise. “Serious?”
“Yeah. You like ‘em?”
“They look amazing on you, Z.” He ran a hand appreciatively up Zach’s thigh, pressed his palm against the line of Zach’s cock. “But they’d look even better on my floor.”
They pulled apart, scrambling out of their jeans. Chris knelt on the bed to pull his hoodie and t-shirt off, and Zach moved up behind him, pressing his bare chest around Chris’s back, his cock brushing against Chris’s ass and he pulled him close and kissed at his neck and shoulder.
Chris reached a hand around the back of Zach’s neck and pulled them both down onto the bed together, pressing his ass up as Zach’s cock, slick already, fit neatly into the cleft of his ass. Zach moaned and slid instinctively against him and Chris smiled. He knew that Zach loved this, and he did too, the feel of Zach’s body heavy on top of him as he whispered dirty things into Chris’s ear, Zach’s breath coming faster until the final hot splash of come across his back. But this time Chris wanted more, wanted Zach to be even closer, to have all of him. “Fuck me, Zach.” It came out as a whisper, so quiet that he thought maybe Zach hadn’t heard, and maybe he wouldn’t say it again, but Zach stilled against him.
“What?”
Chris swallowed, felt Zach trying not rut against him. “I want you in me, Zach, I want to feel you.”
“Are you sure?” Chris could tell by the serious tone of his voice how much Zach wanted it, how much he wanted to know that when Chris said yes, he meant it.
Chris turned his head, his mouth open, seeking Zach’s lips and tongue with his own, and Zach met him, kissed him hard until Chris came up for air saying “yes, Zach, yes, god yes.”
Zach scrambled off the bed and Chris watched him appreciatively as he fumbled in Chris’s drawer, the shirt hanging unbuttoned from his lanky frame, dark hair falling into even darker eyes, and Chris could have stared at him for hours, but Zach was back and hot against him and Chris closed his eyes as Zach’s familiar fingers slipped inside him.
“Guh, ungh, god, Zach,” Chris panted, his ass in the air and his face pressed into a pillow. Zach added a second finger, pumping into him faster, and the third finger stung a little until Zach hit him just right and he felt his cock twitch dangerously.
“Zach, come on,” Chris gasped, his eyes widening in surprise as Zach pulled his fingers out and flipped him onto his back, leaning down to nip at his jaw and neck and fist a hand in his hair.
“I love you,” he said, pulling back so Chris could look into his eyes and see that he meant it.
“I love you, too, Zach. God, I love you. And I would really love for you to fuck me right now.”
Zach shifted between his legs, his face serious as he rolled the condom on, and Chris felt the head of his cock press against his entrance. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and moaned as Zach pushed into him, felt Zach’s hand on his cheek as he filled him, impossibly deep. Zach’s thumb stroked across his cheek bone. “Open your eyes, Chris.” Zach swallowed as he felt Chris clench around his cock and he fought to stay still. “Look at how hot I look in my new J. Crew shirt,” he joked. Chris laughed and opened his eyes and Zach almost came right then from the way Chris looked at him, his eyes a brilliant blue against his flushed skin. Zach felt for a second that what he’d said before was true, that he didn’t deserve that look, not from Chris, and at the same time that he only ever wanted Chris to look at him like that, that he would do anything for it.
Chris reached for him, touching his chest and tugging at his open shirt, and urging him to move, and he did, slowly at first. Then faster because he wanted to make Chris feel good, and he thrust in just so and Chris clutched at him as sparks of pleasure shot through his core. He looked into Zach’s eyes, and he felt Zach inside him, in his chest and his belly and in the fist Zach was wrapping around his cock. Zach licked at Chris’s lips, his movements uneven now, frantic, slamming into Chris, fist flying over his length. He wanted them to come together, could see that Chris was biting his lip, holding back. Zach nodded and choked out “yeah, Chris, come” and his cock pulsed as Chris shot his load across his chest. He looked down curiously as Chris’s hands pushed his shirt over his shoulders just before he collapsed onto Chris’s sticky front.
“Wouldn’t want you to ruin your shirt,” Chris whispered, and he wrapped his arms around Zach and held him close.
*
“So, when did you figure out what an idiot you were being?” Chris asked casually as they lay snuggled into the blankets a while later, having made the unspoken decision not to leave the bed until it became absolutely necessary.
“About three days after you left.”
“Roommates help you?”
“No, I figured it out all on my own, thank you very much,” he said indignantly. “Then they told me. Repeatedly. Oh, and Summer said that if she had the chance to date, how did she put it, ‘an intellectual California boy with an ass that won’t quit,’ that she’d eat and barf up cheesesteaks on a regular basis if that’s what it took. So, you know, that’s saying something.”
“That’s saying something disgusting.”
“Yeah. Just don’t let Summer get you alone, okay? I’m kind of afraid of what might happen.”
“So…why didn’t you call me?”
Zach shrugged. “Figured this would be more dramatic.”
Chris looked at him in disbelief. “Drama queen,” he said with a half-smile. “I was fucking sick over you.”
“Me too,” Zach admitted. “I spent New Years passed out drunk on the floor.”
Chris nodded. “Same here. So, I guess, in a sense, we rang in the New Year together.”
Pain flashed across Zach’s face. “God, Chris, I’m so sorry.”
“I am, too. Can we do that thing now, where we stop talking and make out again?”
Zach nodded as he rolled Chris over onto his back and pressed their lips together with a sigh of relief.
***
Continue to Chapter 4
Author:
therumjournalsWord Count: This chapter - 9,080 (Total - 35,500)
Previous: Chapter 1, Chapter 2
(Header details at the Master Post)
“You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind if you think I’m getting on that thing.”
“Oh come on, Chris, a little trust here.”
“Z, it doesn’t even have brakes.”
“So? I’ve got skills. Now come on, hop on, we’re going on an adventure.”
“Adventure, my ass,” Chris grumbled, but he took a deep breath and hopped up onto Zach’s handlebars, clinging to them so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
“Chris?”
“Uh huh,” he answered, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Relax.” Zach pushed off from the curb, biking easily down the street.
“Ow!” Chris yelped as Zach hit a pothole. “Fucker, a little respect for my nuts, please?”
“Sorry. I think the last time they repaved these streets was like 1992.”
“Seriously,” Chris muttered, but he let himself relax a little more as Zach picked up speed. He actually started enjoying himself at one point, with only momentary bouts of panic whenever Zach swerved to avoid a passing SUV, usually taking a hand off the handlebars to flip the driver off as he did so.
“Is that really necessary?” Chris asked, when Zach actually knocked on the window of a Hummer to make sure the driver would notice the middle finger aimed in his direction.
“Is it really necessary to drive a fucking Hummer into the city?” Zach asked, turning into an alley and glancing back to make sure the driver wasn’t about to mow them down. “Fucking gas-guzzling, ignorant suburban douchebags,” he said under his breath.
Chris laughed. “Tell me how you really feel, Z,” he said, tipping his head back and letting the wind rush through his hair.
Zach watched Chris’s face, his eyes squinted against the sun and the wind, laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “I feel amazing.”
*
Zach locked his bike up outside the National Constitution Center and grabbed Chris by the hand.
“You’re taking me to learn about our nation’s history?” Chris asked, confused.
“No. Better,” said Zach, as he led Chris across a wide intersection toward the massive blue towers of the Ben Franklin Bridge. Chris’s mouth fell open a little as he saw that they were heading for a pedestrian walkway that ran along the side of the bridge.
“Zach...this is awesome!”
“I know. Come on, let’s go across!”
They looked down at the water as they walked, and Chris grabbed Zach’s hand as he felt the rumble of a train crossing the bridge beneath them. Zach laughed, and they paused at the railing to look back over the city skyline.
“I love it up here, it’s so beautiful,” Zach said. “I love looking out at the city. You’ve never been up here?” he asked.
“No, and I’m glad.”
“Why?”
“Because that way you could take me here and show me something new. I’m glad you’re the first person I came here with, Zach.”
Zach pulled Chris into his arms and kissed him, pulling back to look into his bright blue eyes and say, “Fuck the city. I’ve got the best view right here.”
Chris blushed and turned back to the rail and Zach wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. A chilly breeze blew up from the river and they shivered a little.
“Wish it was summer,” Zach said into Chris’s hair. “You like camping?”
“Hell yeah.”
“I’ll take you camping in the Pine Barrens this summer. And we’ll go down the shore, of course.”
“Of course. And you’ll take me to your hippie drum circles…”
Zach was quiet, but Chris could feel him smiling.
“I guessed right, didn’t I? You do have hippie drum circles.”
“Well, we couldn’t really call ourselves hippies if we didn’t, now could we?”
“S’pose not.”
“But we’ll only go to the drum circle for a little while. Then we’ll sneak off into the woods and make sweet, sweet love in the moonlight.”
“God, Zach,” Chris moaned softly.
“I know.”
Chris felt a flood of warmth through his body as they talked about the summer, Zach’s sun-drenched certainty that they’d be together then, that they weren’t going anywhere. He ignored the nagging feeling in his gut that made an appearance whenever he thought about his own future, the idea of leaving school, finding a job, finding his place in life, and wondering whether Zach would factor into those decisions. But that was all too far away to even think about, he decided, shaking himself out of his head. He’d get to it when he needed to, he’d go see the career counselor, and do what everyone was supposed to do. He would do that, he thought, leaning back into Zach’s embrace. Just…not yet.
*
“I’m starving!” Chris announced, after they’d made their way off the bridge and back to Zach’s bike. “Let’s go grab some food.”
“Okay. Want to head over to South Street?”
Chris wrinkled his nose. South Street brought back memories of gaggles of Penn freshmen giggling in sex shops and trying to get into margarita bars with laughable fake IDs. “Not really.”
“Come on, there’s a great falafel place over there. And a used bookstore. And I think the farmer’s market might still be open and I promised Summer I’d pick up some okra-“
“Jesus, when you put it that way it sounds like your idea of heaven,” Chris said, laughing as he gave in. “Alright, let’s go.”
*
Chris hopped off the handlebars outside the falafel place, but he was immediately distracted by the delicious scent of meat and onions coming from across the street. He gripped Zach by the sleeve, tugging it like a giddy child. “Oooh, look! Cheesesteaks!”
“Ew, Chris, please tell me you don’t eat that shit.”
“What?! Of course I eat cheesesteaks, and they are not shit! How can you even live in Philadelphia and not like cheesesteaks?”
“Easily,” Zach scoffed.
“How long have you been a vegetarian?” Chris asked him.
“Mmm, about six years?” Zach guessed.
“Right!” Chris pointed a finger at him. “So you remember what meat tastes like, right? Don’t you remember how delicious it is? All juicy and meaty and oh god I’m going over there right now, you enjoy your falafel,” he said, letting go of Zach’s arm and heading for Jim’s.
He heard Zach’s footsteps behind him.
“What? You’re coming with?”
“Well, you sounded like you were about to have an orgasm just thinking about a cheesesteak, so I feel like I have to see what happens when you actually eat one.”
The line was relatively short and Chris’s order was simple. “Whiz wit’,” he told the cook, who was slopping a massive pile of fried onions to the side.
Chris laughed at the look of utter revulsion on Zach’s face. “What is it now?”
“Cheeze whiz? Ew, Chris, that shit is so processed you might as well be eating a melted action figure or something.”
“If a melted action figure tasted like this, I would,” Chris joked back, as he got his cheesesteak and covered it with a generous squirt of ketchup. They sat down at a small table and Chris slid half the cheesesteak to the side of the plate and looked at Zach expectantly.
“What?”
“Eat it.”
“What?! Hell no.”
“Come on, share with me. Expand your boundaries. Live a little.”
“Die a little, more like,” Zach grumbled.
“I ate fucking quinoa for you, the least you can do is consume some processed cheese and greasy meat for me.”
Zach stared at the half of the cheesesteak for a moment longer before heaving a sigh and picking it up, his lip still curled in disgust. He held it gingerly and took a tiny bite off the end, as Chris watched intently, making sure that he’d gotten a good combination of meat, cheese, and onion. Zach chewed, swallowed, gave the sandwich another suspicious look, and took a bigger bite.
Chris’s face broke into a grin. “You like it!”
Zach grinned back at him as a drop of grease dripped down his chin. It wasn’t the greatest thing he’d ever tasted, but it did have something on quinoa, and it made Chris so fucking happy every time he took a bite that he was surprised to find himself holding the last nub of bun before he realized it.
“Oh my god,” he groaned, after he’d finished the final bite. “Please don’t tell anyone I ate that. Fuck, please don’t remind me that I ate that.”
“It was delicious, right?”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Fine, don’t admit it. I know the truth. Next stop – corndogs.”
“Ugh. Let’s get out of here. I need some farmers’ market therapy.”
*
Zach did his best to combat his cheesesteak guilt by investing heavily in fresh apples, okra, and zucchini at the farmers’ market, before Chris hopped back onto the handlebars for the trek back to West Philly. When they got back to 4609, darkness had fallen and Zach had effectively shut down all of the reasons Chris gave for needing to return to campus. Summer and Harvest were setting up the projector in the living room, and they flopped onto the couch, ready for a lazy evening.
“What do you guys want to watch,” Harvest asked, looking over their motley collection of DVDs. “The Sex Life of Belgians? Transiberian?”
“Foreign erotic art-house cinema or indie movies,” Zach whispered to Chris. “Those are about the only choices in this house.”
Chris breathed a sigh of relief when they agreed on an indie movie for the evening, and snuggled in next to Zach as the movie began.
They’d only been watching for about fifteen minutes when he noticed Zach squirming next to him and wiping his forehead on his sleeve. “You okay, Z?” Chris whispered in the darkness.
“Yeah, just…my stomach hurts a little. Ugh.”
“You want some Tums or something?” Chris asked.
“I don’t know, I want…ugh, fuck,” Zach said, and he jumped off the couch and pounded up the stairs. They heard the bathroom door open, followed by the unmistakable sound of retching.
“Oh shit,” said Chris. He looked at Summer guiltily. “Um, he may have eaten half a cheesesteak today.”
“Chris! That is disgusting! How could you do that to him?!”
“I didn’t force it down his throat!” Chris said defensively. “I should probably go check on him,” he added, pulling himself off the couch. He found Zach hunched over the toilet, breathing hard with the exertion of his body’s attempt to expel every greasy molecule of meat and fake cheese from his body.
“Zach?” Chris said softly.
“Chris, get out of here, I really don’t want you to see this.”
“I’m sorry,” Chris said, stepping closer and rubbing a hand soothingly over his back. “I feel really bad, let me take care of you.”
Zach squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Oh god, I feel like shit.”
“You gonna throw up again?”
“I don’t think there’s anything left to throw up.”
“Come on, let’s get you into bed, okay?”
He helped Zach up and they made their way to his bedroom. Chris made sure there was a trashcan next to the futon and tucked the blankets up to his chin, before bringing him a glass of water and climbing in beside him.
“You don’t have to stay, Chris. I feel really disgusting right now.”
“I don’t care,” Chris said. “C’mere.” He pulled Zach into his arms, kissed his clammy forehead, and muttered another apology into his hair before they drifted off to sleep.
Chris opened the door without knocking and stepped inside, followed by Karl and Zoe. “Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!” Chris called happily, and a few voices called back to them as they made their way to the kitchen. They found Zach, Rachel, and Summer deep in the midst of food prep, or at least, deep in the midst of a heated conversation about the consistency of the macaroni and cheese.
“I fucking told you soy cheese wouldn’t melt right,” Zach was saying, when he looked up and caught Chris’s eye. “Hey, baby!” he exclaimed, holding his wooden spoon up out of the way to give Chris a hug and a peck on the lips. “Will you please tell these hippies that the idea of vegan macaroni and cheese is an abomination?”
Chris curled his lip. “He’s right. Gotta go with Cheese Whiz, all the way.”
“Ugh,” said Zach, “no. You know what, it doesn’t matter, because I just remembered that I’m never eating cheese ever, ever again.” He looked back at Chris. “What’d you bring?”
Chris pulled some items out of a paper shopping bag. “I brought organic, fair-trade, shade-grown coffee, which I promptly intend to ruin with this nasty processed pumpkin spice creamer,” he said cheerfully. “Look at this thing,” he said, holding up the creamer. “It’s white and liquid and says ‘no dairy’ – what the fuck is it then?”
Zach was giving him a look. “If you really have to ask, Christopher,” he murmured, waggling his eyebrows.
“Ew, Zach, you’re disgusting.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying! With this processed shit, you never know. Anything could be in it!”
“Great. New topic. Where’s the tofurkey, speaking of abominations?”
They heard a commotion at the front door. “Speaking of abominations, Cho’s here!” Zach exclaimed, as Harvest, Cho, and a few other stragglers made their way inside, their arms loaded with paper bags full of wine and liquor.
“The party has ARRIVED!” yelled Cho,
He stopped when he saw Chris, and broke into a grin, then to Chris’s surprise wrapped him in a tight, somewhat stinky hug. “Chris, man, how’ve you been? I hear you’ve been taking care of my boy Zach, here,” he said with a wink, prompting both Zach and Chris to blush deeply.
“Cho, can I talk to you for a sec,” Chris asked, pulling him lightly by the arm into the laundry room. Cho followed him, confused and a little concerned.
“What’s up?”
“I just, I wanted to say thank you. Zach told me you’re kinda the reason we…got together, and, yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his neck, not exactly sure what else to say. “Just, thanks. I think I’m happier than I’ve, like, ever been.”
Cho beamed at him and slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re welcome, man.” He turned to walk away but stopped and stepped back. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to tell you not to break my friend’s heart or I’ll kick your ass or something?”
“I don’t really think that’s necessary,” Chris said, somewhat nervously. All Asian stereotypes aside, he was pretty sure Cho actually did know kung fu.
“K, well, it better not be. Seriously though, I’m so happy for you guys. Cherish each other,” he added, putting his hands together and giving a small bow and a wink.
“Dork,” Chris muttered playfully at him as they made their way back out to the kitchen.
Thanksgiving at 4609 proved to be a resounding success. Chris had previously warned Karl about the lack of meat, so he’d brought his own turkey hoagie from Wawa and happily munched away. Chris, meanwhile, tried valiantly to enjoy the tofurkey, failed, and successfully ate half the bowl of mashed potatoes instead. Conversation flowed easily, as did the drinks, and Zach was halfway through his second personal bottle of red wine when he leaned close to Chris during dessert and whispered, “Fuck me tonight?” Chris choked on his bite of unprocessed pumpkin pie and looked at him in surprise as Zach squeezed his thigh. Chris’s eyes darted toward the stairs, as if to ask “now?” but Zach shook his head slightly and whispered, “Later.” Chris was already hard under the table, and throughout the rest of dessert he tried to remember to be thankful for friends and laughter and pleasant conversation, but really he just wanted everyone to get the fuck out so he could go upstairs and thank Zach so hard that neither of them could get out of bed for a week.
Finally, people started moving, clearing plates from the table and rubbing their bellies contentedly. To Chris’s dismay, Karl headed into the kitchen for another cup of coffee, but Chris headed him off. “Guess you guys are gonna head back to campus now, huh?”
“Oh, well, I was thinking of having some of that fair-grown coffee you were talking about…”
“Heh, well, how about I just bring some of that back to the apartment later, and we can have it then! How about that?”
Karl scowled. “You trying to get rid of me, Pine?”
“Um, no, it’s just that-“ he glanced desperately over to where Zach was leaning over to dump his leftovers into the compost bin and let his eyes linger on Zach’s ass.
Karl followed his gaze and rolled his eyes. “Oh Christ. I should have known.”
“Oh whatever, like you’re not about to go home and give thanks for some fine ass, too.”
Karl stared at him. “That’s a very disrespectful way to talk about my girlfriend.”
Chris snorted. “Give me a break. It’s Zoe.”
Zoe wandered up to them. “What’s me? Hey Karl, let’s get out of here. Are you gonna take me home and give thanks for this fine ass, or what?” she said, smacking her butt with a wink. Chris didn’t even try to stifle his laughter as Karl turned on his heel to follow Zoe out of the house. As soon as they were gone, Chris grabbed Zach by his belt loops and started dragging him out of the kitchen.
“Hey!” Zach said, laughing. “Just let me finish cleaning a few things first, okay?” Chris wrapped his arms around Zach’s shoulders and pulled him close, sliding a hand down to cup his ass and biting at his earlobe.
“Ew, get a fucking room,” Harvest said from the doorway. “I’ll finish the dishes if you promise to take…this…away from any food preparation areas.”
Chris smirked a little and Zach shook his head but he was grinning and then he was the one pulling Chris out of the kitchen and toward the stairs. Behind them they heard Summer bitching at Harvest for “ruining the show”, and then they were running up the stairs and Zach was pulling Chris into his room and slamming the door on a very disgruntled Noah.
They fell onto the futon in a tangle of limbs, desperate. Zach laughed as Chris tried to take off all of his clothes at the same time, but then he was shoving the half-empty tube of lube into Chris’s hand and tearing frantically into the box of condoms that he’d purchased for the occasion. He was on his knees with his pants halfway down when Chris slipped the first finger in and Zach gave up and collapsed onto all fours, his mouth open with the shocking pleasure of it. Chris pushed Zach’s t-shirt up, scraping teeth across his lower back as he added a second finger, twisting and thrusting, biting his lip as a drop of pre-come slid down his aching dick.
They’d gotten this far before, they’d had their fingers in each other, one, two, once Chris had even slipped a third in before Zach had come with a cry that had him blushing in front of his roommates for a week. But they were always too eager and had never tried to hold off long enough to go all the way. Zach bucked back on him, a shudder running through his body, and the way he groaned Chris’s name told him he’d better hurry if this time was going to be any different. Chris tore the condom wrapper open with his teeth and slid it on, still working his fingers in Zach, sliding them against his sensitive entrance, grinning at the high pitched whimpers that Zach would never admit to later. Finally, he pulled his fingers out, only to replace them with his cock, fuck waiting, fuck delayed gratification, he pushed in quickly and stopped breathing as the sensation hit him, hot and tight.
Chris was shaking with the intensity, so hard Zach could feel it through his body, and he thought then that this was one of those moments, one of those things that he would never forget and could never relive. Chris thrusting into him, Chris’s hands sweaty on his hips and across his chest and this would be over too soon, now Chris was the one whimpering and gasping. Chris’s nails scraped across his chest and teeth clamped down on his shoulder blade as he felt Chris tense behind him, thrust once more, and Zach was coming, spurting across the bed without his dick ever being touched and he was pretty sure the whole thing had lasted about five minutes and oh god, this was the best fucking Thanksgiving of his life.
**
Chris opened his eyes, yawned, and stretched across the cool sheets of the futon. He glanced over toward Zach and grinned. Zach was curled on his side, facing away from Chris, and in the weak early morning light Chris could see the vivid outline of the bite mark he’d left on Zach’s shoulder the night before. He scooted over and propped himself on an elbow, slinging his arm around Zach’s chest. Zach woke up to the swipe of Chris’s tongue across his shoulder blade.
“Morning,” Chris whispered.
“Mmmm.” Zach smiled, keeping his eyes closed, as he pressed back against Chris.
“How ‘bout last night?” Chris asked. He couldn’t keep the giddy grin off his face, so he buried it in Zach’s hair.
“Mmm-hmm.”
Chris bit his lip, hesitated, then leaned in to kiss Zach wetly on the neck, sliding a hand down over his hip, brushing fingers lightly across his ass. “How do you feel?” he asked softly, sliding the tip of a finger down the cleft of Zach’s ass, rubbing across his hole, just a little, just to see. Zach gasped and turned to capture Chris’s mouth in a sloppy kiss, stilling his hips so Chris knew to keep touching him, that tantalizing finger, and Chris wiggled it a little and slid the tip in and Zach moaned into his mouth.
“Fuck, fuck,” Zach said, dropping his head onto the pillow, his eyes rolling back in his head a little as Chris pressed all the way in. Chris was already reaching under the pillow for another condom, Zach’s encouragement sending the blood rushing through him, heated and urgent again.
“Want you, Zach,” he whispered. “Can’t keep my hands off of you,” he said, sliding the condom on, and then “want to be inside you again, so fucking bad,” and he slid in as Zach threaded their fingers together, tight against his chest as Chris fucked into him. They were lying on their sides and it was only a little awkward but it was lazy and slick and Chris got a rhythm going, and Zach gripped himself loosely because he didn’t want it to end.
Chris let it build this time, slow and steady, as long as he could until he felt himself tipping over the edge, then he whispered Zach’s name and wrapped a leg over his waist and thrust in hard and came, his cock pulsing forever as he pressed his damp forehead against Zach’s neck. Zach was coming too, quietly this time and Chris kept his arm clasped tightly across Zach’s chest until they could breathe again.
“Hey, where are you going?” Zach mumbled fifteen minutes later, as Chris finally detached himself and slid toward the edge of the futon.
“Bathroom. Hopefully I’ll be able to scandalize at least one of your roommates on the way,” Chris said with a grin as he headed into the hall in nothing but his black boxer-briefs.
“Hurry back,” Zach called after him. “I want to cuddle!”
“So, what are we doing today?” Zach asked a little while later, mid-cuddle.
“Is it too soon to-“
“Yes, Chris. You’re insatiable,” he said, laughing. “I do need some recovery time, here.”
“Okaaay,” Chris said. “We can do it again later, though, right?”
“We’d better,” Zach said, growling seductively and lunging for a kiss.
Chris kissed back, then pulled away to stretch and run a hand over his face. “I actually do have to get some work done today, Zach.”
“No.” Zach pouted.
“Yes, I do. I have to write a paper on Keats.” Chris ran his thumb along Zach’s poochy lower lip. “Don’t you have something to paint?”
“I need a nude model.”
“Zach, you do abstracts.”
“I need variety.”
“I’m sure Summer’s available.” Zach made a face and Chris laughed. “I won’t stay away long, Z, I promise.”
Zach touched their foreheads together. “Soup kitchen tomorrow, right?”
“Right.”
“K. I suppose I can live without you for one day.”
“Yeah? Well, I can’t. I’ll be gone six hours, max.” Chris grinned and winked, and let Zach roll him over and kiss him for a good long while before he remembered about Keats.
When Chris turned his phone on after class, he had four missed calls from Zach. He hit 1 on the speed dial as his feet turned automatically toward 46th Street.
“Everything okay?” he asked when Zach picked up.
“Everything is fucking amazing, Chris.”
“Tell me!”
“You coming over?”
“Of course I’m coming over, you’re using your ‘I’m dying to give Chris a blowjob’ voice.” He could practically hear Zach jumping up and down with excitement about something, and he couldn’t help but grin into the phone.
“How close are you?”
“I’m still five blocks away, Zach, just tell me already!”
“Okay, okay.” He heard Zach take a breath. “Two of my paintings were accepted into a gallery show at F.U.E.L. House!”
“Holy shit, Zach!!” Chris did a little jump of excitement in the middle of the sidewalk, then glanced around quickly to make sure no one had seen that. “That’s awesome! Congratulations!”
“Oh my god, I’m totally freaking out. What am I going to wear?”
Chris smiled and walked as he let Zach babble in his ear about the gallery space and the opening event and newspaper reviews, and he could see Zach on the porch, still talking excitedly into the phone when he arrived. “Zach. Zach!” Chris laughed as he tried to get a word in edgewise. “Um, you can hang up now. Hi,” he said as Zach spotted him from the porch, bounded down the steps and enveloped Chris in a massive hug.
“Hey, famous artist,” he said, ruffling Zach’s hair.
“Hey, famous artist’s boyfriend,” Zach said back, smiling. “Now, what were you saying about my blowjob voice?”
“Fuck that,” Chris said. “You’re the one that deserves a blowjob. Or wait, did you already spontaneously orgasm when you got the call?”
Zach blushed and punched him in the arm. “Come upstairs.”
Chris followed Zach upstairs and collapsed on his futon as Zach opened up his laptop. “So, will you come to the opening with me?”
“Of course!”
“Good, ‘cause you don’t have a choice.”
“Yeah,” Chris drawled, “Art’s great and all but you’re really just in this for the chance to show off your hot boyfriend.”
“You think you’re kidding,” Zach said, dropping onto the futon next to Chris to show him the email.
“Zachary Quinto, up-and-coming local artist,” Chris read out loud. “Ooooh, that sounds so professional!”
“I know, right! Here, you have to help me write my bio.”
“Okay. How about, ‘When he’s not busy personifying the hipster stereotype, Mr. Quinto enjoys walks in the park with his dog Noah…”
Zach kicked him absently as he started typing. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘Quinto describes his work as a collaboration between the natural and the cultural, framing uncertainty and unpredictability attempting to break free from societally established boundaries’.”
Chris raised an eyebrow at him. “I have no idea what you just said, but if I’d known you could come up with shit like that, I’d have had you writing my papers all semester. Maybe you could get a job writing pretentious artist statements!”
“Shut up,” Zach said, typing frantically.
“I’m serious!” He propped himself up on his elbows to watch Zach type, biting his lip in concentration. “When’s the opening thingy?”
“Um…it’s next Thursday. December 16, I think.”
“Okay.” Chris rolled over and pulled his day-planner out of his bag. He was writing ZACH’S SHOW!!!!! in block letters when he glanced at the following day’s entry.
“Fuck, Zach, I’ve got my Russian final Friday morning.”
“So?”
“So, I can’t go out the night before a final! And I’m really far behind in that class.”
Zach stopped typing to stare at him. “You can’t be serious, Chris. You know how much this means to me.”
“I know, Zach, I know, shit. Maybe I can stop by for a little while or something…”
“Since when do you need to study, anyway? I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
“Zach, I really need to do well on that final to bring my grade up. You’re the reason I’m doing so terribly in that class, by the way.”
“Oh, right. Friday morning class.” Zach remembered how many times he’d convinced Chris to stay curled in his arms after a late night at Fuego instead of leaving for class.
“Yeah.”
“Anyway, so what?” Zach pressed. “It’s just one class, if you get a C or something is that really going to kill you?”
Chris looked at him in disbelief. “A C?! Yes! Yes, Zach, that would kill me! I haven’t been working my fucking ass off for four years to get a fucking C!”
“Whoa, calm down. You need to lighten up a little, seriously. Look at the big picture. What’s more important, one class, or your boyfriend getting two paintings in a fucking gallery show?!”
“That’s not fair, Zach. Don’t act like I don’t care when you know I do. You know how amazing I think you are, and how happy I am that your dream is coming true. That doesn’t mean I can just ignore all of my other priorities.”
“Yeah, well, it seems to me that you’ve got your priorities a little mixed up,” Zach said, turning away from him.
“I can go with you another night, Zach! And I know you’ll have other openings to go to! I can’t help that the timing sucks.”
“So you’re choosing schoolwork over me.”
“Don’t say it like that! This is something I’ve put four years of effort into. I’ve known you for what, three months?”
Zach raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “So you’d rather put your efforts into grades and academic approval instead of the passion and people in your life?”
“Argh!” Chris ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Zach, I’m sorry, but some of us want to be successful and get jobs and go to grad school and fucking make something of ourselves.”
Zach stopped moving and looked at him, completely still. “The fuck does that mean, Chris?”
“Nothing, I’m sorry, forget it.”
“Right.” Zach slammed his laptop shut and got up to leave the room.
“Zach, don’t. I’m sorry okay?”
“Whatever. Go study and make something of yourself. I have to go dick around now and waste my life away.”
“That is not what I meant!” Chris said angrily, but he was talking to the door that Zach had slammed shut. Chris held his head in his hands, mildly impressed that Zach had managed to walk out on him while he was sitting in Zach’s room. After a long moment, he got up and grabbed his bag and made his way out of the house without seeing another soul.
**
“Karl, do you have a black shirt?” Chris called from his bedroom.
“Just a sec,” he heard Karl call back, and a minute later Karl stepped in holding three black button-down shirts. “Here. Where are you going, I thought you had a final tomorrow.”
“I’m going to Zach’s gallery show.”
“Did you study already?”
“No. Yes. I tried to study. I haven’t been able to concentrate since Zach and I had that fight. If I tried to study right now, I’d just be staring at the textbook thinking about what an asshole I am, so I might as well just go.”
“Alright,” Karl said with a shrug. “But, you’re not an asshole, Chris.”
“Whatever.”
“You know Zach lives on an alternate plane of existence, where grades and resumes and parental approval don’t matter.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So you just have to wait for him to understand that those things are important to you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t fucking feel like waiting that long. It doesn’t matter, I’m going, and everything will be fine. I’m sure I’ll do fine on the test, I’ll recite Russian poetry to myself on the way there.”
“Okay, well, do what you need to do. And tell Zach I said congrats.”
Chris studied his notes in the cab on the way to Old City, tucking the notebook into his back pocket when he arrived at F.U.E.L. House. He stepped inside, feeling exposed and vulnerable in the brightly lit space, and made his way to the bar, keeping his eyes open for Zach. Of course, he hadn’t actually told Zach he was coming, which meant he might not even be here yet. Chris found himself wondering guiltily if he’d had trouble deciding what to wear. People slowly trickled in as Chris made his way through the gallery, sipping his beer and taking the time to actually look at each painting, both of which helped calm his pounding heart. He caught a glimpse of Rachel and Summer as they came in, but didn’t go over to say hi, and his eyes kept returning to the door as he waited for Zach to arrive.
He was in the far corner of the space when he finally saw Zach walk in. He stood still, watching as Zach made his way into the gallery, greeting people with hugs, and beaming when the owner shook his hand and began introducing him to some of the other artists. Someone handed him a glass of white wine, and as he took a sip, his eyes traveled across the room until he caught Chris’s gaze. Chris saw him stop mid-sip, stare as if he couldn’t quite be sure what he was seeing, and then he was shrugging off the gallery owner’s attempt at conversation and moving deliberately across the room. He didn’t stop until he was close enough to throw his arms around Chris and pull him close, threading a hand into the back of his hair as Chris pressed his chin into Zach’s shoulder and hugged him back.
“You’re here,” Zach said, amazement and gratitude in his voice.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Chris said, squeezing him tighter.
“Missed you,” Zach whispered against his temple.
“Missed you, too.”
“I wanted to call you and ask you what I should wear.”
Chris smiled. “You look great.”
Zach slid a hand down Chris’s back, chuckling when his fingers touched the notebook sticking out of his pocket. “Russian?”
“Da.”
Zach pulled back to kiss him softly, his tongue slipping between Chris’s lips. Chris melted into him, thinking that he’d be perfectly content to stand there kissing Zach all night, until Summer’s voice pulled them out of their little world.
“Yo, Quinto,” she said loudly, slapping him on the shoulder. “As much as I love performance art, aren’t you supposed to be showing us some paintings?”
“Fuck you, Summer,” Zach murmured against Chris’s jaw. Chris pushed him gently away.
“Go ahead, Z. Do your thing. Work the room.”
Zach looked at him desperately, as though he were afraid to leave Chris’s side, so Chris pulled him close one more time and pressed his lips to Zach’s ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”
**
Chris spent the last days of the semester lounging on Zach’s futon, library books spread around him as he wrote his last two papers, while Zach painted frantically, inspired by his recent success. They’d established a comfortable routine – Chris would write a few sentences, watch Zach paint, check out his ass, and wriggle around on the mattress until Zach noticed. Zach would turn away from his canvas, falling to all fours over Chris, peppering him with kisses and paint splatters until Chris squeaked at him to watch out for the laptop, and they would start all over again.
**
On December 21st, Chris turned in his last paper, and they celebrated with takeout, eating on Zach’s futon and trying not to think about the fact that Chris would be gone for three weeks over break.
“So, I got something for you,” Chris said when they were finished eating. He pulled something out of his bag, wrapped in tissue paper. “I, uh, didn’t have time to wrap it.” He handed it to Zach and watched eagerly as he tore into the paper. Chris had spent an hour in J. Crew looking for the perfect shirt for Zach, and he’d settled on a black button-down with dark blue and white stripes – vertical stripes, which he knew would be a change for Zach. He just knew that Zach would look amazing in it and couldn’t wait for him to try it on. Instead, Zach sat looking at the shirt for a long moment, flashed him a weak smile and a muttered thanks, and set the shirt to the side.
“Try it on!”
“Oh. Um. Maybe later.”
“Come on, Zach, I want to see you in it!” Zach fidgeted uncomfortably and refused to meet Chris’s eyes. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it? It’s the vertical stripes, isn’t it?”
“It’s fine.”
“But…?”
“But…Chris, you know I’m not really into…consumerism.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Oh Jesus, Zach, heaven forbid you own a piece of clothing that hasn’t been worn by someone else.”
“Do you have a problem with the way I dress?”
“What? No, of course not!”
“I just…I mean, look at this, Chris, this isn’t me. What made you think I would like this?”
“Well, I got it for you, for one thing,” Chris said, hurt that that didn’t seem to be enough. “And you’d look damn good in it too, if you would deign to try it on.” He didn’t care that he was letting his frustration show through in his tone.
“Well, I’m sorry if I don’t feel like dressing up like a Penn frat boy just because it makes you feel more comfortable.”
“Zach, are you kidding me? I have no desire whatsoever to date a Penn frat boy. I just thought you might like a new shirt, I didn’t know you were going to go applying social theory to my choice of gifts.”
“I know my lifestyle is different than yours,” Zach said, his tone calm and patronizing and absolutely infuriating.
“Oh, Jesus, Zach, I have no issue with your lifestyle, I just wanted to get you a fucking shirt, excuse me for living!” Chris was raising his voice and he felt his face flush hot with anger that he didn’t feel like holding back.
Zach ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Chris, I just…sometimes I feel like you’re asking me to change who I am.
“What are you talking about? When have I ever done that?”
“Well, like with the cheesesteak…”
“Are you fucking serious? Zach, you ate that cheesesteak all by yourself, I didn’t point a gun at your head.”
“I know, but I did that because I like you, Chris, and I can see what’s happening.” Zach looked away, his words sounding like something he’d been practicing in his head, that he’d been repeating to himself. “I like you so much that I’m going to end up compromising my values for you, and I just – I can’t let myself do that.”
Now it was Chris’s turn to drop his voice to a cold, icy tone. “What the fuck are you saying, Zach?”
“I’m saying…maybe you should go.”
“Are you serious? I’m leaving for California tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Chris ran his hands through his hair, so upset he felt like he was going to be sick. He grabbed his bag and turned toward the door, then turned back, giving in to his anger. “You think I’m asking you to change, Zach? Well, guess what, I got a B minus in Russian. And I know that means jack-shit to you, but I had a fucking four-oh before this, before….you. And here’s the thing, I wasn’t even going to say anything about it, even though it made me feel like I’d failed myself. But whatever, it didn’t matter, because I made you happy and it was worth it. And now you’re going to do this over a shirt, a fucking shirt, Zach?”
Zach had his arms crossed and was half turned away from Chris. Chris could see the line of his jaw, clenched tight as he stared out the window.
“Right. Okay, I’m leaving. Have fun with your fucking principles, Zach.”
Chris made it half way up the block before he leaned over to dry heave into the gutter. Tears were springing up in his eyes, but he held them back, letting the anger wash over him. He let himself think about how hypocritical Zach was being, about how unexpected and unfair it was of Zach to throw this on him now, right now, when he was leaving and they couldn’t even talk about it face to face for three whole weeks. He couldn’t help but wonder how long Zach had been thinking these thoughts in the back of his mind, thinking that Chris wanted him to be someone else, falling prey to the misguided and stupid belief that their two worlds couldn’t mix.
He spent the evening throwing things violently into his suitcase, until Karl peeked in his door to ask if he was alright. He could tell right away from Chris’s face that he wasn’t.
“What happened?”
“Fuck if I know. I think Zach and I just…fucking…broke up or something,” he said, his voice cracking.
“Oh Chris.”
“Sorry, Karl, can you just…get out of here, I’m sorry, I can’t deal with this right now.” And he remembered why Karl was his friend when he closed the door without another word and left Chris alone with his tears.
**
Chris pushed Zach as far from his mind as he could during the three weeks of break, which, to be honest, wasn’t very far. Every time he wondered if he should call, his stomach clenched in dread. Finally, he told himself that if Zach wanted to think he was an asshole who was incompatible with his life, he’d be just that, and he didn’t think about calling again. On New Year’s Eve, he drank himself into a stupor and passed out before midnight, as planned. He woke up feeling disgusting, but it wasn’t until he checked his phone to see that there were no voicemails or texts from Zach that he threw up over the balcony of his cousin’s beach house.
**
Chris stared out the window of the plane as it descended into Philadelphia, hating the skyline and the stupid river and everything about the stupid city. He took a few deep breaths and shook himself out of it and wondered what was going to happen next. A cab ride, the familiar sight of his apartment building, and he was trying desperately not to think about anything beyond a cold beer and a long nap.
“Hey Karl,” he said, after he’d dragged his suitcase in through the apartment door.
“Oh, hey Chris. How was your break?”
Chris was quiet for a moment. “Fucking sucked. Yours?”
“Alright.” Karl paused. “You, uh, seen Zach yet?”
“How could I have seen Zach yet, I just got off the fucking plane.” Chris snapped. Karl winced a little. “Sorry man,” he added, rubbing both hands over his face. “I haven’t talked to him all break. I don’t even know if I want to see him. Everything’s so fucked up.” He knew he sounded wrecked, but didn’t even try to hide it. “Want to grab a drink in a bit?” he asked. Karl nodded, and Chris grabbed his bag and headed for his bedroom.
When he opened the door to his room, his heart nearly seized in shock at the sight of Zach sitting across his bed. He was wearing the J. Crew button-down, and his endless legs were stretched out in front of him across the blanket, clad in a pair of dark jeans that he didn’t recognize.
“Hey,” Zach said softly.
“Oh fuck,” Chris said helplessly, dropping his bag on the floor and throwing himself onto the bed, into Zach’s arms, kissing him frantically on his lips and cheeks and anywhere he could reach. He felt Zach’s strong arms wrap around him, could sense Zach’s smile though he was too close to see it, and he buried his face in Zach’s neck and squeezed back tears.
He wasn’t sure whether to apologize or beg so he did both, murmuring “Zach, I’m so sorry, please, please give me another chance.”
Zach cut him off with a long kiss, then pulled away, panting, his hands threaded through Chris’s hair, making their eyes meet. “I’m the one who needs to apologize, Chris. I…fuck, I’m an idiot and an asshole and I don’t deserve your fucking beautiful eyes to be looking at me like that, and I am so, so sorry.” Chris pushed forward to kiss him again, then they wrapped their arms around each other, shaking.
“I don’t want you to compromise your principles for me, Zach,” Chris said softly. “I fucking love your principles.”
“I love you,” Zach whispered back, tensing around Chris as if waiting for his reaction.
“Fuck, I love you, too,” Chris choked out.
“I’m sorry I made you get a B,” Zach said, and Chris couldn’t help but laugh a little and hug him even tighter.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Chris said, pulling a back a little, plucking at the top button of Zach’s shirt. His eyes were damp and he couldn’t quite bring himself to look up at Zach’s face yet, so he pressed his palm against his chest and felt Zach’s heart beating hard and fast.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be happy to see me,” Zach said softly, and Chris brought his eyes up to meet Zach’s, glistening with unshed tears.
“I wasn’t either,” Chris said, then he shook his head and said “What the fuck am I saying, of course I knew. I knew, all I wanted was to see you and …” his voice trailed off and he smiled. “This shirt isn’t hurting things either. You look fucking amazing, Zach.”
“I know,” Zach said, and they leaned in to kiss, lips soft and then tongues hard against each other, sucking and tangling together possessively, desperate for reassurance. Chris had Zach’s shirt unbuttoned and he was sliding his hands up over his chest when they heard a knock on the door.
“Everything all right in there?” Karl asked.
Chris leaned back on the bed with a grin. “Thank you, Karl!” he yelled at the door. “I owe you a drink, mate!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Karl grumbled, but they could hear him smiling. Karl was a sucker for happy endings.
“Hey, Karl,” Chris called.
“What?”
“You, uh, might want to put on your headphones for a while,” he said, laughing as Zach rolled his eyes.
“Oh, ew,” they heard Karl mutter before his footsteps retreated down the hall.
“Now, where were we?” Chris said, looking back at Zach. He ran a hand down his chest and leaned in to suck at Zach’s neck. He slid down further, sprawling across the bed to rub his face into Zach’s taut stomach as Zach threaded a hand in his hair.
“Nice jeans,” Chris mumbled, mouthing at Zach’s crotch. “Where’d you get ‘em.”
“I, uh…I went to the Gap,” Zach said, sheepishly.
Chris looked up at him in surprise. “Serious?”
“Yeah. You like ‘em?”
“They look amazing on you, Z.” He ran a hand appreciatively up Zach’s thigh, pressed his palm against the line of Zach’s cock. “But they’d look even better on my floor.”
They pulled apart, scrambling out of their jeans. Chris knelt on the bed to pull his hoodie and t-shirt off, and Zach moved up behind him, pressing his bare chest around Chris’s back, his cock brushing against Chris’s ass and he pulled him close and kissed at his neck and shoulder.
Chris reached a hand around the back of Zach’s neck and pulled them both down onto the bed together, pressing his ass up as Zach’s cock, slick already, fit neatly into the cleft of his ass. Zach moaned and slid instinctively against him and Chris smiled. He knew that Zach loved this, and he did too, the feel of Zach’s body heavy on top of him as he whispered dirty things into Chris’s ear, Zach’s breath coming faster until the final hot splash of come across his back. But this time Chris wanted more, wanted Zach to be even closer, to have all of him. “Fuck me, Zach.” It came out as a whisper, so quiet that he thought maybe Zach hadn’t heard, and maybe he wouldn’t say it again, but Zach stilled against him.
“What?”
Chris swallowed, felt Zach trying not rut against him. “I want you in me, Zach, I want to feel you.”
“Are you sure?” Chris could tell by the serious tone of his voice how much Zach wanted it, how much he wanted to know that when Chris said yes, he meant it.
Chris turned his head, his mouth open, seeking Zach’s lips and tongue with his own, and Zach met him, kissed him hard until Chris came up for air saying “yes, Zach, yes, god yes.”
Zach scrambled off the bed and Chris watched him appreciatively as he fumbled in Chris’s drawer, the shirt hanging unbuttoned from his lanky frame, dark hair falling into even darker eyes, and Chris could have stared at him for hours, but Zach was back and hot against him and Chris closed his eyes as Zach’s familiar fingers slipped inside him.
“Guh, ungh, god, Zach,” Chris panted, his ass in the air and his face pressed into a pillow. Zach added a second finger, pumping into him faster, and the third finger stung a little until Zach hit him just right and he felt his cock twitch dangerously.
“Zach, come on,” Chris gasped, his eyes widening in surprise as Zach pulled his fingers out and flipped him onto his back, leaning down to nip at his jaw and neck and fist a hand in his hair.
“I love you,” he said, pulling back so Chris could look into his eyes and see that he meant it.
“I love you, too, Zach. God, I love you. And I would really love for you to fuck me right now.”
Zach shifted between his legs, his face serious as he rolled the condom on, and Chris felt the head of his cock press against his entrance. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and moaned as Zach pushed into him, felt Zach’s hand on his cheek as he filled him, impossibly deep. Zach’s thumb stroked across his cheek bone. “Open your eyes, Chris.” Zach swallowed as he felt Chris clench around his cock and he fought to stay still. “Look at how hot I look in my new J. Crew shirt,” he joked. Chris laughed and opened his eyes and Zach almost came right then from the way Chris looked at him, his eyes a brilliant blue against his flushed skin. Zach felt for a second that what he’d said before was true, that he didn’t deserve that look, not from Chris, and at the same time that he only ever wanted Chris to look at him like that, that he would do anything for it.
Chris reached for him, touching his chest and tugging at his open shirt, and urging him to move, and he did, slowly at first. Then faster because he wanted to make Chris feel good, and he thrust in just so and Chris clutched at him as sparks of pleasure shot through his core. He looked into Zach’s eyes, and he felt Zach inside him, in his chest and his belly and in the fist Zach was wrapping around his cock. Zach licked at Chris’s lips, his movements uneven now, frantic, slamming into Chris, fist flying over his length. He wanted them to come together, could see that Chris was biting his lip, holding back. Zach nodded and choked out “yeah, Chris, come” and his cock pulsed as Chris shot his load across his chest. He looked down curiously as Chris’s hands pushed his shirt over his shoulders just before he collapsed onto Chris’s sticky front.
“Wouldn’t want you to ruin your shirt,” Chris whispered, and he wrapped his arms around Zach and held him close.
*
“So, when did you figure out what an idiot you were being?” Chris asked casually as they lay snuggled into the blankets a while later, having made the unspoken decision not to leave the bed until it became absolutely necessary.
“About three days after you left.”
“Roommates help you?”
“No, I figured it out all on my own, thank you very much,” he said indignantly. “Then they told me. Repeatedly. Oh, and Summer said that if she had the chance to date, how did she put it, ‘an intellectual California boy with an ass that won’t quit,’ that she’d eat and barf up cheesesteaks on a regular basis if that’s what it took. So, you know, that’s saying something.”
“That’s saying something disgusting.”
“Yeah. Just don’t let Summer get you alone, okay? I’m kind of afraid of what might happen.”
“So…why didn’t you call me?”
Zach shrugged. “Figured this would be more dramatic.”
Chris looked at him in disbelief. “Drama queen,” he said with a half-smile. “I was fucking sick over you.”
“Me too,” Zach admitted. “I spent New Years passed out drunk on the floor.”
Chris nodded. “Same here. So, I guess, in a sense, we rang in the New Year together.”
Pain flashed across Zach’s face. “God, Chris, I’m so sorry.”
“I am, too. Can we do that thing now, where we stop talking and make out again?”
Zach nodded as he rolled Chris over onto his back and pressed their lips together with a sigh of relief.
Continue to Chapter 4
